First: the rumor of snow spreads like wild fire through out the city. Places like the seven satellite repair shops I went to today all avoid (refuse) any appointments for work, with ‘call us in a few hours’ as the most common answer. Everyone awaits with bated breath.

That night, in between the bits about saving our souls, we pray to God that it does snows.

Then, the moment it starts to snow mass hysteria ensues, where whispers laced in confusion over whether to go home or not float through office water cooler conversations. Everywhere in the city people have their faces plastered to windows, eyes glued to the sky and as if on cue from the heavens everyone rushes home with the joy of an unannounced holiday.

The morning of a snow fall, when it’s really bad outside and the driving conditions are impossible and the possibility of crashing a car or being run over has never been greater: they pack supermarkets and grocery stores and purchase enough food to feed a small army or possibly survive a nuclear holocaust.

24 hours later: the snow melts completely.

And life in Amman struggles ever so slightly to return…

To normal.

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