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| A view of Amman and the Roman theatre from the citadel |
The last time I was in Amman, I landed on the 11th of February 2011. After spending 12 hours in the air without internet or phone coverage, I turned on my
BlackBerry Torch and received a text message from a friend. The text said 'congratulations, he stepped down.' I smiled...Mubarak finally did it. That night, I drove around Amman with my uncle and my cousin looking for knafeh to celebrate, but the entire city had the same idea, and they ran out of knafeh.
Winters in Amman were very different from the summers. Summers were characterised by heavy traffic from Jordanians living abroad visiting family and Khaleejis spending their summer holidays in the city due to its relative stability. The roads in winter were quiet. For anyone visiting, it felt as though it was you and the locals only.
Five years later, I land in a new airport with an expired Jordanian passport. I glance over at the visa queue and notice that the visa for foreigners had doubled since my last visit (40JD). I try my luck with the officer and he lets me on the expired passport but reminds me to renew it. The new airport is nice and quiet. Rather than
Arial Arabic that floods most Arab cities (let's call it the official typeface of the Arab region), nice type in both Arabic and English grace the signs.
In Amman, the car is king. The streets are confusing and I'm not sure how people know where they are going here, but they do. As I drive through the streets – always as a passenger – I notice the new shiny towers that dot the skyline. Last time, the 'new downtown' – Abdali – was merely scaffolding plastered with images of happy people, shopping malls, and new ‘possibilities.’ Today, this new ‘possibility’ has been revealed, and it's tall towers, hotels, shops, the boulevard, and other buildings that aim to attract businesses able to afford the price tag. Abdali is the latest GCC inspired and funded construction project roaring through Arab cities. Five years ago, the under-construction Jordan Gate Towers towered over the skyline. In 2016, a few more floors have been built, but they remain unfinished and already look dated.
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| Le Royal hotel and the Zara Towers on a gloomy day |
The events of the past five years have taken a huge toll on the city and the country as whole, with Arabs from all over the region seeking refuge in it. It remains incredibly expensive with a high currency, low salaries, and the mysterious 16 per cent tax. This has also turned traffic into a 24/7 ordeal. The amount of cars has increased, yet the roads have not been expanded. Whatever, when there’s only two lanes, Jordanians turn this into four to ‘maximise’ space! Taxis have gotten worse – they don't take you where you want to go but where
they want to go. Luckily for me, Uber – while I do not agree with many of their practices and I was reluctant to use them – saved me from being stranded somewhere in Jabal Weibdeh. Public transportation remains bad as always, and the sign of hope from 2010 – the rapid bus transit lanes that were being built – now sit empty. “Why is public transportation so bad in this country?” I asked. “Because why would we want Jordanians to connect to each other easily?" a friend replied sarcastically. Unfortunately, Amman is huge, its sidewalks are not great and contain a number of obstacles, and it's all hills, therefore walking is not an option.
Amman’s challenge is that it is a city reduced to stereotypes and clichés. It is often described by these stereotypes and clichés by people who have never even stepped foot in it. When I was younger, I disliked it. It was boring and austere. That was Amman in the late 1990s – full of
Lada's, incredibly tall sidewalks, coffee shops, 3amo's in green suits and oversized leather jackets, houses that were freezing in the winter, women wearing brown lip liner, and boys sporting way too much hair gel. Ten years went by before my next visit. This time, I made friends, and thought, while there still isn't as much to do, it's easy to make friends here, and that makes it tolerable and fun. I didn't love it, but I didn't dislike it either.
Amman is an Arab city: the streets are tight, the traffic is ridiculous, the car dominates because public transit is rubbish, Hyundai's and Kia's flood the streets, people walk on the street rather than the sidewalks, everything is infuriating, the food is great, people are nosey, water runs out, signage is either in Arabic or bilingual and the English is often misspelled, the law exists but isn't implemented, things are broken and hazardous, people cross the street as if they have a death wish, street names are decorative, google maps is not accurate...the list goes on. But the city has a certain charm in the spring. The rain has made the hills green and cleaned the city.
On this more recent trip, I was driving around, the sun shining beautifully through the window, a black plastic bag flying in the sky (let's call it the official bird of the Arab world), and I imagined, for a slight second, that I'd spot the beach. Then I realised where I was and that I was probably hallucinating from being in the car for so long, but it hit me: water was Amman's missing ingredient.
