There are moments in life when the complexities surrounding you only serve to accentuate your feeling of undeserved good fortune. To presume that we might get a chance to live on the ground floor of a dreamy, old house on a slice of this precious, viciously contested land, would seem greedy. So we made the most of the experience for 2 days and if that's all we ever get - it will still have been lovely.
The dwarves ran in the door of this charming and slightly scruffy British mandate era (1920-1947) building, with high ceilings and a dusty, unkempt garden, and promptly evaporated. Such is the effect of inside and outside space and a sandpit.
We spent a happy couple of days thinking about what life might be like if we do get to live here, and then came back to Amman. Despite the oasis of the house in Jerusalem, it was lovely to return to the 5 month old familiarity of Jordan, and see the twinkling gold-toothed smile of a Jordanian border policeman welcoming us back - 'Ahlan!' No matter the corruption and the chaos within the ranks on this side of the border, at least you get a smile and a welcome.
Then back to our current home, where we were greeted by Sayyad and the Glammy, and it was like coming home to our family. 'Enta catcoot!' said Sayyad to Rashimi. (You're a little chick...) And amidst hugs and laughter and exchange of news, we reaffirmed in ourselves that, whatever the houses are like, this itinerant life is only survivable through the people who travel with you for segments of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment