when I fall in love…
Frances Sedayao’s blog:
It’s 3 a.m. I’m sitting in bed wondering why I am not able to sleep on this last night we are here in Amman. It could very well be the coffee I had after dinner. But wait. I chased that down with 2 glasses of wine, which, for those who know me, will knock me right out.
So I wonder. Could this be that I had fallen in love? Yes, I had fallen in love with…the lamb shawarma i had for lunch today, courtesy of Nina; the darling Jordanian kids who waved and smiled at Becky Chun as we ventured the Citadel of Amman today; the Theatre staff at the Cultural Center who tendered us with laughter, stories, and a brief comraderie which has already bridged future connections; the sound and art of the Arabic language of which about 5 words I know at present; the openness, beauty, and hospitality of ‘men’ in Jordan; the wealth of history and legacy that live in the rocks, the air, the land and its people, the women of Amman, mysterious and lovely behind their pashminas; the boy in the wheelchair, eyes-shut, mouth open, seemingly near death, the pure angel of Amman; the traffic patrol woman who stood in the midst of Amman’s superhighway at the height of rush hour traffic; that same woman who governed at least 3 lanes of traffic in 4 different directions in a city where men dominate the streets.
So I wonder. How soon, if ever, will I get over the heartbreak of unrequited love? Will the pure angel of Amman still be sitting in his wheelchair tomorrow? Does the woman on the highway wear her pashmina at home? Does she have a husband and kids to go home to and cook for? What are her dreams and does she love lamb shawarmas as much as I do? Will I return here?
When I fall in love, I dance. So I wonder, Amman shall we dance again?