Arrival in Amman

Of all our flights only the last was late. Though lateness would have been welcome to the beginning of our nine hour layover in Germany (and a very unpleasant airport to have such a long layover in, too,) only the flight that needed to be on time for the sake of our first acquaintances at the airport in Jordan was late. The plane rides became increasingly more pleasant, however; our first flight was on a tiny, dingy blue aircraft, our second a massive and neglected Boeing, and our third on an elegant and new Lufthansa where I enjoyed a window seat in an empty row, and was surrounded by perfumed, dozing passengers who ushered me before them in and out of the plane. 

Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I drifted off quickly at the beginning of that last flight. When I awoke you could not tell between the darkness of the sky and the ground. Both were wide grey-blue plains stretching out below and above, at times speckled with tiny, lone specks of light. There was nothing, and then suddenly everything. Blossoming out of the horizon came Amman, its edge a silky but textured ridge of light like molten gold pouring over the desert and stretching towards us, rolling across the landscape and the desert to rest, glimmering, beneath us. Everyone was helpful, the guards waved us through security without a second glance, the gentlemen behind the exchange desk quietly explained to us everything we needed to know, and our landlord, who picked us up at 3 a.m., shouted a welcome to us as we walked through the gates. When you uttered even a single word in Arabic everyone in the vicinity would turn and grin, and ask questions. “Enti talib?” “Tetekelmeen al-Arabia?” “Are you a student?” “You speak Arabic?” “Ahlan wa sahlan anisa!” “You are welcome here!” Having blonde hair was, of course, a sure way of attracting attention, but if you caught anyone staring they would smile kindly at you, and it was impossible to feel threatened or unwelcome. 

Outside of the airport the air smelled clean and soft, like salty sea air that had had all of the salt sucked right out of it, but still retained the freshness and sweetness of summer in it. The trees were supple and covered in purple flowers, and each breeze carried with it the deep scent of a bouquet of flowers pressed to your nose. There was nothing not to love. Everyone and everything is open and kind and yours, if you want it enough.

Thanks for reading this dramatic first entry! I’m going to be here for six weeks, so I’ll keep this updated and hopefully add in some pictures and videos too! Ila liqaa sadeeqaati! Later, my friends!