I’m sure I’m not the
only writer who suffers from the winter blues. In some ways, I suppose it’s the
perfect frame of mind to write a story that is, in places, as dark and harsh as
the weather.
Of course, it doesn’t
help that the section I’m writing at the moment is set in Jordan, in merciless
sunshine and 40-plus-degree heat. Hot countries provoke a different way of
looking at things, and a very different way of life, to temperate climates like
the UK. Can't imagine the Romans built many open-air amphitheatres while they were here.
Our weather here can
be rather wishy-washy. Warm-ish in the summer, cold-ish in the winter, any
extremes invariably take us – and our infrastructure – completely by surprise.
Not that they don’t
experience occasional freak weather in Jordan. When I was last there I remember
tales of tourists being snowed-in to the town of Petra, home of the famous
ancient Rose City, and being taken in by local residents for over a week until
the roads could be cleared.
And in the desert at
Wadi Rum, temperatures at night dropped surprisingly low. Sleeping out under
the stars, I was thankful I packed my foil hypothermia blanket, after reading
about the experiences of British soldiers in the Iraqi desert during the Gulf
War.
When I came to setting
part of my story in Jordan, I wanted to get across as much flavour of the place
as I could, without turning it into regurgitation of a guidebook.
I chose Madaba as one
of the places I wanted to use. Known as the Mosaic City, it boasts some of the
finest ancient mosaic art, and is home to many present-day artisans.
I spent a little time
in Madaba and had pictures of the streets lined with gift stores, could still
smell the hookah pipes and hear the amplified voices of the muezzin calling the
faithful to prayer.
I remember, too, being
saddened by the amount of litter everywhere.
And surprised by the
half-finished buildings, with rebar sticking out of upper storeys. This, I was
told, was so that the owner could put off paying tax on the property as it was
still under construction.
Yes, there were
camels.
Gracious, rather
dignified animals with incredible eyelashes and solemn expressions, who only
made noise when they were disturbed, and then sounded exactly like Chewbacca
from the Star Wars movies.
Not sure I have call
for camels in this story, except to mention them as part of the landscape. I
don’t see Charlie Fox giving chase on a ship of the desert, though.
Maybe next time …
This week’s Word of
the Week is wayzgoose, which was a
holiday given by a master printer to his workforce around the time of St
Bartholemew’s Day in late August. It usually marked the end of the summer and
the beginning of working by candlelight. There have been suggestions that the
word originated because the master printer would give his people a feast, at
which would be served a goose fattened on the stubble fields after the harvest –
wayz being a bundle of stubble or
straw. So, in modern parlance, if your computer printer isn’t working, it’s wayzgoosed!
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