To Jordan, land of very intelligent people making good breakfasts and muttering about the Iraqi presence in their country. In general Jordan feels a little like Switzerland, equally blessed by mountains, a little more dusty. Like Switzerland, Jordan is determinedly neutral, much put upon by the neighbours. Traditionally, and with all the authority of their descent from the Prophet, the Hashemite Kings are the Middle East’s region’s favorite negotiators (so much so that they considered offering King Abdullah the Iraqi crown as a way of calming down the post war situation).
Unlike Ibn Saud, who essentially paid a man down the souk to come up with his ancestry, the Hashemite line of succession is real, and it makes the Jordanian monarchy close to sacrosanct – one of the reasons that this tiny, undefended country has survived without being snacked upon by one of the hungry neighbours.
Famously characterized by Rory Bremner as between Iraq and a hard place, Jordan’s geographical position isn’t exactly admirable. A regular influx of refugees from various neighbouring countries drives property prices and unemployment through the roof on a roughly ten year cycle. Despite this, the Jordanians remain good-humoured, and despite some muttering, generally impressively tolerant of immigration. The borders with Iraq may now been closed – but it took three years to close them. The authorities may now be discouraging calling shops or cafes, the Baghdad Café or the Ma-e-Sharif Dry Cleaners, but the fact that so many businesses had an Iraqi linked name is testament in itself to some impressive toleration.
One of the best things about this Jordanian moderation is the way that it is expressed sartorially. The women in Jordan wear neat collared coats and coloured headscarves, Islamically correct but also rather natty. The Hashemite Kings take a similar approach, usually appearing in a suit and tie, and ignoring the general Islamic dislike of cutting beards. Instead, King Abdullah, as with his father, King Hussein before him, opts instead for a dashing Errol Flynn type pencil moustache.
Unlike Ibn Saud, who essentially paid a man down the souk to come up with his ancestry, the Hashemite line of succession is real, and it makes the Jordanian monarchy close to sacrosanct – one of the reasons that this tiny, undefended country has survived without being snacked upon by one of the hungry neighbours.
Famously characterized by Rory Bremner as between Iraq and a hard place, Jordan’s geographical position isn’t exactly admirable. A regular influx of refugees from various neighbouring countries drives property prices and unemployment through the roof on a roughly ten year cycle. Despite this, the Jordanians remain good-humoured, and despite some muttering, generally impressively tolerant of immigration. The borders with Iraq may now been closed – but it took three years to close them. The authorities may now be discouraging calling shops or cafes, the Baghdad Café or the Ma-e-Sharif Dry Cleaners, but the fact that so many businesses had an Iraqi linked name is testament in itself to some impressive toleration.
One of the best things about this Jordanian moderation is the way that it is expressed sartorially. The women in Jordan wear neat collared coats and coloured headscarves, Islamically correct but also rather natty. The Hashemite Kings take a similar approach, usually appearing in a suit and tie, and ignoring the general Islamic dislike of cutting beards. Instead, King Abdullah, as with his father, King Hussein before him, opts instead for a dashing Errol Flynn type pencil moustache.
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