Talking Epstein in Amman

[Amman, 6/30/25]

I’m catching on. To drink coffee around dawn, I must walk up half lit steps into the lowest heavens. (According to some cranks, earth must be the highest hell.) When I entered the third floor Jerusalem at 5:40AM, this guy asked if I wanted to smoke shisha? Men and women do that all day long here. “No, just coffee,” I answered in English, plus a hand gesture, but he had no idea what I said. An English speaking customer on the veranda helped us out, though, so I’m settled for life, or at least this morning.

Yesterday’s first café is called A Moment is Enough. I figured that out with Google Translate, so thank you, Mr. Zuckerberg. What would us cattle do without Jews? The second was Café Cairo in an alley. Customers were mostly older men in old yet neat buttoned shirts, belted slacks and dress shoes. There were no T-shirts with weird English. In my áo bà ba, I belonged enough.

Bringing my bitter cup, the barista shouted, “You’re welcome!” In Cairo, old guys often yelled that as I walked by their shops. They just mean “welcome.” Yesterday on the street, a middle aged man asked if I was “alsiynia.”

“Vietnam!” I answered.