First thoughts on Amman

(from first day I arrived)

I'm going to confess I've come here with the all-American sin of geographical ignorance. I expected Amman to be a city-town in the midst of implacable desert. I still haven't gotten an as-good feel of this city as I will throughout the hopefully nine months I'll be here, but about 11 hours in-country, from the plane that touched down at Queen Alya airport to the temporary lodging near the University of Jordan on al-Wifaq St., has given the following sets of impressions: 

It wasn't until about twenty minutes from touchdown that we crossed from the Mediterranean into land. Israeli and Palestinian airspace—coming from Greece, a straighter shot would've been through Syria; suffice it to say I'm glad to be safely out of the region's skies.

A little way inland but still short of Jordan the landscape turned from sun-worn coasts to selfish mounds of earthy, ancient-looking hills. These gave way to smaller, more ridged and uneven chains of mountain; then to the Dead Sea, which more-or-less marks the western borders of Jordan.

Soon inside things leveled out and took on a more standard (stereotypical, I guess) desert appearance. My fickle memory remembers that the Egyptian desert was whiter and more relatively less settled. Between small-medium settlements, agricultural plots, and various industries I couldn't divine from the air, the land looks well-used. (Keep in mind these are first impressions from several thousand feet up.)

I was a bit nervous to step back into Arabic—mother tongue is a fitting term: however much I love languages, speaking English I feel safe and comfortable.

Speaking of appropriate terms, Cairo, al-qaahira: overpowering, vanquishing, conquering. Overwhelming.

I still have practically everything to see, but Amman so far seems cozier and gentler. Just off the highway, many families laid out under the trees, enjoying late-afternoon picnics. Interspersed throughout the stony grey-brown hills on the outskirts—which reminded another student of Syria—were trees and even groves and orchards. In our neighborhood, likely more upper-class than most, we heard a cricket chirp. And not even a cacophony, this same student pointed out, but one cricket.

Some of the stone structures we passed from the car looked ancient: Amman boasts a Roman amphitheater and even mention in the Bible (as "Ammon").

From what I've read and observed, the Arabic in Jordan seems pretty diverse phonologically. I've slipped pretty comfortably into qàg, but sociolinguistically it might sound strange coming from whitey. We'll see.

Blurry and simplistic if not inaccurate, based memories of a largely car-window afternoon and evening in parts of Amman. (I don't even know how downtown my neighborhood is.) Hopefully I haven't gone offensively off-the-mark anywhere, but if I have I hope in these next nine months to make amends.

Long live the King!