mama I'm coming home

Naaa..this is not about a song by Guns 'n Roses, although I love the group, but rather about me..kind of.

So....I booked the tickets to go to amman..a 2 week vacation. It will be a month before I go, but the excitement..the anticipation is overwhelming me. I am already planning day by day schedule there. I know that two weeks are not enough, but my schedule already looks so big.
It's been 3 years since I went there. I'm sure lots have changed. Maybe more fancy restaurants..or crowded buildings. I just hope that there are few spots left for those of us that are not interested in seeing a modern amman. People laught at me when I start listing my fantacy activities in amman..from buying a falafel sandwich on the street, to seeing a shopphard walking with his sheep, or maybe going to the restaurant next door, with an empty plate, and buying hommus.

I sure miss tabarboor. I miss the constant sound of car horns..the morning breez from the west..the deserty looking hills (if they are still there)...the smell of shawarma from a syrian restaurant on main street in tabarboor (forgot the name, but next to a big super market down the street from arab bank branch). I miss the smell of sheep running around in the streets...the sounds of guns during a wedding....the music of the same wedding. I miss walking in the vegetable stands by that small mosque again not too far from arab bank. I miss the smell of bread...the smell of olive trees as I used to walk from my parents home towards tabarboor main street...and down to the small round about, again if it still exist there.

To protect myself from an emotional melt down (yeah..it could happen to a bo3bo3 as well), I am preparing myself that none of old tabarboor is remaining..and instead, a busy modern small town that is no different than amman itself. That would be a shame..a sad ending to a small town once was the city of soldiers where you would see more army jeeps than regular cars..where when you go to the mosque, you would think that you live in an army camp by the overwhelming number of uniforme wearing worshippers.

In all cases, those will be the best 2 weeks of my last three years, regardless of what kind of tabarboor will I encounter in 5 weeks from now.

A tale of tapes

Last night, my wife and I decided to watch our wedding ..so I got the VHS, and started converting to DVD. The process took about 2 hours as I bought the cheap convertor that takes too long. We then started watching the wedding tape. Back then (thats seven years for those who are keeping score), the tape starts with a big picture of my wife with some songs and yada yada. Our son, zaid, was also watching. He said "mom, is that you?" and she answered yes. he said "you looked like a clown, too much paint". So I laughed my liver out of my nose and she was mad telling abu elzooz that it's normal. It seems that the wife had too much makeup then. At any rate, thats not the intention of this post, but felt like throwing a cheap shot at my wife.
There she is, so beautifull walking toward the chair (or whatever ya'al call it) and there is me..heeey..I wasn't bald back then..and still as ugly as I could be. I am holding her hand, and we both sat together. I can't remember what we were giggling about, but both seemed very happy. She was (and still is) shy, and I was as bad as I could. Here comes her sisters talking to her...ok...enough?..please leave the little stage...ooh I wished I could push them off as they hang out there for too long.
Oh there come three beautifull girls..dancing with joy..coming to help their brother and stand next to him. I can see them pulling me off to dance with them. I do look like I'm performing de77eyyeh in the middle of the three. My cousins join and so did my brothers. I could see two of my uncles going outside the hall..and I know what they are doing. I could see them taking their guns out.
As we are watching the tape, i kinda felt some tears..but instead of flowing out, they were floing inside of me as I watched my sisters. I really need a dose of going home for few days. I need that shot of morphin to relief the pressure that is growing inside of me. I know the cycle will happen again, but my pressure gauge is running out of room.
Oh well...there are things that the more painfull they become, the sweeter they also become.