My tent is up with the last light of the day. There are a few farms scattered around the hills, but they're unlikely to be concerned with my tiny orange bedroom. Even if they are, I'm not worried about it being a problem for anyone. Last time I was 'spotted', the farmer came out in the dark to introduce himself and bring me tea ("I am Ali. If you need anything in the night- like more tea maybe- you shout for me, okay? Shout like this: Hey! Aliiii! Okay?")

When the sun finally fades I'll be able to see the lights of Jerash through one valley and Amman from another. Just a matter of kilometres away are millions of people doing millions of jobs; hustling, bustling, rushing. Traffic jams and business calls; crowded restaurants and overflowing malls.

In a different time and different place I would enjoy that pace of life, but not right now. I've adapted to the speed of the masar, and all I want to do now is sleep. I'll read or write to pass the time until it's acceptable to call it a night (8.30pm, if you're interested.)

It's not really rock 'n roll, but I like it...

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