Amman

After many months of sweating in inhospitable, insecure field locations, I've at last landed on my feet. As I wait for a visa for the inhospitable, insecure land of Yemen I'm holed up in Amman, where the draft beer flows, the range of cheeses in the supermarket is comprehensive and the football pitch at the British Embassy club is of the latest third generation astroturf.

This is actually a place people come on holiday, and the exotic Petra and admittedly inhospitable but still fun Dead Sea await, provided the Yemeni Government are decent enough to delay my visa for long enough.

Last weekend my friends and I visited the car collection of the late king Hussein, who spent so much time buying and racing cars that it's amazing he found any time for ruling. He was the rally champion of all Jordan, which brings the Roman Emperor Commodus to mind.  He lost his first boxing bout, his opponent then accidentally cut his own head off while shaving, and Commodus curiously went the rest of his career undefeated.

We also visited the Roman amphitheatre and Citadel. The latter is most useful as a vantage point for the Giant Flag - no one is quite sure why such a big flag is needed, but its flagpole used to be the tallest in the world before the big-flag-loving Jordanians trumped it with one in Aqaba and then themselves were beaten by a big flag in Tajikistan, the new world leaders in massive flags. That's probably enough about flags.

Outside the Citadel we had various bitter arguments with taxi drivers over the price of the ride - we eventually found a taxi man who refused payment as our destination was so close, thereby proving all the other taxi drivers in Amman to be outrageous liars.

We looked for the national gallery of fine art, but couldn't find it. In my limited Arabic I asked several people for 'the museum of pictures' and all confidently directed us into nearby shops. They would then stand and watch us go, forcing us to enter the shops, where we would ask the proprietor, who would beamingly point us to another shop. Thus did we pass a pleasant Saturday afternoon.

In Amman, the trucks carrying gas cylinders play ice-cream van music. No one has been able to explain this phenomenon.

The King's Harley - Wadi Rum background helpfully provided

If you were the King, your number plate would look like that too

This was hidden behind a Porsche GT and had no blurb, but looks like it isn't
due to be invented for a few years - not sure where King Hussein got it from

How a Roman orator would have looked in the Amphitheatre

Big flag - disappointing lack of wind