We plan to pick up our return Jordan visas in Tel Aviv. The visas we got going into Jordan the first time carry no indication of where they were issued; we assume visas issued in Israel won’t either, and therefore won’t be a problem on the trip back through Syria. One call to the Jordan embassy screams otherwise. The man on the phone is contemptuous, unhelpful.
O yes, Tel Aviv will be stamped all over the visa, he says.
No, we will not stamp it on a separate piece of paper.
No, you can’t get visas at the Israel/Jordan border.
Noa says he is punishing us for coming to Israel. Nothing in this region is apolitical.
Rarse! This is very bad news. It means that instead of just hopping across the King Hussein bridge into Jordan at the end of our Palestine stay, we must retrace our steps all the way back down to Eilat, into Egypt, to Nuweiba and back across to Aqaba (in the very South of Jordan) on the Queen Nefertiti. It’s a full 24 hours of delay, and a long-cut of insane proportions.
Of course, we could fly…
We adjust head-positions, and prepare for the long way round.