By Eric Podell

Sunday-April 23, 2000-Journey Through Jordan Half asleep yet filled with anxiety, I walked across the border from Eilat to Aqaba, a no-man's land where guards in towers focus their guns towards the ground. I am excited to travel to the other side. I got to Aqaba by cab and waited for a bus to Amman. I talked with a friendly Jordanian ticket salesman who said something to me that echoes in my head whenever I ponder the Middle-East dilemma. "I love American tourists, yes I do," he says to me. "But American government, no good. No good because of problem of Israel." It seems as though everywhere Palestinians look, whether it is at the neighboring land beyond the barbed wire fence or in the eyes of a traveling American, they always see "the problem of Israel."

I now find myself struggling to keep my sanity on this five-hour bus ride to Amman, as an Arabic movie is blasting over the speakers. While the ride through Jordan is quite smooth, it seems to be nothing but a huge brown desert with the occasional jutting cliff or mountain peak. There are very few towns, farms, or even children playing in their villages. While the desolation is actually quite refreshing for a tourist from Los Angeles, as I glance towards Israel, a great deal about the attitudes that Jordanians, such as the ticket agent, hold, is revealed. I have a clear view of Israel this entire ride, and I cannot shift my gaze from the prominent land. In Israel, the land itself emanates pride, from the luxury hotels of Eilat to the historical mountain plateau of Massada. It is no longer a mystery why Palestinians (which make up 75% of Jordan) are so bitter. Israel has managed to do in fifty years what Arab countries such as Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan have never been able to do: make the land prosper and unify the nations' people. It is quite an interesting view on the other side.

Monday-April 24,2000-Amman, Jordan After walking throughout Amman, sitting in an Argeilla coffee shop and getting a nasty and never-ending stare from a Palestinian man, I am left searching for reasons why I am receiving such a negative reaction in this city. During my eight days in Egypt, the people were both welcoming and friendly. Amman has proven to be quite different. It must be noted that I have had positive experiences with Palestinians, both in Israel and thus far in Jordan. I have a respect and an interest in their culture, a curiosity for their religion, and an attraction for the hospitable customs one finds when roaming through the villages.

With this said, I find the essence of the Palestinian attitude upsetting. They have hit a wall in their progress as a people and many seem to blame others for it. I can see it in their eyes, feel it in their often-angry glances, and have heard it verbalized in several conversations on this journey. Many Palestinians have allowed their struggle with Israel to tear out their cultural soul and replace it with anger, aggression, and even hate. While other oppressed cultures have unified in the face of strife, these Palestinians have allowed elements of bitterness and pain to infect their daily existence.

What is tragic is that the Palestinians, like any other culture, are beautiful people. But due to poor leadership, the constant unwillingness to compromise and accept, and the flourishing of hatred, they are stuck behind an unfortunate and detrimental road block in the progress of history. It is not always the outside world or a neighboring country that can pass a treaty or create a resolution to re-start the idle engine of progress for an ethnic, religious, or racial group. Rather, the group must often rebuild itself before it can even take the driver's seat. A cab driver at Mount Nebo told me that if I climb to the top of the peak and look far enough into the distance, I would see Palestine. But when I reached the top and glanced beyond the far mountains, I saw Israel. When the Palestinians look off into their own future, what do they see in the distance? They must first accept today's reality before assessing tomorrow's dream.

Tuesday-April 25, 2000-Wadi Rum, Jordan The village of Wadi Rum is in the middle of nowhere, and offers the pleasures of tranquil serenity, a much-needed breath of relaxation for this exhausted traveler. People seem to be humbled by the surrounding sight: majestic cliffs that were sculpted by ancient waters and wind storms and red sands stretching as far as the eye can see. This is a place where questions of nationalism and confused political voices are peacefully silenced. It was T.E. Lawrence, the author who spent a great deal of time in Wadi Rum, who wrote "His little caravan fell quite, ashamed to flaunt itself in the presence of such stupendous hills."

After a jeep safari through the desert known as "the valley of the moon," I sat in an Argeilla coffee shop and relaxed. I met Ali, a 21-year old Jordanian camel rider the same age as me. We sat and drank four glasses of tea, played a gambling game, which involved only a pair of hands and a pebble, and ate several plates of rice. Before I knew it, six or seven Jordanians surrounded me. They drilled me with questions about America and asked me to find them American wives. They talked to me about the Middle East and often grew angry when the subject of what they call "Palestine" came up. Discussing these issues in a leisurely manner with Jordanians on the other side of the border was an eye-opening experience. While I disagreed with them on most subjects and shocked them when I mentioned Israel, the exposure to another viewpoint was priceless. Besides, these are nice, gentle people who seem to have grown tired of politics. This is the side of Jordan I was hoping to experience but had been unsure if it even existed. It does, yet I am in a distant village far from chaotic civilization.

I talked with these friendly Jordanians for hours and am now resting in my tent, peeking through the open canvas flap that reveals the magnificent stars shining against the dark black sky that is the night. As I rethink my conversation with the men from the coffee shop, I realize that we talked about girls, money, movies, music, and other subjects I discuss with my friends at home. We laughed, got angry with one another, and even disagreed over and over again, yet as I was leaving, one of the men asked me to come back tomorrow night and to bring my Bob Marley tape. The other side is not as far away as we think. Shalom Aleichem, Asalaam Aleikum.