Yes, back to school it was in October. I did the second level twice, because in winter, first time since I moved to Amman, I caught one bad cold after the other and dropped out at half term. In February, I restarted and now there is only one week left till the final exams. No …
Ramadhan came and went, as well as the Eid, the big holidays at the end of the month of fasting. Unfortunately my Arabic summer course was extended in order to finish the first level, so I went to college five days a week until the very last day of fasting. I loved the classes, learned …
Since the first night of ramadhan Miss Grey is missing. As she made it her habit since the summer nights became so balmy and starfilled she left about midnight – but did not return at dawn as usual. For weeks she would wait outside the door until one of our boys leaves for work about …
Jordan is a mostly muslim country, as you would know. So, every year, Ramadhan, the month of fasting, is a major event. This year it will inshaAllah start on 9th July – or maybe one day later, if on that evening the new moon is not visible yet. The muslim year is counted after the …
One of these days I wrote in my German Writer’s forum: You don’t need to invent much actually if you want to write a thriller – just write about what is happening and everybody will say it is unrealistic. No, I am not talking about Prism or the UK-listeners. In Germany there are at least …
I did not write any more since my account of Miss Grey’s hunting. Miss Grey, by the way, has been out since 2 am and not returned back today, which is a first – I am worried. As to my not writing – yes, a bug was the reason. Neither spider nor cockroach, but one …
I must be crazy. Starting this new blog now after I decided last month to finally take classes in Arabic. Fact is, I have been here since four years. I can read vocalized texts, with non-vocalized I try a guess, I understand some, mostly single words or everyday conversation. I CANNOT reply in more than …
Writing. I started when I was about ten or twelve years old, at least, I tried. I had read Alcott’s “Little Women” and Jo gave me the first idea that it was possible to write down the stories I told myself and – maybe, one day – get them printed. At that time there was …
Ammani Notebook 