It goes by many names. It serves various purposes. A less than discreet place for alcoholic consumption or perhaps a hot spot where police patrol for young lovers in cars with only Jordanian plates. But after 11:30pm or so, well past the curfew of many; for us it’s basically a roadside hill to park a car, drink cheap plastic cups of Turkish coffee brewed by a nearby dealer, listen to the car radio and discuss philosophical things like whether aliens built the pyramids, all the while enjoying a horizontal view of Amman’s night sky. Talk about work, talk about life, talk about the future. Tell jokes, solve riddles and reminisce about the past. And on the rare occasion, bringing along a laptop to pick up a local wifi connection and watch funny videos on YouTube.
Where would Friday nights be without gawhanation?
My 20-something years will pass darkly.