Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Afee Mushkaila (Problems)

Here's a tip, from us to you: don't fly Jordanian Aviation.



Dan and I had to get from Jordan to Cairo by the 26th to meet up with Christy. Getting from Aqaba in Jordan to Cairo involves taking a ferry across the Red Sea to Nuweiba, Egypt, then getting to the bus station, then getting on a bus to Cairo; it takes about 12 hours. Because of time spent elsewhere, we were a little tight, so we decided to go Jordan Aviation. The flight left the morning of the 26 and was only about an hour to Cairo. We would get an extra day to stay in Aqaba and snorkel in the red sea (sidenote: we did! it was amazing! we saw sea turtles! and tons of fish!)



So, 7am, we get up, get ready, go to the airport. We go through customs, check our bags, and sit. And sit. Boarding time: 9:40. 9:40 passes. 10am passes. 10:30 (flight time) passes. no one is moving. unfortunately, no one is speaking english, either, so we don't know what's going on - we're the only non-Arabs on the plane.



Maybe 10 minutes after the plane is supposed to leave, they board us. The plane has been sitting on the tarmac in the sun all morning, and we walk up the stairs and get into our seats. The aircon in the plane isn't working, so it's at least 105 degrees, probably closer to 110, and humid (hello, sweaty people). we sit, and sweat, and fan ourselves with postcards, and sweat. Another 15 minutes go by, maybe 20. The flight attendents hand out water, and Dan and I can see them taking turns ducking into the bathroom to mop themselves off. People on the plane start revolting, and just get up out of their seats and walk back onto the tarmac. Having no idea what's going on (has there been an announcement of some kind? we wouldn't understand it), Dan and i get up and walk off the plane as well.



Then some official looking men in blue uniforms come out and start yelling at us in arabic to (we assume) get back on the plane. Some passengers yell back. Slowly we get back on the plane. We sit for another 10 minutes, and then people all get back up and file off the plane again, this time aided by the very same men who had just yelled at us to get ON the plane.



We go back to the terminal and wait around. Dan goes off to find someone who speaks English. He asks one official looking man what's going on:



'Health' the man says.



"Health? Is there something wrong with the plane? Is the engine not working?"



"Nono, Health."



'Ok, well, how long will it take to fix?"



...long pause....



"One hour?"



After a little while, an engineer looking man came out made some sort of announcement. A number of Middle Eastern men went over, crowded around him and began yelling. The engineer yells back. Women look pissed.

I go off to find someone who speaks English, and manage to talk to the man who had originally checked us in. He tells me there is something wrong with the plane engine (health, indeed), but the major problem is that there is no representative from Jordanian Aviation in the airport, so no one can make any decision about anything. He thought they´d called headquarters, and maybe they were going to try to fix the engine, or maybe get another plane in. but he didn´t really know cause he was Royal Jordanian.

we sit, and eat chips, and sit. they make another announcement, people get up and yell. then people are gathering at customs. apparently, they´re telling us we can leave, but we´ve already been stamped out through customs so they have to go back and amend it or something. we get in line. they take our passports and instead give us little green pieces of paper. they refuse to give us back our passports.

dan and i want to leave, but we have no idea where to go or when we need to be back, because we have no idea when the plane is leaving, if at all (at this point, it´s probably 2 in the afternoon). some people seem to have left, but a number are still hanging around. we wander outside to see if there´s a bus or something. there´s nothing, not even taxis.

finally, a bus comes and everyone piles on. As dan says, it was the first time in a long time that we´d gotten on a form of transit with absolutely NO idea where we were going. Dan makes friends with a Saudi man, who speaks a little english (actually, this happened earlier. but we sat next to him on the bus). we are going to a hotel, possibly to eat.

we get to the hotel, and everyone gets out - there´s a restaurant on the 6th floor and everyone is in line to get in the elevator. i get ushered in with the women in children. they try to get dan to go with us, but he decides to wait. then, dan gets in after me with about 7 arab men. the elevator breaks, and dan is stuck in there for 30 minutes with 7 men who speak no english. he manages to explain that hé´s from the US, and they think he´s from texas and try to get him to pry open the doors. he is unsuccessful.

finally he gets out and he and i go up and eat some food. the engineer guy is there and he explains that headquarters is deciding whether to refund all our money or send another plane from cairo.

after eating we go back down to the lobby (taking the stairs, obviously). finally another bus comes. everyone goes outside then all the jordanians are like ´´amerikeeya´´ ´´amerikeeya´ so we get on the first bus.

back to the airport. finally, maybe at 8pm, another plane arrives. it sits on the tarmac for a while then they let us on. it has an entirely different flight attendent. i have no idea what happened to the first set of flight attendants. i sit down in my seat which had duct tape all over the arm rest (reassuring!) and go to buckle my seatbelt. the right part of the seatbelt pulls out of the seat entirely, and i´m holding it dangling in my hand. it´s attached to nothing.

finally, the flight leaves, and it takes less than an hour in the air to get to cairo. we arrive finally at the hostel at 11pm.

the irony? it took longer to do that than it would have to take the ferry, then the bus.

all this, i have to say, pales in comparison to what is currently happening with our flights to brazil. dan and i are now in day 3 of being stuck in madrid.

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