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I managed to get on the plane after all (the representative of Turkish Airlines was a very nice guy) and paid quite a normal price too. First I was shocked by the heavy morning snow in Istanbul and then by a bunch of Slovenians and Croatians, crowding round the Zagreb gate (it was quite silly of me to expect anybody else there). I just kept a low profile and listened.

My friend Valentina came to get me to Pleso – Val, thanks a lot for your support, your help and your speediness, whatever shit I find myself in! – and I gazed, amazed, at the snow, the cloudy sky, the unfriendly Croatian police (they had just made their farewell to Homeini, and I foolishly thought the police orchestra in the runway had come to welcome me : blush : ) and I was freezing to my bones.

All of a sudden I was unwillingly snatched from the easygoing lifestyle where heart attacks, the drive for success, and nervousness are fairly unknown, and was thrown into a society that is constantly in a hurry, governed by time, calendars, and deadlines, a society, building tall termite mounds to live in, somewhere high under the night sky where it’s even colder, their light is on in the eight floor and they’re crowded in two or three rooms, where a small, funny-looking box takes them. They step inside, push the button and get out right in front of their door a couple of floors higher.

I’m cold.

Even when the sun comes out, the light is completely different than down there. People don’t smile in the street. They’re wrapped in their coats with tails and are rushing towards their goal, looking down (apparently, they’re afraid of slipping). That’s right, I’m experiencing a culture shock. And I’m not exactly sure I’m happy to be back. A bit more than four months spent there is a long time. I needed about two months to calm down and get used to the life without stress. And I’m very afraid it will only take a couple of days to slip back to my former, innate lifestyle of rushing, strive for success (=money), governed by time and bureaucratic closing time. Of course I’m happy that I’ll see my friends again, but the negative effect of coming back to the cloudy parts is also strong. It would have been so much better for all of us if we met in the warm (the human relations intended as well) Jordan. I realize I sound grumpy, but try to understand that I’m confused like a puppy who’s been thrown into a new and unknown environment.

It’s quite ironic that this articles’ title is the name of the country which I’ll never set foot on again and even more ironic that the subtitle is “my new home”. Frankly my “new home” became Jordan, the land of hospitable and extremely friendly people, diverse and various, where everybody can find something interesting for themselves: historians, art historians, the religious (it’s full of biblical sights), climbers, balloonists, divers, ornithologists, botanists… motorcyclists. I truly think it’s a country I could live in. And stay in. At least for a while.

The irony is that I left my two partners (the partner and the KTM) down there. Which means I’ll have to go back to Jordan shortly and embrace all the people who have become my family and who have accepted me as their family member as well. People that made leaving Aqaba very difficult. I left a part of my heart there with them.

Translation from Slovenian: Maja Simeonov

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