Amman doesn't try to be Dubai or compete with Cairo's chaos - it's too comfortable in its own limestone skin for that. Sprawled across hills that multiply every time you try to count them, this is a city that wears its millennia lightly, where the Citadel's Hercules Temple presides over hipster galleries in Jabal al-Lweibdeh and backgammon clicks provide the soundtrack to downtown's fruit souks. What makes it special isn't the Roman Theatre carved into the hillside (though that's rather good), but how locals navigate this temporal hopscotch daily - grabbing falafel at Hashem's no-frills tables before heading to Rainbow Street's rooftop bars without anyone batting an eyelid. The genius is in the geography: those hills create natural neighbourhoods with distinct personalities - artsy Lweibdeh with its street murals, tree-lined Jabal Amman hiding 1920s villas, downtown's controlled chaos where spice vendors hawk next to gold merchants. Unlike its flashier regional cousins, Amman's modest scale means you can actually walk from a Neolithic site to a third-wave coffee shop, catch the evening call to prayer from a hillside perch, then tuck into mansaf (lamb drowning in fermented yoghurt, and yes, it's better than it sounds) while the city lights flicker below.
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