Yusuf and Leena flew into Queen Alia International Airport on a crisp autumn morning, ready to trace both history and desert landscapes. Jordan appealed to them because it promised depth , culture with soul, not just sightseeing.
Their first day took them to Amman’s old citadel, where the view of layered rooftops revealed a city built on both tradition and ambition. From there, they drove south to Petra. Entering through the narrow Siq canyon, they emerged before the Treasury just as sunlight hit its red stone. Their children gasped; it felt like walking into another era.
Later, they camped in Wadi Rum, sharing dinner with Bedouin hosts who prepared lamb over open fire. The night sky stretched endlessly, stars so bright it was hard to sleep. Jordan’s hospitality wasn’t an act of service , it was instinct. Every tea offered, every story shared, came from pride and kindness.
The family left promising to return for the Dead Sea and Jerash. What they’ll never forget is how Jordan made them feel both small and welcomed at once, as if history itself had invited them in.
