5-Star Jordan

[Amman, 7/1/25]

Yesterday, I walked miles through two neighborhoods, Al-Wehdat and Tla al-Ali. As usual, I had no idea what I would see. I had no maps and had not seen a single photo of either place. I did know Al-Wehdat began as a 1955 refugee camp for Palestinians. In Beirut, I had wandered through Sabra, another neighborhood of refugees fleeing Judeo Christian Satanism.

Leaving my room just after 4AM, I trekked south. Seeing a coffee stand on Quraysh, I bought a cup from a chubby teenager. Curious, a younger boy sat next to me on the curb. Two smiling men asked to have their photo taken. No one spoke English, and my Arabic is limited to “shukran,” which I’m too shy or retarded to even pronounce. In the US, it would be near suicidal to roam mapless through any city in the middle of the night, but Amman, like all cities across Asia, South Asia and the Middle East, is perfectly safe.

“How old are you?” I asked the boy twice.

“My name is Hamza. He did add, “Very good!” when I showed him our photo.