An Average Day

Every day, I hear the call to prayer, or adhan, at about 4 a.m., followed by the actual prayer. Verses of the Qur’an in Arabic are sung in a mystically beautiful way that have inadvertently begun to serve as my inner clock.  I turn over, and go back to sleep. During the work-week, Sunday to Thursday, I am awakened by the daily assembly at the boys school just a stone’s throw away from our apartment.  I often smile to myself to imagine other Americans hearing the assembly for the first time, remembering how surprised I was by what seemed to me violently spoken recitations by what I imagined to be the schoolmaster, and the peppy response cries of the schoolboys.

Then, breakfast. Usually some flavored yogurt, so creamy that very little sugar is required to flavor or sweeten it. Or maybe some pita bread with labaneh spread on top. Or maybe some fresh boiled eggs with some olive oil on the side.

“Getting ready” is done without a shower, unless it’s Sunday.  Once a week, the city releases enough water for everyone to get through the week (unless you’re careless) to water tanks sitting on the roof of our apartment. If you run out, you have to pay 25JD (about $30 US) for water trucks to replenish your supply. That’s a lot of money. So we are careful.  We learned yesterday from a friend that on water day the city keeps the water running, so this is cleaning day for Jordanians. We drink bottled water. 

An average day includes at least one visit to somewhere new. Yesterday, Rainbow Street, where the young Jordanian hipsters tend to congregate and where delightful new-age shops abound. Fruit salad, Jordanian pizza, and a great view of the city served as highlights. Frequently you’ll hear a magnanimous “Welcome to JORdan!” always uttered in the same way by enthusiastic Arabs.  Today we’ll visit the Citadel, or the old Roman ruins. Who knows where else the day will take us?

There are a number of things that happen every day: I kick myself for not speaking Arabic. That one happens multiple times a day. Call to prayer, five times a day, every day. An email to and from Derrick. Friendly encounters with locals who help with said non-existing Arabic. Kites appearing on the evening skyline, steered by unseen fliers. Early evening reveals the lighthouse effect of every mosque tower, which has a green light beaming from its top. I’ve found that I view these mosques as tiny lighthouses, beckoning to seafarers bobbing just offshore. They indicate a safe harbor, a place of sanctuary, even for those of us who make port elsewhere.