Legend has it (and this could be just good old fashioned tourist industry PR, who can know for certain?) that if you see the pyramids of Giza, and then you climb up one of the pyramids, and then you descend into the burial tomb inside the pyramid, all while holding fast in your heart and mind your fondest wish — well, accomplishing all three will grant that wish. 

         Ok, call me a sucker but with the small, small price of only EGP 100 (US$6.41) I descended into the burial chamber of King Khafre. His remains, of course, were no longer in residence, the tombs of Giza having been raided and emptied centuries ago by unnamed persons. Even the limestone façade was ripped off to use in other later construction by others in need of quality pyramid making materials. There was in fact not so much as a gum wrapper inside the tomb.  Clean as a whistle, it was.  You have to bend over to gain access to the burial chamber as the passage down into the tomb is only about four feet high. It’s narrow, too and steep. Your descent is aided by wooden slats nailed into the steep decline but if you have even the slightest claustrophobia this means of acquiring your heart’s desire is most definitely NOT recommended. (Try pulling apart a wishbone with a friend or wishing upon a star or whatnot.  Try anything that is some other non-tiny-passageway method of achieving fruition of your most sincere wish. I myself would not repeat this endeavor and almost turned back halfway down but six bucks is six bucks, so down I went.) 

         So, you’ve already figured out that King Khafre (who ruled ancient Egypt during the 4^th dynastic period from c. 2558 to 2532 BC ) was the guy buried inside the pyramid –-hence the Pyramid of King Khafre —  but Khafre had four wives and god knows how many kids so it’s entirely possible that once upon a time, more than  a few mummies were entombed inside this pyramid. It must have been close quarters however you look at it. One thing about the Pharaohs, they had a keen interest in the afterlife. It certainly does give one pause to stand in Giza, where most of  the famous pyramids stand, and recall that the construction of these pyramids, and the burial “benches” too, was all to facilitate the transition of the pharaohs from this life into the next. It begs the question, who were these guys and how did they convince their Fourth Dynastic Period cohorts that they were worthy of this effort (thousands upon thousands of “workers” and “slaves” perished while building the pyramids of ancient Egypt.) 

         Who the rulers of ancient Egypt were and how did they convince everybody that they were godlike is beyond the scope of this Desto. That’s what Google is for. Meanwhile, if you are an historian (a serious one) then you’d best high tail it over to Egypt asap because Egypt is the cradle of civilization. (I know, I know, the Persians say that Persia (now Iran) claims that distinction, but, yeah, no. There’s a reason everybody is still lining up, five thousand years after the fact, to visit all these Egyptian antiquities.) If it isn’t on that guy’s list of 100 things to do before you die, it should be. And, while you’re there, I whole heartedly recommend one of those fancy cruises down the Nile River. Just nothing at all bad about that, even if, like me, you are not a huge fan of cruises. These boats are generally small occupancy ships (100-150 passengers) with a very high staff to passenger ratio so you will be pampered within an inch of your life and that kind of grows on you. 

         I suppose there are alternative ways to get to Aswan from Cairo but we flew because that’s just how we do. A tour of the Aswan High Dam and the romantic Philae Temple (accessed by little ferry boats, occupancy 4) on the Island of Agilka gives you the quick and dirty tour of Aswan (don’t miss The Unfinished Obelisque because you can scamper unimpeded by hordes of tourists up to a truly magnificent view-all the while hearing the ubiquitous calls to prayer. It’s very moving and sets the mood for what’s to come in the coming days ahead.

         So, what is to come? An early morning sail to Kom Ombo where sits the Temple of Kom Ombo, This temple is, in terms of ancient history, much much newer than the Pyramids of Giza. More than two thousand years newer. Originally constructed to honor two gods, Sobek, the crocodile god, and Horus, the falcon god, the temple was obscured by river flood waters and sand and except for a period of use by Coptic Christians the ruins of the temple went unused for centuries upon centuries. It wasn’t until the end of the nineteenth century that the French archeologist and mining engineer, Jean Jacques de Morgan undertook to unearth and restore the temple to its present state. Notably, Morgan reported that much of the damage to the reliefs inside the temple was rendered by the Coptic Christians who defaced them, probably out of a misplaced sense of piety. Too judgy? I don’t know. Who does that? I mean geez, have a little respect for history, no? It reminded me of one of those lesser temples in Cambodia, Ta Prohm that was originally built as a Hindu temple and over the centuries was occupied by various other religious groups all of whom felt an urgent need to render at least a modicum of destruction to the structure’s carvings and artistry, so as to leave their own mark I suppose. These territorial defacements are not the finest moments of the world religions if you ask me. Also, see: wars and religious persecutions. But, this is just me. If you travel broadly you just eventually have to face the facts of man’s unfathomable intolerance and near constant inhumanity to mankind, and also the human propensity to be destructive rather than constructive.  Most often in the name of some deity or religion, don’t you know? It’s a bummer, but it goes with the territory of travel. You gotta suck it up and move on. 

And, so we did!

Speaking of world religion, no sojourn among them is complete without a visit to the Temple of Karnack, referred to by some (our guide) as “the mother of all religious buildings”. It’s been around for 4,000 plus years as a place of religious pilgrimage. In ancient times it was connected to the Luxor Temple by an avenue of sphinxes. Long gone now and what a shame that is. (See above for comments on wanton destruction of ancient art, and also: What does one do with a purloined sphinx?) 

If you’ve been to Egypt yourself you’ve no doubt visited the Valley of the Dead. You’ve heard more than you ever wanted to know about mummification. For those of you who haven’t yet enjoyed the privilege of a few days in the presence of an Egyptologist, let me enlighten you. The ancient royals’ obsession with life after death is documented thoroughly there in the Valley of the Dead. Here’s just some of what we know from that documentation. First, not just any old body could be preserved as a mummy with the intent to make it into the afterlife in your earthly incarnation. You had to be either one of the royals, one of their priests or priestesses (naturally), or a commoner with a LOT of cash. In order to avoid the problem of rotting organs, the mummified clients were parted from their brains, lungs, stomachs, livers and kidneys. These were stored nearby in alabaster containers that looked a lot like ordinary flower vases. Alabaster has the property to naturally preserve decomposing flesh, you see. (It also looks pretty when you insert a candle in it, circa 2020.) 

If you were lucky enough to be a king or even a queen back in the day, the evidence is that the folks in charge of such things would remove your brain from your nose holes. The process for lesser royals, like the kids, meant that they would drill a hole in the skull and take the brain out that way. (I had a lot of questions about brain mass in relation to nose hole size, etc. but suffice it to say here that my curiosity is not always appreciated by everyone in the international community.) The next step was to stuff the corpse full of tobacco which is a natural preservative. No opinions were rendered about the people who later  thought to stick the same stuff into a pipe and smoke it, thus killing annually about a half million Americans alone in its heyday. It’s enough to say that the plant was relatively benign in ancient Egypt and considered a sacred substance. (I’ve known a few smokers who would tell you the same thing but that’s a story for another day we’ll save for when I get around to Stuff That Kills You/an incomplete History of Substance Abuse.  

So, now you know that it was good to be royal in ancient Egypt especially if you were afraid that death was THE END. They went to extraordinary lengths to get to the hereafter, encumbered as they were with all their worldly goods, should there indeed even be a hereafter. (Still in question.) And by “extraordinary” I mean thousands upon thousands of slaves who were blindfolded while working so that they couldn’t tell anyone where the mummies were. It didn’t work though as a secrecy strategy. Most of the slaves died toiling in the 130 degree heat while digging the tombs and then they got buried in the valley, too. (Unceremoniously, however.) The ones that didn’t perish must have squealed because all the tombs were raided and plundered except for that of Tutenkamen, the boy king of Egypt whose mummy and riches were not discovered until 1922. Those of the boy king were subsequently carted around the world for folks to gawk at and now reside again in Cairo in the Egypt Museum (worth a visit, especially now that the NEW and improved Egypt museum is open for business). I think our timing was good in that we saved the boy king’s stuff for our last full day in Cairo after visiting all the other famous sites. You really get a sense of what a big damn deal it was to find his remains. One wonders where all those other mummies and all the goodies that were buried with them are now. And, where, pray tell, are all the souls who perished building their pyramids and their temples? Where ARE they now? Don’t you wonder? Did they make it into some afterlife after all? And, where are we headed behind them? 

Such deep wonderment nicely bookended our middle eastern trip. The vast stars in the sky of the Wadi Rum Desert in Jordan on the front end and the countless corpses of ancient Egypt on the backend. Mere corpses now, but once upon a time these were beings who were obsessed with, indeed spent most of their lives in pursuit of an afterlife. Stardust to stardust so to speak. I’ll leave you with this song lyric from the incomparable Dan Fogelberg (1951-2007) who more often than not fuels my musings on life and love and the meaning of it all after a trip that summons such profound speculation.

“Love when you can, cry when you have to, be who you must, that’s a part of the plan. Await your arrival with simple survival, and one day we’ll all understand.”

Amen, Dan. And, R.I.P. wherever you are.

In the 1960s there was nothing here but desert and more desert. Bedouin tents housed the populace which was largely uneducated (except for males studying the Holy Koran). To say that survival in this harsh climate was “hardscrabble” is perhaps the most understated statement in the history of history. Summer temps sometimes reach 130 F. in the interior. Truly then you must only see mad dogs and Englishmen on the streets of the seven Emerati states. We are here in the winter and at a brisk 85F you will occasionally see folks in down jackets and wool caps. It’s all relative, my friends.

It is a little mind blowing to realize that all of what you see as the modern UAE has occurred since the 1960s and most of it – the skyscrapers and such – since just ten years ago. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the expression “they aren’t making any more beachfront”. Clearly those people haven’t been to the UAE where the construction of “more beach front” is what they do.  Like Qatar’s Pearl Island, the massive construction of land mass where none existed before out in the ocean boggles the mind, but here in the UAE it’s ongoing at an exponentially larger rate.  The first Palm Island (Google it) is up and running with some of the world’s finest hotels. (7 star hotels I didn’t even know existed.) I have not yet dared to ask, “What will happen to these man-made islands in the coming age of rising oceans?” but I suspect that the Arabs will figure it out and head off disaster before it happens by applying the same ingenuity that made them in the first place. 

These guys are light years ahead of the rest of the world in terms of the global water crisis, too. Just take the one of seven tiny Emerati states, Sharjah which has 7 water desalinization facilities and already has two of them running on solar energy exclusively. Perhaps when you’ve ALWAYS needed to be clever in finding water, finding it by desalinization is a breeze with the right know how. 

Question: What has 15 thousand parking spaces, 1,002 retail outlets, 22 movie screens, a ski resort, 200 restaurants and an aquarium with over 33 thousand marine animals? No, the answer is not Cleveland, Ohio, although that wouldn’t be a terrible guess. The correct answer is, the Dubai shopping mall. Yes, Margaret, I said a shopping mall (in Dubai). 

Dubai is one of the 7 Emirati states known altogether as the UAE  (Abu Dhabi, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm Al Quwain, Ras al Khaimah and Fujairah are the other six United Arab Emirates). If you’ve by chance visited the UAE, the chances are very good that you’ve parked in one of those parking spaces at the Dubai mall because nobody goes to the UAE without going to the Dubai mall. It’s just not something you would miss. Even I, not a lover of malls in general, admit that it’s pretty spectacular and well worth the effort to get there. Although we were in Dubai in the high season when the temps outside are a comfortable 80-90 degree range, I can imagine that it’s quite something to go snow skiing in the mall during the summer months when the temps (not often, but at times) can hit 120F in downtown Dubai. This mall is what Dubai is most famous for, perhaps only after the Burj Khalifa, currently the tallest building in the world at 829.8 meters tall (2,717 ft. for you Americanos). How did this tiny little country – the entire UAE population doesn’t quite reach 10 million with only 1.5 million residents claiming Arab citizenship and the others, of course, being expatriate workers – how is it that they lay claim to the magnificence of the Burj Khalifa, the highest building in the entire world? I’m so glad you asked.

In the beginning of the new millennium the government of Dubai, like some of the other gulf states, wisely peered into the future and saw a need for diversification from oil. This new building, originally named the Burj Dubai, was integral to the diversification plan. It was to be the centerpiece of a new development called Downtown Dubai and the distinction of being the tallest building in the world was intended to garner international recognition leading to investment. Oh boy, did it but not entirely as intended. In mid-construction the world wide economic downturn slowed, then halted progress threatening to bankrupt the project until the president of  the UAE (and also the supreme ruler of the still oil rich neighboring state of Abu Dhabi), Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan lent Dubai the dough to complete construction. Out of gratitude, the building’s name was changed to Burj Khalifa. When all was said and done about $1.5 billion U.S. went into the construction costs of the Burj Khalifa and now YOU can buy a residence in it today for somewhere in the neighborhood of $3,500 per sq. ft. You do the math.

Our Dubai guide was a veritable font of statistics and random architectural trivia. He claimed that the Chinese were in the process of constructing a building that would beat out the Burj Khalifa’s record height. In response, the UAE has planned to up the ante by constructing yet another tower (exact height a big, big Arab secret) called the Jeddah. Trust me when I tell you that you haven’t really lived a full life until you’ve driven around Dubai in the back seat of a car while two silly man-boys giggle up front about who has “the biggest”, etc. One of my more memorable international-boys-bonding experiences to be sure. (Don’t mind me, Margaret. I’ll just sit here in back in my burka and pretend I don’t get all the double entendre. Sheesh.)

Speaking of Abu Dhabi and really big, big things, you will not want to skip the gorgeous (and, yes, big – third biggest in the world) Sheik Zayed Grand Mosque. Every state in the UAE has at least one mosque built by Sheik Zayed but this one is notable for many reasons. At peak occupancy, as many as 41,000 worshippers can visit at the same time and that’s usually at the Eid services. The general public are invited to visit the mosque, however women must be completely covered to do so. On a side note, honestly, I came to appreciate and even like the costume change. A burka covers a multitude of sins (sloth and gluttony come easily to mind) and there’s no such thing as a bad hair day under a head scarf. It’s weirdly liberating to be completely free of the daily demands on western women to, if not try to look “good” at least be somewhat presentable in public. Under cover of a burka who knows when you last shaved your legs? 

Back to the wonders of the mosque. The carpet in the grand hall was hand woven by hundreds and hundreds of hand weaving women. You really have to see this in person to truly appreciate the human labor this entailed. The columns are inlaid mother of pearl and the chandeliers are made of Swarovski crystal. Lots and lots of them. (See photos but truly, photos do not do justice to the beauty. No wonder they let the public in. It is stunning and it should be shared with the infidels. 

It was a little bit weird to go to the Mosque after we first took a tour of Yas Island where a multi-purpose leisure, shopping and entertainment center features a real and true Formula One race track, the world’s fastest roller coaster and too many over-the-top entertainments to list. The juxtaposition of crass consumer indulgence (you can really drive that Formula One course for about $500) with the solemnity and beauty of the mosque was slightly jarring. What’s a sensitive soul to do after such contradiction? Here’s an idea. Why not go dune bashing?

I swam aside a twenty foot shark in the Florida Keys. I’ve Bungee jumped off the Kawarau Bridge in New Zealand and I almost got car-jacked in the Pacific Palisades (true story for another day), but I’ve never been more frightened than the day I elected to do something advertised as “dune bashing”. I honestly don’t know if this activity is done anywhere else on planet earth but in the UAE it’s all the rage. 

How does one proceed to “bash” a “dune”? As it happens there’s a brisk dune bashing business and multiple franchises. A young and traditionally garbed human picks you up at your hotel in the late afternoon. Multiple other guests will also be picked up along the way until the SUV is at capacity. Then you speed along the highway until the driver makes an abrupt turn off the paved highway into the desert sand. He pauses the vehicle to let out some desired amount of air from the car tires. Then he proceeds to drive through the desert like a maniac coming as close to capsizing the vehicle as is possible while tuning into very high volume Rap music. I know. You couldn’t have guessed. You and the other intrepid passengers bounce around inside the vehicle like so many ping pong balls in a Bingo spinner. (Bingo might have been a more appropriate activity for me, but it’s too late now.)

Bashing dunes will definitely shake you out of whatever existential doldrums you are languishing in. I promise you. 

Our fellow passengers happened to be a lovely Sikh family of four from India, the elder of whom whispered impassioned prayers to their deity throughout the entire activity. I suppose they assumed that’s what I was doing as well, however my prayers were of a purely profane nature. Don’t tell them. I’m sure they went back to India believing that I am a refined and genteel American dowager. Long story short, we survived. (Most people do and although there are ready statistics about Bungee fatalities, similar reports about deaths in the desert have either been squelched by Middle Eastern dune bashing entrepreneurs or you actually are less likely to see paradise while dune bashing. I cannot say for certain. As a reward for surviving you are taken to what seemed to be a fairly accurate facsimile of a real Bedouin desert camp where you will be treated to a lovely meal (including alcohol, and I have NO clue how they make that happen), henna tattooing, camel rides, and (Pablo’s favorite) a buxom belly dancer. All the pleasures of the Arabian desert in times past. It really was super. (Now that I’m not dead or seriously maimed.)

One final item on your UAE itinerary will take you out to one of the lesser (less fabulously wealthy) Emeriti states to a thriving camel farm where camels are bred for racing (a very popular sport in the UAE) and also for (I know, I know) consumption. They say, and I did not test this, that baby camel tastes just like veal. 

My last observation about this interesting place is that every single interaction we had with local inhabitants was charming and gracious. Everywhere we went, if the locals were picnicking, they sent their children to us with sweet offerings and more than once we were invited to join the party. I fell in love a little bit with the kindness of these strangers and though the customs are still so very foreign and perplexing, (e.g. you can still be sentenced to death by stoning for a variety of offenses) on the whole, the UAE is a marvel and you would be wise to go before our charm as American tourists wears off. 

Next up on our epic middle east adventure, Oman (or as I call it Oh, Man! for the number of times I said that as we drove around). The natural beauty is astounding. Not at all what you expect in the Middle East. (See pics.) Yes, it’s desert, but, the low mountains break up the vista in a most pleasing way. They are rugged but not tall. About the elevation of  the Santa Monica Mountains in Topanga Canyon. The Omanis are well aware of and very proud of their geographic uniqueness among the desert nations. If there were buttons on those dishdashas* they would be bursting. (*The long robe type traditional garments worn by men in the gulf region and also called thobes, thaubs, and thawbs.) If you are a very amenable guest in Oman you might be treated to a brief and entertaining lecture on the traditional clothing (including underwear) with demonstration. One is hardly ever aware of how impoverished their cross cultural knowledge base is until one gets a gander of some Omani “underpants” – a long, ankle-length slip really. (P.s. under jeans which young Omani nationals wear often, it’s just boring old boxer/briefs. No demo required.)

By the way, there are regional and national features of dress which are distinctive to the traditional clothing among all of the desert nations, including the headgear, which enables everybody (but me) to tell at a glance exactly wherefrom someone hails. I.e. which country. (My brain just doesn’t work that way. I think you have to be from there to be able to decode the finer distinctions.) Interestingly, clothing in middle eastern culture has NOTHING to do with religion. It’s about tradition and it only reflects religious devotion is as much as certain passages in the Quran make some suggestions about modesty and decorum. Some individuals, just as some cultures as a whole, take these suggestions more or less to heart than others of the Muslim faith. Since a vast majority of the nearly 4 million Omani residents are Muslim you can factor in the peer pressure which may or may not be an outgrowth of religious devotion, and it won’t be surprising that most Omanis (especially the females who are noted to have far fewer rights) do prefer the traditional apparel, however it’s erroneous to make the assumption that Arabs must comply with any dress code. As I understand it, the Quran makes suggestions for devotees about “coverage” and every other aspect of life. And, I do mean EVERY. One that we can actually discuss in polite company for instance: it is suggested that men should walk in an erect manner with purpose and dignity and NOT speed. A slow gait is actually pleasing to Allah. Who knew? 

I hope I’m remembering correctly that it was the airport in Muscat that I consider one of the top if not THE top aesthetically pleasing airports in the world. (And, you know, Desto3 travelers have seen a few.) Clearly somebody made an effort here to stand out among the airports of the world. Rather than cave-like tunnels, the terminals are lit in hues of blue and adorned with large potted plants giving the weary traveler the sensation of moving languidly through a body of water rather than hustling down a sterile corridor.

Other features of our Omani adventure also made this small nation stand out. For instance, Oman was actually the only M.E. country that hooked us up with a local (Omani-Arab) guide rather than an expat. Expat workers and professional tour guides, no matter how in love they are with their adopted homes, can only give you insights from their perspective outside the culture. Local Arab guides have a very unique perspective. Ours was an early twenty something youngster fresh out of university who may indeed have been on his very first guiding assignment. The millennial generation of these nations are now expected to go to university and also to find gainful employment. In the other countries, local young people work mostly in ministerial positions or at least bureaucratic jobs like posts in immigration or even in the travel sector (airports, etc.). The university in Oman has a large tourism program and Oman is actively cultivating tourism as a viable industry. So look for and even ask for a local guide if possible.  Why? Just for instance I doubt very much that an expat guide will be able to fill you in on the finer points of Arab youth culture. Things like what it is to be a “chicken nugget”. (An Arab who’s “brown on the outside and white on the inside”.) In no country is it a compliment to be a “sellout” of one’s culture, however it was a designation that produced a lot of mirth among our new young Omani friends. I suspect, like many insults, context is of supreme importance. If you are carting old white dudes around all day and giving them the Down Low on every aspect of your country and your culture without censoring the story your friends are going to call you a chicken nugget. That’s just how it goes. 

Another perk of utilizing a local guide is the network they have among other locals. Only in Oman did we get to glimpse inside what it’s like to be a young working Arab or a young Arab university student. Guess what? It’s a lot like, almost exactly like, being a young American. It involves coded greetings much like secret handshakes and plans for future music events and midday video game sessions and doing favors for a buddy at a moment’s notice to impress a client and making sure to pick up a special treat (something called Omani sweets – like a gooey fudge) for your mama whom you will visit on the weekend. So, in this case we swung by to pick up a buddy who had knowledge of the famed irrigation channels built among the Omani residences and he dropped everything to become a guide to our guide. A guide + one if you will. It produced a most excellent experience wherein one of us (not I) scampered up a twenty foot wall with two much much younger men and proceeded to gather pure photographic gold, both in terms of pictures AND experience. How often do you get to caper up a world heritage site (there are five of these in Oman) with local guides and nary another tourist in sight? Never. So, if the offer presents itself, my advice is, go for it. 

Also, in Oman, do not miss the Nizwa Castle, part fort and part Castle, and be aware that Nizwa, since 2006 has been the official Islamic Cultural Capitol, aka “the egg” of Islam since it is in Nizwa that you will find most serious students and scholars of Islam and the Quran. 

A final note on the government of Oman: it is a sultanate and as such there are no elections. All ministers within the Omani government are appointed and serve at the pleasure of the sultan. When Omani citizens turn 23 years old they are able to claim a parcel of land near to where they were born. They are free to build and live on it or develop it commercially (within zoning limits). Since the population of Oman is extremely young, (almost half of Omanis are under age 15), this practice seems unsustainable. Won’t they soon run out of parcels? I don’t know who’s in charge of such things but I’m guessing somebody’s already working the numbers to figure this out. Nobody seemed alarmed about it though no one I spoke with had an easy answer for it either. 

All in all Oman is a country with many charms but also with some serious problems including a looming water crisis. They have a much larger agricultural industry (and thus a much larger demand for water) than other gulf countries and a majority of the fresh water is “fossil” water that emanates from the mountains. We saw no sign of desalinization yet on the Omani coastline though oil and gas is ever-present and a dominant economic force. You can’t drink oil though.

When the Desto3 team touched down at Bahrain International Airport the Jewish population of Bahrain skyrocketed from 37 to 38. Yes, Margaret, of the total 1.2 million Bahrainians a scant 37 (or 0.0%) are Jewish.

Slightly less than half the population of Bahrain are Bahraini citizens and slightly greater than half are expats living in Bahrain to work, most of them from India. Religious identity seems relatively insignificant although everyone seems to know on sight what everyone else “is”.  And that is quite a feat since the human make up of Bahrain is as complicated as it gets. There are Sunni Bahrainis (arguably the most influential ethnic group in Bahrain) who might be either Arab or Huwala. The Sunni Arabs typically hail from Zallaq, Muharraq, Riffa and the Hawar islands whereas the Huwala are descendants of  Sunni Iranians or Sunni Persians depending on who you talk to. And, please understand that people from Iran are NOT Arab people. You probably know that if you are Muslim you might be either Sunni Muslim or Shiite and in Bahrain there are more Shia than Sunni even though the royal family and most of the ruling elite are Sunni. A good number of Sunni people are of Baloch origin and among the African Bahrainis almost all are from East Africa. About 40% of the Bahraini residents are Christian and they can be either Christian expats or Christian native Bahrainis. Among the many Asian Bahraini residents you will find Indians from India plus folks from the Philippines, Sri Lanka,  and Nepal. This group can be Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, Baha’i or even something called “unaffiliated” although that last group is really really tiny and only slightly more folks admit to no religious affiliation than admit to being Jewish. I promise you that I learned my lesson and I can tell you that I will never again admit to being “unaffiliated” in a foreign country that is so very “affiliated” – but that’s a story for another day. 

With a melting pot like this one there are a lot of languages spoken but the official one is Arabic and, thanks to the British who made their usual significant occupation, (1861-1971) all signage is bi-lingual in both Arabic and English – lucky enough for us. And, nearly everyone speaks at least a little English. 

Since Bahrain is an island, connected by causeway only to Saudi Arabia, it shares no borders and has a unique history and cultural identity. Bahrain was the first of the Middle Eastern countries to “get the memo” about diversification of investment and resources and so they are well on their way to being free from the yolk of oil industry dominance. They were first to discover and refine oil in this region and so it isn’t too surprising that they’ve been the first to move on from oil dependence. They are currently a major player in international banking and they do a very brisk business in gold and gold jewelry where once upon a time they were among the world’s greatest pearl traders. Large numbers of Indian families were spotted in the gold market presumably acquiring gold in preparation for those gigantic, ostentatious gold-laden weddings the Indians favor. Sadly, no golden trinkets were harmed (acquired) in the making of this Desto postcard.

Perhaps it’s the island thing but whatever, Bahrain is known to be (and you can feel it) quite a bit more “modern” in terms of cultural tolerance. For example, there’s more than a tiny bit of inter-marriage between ethnic groups and it’s one of the very few Gulf states that doesn’t have a law against homosexuality on the books. One source told us that while it isn’t technically illegal to be gay, it’s still frowned upon and gay people can find themselves jailed for other trumped up charges that basically amount to “breathing while gay”. Hence, gay Bahrainians are still a mostly closeted group.   

Yes, Margaret, there is alcohol to be had even though it’s a Muslim country. In fact, one night we walked right into a Lebanese restaurant in a large shopping mall and ordered a bottle of pretty decent wine from a not altogether horrible wine list. (Many other diners were also sipping fermented grape juice, all of them dressed in traditional garb, so we assumed that they were among the predominant Muslim population just out on the town sinning like us by wine consumption.) It was suggested (not confirmed) that our fellow diners were all visiting Saudis over for the weekend. Indeed this theory seemed likely since we were advised against attempting to go over to Saudi Arabia via the causeway because a normally twenty minute commute between the two countries on the weekend typically takes four to five hours sitting in traffic among the Saudis in their SUVs all coming over to party in Bahrain. Our waiter suggested that what happens in Bahrain stays in Bahrain if you get my meaning. 

Another group that likes to party and likes to do it in warm climates with pretty beaches and for a reasonable price is our Russian friends and there were quite a few installed at our hotel. They seemed to stick pretty close to their home away from home utilizing the beach, the pools and the bars and doing very little sight seeing. I know this makes me a horrible person but next time I go to Bahrain I might think about inquiring as to how many chubby white people who have no business wearing bikinis and speedos I can expect to be lolling around the swimming pool at the hotel chain smoking and slugging vodka shots and I’ll look elsewhere for my lodging. 

I know. I’ll take a karmic hit for that.

Ask the average American (myself included in that group) what they know about Kuwait. I’ll bet you a fiver that all they can tell you is…”something, something, Gulf war… something else, something else, Persian empire… oil, oil, oil…” And they couldn’t find it with anything like speed on the globe. Can we just admit that, on the whole, we (most of us) are pretty ignorant when it comes to the rest of the world and extraordinarily ignorant when it comes to the Middle East? I can admit it. And I’ve BEEN THERE. 

I don’t know what I expected. And, I’m still not entirely sure what I saw, Or, really, if what I saw and was told is all that accurate. Not that I think we were lied to. Well, okay, maybe a little bit. They don’t get a lot of American tourists in Kuwait. (Compared to some of the other countries in the Gulf.) The ones they do get are by and large, Americans on holiday who are working either in Kuwait or elsewhere in the Gulf’s “energy sector” (oil). Also, a generous number of military personnel who are stationed there and off duty. Educated American and European teachers are imported to staff the private schools for the expat workers in those fields who have brought their families to live with them. Those groups are the “tourists” you see in Kuwait. I don’t think we saw one group of American tourists or even European tourists that would fall outside those narrow populations. 

And, us. Just us. We were definitely the anomaly. 

Since we’re both a tad bit gray of the hair and long of the tooth we are obviously not there working and not military so, as one Kuwaiti said to us, “Why are YOU here?” Or, maybe it was “Why are you HERE?” Either way we took it to mean that we were a relatively unexpected sight. Not just for being American. For being THERE for no other reason than because we could. 

And, now, Jesus…I can’t count all the people who have sent messages to one or the other of this Desto team congratulating us on our timing. I haven’t checked but I wouldn’t be surprised if the state department is advising against travel to the region and that’s a damn shame. I loved this trip and ordinarily I love to recommend out of the ordinary places to other travelers, but, now…I just can’t. If I had to synthesize all I learned in the Middle East in general it would be that for the most part people in the west have NO real understanding about what the people and the place are like. Most folks just want to score some fresh fish at the fish market for dinner and go home and watch mindless TV. Just like us. There is no “them”, or rather “they” are “us”. We’re all so much alike in so many ways. The main difference between us is that they don’t have Rupert Murdoch et al telling them day in and day out that we want to kill them because they aren’t “Christian” and we do have those Fox idiots cramming people’s heads with the stereotype of the Muslim beheaders. It’s so not true. Well, not yet anyway. What day is it? Are we at war yet? 

But, let me tell you of some observations and impressions starting with Kuwait specifically.

From the vantage of the airplane you can see that most of the coastline has been dedicated to industry (oil). It’s kind of screwed up the coastline if you want to know the truth. Instead of what probably was, pre-oil discovery and exploitation, miles of pristine beach, you see instead, miles of refineries. So, nary a 7 star hotel like we’re going to visit in the UAE, or even a modest resort for the Russians. (No Russian tourists spotted in Kuwait. If they want to go to an oil spilled beach they’ll stay home, thank you very much.)

Although we were assured that Kuwait was extremely safe, (yeah, a lot happens in just 3 weeks) there was a heightened sense of …I don’t know…I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what. Maybe it was that we were such an oddity. There was something in the air that was definitely NOT present in any of the other Gulf countries. It’s different there. Maybe it’s just that they don’t really have their groove yet when it comes to broad scale tourism and what I sensed was their suspicion of us and why we were there. There was just an uneasiness that we felt nowhere else. (Egypt, too was different but in a different way from the Gulf states. We’ll get into that in a future post .)

Like Qutar, the population of Kuwait is about 4.5 million and fully 70% are expat workers.

Kuwait is rumored to be safe. Trip Advisor among other sources will say so. (“You can go anywhere.”) It’s also rumored to be “modern”, both in terms of cultural norms and in general. Women have more rights and more visibility than among other Muslim nations. (No booze though. None. Not even in the hotels. It’s illegal in the country. They serve “mocktails”. I’d rather drink battery fluid.) However, here’s an interesting factoid: we were told that “everybody” and by everybody I mean all 4.5 million Kuwaitis typically have easy access to home distilled beer and wine -some of it not godawful. (We did not get offered any and if you’re caught you can go to jail, so nah, we’re good. Several people were quite amused at our naiveté in believing there was not any at all to be had and they delighted in our surprise.) In fact, every interaction we had with average Kuwaitis was marked by what can only be described as “delight” (plus a smidge of the already heretofore mentioned suspicion). 

As elsewhere in the M.E. Kuwait has a considerable population (nearly a million and mostly expats) that practices other forms of religion than Islam. We, in fact visited a large Catholic church right in the middle of Kuwait City. There are also a few Buddhist and Hindu Temples.

The souk was interesting in that it was clean and orderly and very chill. Not an aggressive store clerk to be found. A very personable pharmacist helped me acquire some over the counter heavy duty antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory for the asking (who needs a doctor?).

Although the Kuwaiti skyline has some impressive structures, and for sure the Al Hamra Tower (the tallest sculpted tower in the world) impresses, it is the system of water towers thirty four in total, headlined by the three known as The Kuwait Towers, that are the pride and joy and maybe even the symbol for modern Kuwait. You may (and we did) take an elevator (for a fee) up to the top of one of the towers and look down through a glass floor. Only one other party of tourists accompanied us and they were foreign visitors not from the west. 

Which brings me to my conclusion. Kuwait is one of those places that other Americans don’t go, so if you’re like me, it’s the very best time to go. You will feel not only welcomed, but cherished and it will surprise you in a hundred different wonderful ways. 

Leaving Kuwait at the airport we took separate customs lines. No particular reason. Just a burst of autonomy. My station was “manned” by two customs officials, one male and one female, head fully covered. Not a single hair in view. They were engaged in a lively discussion in Arabic and barely took note of me. When the exit stamp was stamped and the young man told me to have a nice day I addressed the young woman. 

Me: Excuse me, may I ask you a quick question?

Customs lady: Of course. What is your question?

Me: Well, we’re leaving for Bahrain and I was wondering if you know if I have to cover my head when we leave the plane in Bahrain?

Customs lady (grabbing my hand and pulling me slightly to the side): Listen, it used to be that in these places you had to completely cover, but now, no. You don’t have to cover your head or anything else. Anything goes now. Now, you could take off all your clothes in the middle of the street and no one will say a thing to you.

Me: Oh, trust me, honey, NOBODY wants to see that! They WILL say something. They’ll say, PLEASE PLEASE for the love of all that is holy, be merciful and put your clothes back on!

Cracked them right up.

And so I began my stand-up career in the Middle East. 

You say cut’-ter, I say ku-TAR’ so let’s call the whole thing off. 

(Sorry, that’s for my mother in law – RIP, Nonnie – who loved her corny old songs.)

And, now, I’ve been there and I still don’t know what the correct pronunciation is. What I DO know is, that by any name or pronunciation, that place is fascinating. 

No one I told I was going thought it was a good idea to go. And, not only because the penalty for drinking alcohol is getting lashed in public. Okay, I’m being dramatic. It’s true, Qatari Muslims have been known to be lashed for consuming alcohol (dictated by Sharia law which dominates civil law in Qatar). But the alcohol consumption laws have been somewhat relaxed for tourists. You are able to purchase alcohol in some of the 5 star hotel bars and restaurants for instance. It’s pricey, but it’s doable. And, Qatar is hosting the World Cup in 2022 so out of necessity the prohibition of alcohol will yield to what they’re calling “fan zones”.  It’s going to be so interesting to watch the media cover the culture clash of revelry, if not debauchery, associated with soccer’s World Cup and the opprobrium generally associated with Islam’s relationship with alcohol consumption. ESPN, you’ve got your work cut out for you. 

Back to me and my alcohol consumption in Qatar. Yeah. No. There wasn’t any. I could have had a drink in the bar at our hotel but it was smoky and a little creepy and it had the stink of desperation about it so I took a pass and congratulated myself on my ability to do as the Romans do, or in this case, as the Muslim population of Qatar does. (At least in public – more about this in a later postcard.) 

So, I set about learning from our guide as much as possible about the place, the people, the customs and the history and each one of those topics is complicated if not wildly inscrutable. 

People first. 

Slightly fewer than three million souls inhabit the State of Qatar and approximately 12% are what are known as “locals” or people who are indigenous to Qatar from the ruling Al Thani clan which has ruled this constitutional monarchy (pretty benevolently, all things considered) since the middle of the l9th century. The remaining population are all migrant workers, (“expats”) and almost half the country are from the Indian subcontinent. Another couple hundred thousand “expats” are Egyptian and fully a quarter million are Filipino. Islam is the official state religion so it’s unsurprising that nearly 70% of the total population practices it with most practicing the very austere sect known as Wahhabism. An estimated 5-15% follow Shia Muslim doctrine but the distinction between those two lies beyond the scope of this postcard and will most likely elude my true understanding for all eternity. Our guide was a young Muslim Indian fellow from the state of Kerala, India and he was unapologetically besotted with his adopted home. His knowledge of Islam was a gift as he instructed us about his devotion both inside and outside of various mosques. He even demonstrated the correct prayer positions, posing for Pablo’s camera and delighting in our interest.

He described all things Qatari in an exceptionally positive light. He frankly loves and admires the locals and he claimed that his positive feelings were standard among the worker expats. When I told him that I had read up on Qatar and that they’d had some issues with labor in terms of their strict economic system that is described by some outsiders as “feudal”,  he scoffed. Writing off some of the international community’s objections to Qatar’s economic structure as “jealousy” he claimed that there were no unhappy people, no poor people and no homeless. Indeed there were no visible homeless, poor or unhappy people. The quality of life in Qatar, at least on the surface available to tourists, is supremely high. Our guide’s breakdown of the economic social structure went something like this: there are rich people, very rich people and then obscenely rich people. All of these people are among the category known as “locals”. Rich on oil and gas money every citizen (and you can only be a citizen if you are a local) owns several villas, a half dozen SUVs, travels extensively and sends their kids either abroad to university or to one of the many implanted foreign based colleges at the glorious Education City. In fact, Qatari citizens enjoy the highest per capita income in the world! As a tourist you will have little to no interaction with them. Your direct interface will be with the foreign ex-pats who work in the hotels, restaurants and tourism industry. You’ll have a few “local spottings” especially if you go to the malls (which are stunning, by the way, and though they were nearly empty in November, during the summer, when temps can go up to 130 degrees F., the malls are mobbed. The very excellent roads are another good place for local sightings as they seem to love their cars. They are, however, terrible drivers and often were witnessed juggling a mobile phone, a sandwich and a beverage behind the wheel of an expensive vehicle. I wouldn’t drive in Qatar if you gave me a brand new Porsche to do it. 

The geography of Qatar is a bit unique as it’s a tiny little peninsula with only one shared physical border (Saudi Arabia) and they still remain under a blockade that began several years ago by the neighboring Arab countries who have said that Qatar supplies terrorist organizations in other countries with funds. (This accusation has been denied.) You can still see the ubiquitous stencil of the Emir’s face EVERYWHERE from the sides of buildings to the rear windows in cars as a national gesture of solidarity and support for the Emir’s response to the blockade. Indeed, Qatar has not only survived the blockade, they have turned a crisis into an opportunity and out of necessity several heretofore non-existent industries have sprung up and become hugely popular and successful. One of these is agriculture. Where none existed prior to the blockade, a promising if nascent hydroponic farming industry dots the desert landscape courtesy of the desalinization of ocean water. Perhaps this kind of comeback shouldn’t surprise anyone. When the very prominent pearling industry collapsed in the early twentieth century thanks to the invention of the cultured pearl in Japan, Qatar turned to oil and natural gas exports to become one of the richest countries in the world. They know how to pull out of an economic nosedive for sure. As for the Emir’s face everywhere, students of Islam will note that according to Koran, it is forbidden to reproduce human faces and images as this is seen as blasphemy. Even I knew that much from having visited the Alhambra in Spain where nary a human face can be seen. Nor animals or other living creatures. In art at least. So, what gives? Well, according to our (very very devout) guide, the Emir’s face everywhere, while extraordinary, has come to provide a certain kind of national calm. “Everything Is Going To Be Alright” became the rallying cry during the worst of the blockade and thus, an allowance for a suspension of that aspect of religious doctrine. And, also, let’s be honest…commercial enterprise. You can’t have a mall without advertising and you can’t have advertising without pictures of pretty people. There’s that. 

So, what’s a DoNOTmiss in Qatar? I’d say, the absolutely gorgeous main Mosque, (the only Mosque in all of the middle east that required I cover my clothes and head) the Opera House and the old Souk at night when it’s bustling. (Dead as a doornail during the day.) Don’t miss the Arabian Falcons. A brisk business of live birds all throughout the Gulf Countries is centered here even with the blockade. There’s an historic old fort way, way out at the end of the peninsula that actually did get Unesco World Heritage designation (Al Zubarah) but…I dunno…why? It’s not for me to judge I guess but nary a visitor was there and the coastline out there, while the beach is quite nice, is pretty much a ghost town since the pearling industry went kaput. (But, if you’re working on a list of all the Unesco sites, you gotta do it.) It’s a long drive out there though and in my opinion not the best use of your limited time if you’re only in Qatar for a couple of days. Instead, go see the camel race track at Shahaniiya where a single camel can be worth millions, just like race horses here. 

Do get a guide that appreciates Qatari culture and one that is willing to share what they know and believe about the predominant religion. You aren’t just seeing sights when you are admitted inside the culture from a true believer’s vantage. It makes for a much richer travel experience.

One final note and back to where we started kind of.  Music. I didn’t realize it at the time and I didn’t register what was missing almost until we left, but there was NO music to speak of in Qatar. No contemporary music at all. Not even in that sad little smoky bar. Clearly classical music is favored and a ton of money was spent on that opera house but even in the malls and elevators I don’t remember hearing even MUZAK. When we started paying attention to it, upon retrospect we remembered that our guide was heading out to an oud concert back at the Opera House when he left us one day and he seemed inordinately excited about that. I mean he was REALLY excited for a free oud concert. I guess if you’re music deprived the oud will do it for you in a pinch. For me, you’ve heard one oud, you’ve heard them all. I know. I’m an ethno-centric jerk but, I need tunes, even abroad. Even corny ones if that’s all I can get. Sue me. 

Desto3 is back in business – big time. 

This episode of “Where in the world is Pablo?” finds our intrepid hero in any one of 7 middle eastern countries beginning in Jordan, what some Jordanians refer to as the 52^nd U.S. state, Israel being the 51^st. (Sorry, Puerto Rico and for that matter D.C. – nobody over here gives a fig about your plight regarding statehood rights, and figs are plentiful here.)

You never know what the man on the street in any foreign nation really thinks about their country’s relationship to America and Americans, and I always assume that folks who work in the tourism industry will have a somewhat skewed opinion, (for better or worse) given that much of their livelihood is dependent on US tourist dollars and near constant social intercourse with actual Americans or other westerners in the course of their workweek.  But even acknowledging this, my take on the affection Jordanians manifest for the U.S. is that it is pretty damn genuine and remarkably positive. And, the Jordanians on the whole seem absolutely incapable of deception and utterly guileless. Another note on the nature of the locals: with no exception, every single Jordanian we came in contact with exhibited a sweetness and a sincerity that could take your breath away. I was put in mind of Margaret Atwood’s Crakers (Oryx and Crake) minus the nudity and other obvious differences. (BTW, I highly recommend the Atwood trilogy, just fyi, for long journeys. And, random travel tip: always take an epic novel with you on any long trip. For those boring mid-transit hours.) 

Day one: we spent the day in and around Amman viewing nearby sites that really should be Unesco World Heritage sites but somehow missed the list. First the Citadel, which, as Citadels go, is right up there.  Reminds me of my dear friends Holly and Jan who always comment, “I wonder how many slaves perished to build THAT?” In this case the answer is, plenty. There’s a museum inside the Citadel that chronicles the history. You can visit via Wikipedia for the same info if you are curious. The day we visited the Citadel’s amphitheater it was in preparation for a big event being thrown by the king. I don’t know what the occasion was but it is notable that this “venue” is still being used as a party site. Alas, the Desto3 folks were not invited to attend.

Next we moved on to Jerash, an ancient/modern city about an hour’s drive from Amman. The ruins of the ancient city are in a constant state of excavation and renovation. Evidence of some kind of ancient Neolithic civilization dates life there to 7500 B.C. What has been unearthed already displays a history of the occupation of the old city by the cycle of domination by the usual suspects in World History 101. I.E. the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantines, a brief failed attempt by the Christian Crusaders, and finally the Islamic dynasties that maintain ownership and occupation to this very day. 

There’s a pretty extensive Rue du Crapola just inside the gates but the shop owners are actually very chill and the few I spoke with were friendly, curious and unaggressive. Again, more of the local charm prevailed.

Our day guide inside the city walls of ancient Jerash was not exactly bitter about the world’s failure to adequately acknowledge Jerash. It was more like he blamed a failure of Jordan’s public relations capabilities. He knew (and listed for us) all the other world heritage sites and opined vociferously that Jerash deserved to be recognized every bit (and maybe more) than they did. It IS quite spectacular. And it is HUGE. The magnificence of the reclaimed structures including the columns in every period rival Pompei, the Roman Coliseum, and the Greek Parthenon. You get a sense of what’s to come as you enter through Hadrian’s Gate (more on this in a sec). It just gets better and better (see photos).

On the second day in Jordan I spent 4 hours in the back of a compact Ford speeding through the desert from Amman to Wadi Rum, the “Holy Valley” or the Valley of the Moon. The landscape is so barren it conjures up movie moonscapes. Indeed more than a couple Hollywood movies, including the blockbuster MARS (with my fave, Matt Damon) was shot on location here in Jordan’s desert. At times I could have been en-route from LA to Vegas. Flat and bleak and in the summer, muy caliente..  Then you enter the red valley and you are reminded much of Sedona, AZ if you’ve ever been. The sand is like red flour and the youth and the tourists like to run barefoot down the dunes in it. (Me, maybe 20 years ago, but my hip surgeon would not approve of any such foolishness now. My partner “ran” down, but not with what anyone here or anywhere would call “alacrity”.

There are many overnight camps in Wadi Rum varying from luxurious to basic and the prices range accordingly. Our camp was a mix of Bedouin style tents and plastic, air-tight domes that allowed us to star gaze all night long from bed. We justified the extra expense by noting that it’s highly unlikely we’ll ever be back again and I must say, it was worth every extra penny. There’s just nothing like lying under a night sky in Wadi Rum to fuel the contemplations of your relative insignificance in the Universal scheme of things. Unless of course you’re doing the same thing in the red sand desert of Namibia. 

Meanwhile the local Bedouin tribe are still basically nomadic and they OWN the Wadi Rum. From a distance you see their many 4X4s careening through the desert like motorized beetles all carrying Western tourists to the various points of interest and stellar viewing sites. These “desert tours” are a principle source of income now. I cannot say enough about the graciousness of the Bedouin. Few are really proficient in English and most still live as the tribe has for hundreds of years. We must seem very odd to them and yet they are so generous and kind it breaks your heart a little. I hope the Wadi Rum stays this way but I have fears that with more and more tourism, the jade will set in and even the sweetest guys will get polished and savvy. This will be too bad. It may be inevitable however as Jordan is not oil rich like the rest of the gulf and they will, out of necessity, rely on tourism for income. In addition, they export a lot of agricultural products, unlike most of the rest of this region, and so far, Jordan is the ONLY country in the middle east to invest significantly in alternative power. A decent representation of wind farms already exists and one thing they have plenty of is wind. 

On the way back to Amman from the Wadi Rum we visited Petra. You really do need much more than a day to take all of Petra in. Our guide recommended 5 days minimum. He was magnificent but, there’s only so much you can cover if you are rushing along. If you plan to go, I’d give it minimum 3 days and you should stay in the new city of Petra to do it. The long walk through a rock walled canyon takes over an hour and if you’re not up for the hike you can hire a carriage. Walking IN is not hard as it’s slightly downhill. Walking OUT is a little trickier. We opted for the donkey ride up the fire/emergency road (20 minute ride instead of an hour and a half walk back-did I say, uphll?). The fire road route is REALLY steep. I’d guess 14% incline or more so I felt really bad for my poor donkey but I did give him a wee tip (recommended by our guide and then, as if we’d forget, also by the donkey’s manager – seriously, who doesn’t tip their donkey?) on the bitter end of his sojourn, so we’re good with the hardworking donkeys of Petra.

Hustling back to make the iconic sunset photo over the Dead Sea and to stay over again in Amman to catch our flight to Qatar, we raced along the coast that gives you a view of Jericho in Israel. It is THAT close. I have to say, it does give one pause, given both ancient and recent history, to stand on the high bank of the Dead Sea in Jordan and look across to the lights of Jericho in Israel. Perhaps one of the most moving world vistas.

Back to Hadrian’s gate in Jerash: some additional contemplation. 

Hadrian. Google the guy for background and then ponder this: word arrived in Jerash two years prior to his arrival alerting the locals that he was coming to visit. So, in that two years the city built a gate through which he would enter. A gate that would befittingly honor him as he was much beloved throughout the region. When I say “gate” you should envision the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, or perhaps the Arch in Washington Square Park, New York City. A big, substantial mother. You don’t throw one of those suckers up overnight. (See photo above.)

Imagine the devotion a population must feel to any given leader or political figure to erect such a monument for a guy who basically stopped in ONE time. (He stayed around four months and then mosied on his way never to return and enter through his gate again.) 

This is where my thoughts go these days. What was it about Hadrian that made people want to create such magnificence just to say, “Hey, dude, welcome to Jerash! We love ya’.” 

Or, did he just have a great PR advance team? I wonder.