It took 9 Hours to Get to Amman

Getting to Amman was quite the hassle. We began our trip in Ramallah at 8am and, since we had decided to cross at the Sheikh Hussein Bridge rather than Allenby, the first leg of the trip took us to Jerusalem. We passed the Qalandia checkpoint without incident. In Jerusalem, for reasons I could not understand, Lael wanted to take a city bus from Damascus Gate to the central bus station. She said she wanted to experience it. However, she was pulling a heavy suitcase, the trip to the bus stop was uphill, and it was already getting hot. After a short hike, I could not ascertain where the bus stop actually was and persuaded her to take a taxi.

I haggled with the taxi driver in the following straightforward fashion:
"How much to go to the central bus station?"
"Forty shekels."
"Hmmmm [frown]. Last time it was 30."
"I would take 35 but it is now rush hour."
[silence]
"[loud sigh] Ok I take 35!"

We passed security at the central bus station again without incident, bought our tickets, and separated. Lael went to wait at the platform, and I went to buy sunglasses as mine had just broken. Upon arriving at the platform, Lael and I discovered we both needed to use the bathroom, but we had only a few minutes until the bus departed. We took turns going down the long hallway to the bathroom (where we paid one shekel to use the facilities) and staying with the baggage. We boarded just in time.

Before the bus left, I had supposed that our route would take us all the way around the West Bank, since our crossing point into Jordan was the tiny Israeli town of Beit She'an, just North of the Green Line. (For reference, this map shows the area in question) But I soon discovered that our route was through the West Bank, which is perhaps why Egged advertised that the bus was armored. Meaning bulletproof, I can only assume, because it didn't look anything like an armadillo, as Lael and I had both imagined. Nobody announced we were going through the West Bank of course, but I paid attention attention to the road signs. We passed settlement after settlement, of the Israeli and Bedouin variety. But mostly it was just empty, beautiful desert.

We were woken up near the end of the trip when the bus driver came to the back to yell at Lael and I. He thought we were trying to cheat Egged, that had bought tickets for some earlier stop but intended to go on to Beit She'an anyway. I was proud that my command of Hebrew was sufficient enough to figure out what he was asking and to answer.

It went like this:
[all the passengers staring at us, Lael notices and pokes me]
Bus driver: " Where you two going?"
me: "Beit She'an."
"You have a ticket that says Beit She'an? Let me see."
I brought out the ticket and he grunted and walked to the front to resume driving.

Our stop at Beit She'an was at a pizza/falafel joint and was populated solely by American Birthright travelers and Israeli soldiers. We were pleased to leave. We got a taxi, but the driver didn't speak English, so he collected a couple of female IDF soldiers to translate. We said we wanted to go to the Jordanian border. He didn't seem to know where that was, but the soldiers pointed the way. Then we negotiated in Hebrew:
Taxi driver: "50 shekels."
me: "40 shekels?"
"Ok, 40 shekels."
He turned around to discuss with the soldiers again and then returned to us.
"Forty shekels, right?" I said. I wanted to make sure. He said yes.
He then proceeded to ask me for more directions as we drove, in Hebrew.
I said emphatically, "I don't know!" Then, as we approached the sign that said, "Jordan River crossing" and pointed to the right, I said, "Right." He responded, "I can see that."
When he dropped us off, we gave him 40 shekels and he responded that the price was 50. I reminded him he agreed to 40 and and said, "this is enough." We walked away as he continued arguing with our backs.

Crossing to Jordan involved dealing with the authorities on both sides, of course, and a very hot bus that took us exactly 2 kilometers, but we had to wait 30 minutes for it. On the other side of the border, we were approached by an elderly French couple who asked if we wanted to share a taxi to Amman. We had previously planned on taking a bus, but for the following three reasons we opted to ride with them:
1) there were no buses in sight.
2) he told us the taxi was much cheaper than we thought it would be.
3) splitting the cost between four instead of two would make it even cheaper.

We did get to Amman at the drastically reduced price of 7 dinars per person, but our taxi driver did not seem to understand the following:
1) that we needed to be dropped at two different hotels.
2) which hotels those actually were.
3) how to get to those hotels.

There were many stops along the way, where he asked directions from several shopkeepers. Finally we arrived at the Hisham Hotel, which has so far seemed simple and classy. We arrived at our hotel at 5pm.

We went out to dinner last night and discovered that the dishes (at this rather upscale restaurant) were mostly between 1 and 3 dinars each. One dinar is about $1.50, by the way. I was thrilled but skeptical when I noticed this, thinking there would be a catch.

No catch.

No hidden charges (besides the usual tax and tip), no digestive issues, no scams.

And that is all, so far.