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Off the Backpacker’s Trail
Lessons from nine days roadtripping in Jordan
When I think about travel in Jordan, the best word that comes to mind is established. Kira and I have spent the past few months mostly bouncing around different backpackers haunts. From the mountains and cobblestone streets of the Andes to Moroccan deserts and medinas, we’ve found ourselves to be just another pair of nomads in a self-reliant travel culture. Of course there will always be tour groups in massive coach buses and retirees with trekking poles and name tags around their necks, but there have also always been other people like us, figuring it out as they go. Usually a few years younger, sometimes a few years older, but always carrying a backpack that’s equal parts dirty laundry and souvenir sweaters or scarves, usually wearing a pair of hiking boots or trail runners, and always down to swap stories and laughs over a beer or tea.
In Jordan that backpacker culture is hard to find, despite the dozens of people I saw who were, like me, wandering around Petra with a copy of Lonely Planet in hand. I think due to a combination of the institutionalization of tourism here — where your visa to enter the country can be lumped into a (theoretically) all-inclusive pass to access Jordan’s highlights that’s reminiscent of a fast pass at a theme park — combined with the perceived danger of traveling to…
