It was the sixth time that I traveled to Jordan, and I had decided that it was time for me to explore the country as a tourist and discover the amazing sites that people always talk about. There would be the obvious Petra, the Wadi Rum desert, Jerash, and the Roman Amphitheatre. This construction was built by the Roman Empire centuries ago, and now it is located in the heart of the old city of Amman. It was the closest site for us to visit. My cousin Jack had recommended not to go there because it wasn’t safe for tourists. In fact, a Swedish tourist had recently been stabbed near the site by an extremist. Apparently that tourist was wearing shorts, and was perceived as not respecting local customs. The Amphitheatre is also located in a very conservative district.

Ammo Nabil took Marc and me there during our first Amman tour. He parked his car on the street in front of the Roman Amphitheatre itself. The skies were blue and the sun was hot. There were not many visitors, either because the site was not popular, or because it was Friday. There was a small park in front where some men were sitting, alone or accompanied, relaxing or smoking a cigarette. Ammo Nabil showed us the way and waited for us in the park. He needed a moment of solitude to smoke his cigarette.

There was a cabin beside the entrance of the Amphitheatre. I went there to ask for tickets. I was informed that tickets cost 1 dinar for tourists and 15 cents for Arabs. Again, even if I spoke to the clerk in Arabic, he questioned if I was Arab or not (or Armenian Arab or whatever). With a bit of clumsy negotiation from my behalf, we were allowed to enter, both Marc and myself for 1 dinar. We therefore saved 15 cents!

The interior of the Amphitheatre was deserted. It was actually small if we compare it to a football field. But it wasn’t used for playing sports. The Amphitheatre was used for displaying plays and public speeches. When someone stood in the middle of the stage and spoke, all the people sitting in the stands could hear very well. It was because of the echo generated from the shape of the Amphitheatre. We tried it. I climbed the stairs and went completely up to the top, while Marc had remained down, standing in the middle of the stage. He started talking and I had heard him very well, even if there was noise coming from the wind.

Ammo Nabil bought us each a can of Sprite. It was going to cool down our body temperature in that awfully hot weather. After a few sips, Marc noticed the shape of the cans of sprite. They were thinner and longer than the cans of Sprite in North America. I had the impression that there was a little less liquid inside, but it was the format used and sold in this Jordan. Marc appreciated the originality of these cans and said they were beautifully designed.

Drinking the cold fluid was almost necessary before our mini-tour of Amman because most of the monuments we were going to visit were outside, under the blazing sun. That day, we would stop at the Roman Amphitheatre and the Temple of Hercules. When Marc and I each finished drinking our sprites, we asked Ammo Nabil where we could throw away the empty cans. He simply took Marc’s can and threw it out of the car’s window. I was in shock! I think he wanted to make a simple joke, but I didn’t like that! I gave a little morality speech on how we shouldn’t throw out rubbish anywhere. I asked my uncle to look at how beautiful the city of Amman is, and how it should remain clean. But at the same time I understood that we were in the Middle East and the mentality was different.