A 10 minute walk from the pus station

Packing up for Syria and Jordan. The usual stuff - black clothes and jeans - the international travel outfit. I can squeeze everything for a couple of weeks into a carry-on with one extra bag for books, earphones, the computer and cameras - playthings for the long plane rides.  Most days it will just be Richard and me plus Abdul who we're paying to be nice, so what matter our looks? Nevertheless my natty husband will iron his jeans before packing - he does it every time -because those creases down the front are really important to him. He is the neastest packer I've ever seen. The few times we've been security checked at the airport, when they look in his suitcase, they double take. It looks like a paper insert to show how a suitcase should look. Mine, on the other hand, is a heap and a jumble. I stuff everything in and slam it shut.

We fly to New York and then directly from New York to Amman, Jordan. Upgrading with our ff miles, we'll be up front.  From LA to NYC we'll catch up on the movies we wouldn't bother with at home - the "20 something market" movies. All discretion and taste is laid aside in the silver tube.  Flying time is 12 - 13 hours from NYC. Nice dinner, glass of wine, half an ambien and we wake up in Amman - a construction free zone!

Our hotel in Palmyra is boasting that it's only a 10 minute walk from the "pus station". Is this a good or bad thing? This spelling error rates way up there with the "fried crap" we see frequently in Asia. 

Today I heard that vandals smeared refried beans in the shape of swastikas on the glass doors of the state capital building in Sacramento. Such an interesting political statement! I wonder if the stores will have to lock up the refried beans henceforth and handle them like spray paint? Guess we'd better buy a case and hoard it just in case they become a restricted material.