At once magnificent, though never quite empty, the desert highway winds through hills and scenery that Jesus would have felt at home in, and probably did.
In the land the prophet Mohammed called home, there is an overwhelming sense of filth: plastic bags, discarded tires, or pieces of the same. Each settlement is surrounded by the usual mess associated with humans - even the poor camels don't escape it, as I saw one with a plastic bag lodged to his foot.
However, in Jordan, there was more of a respite. In the boiling desert sands, one can escape the mundane and receive internal messages clearer than at any other time. The first message I got in Jordan was to take a break, as my car nearly toppled off the side of the road and into the desert below when I fumbled for a tape in the passenger's seat.
Word to the wise: in Jordan, make sure you say you're originally Irish because you get much more kudos!