It is funny how a smell or an image brings back some moments hiddens deep in your memory. I am talking about the road I scotter home late night from work. After the road leaves the hustle bustle Taipei city center, entering the gradual climb into the hilly area. I live on the rim of Taipei basin, just behind some hills. In a distant, you can trace the outline of the hills like a school kid with crayon.
The other night as I scottered home, the familiar road curve, the hidden houses at the corner of my eye, the smell of chilly night...all of a sudden, I was back in Amman. The first time I was there, it was June. I left all my dearests behind, landed in this "city on hills". The first night, I hugged myself and tried to stay warm in the empty dormitory. Looking through the window, lights from houese high up in the hills blinkering and I kept my eyes on them as if they might return my longing for comfort. Like a small animal waking up in the middle of its hybernation, I was alone.
Amman is limestoned and without green. As most guide books would tell you that there is little for tourist interest. But I love it like the way I love Taipei. It is not the monuments or fancy night life that makes you lose your heart; it is rather like an old pair of sleepers, you always remember how it hold you.
