I chose Jordan Flower because it was recommended in Lonely Planet as a safe place for solo women. Just the fact that this was emphasized made me nervous of the other hotels, wondering what made them less safe.

The options were for shared squat toilet (J$5) or private Western toilet (J$8). As it was low season in Jordan, the kind manager Mohammed allowed me to knock J$1 off the price for a private bath.

The plain, clean room held two large beds and a TV with Arabic channels. The only window opened to the hallway, but sunlight filtered in the glass above the door. The bathroom featured the ubiquitous Middle Eastern toilet-shower, and while the showerhead wasn't DIRECTLY above the toilet, it was a pretty small space.

The small staff was very friendly. Twenty-two-year-old Mohammed ran the place for his uncle, the owner, and dreamed of moving to Syria. The staffers were all Palestinian and felt they have better opportunities outside of Jordan. A friendly man washed my clothes at his home for just $J3 and accommodated my tight schedule by taking the clothes in the evening and returning them very early in the morning—with my limited amount of clothing, other hotels' strict daytime-only laundry hours were not practical. Another receptionist, who worked very few hours, was very flirtatious, but in a harmless way.

The TV in the lounge featured hundreds of satellite channels. I pointed out that most of the programming received was American. "I know!" the manager groaned, "I HATE America!" He quickly pointed out he didn't hate Americans, however. Whenever I entered the lounge, I was immediately offered sugary tea and cigarettes. In the lounge I met Ann, a South African woman who had lived in Egypt for 8 months and had now been in Aqaba 1 month.

At first, I found the 50-ish woman to be fascinating, strong, and independent. As I had just 1 night in Aqaba, she decided to take me out on the town. While I appreciated seeing GOOD belly-dancing after experiencing Palmyra Night Club in Cairo, the various hotels we visited and the men we met convinced me that Ann was not so much interesting as sleazy.

At 3am, I finally extricated myself from the uncomfortable evening and ran into the hotel, feeling awful that I had to wake up the young manager to unlock the doors. Mohammed admonished me for going out with Ann, saying he hated her and planned to get rid of her to preserve his hotel's good reputation. His genuine concern and desire to protect me, a woman almost 7 years his senior, ended up seeming charming and sweet. Mohammed and I happily spent the wee hours talking, smoking, and drinking tea on the roof, gazing out over the town.

Jordan Flower was exactly as I had hoped: clean, welcoming, and safe for independent women. The hotel is also in a good location and within easy walking distance from many good bakeries, ATMs, and Internet cafés. It is highly recommended.

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