Good things about bad things

I am not usually inclined to see the half full-ness of things. I find half -wit positive thinking very irritating (and I generally look at the empty half of the wit) and in life I cherish cynics, articulate moaners and good bellies.

But.

In addition to being braless and seeing hawks, here are two brilliant things I’ve discovered over my curfewed days:

a. No cars but essential services are allowed in the streets of Amman these days and I cannot congratulate the government enough on this decision. Hell may be paradise with no people, as the Arabic saying goes, but this no car zone is definitely a small slice of paradise in hell.

b. My culinary creativity is flourishing. For 10 days now, I’ve been grabbing whatever is available without a queue with no other criterion than freshness. This has resulted in a long list of new and improbable dishes. Who knew that cauliflower can blend so subtly with sheep? Tuna and beetroot! Radishes go with cheese and potato stews like a house on fire. I am loving my new menu. Bring on the carrot curry with a side of mint and whatever this green thing is yay:)

Curfew day 3: new followers arise

The world is my gym

The novelty of today is that my rooftop aerobics have attracted a small but motivated number of followers stranded on other rooftops. My new class includes a father with 3 children and a nice belly, a bearded chain-smoking hipster and a middle-aged veiled lady. They all started following my (rather mild) workout with various degrees of success. The enthusiasm prize goes to the portly father, though he was summoned home quite briskly during the stretching session of our class. The veiled lady definitely has the best smile. The bearded hipster was not so stellar on technical score but definitely wins on program components, mainly on account of his massive coffee mug and infantile yet weirdly alluring pyjamas.

Roof top aerobics

Here is my new gym. There are no machines or personal trainer but the views make up for it. Yesterday, in the depths of my claustrophobia misery, I climbed the stairs to the roof top praying the door is open. It needed a bit of work and wasta (the all encompassing Arabic word for connections) but I did it. Yay!

The silver lining is not yet obvious

Day 3 of lock down, Day 1 of curfew

In keeping with my earlier conviction, day 1 of the curfew makes day 1 of the lock down seem like a walk in the park. Literally. Those were the days. Now there is no getting out of the house without a year’s imprisonment. Which has a nice irony to it, seeing as escaping imprisonment will now lead to actual imprisonment. People flocked to the shops today and bought everything. I bought things I have never eaten. I bought some things I have never actually seen. But then I never examined the canned meat section quite so closely. I also reckon one must try a frozen shawerma in one’s lifetime.