The same afternoon I intend to go for late lunch in Jordan. I have a huge appetite for seafood but I must discover that almost all restaurants are closed. The only place which seems to have good food is a food stall on Temple Street. I decide to sit down next to the stall at a tiny table on a low stool made of plastic. I am cautious not to rest my elbows on the greasy table and try to forget the dirt on the stool. The meal is good, though.
Without intent I start watching several young men which are standing at the corner of the street where I am sitting. One of the boys wears jogging trousers, he seems to be on the street occasionally and wait for somebody.
Another guy wears a golden necklace and a shoulderbag which looks a little too female. He crosses the street and runs around busily. A third guy appears, who also wears a shoulderbag. That man is the youngest.
Only then I notice that those boys are hookers. The young one is the most daring, he walks up to passing men and talks to them. Most of the approached men won’t listen nor talk back, they just continue their way.
I watch the hookers unnoticed. Whenever I think they look at me, I stare somewhere else. Finally the young boy approaches me and offers me a massage.
Jordan is a district of red light joints and saunas. Usually women offer their services to men. The male hookers are clearly news in a city which hasn’t quite come to terms with homosexuality.