When it Rains

Maybe all I needed to zap me out of my bout of homesickness was a gloomy rainy day. Yeah, rain. I didn’t think I’d see any form of precipitation here until at least mid-December. Guess I was wrong. But I’m not complaining.

You’d think with the way Jordanians react to a sprinkle the world was coming to an end. Never have I seen such bad driving! Since it was rainy (ish), my land-dad offered to drive us to school. He said we couldn’t go down the big hill because the car wouldn’t make it.  He crept around each turn, going so slow it probably would have been faster to walk. When we came to a hill a few blocks later, he slammed on the breaks and the car continued to slide down the hill. He said it was because the road was covered in dust, I don’t know if I believed him.

My first thought was if they were better drivers their tires would have better treads and break pads and therefore the cars wouldn’t slide down the hill. But again, driving isn’t an Arab strong suit.

It misted most of the morning and did it ever feel good. Then the wind kicked up—that wasn’t so fun. It was basically a sandstorm. Litter, branches and sand were being swept up and blown about. I put on my sunglass to try to shield myself from the debris with little avail.

It didn’t rain much more, but the sky turned this funky yellow color—the color right before a tornado, before turning lavender. I have never seen the sky that color.