Rain, Omelettes, and Bells

The weather has been unusual here in Amman. Of course, every day is sunny and hot, but there are variations to parts of the day. This morning was overcast and dreary. The clouds called for a promise of rain, which clears out much of the awful mood cast by the clouds. I'm told that the night air can make a person sick. In Iraq, Jesuits used to wear belly bags at night to protect their stomach areas from cold and chill. I was told about it this morning when I awoke with a very sour stomach and a massive headache. I thought it might have been caused by something I ate yesterday or some ice cubes not made of bottled water. I'm feeling better now, but it is draining. Oh, the rain. We had about 30 seconds of pitter patter. It raised our hopes, but it didn't last.

Even with my queasy stomach, the cook offered to make me an omelette. I said yes. I thought it might settle the rumbling. The eggs were very good, but they were basically fried eggs with zattar spices on it in a bed of olive oil. It was quite tasty. It gave me reason to soak up the olive oil with the tasty bread that was brought to us earlier in the week.

Last night, Fr. Al and I ate at Shanghai Cafe near City Centre. It was quite lovely. Chinese cooks prepared the meal though Jordans were the wait staff. It was a terrifically lovely setting. It was fun to try to figure out the menu - Chinese dishes translated to English by Arabic writers. Asking for explanations were just as tenuous. I was certain of what I was ordering, and I made sure to stay away from stomachs, intestines, and tentacles and other questionable phrases. We were disappointed in the ice cream variegated, which was just vanilla ice milk. They were out of fried apples in honey, ice cream with walnuts, and other tempting desserts. Fr. Al wanted Orange and Lemon juice, but they ran out of it. They wanted to know if he would be happy with either orange juice or lemon juice.

Sitting at the table next to us were pure English speakers. At the end of our meal, I said hello to them. One was from California; the other from Toronto, Canada. They had graduated from college and they were interested in learning some Arabic since they have none. They seem like such pleasant happy men.

One thing I notice is that most Ammani do not smile. They seem dour all the time. They can eke out a smile, but it is not their natural way of being. I like being around happy people.

I frequently think of the words of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, "The sheep know my voice." I have to say that for all the times I hear the muezzin issue the call to prayer, it is simply background noise to me, but when I hear the Catholic bells ringing, I take notice. Isn't it awkward how we are conditioned to hear such things.

Speaking of music, I wanted to play the soundtrack for "The Mission" for the Memorial of the North American Martyrs at daily Mass. I mentioned it the day before and there were a couple of people who especially came to Mass to hear it. I set up the chapel with modest decorations, just as I would do at the retreat house when I presided and preached at Mass. A friend sent a postcard of the Chapel of St. Isaac Jocgues at Lake George, so I put that out in the display. It seemed lovely and people really responded to the extra touch.

This morning I gave a printout of the Italian Mass responses to the Italian-speaking sisters. Of course, they know them by heart, but they liked that I am trying to communicate with them in some way in their native language. As Mass ended on this Saturday morning, I sang the Salve Regina. They loved it. The nice visitors we had liked it as well.