The long goodbye

The days before I return from a place are generally lazy ones. Today I sat in the lobby of my hotel, waiting to see if anyone would want to share a taxi to visit the so-called desert castles. There is no public transport to those I most want to see, and the day threatened rain; for the time being I am tired of hitching. People came and went, to Jerash, to Haifa, to wander Amman. On TV a series of music videos played. Beyonce, an Egyptian pop star, another Arabic singer, Missy Elliott . . . I gave up the desert castles and left the hotel to wander the neighborhood.

I climbed the hill above downtown. A group of boys sitting on a corner pointed me the way to the top, and I started upon a crumbling stair wedged between houses. I approached the citadel on Jebel al-Qal'ah the back way, and had to return to the main entrance to purchase admission into the archeological museum. Within they house pages of the Dead Sea scrolls, and a statue of Icarus's father (his name escapes me now) found on the site, a prized possession. Behind the museum, the remains of an Umayyid palace lay open to exploration, anchored by a reconstructed mosque. From the remnants of the castle walls, all of downtown Amman lay before me.

Returning home, I looked for a phone to call a friend of my cousin; I had promised her I would remember her to him. The receptionist at the hotel pointed me to a bookstall who pointed me to another place down the street. At a small shop I waited for the attendant to complete his prayers in a space no bigger than his kneeling body. He told me his phone could not place calls to mobiles and directed me further down the street. There, I called Sa'ad. Tomorrow he leaves to cover the Arab Economic Summit, but asked if he could be of any service. He remembered my cousin as a wonderful woman. I thanked him and told him I was leaving in another day and was just relaxing in Amman. We said goodbye. I promised to convey his best wishes and we hung up.

This afternoon I sat in a cafe attached to a contemporary art museum. I drank sweetened Turkish coffee. A light rain started and then stopped. The sound of water continued from the central fountain. I have learned to tell time by the call of the muzzein, and when they sounded over the city I knew it was four thirty or thereabouts. The rain started again then stopped.

Various people came and sat and left. A man sketched patterns in blue ink on a notepad. Another sat and stared, elbows upon a book he never opened, head in his hands. A woman with her head covered by a scarf chatted with a man in a blue shirt, their conversation interrupted by mobile phone calls. Another woman, head uncovered, appeared and joined a man sitting alone who had spilled his coffee.

In the tranquil setting I thought over the past three weeks, the people I have met and the places that I've seen, the ever present schwarma stands and the ease of sticking out your hand to obtain transport wherever you want to go. It's hard to imagine that in two days I'll be gone.

But, late last night instead of sleeping I flipped through the guidebook. Iran and Yemen call, and in researching those countries, I know I'll soon be back in the Middle East. Posted by eku at May 19, 2004 6:24 PM