Tuesday 24-Mar-2009
The driver who dropped me at the Kempinski yesterday afternoon suggested I be ready for a 6.30 a.m. hotel pick-up for my 8.50 a.m. flight. I took the precaution of checking with Mr. Nasr of Petra Tours who confirmed the the time. So I made everything ready before going to bed and set the alarm for 5.30.
At 5.30, I'd just started to get dressed when the phone rang. It was Mamoon, saying he was in Reception for my 5.30 pick up. Irritated at the lack of communication somewhere, I speeded up the departure process. When the doorbell rang my first thought was "Oh, have they sent someone for the big case?". No, the butler was there to check I hadn't sneaked anything from the mini-bar. It was a decidedly Grumpy Old Woman who checked out a few minutes later. Mamoon, his usual pleasant self, said my flight was now 8.00 a.m.
Yesterday, Amman was almost as hot as I'd found Aqaba but heavy rain had started during the night and the 'Jordan Times' said there'd been flooding in parts of Amman. It was still raining and overcast as we made our way to to Queen Alia airport. I said goodbye to Mamoon and checked in without incident, noting that the departure time was 8.50 a.m. after all.
I was soon in the Royal Jordanian Lounge and able to take a decent breakfast of orange juice, tea, cereal and toast, after which I was in a much better frame of mind.
Whilst still in Grumpy Mode, I'll comment that, on this trip, I've been concerned at the apparent largely subservient role of women in these predominantly Islamic societies. It's hard to know whether, as a visitor, you are getting an accurate impression but an article in yesterday's paper on the topic got me thinking. Even in the West, emancipation still has a way to go but the article suggested that Jordan's society is still rooted in medieval ideas. 'Honour killings' are sadly commonplace. The latest incident involved a father, with other family members, beating his teenage daughter for two hours with hosepipes until she was dead. Her misdemeanour was wearing make-up and not being where she was supposed to be. Recent history suggests that no charges will be brought. The idea of woman as chattel is still alive and well here.
We boarded the aircraft, an elderly A320 operated by BMI as a 'Codeshare' with British Airways, and took off on time. As we made our way north, snow was visible on the ground across Europe. The friendly English cabin crew served a pleasant but reasonably basic lunch. As always, the plastic cutlery irritated me. I chatted with the crew about the rather tired appearance of the cabin. They apologised, saying that they were anticipating a new aircraft and couldn't wait to have equipment they could be proud of.
Over the P.A., the pilot anticipated an early arrival at Heathrow but when we got to London we were obliged to stooge around for a while before making our final approach to Runway Two Eight Left. On our way in, I took a few aerial pictures of London. Click here for pictures.
Once on the ground, there was the interminable taxiing to reach the allocated stand. We finally stopped at stand 125, Terminal 1. External steps were brought up and we were allowed to disembark and make the short walk to the terminal building, in what must be the shabbiest area of the airport. I was just happy to be home, but I often wonder about the depressing first impressions some airports give to visitors. We seemed to follow a very circuitious route through the building, eventually coming to the 'UK Borders' Passport Control. For once, this area was deserted so I was soon in the Baggage Hall. My checked bag arrived within a few minutes and Alan was waiting in the Arrival Hall to take me home - a very satisfactory end to an enjoyable but tiring trip.
[Revised 16-Apr-2009, link corrected 27-Dec-2012]
