This Is Not Spain.

There is not just a language barrier here. There is Arabic slang scrambled with English, cars honking at each other and swerving in between pedestrians, and people sitting beside the road to eat dinner. A midnight picnic of sorts.
My flight from Paris to Amman was nice and I made a friend. Her name is Sima and once we started chatting we were old friends. Once I landed, customs and baggage were a breeze and before I knew it I was being created by three handsome Arabs. They were, of course, my friends from L.A.
We first went to a town outside Amman for supper and then we drove through the downtown part and the rich part until finally, we ended up in a city centre kind of place. They parked the car, grabbed my bags, and we began a hike up the oldest part of the city. We talked about tomorrow and where we will go and then suddenly Faris said “here’s the hostel.”
I looked at where he was pointing and saw only a door in a wall. I never would have found that on my own. He opened it and the four of us walked into the reception room. After an easy check in, the manager took me up to my room.
“Welcome, sarah!” He announced. “Watch the window. There is a cat that likes to come in some times. He’s harmless. But don’t be surprised if you have a guest.” Sure enough, the window has a screen that has a hole. The bed is big which makes up for the bathroom being small. The toilet and shower are one room. Toilet paper is not provided(?) and on the taps, blue means hot and red means cold. I found that out after my cold shower when I ended up brushing my teeth with steaming hot water.
I’m so happy to be here. There is opportunity in every moment for something amazing to happen.
The opportunity in this moment is that I can finally sleep while laying down and I don’t have to worry about my things.
This isn’t Spain. This is Jordan, a whole new kind of adventure. I’ll keep you posted, world.
All my love,
Sarah.

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