Yeah, you read that right.
One thing I insisted on finding upon arrival in Amman was a place we could call our local. Somewhere cheap, pleasant and not too far out of the way. As spit-and-sawdust as possible, preferably. The Doors Cafe doesn’t exactly tick all of those boxes, but somehow it’s become our local anyway. A glamorous clientele, decent music and more shisha varieties than an acid-trip rendition of Joseph’s Technicolour Dreamcoat. I’m no shisha fiend – a bad reaction to my first attempt in Essaouira has left me cautious – but I’m not averse to trying. But last night’s offering was just as bonkers as Andrew’s green egg surprise: pigeon shisha. It had to be one of the only ones that wasn’t translated, which I guess is why Andrew went for it. The waiter looked bemused and asked him if he was sure about the zaghlul, before sighing and walking off. I don’t know all that much about hookah culture, but I thought there was an emphasis on sweetness, right? Instead I got a lungful of what can only be described as barbecued bird. I could have saved myself a dinar and inhaled grill smoke. Jordan just keeps throwing these curveballs at me. I’m regretting being forced into this position less and less.
As for there being nothing to do in Amman, well, I’m beginning to see why people say that. Based where we are, up in the wealthier residential parts of the city, there isn’t exactly much in the way of entertainment outside of the cafe scene, especially during Ramadan. But bother what people say. As usual, I’m determined to ignore well-meaning advice and blunder into the future, living each day as it comes. Fortunately, Amman isn’t short on like-minded souls. I found myself talking Spain, Childish Gambino and American politics with a star of a Texan girl whilst listening to Antonio Banderas back in his early singing days. One of the things I enjoy most about travel is the music scene; not just the local stuff, but sharing music with fellow travelers I meet along the way. Music’s just such a wonderful way to meet people. It’s a next-level boon that takes you straight to the soul of the person you’ve just met. There’s simply no other way of putting it: it’s magical. Even as I write, I can hear Andrew playing his flute in the room next door. I kind of wish I’d brought my violin with me, and I haven’t thought that in a while.
Apologies for the depth there. That could very well be the shisha talking. Until the next time. BB x