Jerash

The first day of Eid Al-Adha, back in a very cold Amman, I was awoken just before dawn by the special Eid prayer being sung from the mosque just across the way. As I lay half asleep, I became quite intoxicated by the gentle caress of this invocation; it was quite different from the usual call to prayer to which I was already accustomed, a sweeter sound which contained a comfort often missing from the angrier Friday sermons.



Later Diala drove us 48 kilometres north to the town of Jerash, where set in a picturesque valley lies an ancient Roman town.

Northern Jordan is fertile, green, and with steep-sided, cultivated hills, reminded me of Cyprus. In Jerash, we walked ancient streets and marveled at the preservation of the remains, and perfect proportions of the renovated amphitheatres.

I left the two girls talking in the warm sun, and climbing up found myself in the temple of Dionysus, which a perfect listening position for the entire valley. I am sure the siting of the altar here is no coincidence. Here I made my best recording yet of the daily sound of prayer, the huge human clock that regulates the Islamic world, and had something of a personal revelation as I gazed upon the inhabited hillsides opposite, bathed in aural washes of devotion.