The Continuing Saga of the Sheep

So I honest-to-God forgot about the ram's horn I had in my checked luggage when I filled out my custom's declaration. In any case, when I got home and pulled it out of my suitcase, my dad's first reactions was, "ooh can I make a shofar out of that?" So of course since I had no idea what I wanted to do with it, I handed it over and before I knew it he had found DIY shofar instructions on the web. Next thing I know the house smells like dead animal (again?!) and he's boiling the horn to get the cartilege out. Then it has to dry for a while and then you cut off the end so you get a hole the whole way through. It's kind of a small shofar and doesn't work so well...but he got a squeaky tkiyah out of it last night. Now we can have our very own Rosh Hashanah services with our very own homemade shofar.

Home Again!

So after 5 days of depression and packing and chaos and canceled flights and crazy old people...I'm home!

Here's what I wrote yesterday in JFK:

I’m sitting near this crazy old lady waiting for my flight from JFK. She keeps asking everyone if they’re going to Maine. She’s nuts. She just talked to this one guy:

“Are you going to Maine?”
“Yup.”
“Do you live there?”
“Yup, in Gorham”
“Oh that’s great. What are you doing down here?”
“I’m stationed here, I’m in the Navy.”
“Oh you’re in the service! You should be wearing your uniform, it would get you to the front of the line. Not during Vietnam, but now.”

Really, lady? She hasn’t shut her mouth since she sat down: “is that seat open? I’m old. Let me sit down.” She’s not even that old. Maybe in her 60s.

“Go ask one of those girls. Put your Navy hat on and go ask them.”

She cackles like an old witch.

There’s also a legit cowboy standing in front of me. With a huge HUGE probably like 5 inches across belt buckle and actual boots and jeans and a teal plaid shirt and a vest and a cowboy hat. Either he just rode his horse here or is really into making fashion statements.

This place is absolute chaos. They’re boarding like 8 different flights out of the same gate, there are people that I swear have been here all night at least, and everyone just looks so dejected and forlorn and pissed off. Welcome back, kids. Welcome back. (The End.)

So here's what happened. JFK was a shit show. We were lucky enough to get on our plane, and then proceeded to sit at the gate while they couldn't figure out whether or not we had a tug, or a de=icer, or gas, and there was airplane traffic, and after three hours of this nonsense they let us off the plane and decided it was canceled. So a few of us rented a car and trucked it up to Maine - but the trip that should have been 5 hours ended up being 7 and a half because of weather and bad roads. Not only that, but this one old guy we were driving with was legit crazy. He was 71, and lived in Nashville, and kept telling us about his life in the music industry and his family and country music and was basically just crazy. He wore all this silver and turquoise jewelry and had a thick southern drawl. It was nuts. Quite a welcome back, I have to say.

Ho Hum Doldrums

I am completely done. Last test was yesterday...it came, it went, I conquered. Today about the only notable thing I did was go pick up my second passport (finally) and read a few chapters in a book. FOR FUN. Which is SO not Jordanian. At all. I took a nap. I watched TV. I ate. I blogged. Sounds like a heck of a day, right? We will ignore the fact that I felt guilty all day because I got myself in trouble for breaking curfew last night...whatever, it was worth it - out till 2 dancing the night away (yes ma, sober). Self-imposed punishment is always a fun thing. Tomorrow I suspect will be busy busy busy! Meeting, shopping, picture swapping, farewell dinnering, saying good-bye, drinking ourselves silly...or not quite. It's crazy that the semester's almost over. I am neither mentally nor packing-ly prepared to leave in 4 days. We are all busy trying to squeeze in that one last thing before we go and preoccupied with making half-baked plans for meeting over New Year's back in the States. People are slowing dropping off but no one is really ready to realize what it actually means. People are just getting depressed, or drunk, or turning into hermits (yes, that one is me), and then we'll all kind of just leave, and that'll be it. It's weird. We've all gotten so close and we know each other so well, but we don't even know each other's real (U.S.) phone numbers. It's like a parallel universe...

Marrying Sheep

Here's what's gross: I ate sheep intestines. And little stomach-flesh pouches stitched shut and filled with rice. Those were not my faves. But I'm sick of talking about sheep.
Here's what's cool: I went to an engagement party! It was crazy. All the girls were SO SO SO done up. It was very cool to see them, with their hair and the makeup and the dresses. There are pictures on my phone so if I figure out a way to get them to my computer I'll post them. But the one thing it did make me realize is that I don't EVER want to do that to myself - not get engaged, I mean, but put on that much makeup or that much effort into my hair. But is that so surprising, knowing me?

Where to go to feel Middle Eastern.

Imagine:
A room suffocated with argileh smoke, the smell of the tobacco, coffee, tea, and food, packed with people talking and laughing, sounds of an ‘oud, traditional music, clapping, and singing reverberating through the air. This is Jafra on a Wednesday night during ‘Eid break and probably my favorite evening activity I’ve experienced to date.

I killed a sheep.

Or rather, I watched a sheep die, get skinned and butchered, and documented the entire event. To be honest it was rather nauseating and I couldn’t actually watch the exact moment when the sheep’s throat got slit in the middle of the driveway. First he’s alive, and next thing I know there’s a puddle of blood and a slice through his neck. Anyway, aside from the overwhelming reminder that life is short (oh, the humanity) and death is just a butcher’s knife away, it was a very cool process to watch. Granted watching the squeezing out of the intestines (bile and poop spraying everywhere…) was a little more than I needed to see, and the post-slaughter preparations of the meat, feet, and head smelled up the kitchen (and my clothes) rather more than I would have liked, it was fascinating. I was wondering whether I wouldn’t be able to eat meat again after I watched the whole process but in the end not only did I eat its meat, I ate its vital organs. I’m not a fan of sheep liver, but some of the other parts weren’t bad. It reinforced my conclusions that if I am going to eat meat, I have to be able to stomach the fact that it gets killed. Anyone can pick an apple off a tree and eat it (except apparently for the fruitarians in Notting Hill…), but I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t really eat meat if you can’t kill (or at least actively watch the death of) the animal you are going to eat at least once. I was talking to some of my friends later and they were talking about how that was so gross and they don’t want to know where their meat comes from or think about how it ends up on their plate but really, at least with this sheep, I know how it lived (more or less) and I know exactly how it died and what happened to it afterwards. Yeah, I couldn’t exactly eat pounds and pounds of it, but I had a greater appreciation for what I did eat. You can’t help but think about the slaughter when you’re eating it and it makes it that much more real, kind of. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it but basically if you ever get a chance to watch your own meat get slaughtered, do it. Yes it’s gross and sad and all that but it’s humbling at the same time. Very Omnivore’s Dilemma.

2 Ma’amoul, 2 Sheep, and a Car Accident

And more pictures than probably was strictly necessary.

I apologize in advance, but the extreme quantity of notable occurrences that have happened to me in the last 48 hours necessitates the exorbitant length of this post.
I will narrate in chronological order.

Two nights ago two friends of mine were leaving, so I went over there for their sort of “last supper” deal. We ate, talked, hung out, and by 10 pm I was sitting around a table with all the women of the household, an aunt, and one of my friend’s moms, making ma’amoul à la Palestine. You take a clump of dough, roll it into a small ball about half of a golf ball, roll it out until it’s about 3 or 4 inches long, push it with your fingers so it’s flatter and kind of has a trough down the middle, then you take the tamar filling stuff, roll that into a ball and then into a snake so it fits in your trough. Wrap the dough around the filling, so you have a filled tube, and then make it into a circle, attach the ends, and voilà! Into the oven and sooner or later you’ve got zaki ma’amoul.
The next day it was time to buy a sheep for slaughter, because it’s Eid al-Adha and that’s what you do. Eid al-Adha celebrates that time when God was testing Abraham and told him to take Isaac to the top of a mountain to sacrifice him, and then took a ram instead. At least that’s our version of the story but it’s something like that. Anyway so that’s why you get to kill a lamb (or two or three) this week. So I was walking (which is totally not done in this country but whatever I just wanted a walk) towards my friend’s house because I was going to go sheep shopping with them, and I had just crossed an intersection when I heard a HUGE bang. HUGE. Thank God I had crossed when I’d crossed because debris from the crash skittered to within 10 feet of where I was standing. What happened was some girls were driving and turning right onto the road when a big ol’ tow truck came along and took off the entire front of their car, basically all the way back to the front axel. There was coolant spilling everywhere, all of a sudden people appeared on the street from out of nowhere, got the girls out of the car, made sure they were okay and then started shaking each other’s hands and greeting each other like this was just another day in Amman; Hey there Mohammad, how’s the family? Eat any good mansaf lately? Anyway so I basically stood their for 5 or so minutes until I got of the courage to take a picture of it…
I finally got to my friends house, a little shaken up to be sure, but all in one piece, and we headed out to the sheep selling venue. I’m not entire sure how to describe these things. It’s like a vacant lot on the side of the road, movable fences organized into contiguous pens filled with sheep, rams, goats, and probably some other animals or half-breeds all spray-paint marked to designate their vendor. People would walk around, browsing the goods for sale, and then start to ask questions about weight and age and things like this, all of which are apparently very important in sheep purchasing. Then the sheep is chosen wrangled, and stuffed into the trunk to be taken to to await its slaughter and transformation into mansaf. But a picture is worth a thousand words in this case…
Phew. We’re getting there. When I got home after sheep shopping I walked in to find the women and girls of this household sitting on the floor around a big bowl of dough and a tray of tamar filling, making Jordanian ma’amoul. What’s the difference, you ask? So for these, you take a ball of dough about the same size as if you were Palestinian, now flatten it in your palm, and take a ball of filling about the same size as the dough ball and put it in the middle of the flattened dough. Now close the dough up around the filling and roll between your hands so it’s sealed. Now you put it into this wooden mold thing, which when you pop it out makes it look kind of like an Aztec pyramid. Then you bake it and eat it!
Okay. Almost done. So today was the first day of Eid al-Adha and I was determined to spend it with my family doing whatever they were doing. So we got up, had breakfast, blah blah blah, we find out visitors are coming! All of a sudden we are making mansaf, the traditional Eid meal – rice, a yogurt sauce, sheep (or is it lamb? I forget), and topped with toasted almonds. I leave the room for a few minutes and when I come back, the meat of an entire freshly slaughtered sheep is strewn about the kitchen, being designated for charity, mansaf, or in the case of the vital organs, to be cut up into stew-size pieces and saved for a meal at a later date. Next thing I know I am slicing lung into bite-size pieces and throwing it into the colander along side liver, kidney, heart, spleen, and – wait for it – esophagus. The weirdest/coolest part of the whole thing, well except that I was touching a lung, was that this sheep was killed two hours before hand. The inside of the lung, inside all the fatty part, was still kind of warm! It was really cool to be like, hey, this is a whole sheep, and it just died, and now we can look at its organs and judge its health and cut it up and then eat it! And you could tell by the color of its organs that it really was a healthy sheep.
So then the mansaf was cooked and served, with the head of the sheep (which had to be done in a pressure cooker because apparently heads cook slowly?) the crown jewel of the platter. Important cultural factoid: if you are having guests for a holiday you are supposed to slaughter an entire animal to serve them because it’s a sign of respect. How do you prove that you did this? You put the head right in the center! Another fun fact: mansaf is traditionally eaten with ONLY the hands – no utensils, no plates – so it’s basically you make balls of rice with the yogurt stuff and pull strands of meat off the bones with your hands. The best part of mansaf (well I don’t do it but I like to watch other people) is that when you are mostly finished eating you just sit around picking the “delicious” parts off the head, such as the cheek, the tongue, the eye socket…you get the idea. It’s like Thanksgiving, the Farbers, and a turkey carcass, except way more badass.

Tomorrow I am supposed to go to my friend’s for more sheep slaughtering (this is the one for whose purchase I was present) and eventual mansaf eating…I don’t know how much more of this I can take!

Smell That?

It's in the air. End of the semester fever/exhaustion is about to set in. It's only seven hours away. Post-test was this morning (S. 'n' C. for those in the know) and the big debate for Allison's class is this afternoon. And after that, shit's gonna hit the fan, my friends, because we are DONE. (Okay, so there are a couple more finals, but they're not for more than a week...so we have time to celebrate, right?) Now all that's left is Eid, vacation, the farewell dinner, and the long flight home...and back. Oh didn't you know, though? I'm coming back to this desert kingdom, I'll escape the cold New England winter (sad) and forsake a daily shower and properly flushing toilets, once again put myself at the mercy of King Hussein and his revenge.... but it'll all be worth it, I hope. And insha'allah I'll be back a third time, we'll see, God willing ya'anee...

And maybe even ערצ ישראל לפסח, anyone want to join?

يوم المفتوح

Open Day!

What a spectacle. 60-some odd college students, uppity Jordanian professors, staff members, and 2 hours of songs and skits. What could be better? We in مستوى خامس did a rousing rendition of Hashemi Hashemi to open, which basically included us running around like idiots while Ari, the only guy in our class, shook his booty à la Napoleon Dynamite in what may have been a fairly accurate imitation of the King - not that I would know, never having seen him dance. Then I also read some dumb paragraph about a city, and then I was in debkah, which is traditional dance, and it was AWESOME we were so good. It's like a mix between riverdance, the horah, and ridiculousness. And THEN our class also did Snow White! And I was the Evil Stepmother/Queen, and I was SOOO good. It was so fun. Except then I was exhausted and went to bed last night at 9:30/10 and woke up this morning at 9:00 which was great great great. Finally! Real sleep.

Ya Haram!

Today we had class outside, on the shady walkway where couples do their thing, girls smoke, and generally things get crazy. So of course we were bound to see some extraordinary sights. Actually it basically was the best thing ever. There was a guy and a girl, in jilbab and hijab (jilbab is the long coat thing) and they were totally touching each other, and a few times I could have sworn they were going to start making out. They were all holding hands, and poking each other, and stroking each other's faces... So mish munasib (not appropriate) in public. Or, really at all. Okay, so this is becoming a gossip column. But actually it is an interesting social observation...we were asking our teacher about it and he was telling us that a lot of times things like this happen when a girl is told "no, no, no" all the time at home by her father or brother or whoever without discussion or explanation, and then she goes out of the house and finds someone who will talk to her or whatever, and gets herself into this haram relationship. It's really sad actually, because then she is looked at as less respectable, our teacher even used the word 'gabia (stupid), even by us. It was interesting to see how a lot of us reacted to it - like how could she do this, she's compromising her morals, you can't do that in public - whereas in the states (well first you probably wouldn't see someone like her) PDA, or any physical contact, between guys and girls is totally 'adi (normal). Weird, how we've gotten so used to this societal norm. Going home is going to be quite the reverse culture shock.

World Affairs Council

So this evening, for my IR class, we went to the World Affairs Council (not really sure what it is but it sounds impressive) for a lecture by this guy, Dr. Jawad Anani, who is the former chief of the Royal Court for King Hussein and is/was the Minister of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and on and on with a very impressive resume, but was really just a funny old man who reminded me of my dad in 20 years. Anyway he gave this 20 minute lecture on Jordanian foreign policy and then opened it up to questions. His lecture was interesting - not so much for what he said but more so for what he didn't say. He told us lots of nice stuff about Jordan but skimmed over anything that might be interesting or controversial, and painted everything in a favorable light (I think that is a combination of expressions). This was especially true in answering questions. For example I asked him how Jordan defines terrorism (he had mentioned in the lecture that they define it differently than the US/Bush), and to reply he basically said it's a fluid definition and it depends on the situation but the most important thing is security. And then he started talking about Israel and Gaza, so of course I agreed with his point, but he didn't answer my question. What is that? That's not a definition. That's just secrecy. There were other questions, too, that he didn't answer and just danced around...
It was just interesting to see how governments, and I don't really have enough experience with American politicians to make similar judgments, will go to great lengths to protect themselves and not incite opposition. Like why is a state definition of terrorism such a secret? Or does it purposely not exist because it gives the state the power to judge on a case by case basis and prosecute for "terrorism" perhaps in a situation where it might not 'really' be present? Or like targeted arrests, like in Egypt under Nasser? Ah, strong police states. Love it.

Anyway so then after the lecture was over, a few of us (all girls, because girls are smarter than boys) stuck around for the weekly World Affairs Council meeting, which was literally a group of like 15 old Arab men and one woman sitting around in arm chairs drinking coffee and discussing world issues, like the economics in Dubai and the issues in Gaza (in Arabic, which is what made it cool). So we hung out and felt smart for a while, nodding along with everyone else and looking offended when Israel's wrongdoings were mentioned, feeling wise in the ways of the world and erudite in the company of Jordan's political and academic elite.

The other cool thing (this is it, I promise) was that I guess some guy from their Dead Poet's Society died the other day so at the beginning of the meeting they did this thing, like held their hands up with the fingers curled facing them (like in Havdallah when the candle is supposed to reflect off your fingernails) and then like washed their faces kind of? I don't know, it looked pretty cool because they basically did it in unison and it seemed like a nice kind of memorial ritual. I'll have to figure more out about it. Or I'll have to wait for someone else to die, God forbid.

Catching up and Tasting oil

Has it actually been a week since I last posted? Apologies...although nothing much exciting has happened so really you would have just been bored. This weekend was nice (who says that?), on Thursday night I watched a movie with Victoria and then went to the mall, because that's what cool kids do. Then Friday to Ajloun! To buy olive oil! It was very cool. We got to see the whole process from olives to oil. And no, Rachael Ray, I do not know if it was EVOO but I don't really care because it was totally LOCAL and we all know that's so much better for the world. It was also the most zaki and flavorful olive oil I've ever tasted, and also the freshest which probably had something to do with it. It was basically like a mechanic's garage but instead of cars there were big oil making machines. Check out the pictures for an out-of-order look at the process. We saw the whole thing, from bags of olives to mush to oil. Then we got to stick our fingers into the stream of hot oil to taste it, and proceeded to purchase upwards of 200 JD's worth.
Then I learned how to make مقلوبة which is probably one of my favorite dishes, so that was very exciting.

I am not excited, however, for the coming week or two. Another research paper, preparing for Open Day (basically like a big talent show thing except we have to speak Arabic), and generally winding down the semester is daunting and does not bode well for stress levels or mental health. Oh well. On the plus side I get to wear fun new sweatshirts from Abdali all the time now because the weather is getting colder.

Starbucks. It's what's for dinner.

Here's what's weird: apparently Starbucks only exists in Amman.

Don't Read (unless you want to be bored)

Blah blah blah today is Sunday, back to the grindstone of daily life...although I have more or less finished my paper that's due tomorrow, which is nice, going back to school and real life is never the greatest day of the week. Especially after such a ridiculous weekend. I think I laughed more this weekend than I ever have before - if you want to know why, look at my pictures, and you'll get some idea...
Thursday night I went to my friend's apartment for a parrrtay! which really was more like flashback to the frat house, but was fun nonetheless. Then Friday morning I went with some friends to Abdali (again...) and bought some more ridiculous and ridiculously cheap clothes, then went over to their house and ate some ridiculously huge breakfast, hung out there for the day, had a cooking lesson, ate tons of delicious food (again), then went out then home and to bed. That was all the exciting part of the weekend, yesterday was boring and normal but I did watch Camp Rock on TV which was pretty awesome.

Cool things that happened today:
You can get a falafel kbeer (big falafel) for 600 fils (.60 JD), so cheap lunch=always fun.
I almost died because this guy in a fat pickup sucked at driving. But actually that's normal for here.
Liz flipped the bird to some guys driving a truck because they waved at us while we were walking. It was fantastic.

So yeah, that's what's going on in my life, nothing super exciting.

Stay tuned, I promise something interesting and insha'allah some more pictures up tomorrow.

Seveen

or rather seven...pieces of bread that is.
As usual we went to Seveen to get lunch and I got humus and fuul and chubuz, and I paid for only two chubuz (that means bread). So the guys were giving me my stuff on the tray and they threw on this whole stack of 5 chubuz and I was like, no I was two chubuz. And they were like take it! And I was like, no, I don't want this, I want two chubuz! But then they were telling me to take it and I was like, whatever, I'll just eat 5 chubuz, which of course I didn't I only ate two and a half and then took two with me. So, basically, the point of this story is that there really is not point, it's just a mildly funny thing that happened to me today.

That's the Middle East for you...

It's crazy that stuff like this goes on all the time, so close to here, and yet life goes on as usual. I guess that's how it is here. But it's weird to think I can be having a great day, and a few (or more like a few hundred) kilometers away, people are shooting each other.

Driving, Driving in Your Car

So Farah (my sister) had a driving lesson this morning and I got to go along! Actually it kind of sucked because we had to get up at 6:15, but I got a free ride to school which was sweet. It's funny to listen to someone learn how to drive in another language, and now I know how to say things like, shift to second gear, or easy on the clutch, in Arabic. All I have to say is, I am so glad I didn't learn how to drive on these hills and it's a good thing they don't get snow like we do.

But I miss driving :-(

Salt of This Sea

Last night I went to the closing night of Palestinian Film Week, for the film "Salt of This Sea." How do I describe this experience? The venue was amazing - beautiful theater - but it was more than that. When the film began a whole group of guys sitting behind me started singing along and clapping to the opening song which got the rest of the audience into it and we were all clapping. That's what I realized this isn't just a bunch of people watching a movie, it's like all these people in one place connected by this bond and shared experience and they're all there to experience this depiction of the suffering together. That doesn't even make sense and it's probably corny or a cliche but it really felt like that - like they are Palestinian and they are there to watch a Palestinian film about Palestine because somehow they all love Palestine, or being Palestinian, or whatever.




It's hard to explain the actual film - the basic plot is a Palestinian American from Brooklyn who goes to Ramallah (even though her family is from Yaffa) to find her grandfather's money which is her inheritance and to take her "right of return." She goes from Ramallah into Israel (illegally) and the film follows her personal journey until she gets deported back to the States for overstaying her visa. Of course, the Israeli army is painted as the unjust villain, and the only portrayals of Israeli civilians are as settlers, Zionists, or pacifists. Aside from the fact that I thought the main character was a little bit crazy, I found it to be a really hard movie to watch. Who do I empathize with? Both sides? Neither? What about people here, is that a usual Palestinian sentiment? Why do I always feel guilty when I see things like this? Am I perceived as one of these stereotypes? It's such a complicated experience being so close to everything, in the middle of it all. I mean obviously I am not Israeli, but trying to stay connected to my religion and disconnected from Israel is hard. I have mixed feelings and it's hard to completely validate both sides at the same time.

But confusion and angst aside, it was a pretty good movie, even though the main character was way too skinny and not even that pretty. Although stereotypes abounded, it seemed like a fairly realistic portrayal of the circumstance and touched on a variety of political and social issues. Definitely recommended if you get the chance.

Where to start?

Maybe with my second foray into East Amman, and the smiling lady at the bread shop where they cook it in the Iranian style, by throwing a round of dough onto the inside of a large open kiln and then pull it out and hand it to you fresh. Or maybe with the guys I saw dragging a full grown sheep across the sidewalk, still kicking. Or maybe with the fact that I spend an hour yesterday smashing raw meat through my hands, and then another hour stuffing my face with zaki kebabs and chubuz and basal and all sorts of other goodness. Or maybe with just the fact that the more I see of Jordan and Amman the more I want to stay. That everyone here is so nice and wants you to be here and see Jordan as they see Jordan. Like if you say your favorite thing in Jordan is the desert, the response is a smile that lights up the room. I have felt happier in the last few weeks than I have in recent memory - I won't tell you it's any kind of supreme bliss, but I have definitely been feeling a certain joy and excitement in life that has I think been shway lacking...

Clarification...

Just to clarify, I am of course very excited that Obama won although it is very unreal. I was only expressing sentiments that seem to be prevalent here (and, from what I hear, in the states) - that it is a great thing that Obama won but I guess I still have the sense that there is a lot of "underground" racism in the US and throughout the world. My host dad told me that there have been several assassination plots against Obama that have been foiled by the FBI. There is a palpable sense of optimism tempered with cynicism here, that Obama's election is a great thing and an incredible step for America, but I have also heard on more than one occasion that there is too much work to do and Obama won't be able to do it, that the messes are too big...although it seems to be unanimous that Obama was the better choice. The main topic of all conversation here - even between Jordanians - is the elections, and what this will mean for the entire world. Everyone understands that this election is probably the biggest thing to come our way in this lifetime, although it always seems to go along with comments about how happy Oprah was. I don't really get the obsession with Oprah here, but hey, what can you do. Anyway I don't want this to become a forum for seriousness and cynicism, it was only a comment made in passing but not a comment only I have made.
Props to Kenya for having a national holiday, too.

And now i might go cry a little bit, mom.

Hussein

That is, Barack Hussein Obama...

I woke up this morning to the sounds of the TV - quite odd for a school morning. So since I wanted to go back to sleep I went to close the door but was instead greeted by everyone gathered around the television and a rousing chorus of "the elections! Obama won!" To which I dazedly replied that polls only closed an hour ago (this is a disclaimer for any possible bad time zone math, I'm sorry, I was tired) and how could they possibly know already? But it seems as though they really do know and people are celebrating and all that jazz so I was happy. Then of course I realized that he'll probably be assassinated soon (God forbid) so we'll probably just be back where we started. But it'll be great while it lasts, insha'allah.

TAG, you're it.

So I am now a member of TAG ... which is basically this sweet place (I won't tell you where...) where they have FREE wireless, computers, comfortable chairs, meeting rooms, and food (which I don't think is free). This is their mission statement: "To support the Arab youth community in building their professional capacities, reshaping their skills, and upgrading their qualifications through a state of the art information technology tools and customized knowledge facilities in order to ensure opportunity equality with their international peers." I will revise it. "To support Americans abroad in maintaining their sanity, reinforcing their typing skills, and upgrading their blog posts through wireless internet and Windows Vista in order to ensure connectivity and communication with everyone at home." The only problem is their plugs don't fit my plug so I have to find one of those 2 to 3 prong converter thingies. Ah well, the joys of Jordan.

Abdali and the Fleas

This morning we made the epic journey to Abdali, an area of Amman that houses a weekly Friday morning flea market. And this thing is the biggest thing you have ever not seen. It's like Goodwill on steroids, except outdoors and cheaper. We were in thrift shop heaven...as Nina said, all the hipsters at her school would have orgasmed on the spot. (Sorry for the vulgarity, but it's pretty accurate.) I came away with quite the haul - we're talking 5 dishdashes (traditional garb), 4 sweatshirts, a t-shirt, a scarf, and a winter coat all for less than 40 JD. And I only made it halfway through the place. Just wait till next Friday, when Operation Sweater commences.

Dear Prince Hassan Bin Talal,

It was very nice to meet you today, I am honored and amused that you remembered my blog post and requested to meet me. Hopefully this one will be less troublesome for your secretarial staff. If you do read this, kindly respond (or have someone do it for you, as I'm sure being a Prince is quite time-consuming - I wouldn't know), so I know the Jordanian government is doing it's job running internet searches with your name in them. I hope your meeting today was productive, and we were disappointed you could not join us for the policy forum yesterday.

Sincerely,

Audrey.

I met the Prince.

Continuation of the story:

Remember last time when I was sitting on my beanbag chair at work and didn't get to meet the Prince? Well apparently, since this is Jordan, they have people that run internet searches on the royalty to make sure there are no security threats or whatever, and they came across my blog post. Concerned that there had been some sort of problem, they contacted RHSC, and we all had a nice little chuckle over inter-cultural misunderstanding and misinterpretation.

So today after class Liz got a call from Enass, all of a sudden got really excited, grabbed my arm, and I knew. We ran to get a cab, and in our excellent Arabic told him to go b'sur'a (quickly!) and we ran into the building. Apparently the Prince was there for a meeting and when he arrived at the Center he asked if the girl who wrote the blog was there. So when I got there, he requested my presence (personally!) in the meeting and I went into the room with a government rep, UNHCR, CARE, and RHSC people. And the Prince. And he stood up, kissed me on both cheeks, he met Liz and Gena, and then we stood for a picture with him. All in all it was rather awkward but quite funny, the picture is not very good...we all look absurd and overly diplomatic but hey, what can you do.

So that was definitely the highlight of the day, and when we went back to school it was to watch our soccer team get whooped by the Palestinians. Yeah, shit happens.

irony. they have it here, too.

I was lucky enough to get a native's tour of East Amman (read: Palestinian camps) tonight. It was like a whole other city. It's full of neighborhoods with character and community and real life, and, surprise, poverty. The thing that got me, though, was the fact that from just about everywhere in this part of the city - 100% Palestinian - you can see the huge Jordanian flag. And from West Amman you can't see it at all. In any case, I am so glad I got to see that part of the city finally and insha'allah I will get to go back, maybe in daylight and maybe for a longer amount of time. It really was amazing - you could just feel the sense of community from the people on the street. As nice as people might be here in the West, over there in the East they are ten times nicer and it just seems more like a place to call home, despite all the hardships they face.

And the Weeks Just Keep On Coming

So needless to say the tattoo plans fell through primarily due to lack of designs and a paternal kibosh. Ah well, maybe in the future. The middle of the semester is coming and going in a whirlwind of personal disasters and midterms, but what else is to be expected, and my IR class is canceled for the next three weeks so I am wallowing in excess and unexpected free time. Tomorrow is the RHSC "Iraqis in Jordan" policy forum which HRHPHBT (I have to use code because the secretaries found my last post...funny story for a later date) may or may not be attending. I had to buy shoes for it so mom, if you're reading this, would you be interesting in reimbursing me the 69 JD / $ 100 I had to pay? It was for work so it was a necessary purchase. If not, really no big deal. Anyway as usual that is about the most exciting thing going on in my life, that and the new spandex capris I bought at the Adidas store in Mecca Mall! I'm very excited to break them in, and one can never have too much spandex.

Midterms, or imtihaanaat al-nisf al-fusul

Finally midterm week is over, we've had four Arabic tests this week: fosHa, listening, speaking, and 'amiyya. They all went pretty well which is nice, but I now just want to crash. The fact of not having slept well lately is really wearing and it makes me just not want to do anything except lie in bed. I've also watched all the movies I have so I probably need to go get some new ones.

The plan is to get tattoos tomorrow, but since my excellent idea was kiboshed (sp?) I now don't know what I want. I might do the chamsa/hand of fatima though, but I'm thinking really small and right on the wrist. The other thoughts were verses from a poem or from Alf Laila wa Laila (A Thousand and One Nights) ... there's a poetry verse in the first story that's kind of cool. It's hard to find something on command, and I haven't found anything that really resonates so I don't think I'll get a tattoo of any of those. In any case, we'll see if it actually happens or not, we tend to be quite disorganized vis. planning, etc.

This post is a bit of a ramble and a bit depressing, but I figured it had been awhile so it's about time. Insha'allah I'll get some sleep and maybe be able to post about happier subjects in the near future, ya'anee mustaqbal.

Books!

Books@Cafe is open again and Jenna, Nina and I have taken full advantage of Friday Breakfast. We're outside on the terrace eating, relaxing, and pretending to try to start studying for midterms next week. The atmosphere here is so carefree and no pressure it's hard to be motivated. Reliable internet and good food are totally worth it though. The chaos that plagues the waitstaff creates a slow paced meal as long as you're willing to go with it. Definitely not the place for hungry eaters in a rush...

But we're all reveling in the glory that is Books after its brief Ramadan/post-Ramadan hiatus. Hamdul'allah, the oasis on Rainbow Street is back - maybe not better than ever, though, as the previously fully stocked outdoor bar now boasts ten soda cans and a couple bags of coffee.

Only in Jordan..

Liz and I were walking to work and when we got to the building, lo and behold, an armed guard, a silver BMW, and nondescript sedan with two blue police lights on top. Wouldn't it be funny, we thought, if the Prince (Hassan bin Talal) was here? He is, after all, the Chair of the Centre. Nah...not a chance. We go inside, go up the elevator, get out, and right in front of us are two more armed guards outside one of the conference rooms. Hmm...maybe... when we get to the office we ask Jenna who informs us that the Prince is indeed in a meeting with the entirety of the Higher Council (the umbrella organization through which RHSC operates). There's Hashemite Royalty less than a football field from where I'm sitting on this beanbag. No, it's not weird that I work on a beanbag. I want to catch a glimpse before he leaves, insha'allah.

Tashlich, a Little Late

From stuck in the middle (east)

I finally did my tashlich yesterday, in the Jordan River. Insha'allah God will forgive me the delay because I did it basically in the PL. Not every day you get to throw your sins away in the Jordan.
Back to real life again for another week. I'm starting to get sick which is utterly unfun, I can't sleep (ever) - quelle desastre - and so am constantly exhausted, and I realized I should probably start doing SOME homework so I don't fail completely. Ahh, the daily bore that is real life. I guess the good news is that the worst thing going on in my life is the lack of sleep. Everything else is going along quite swimmingly, the Arabic is finally coming out and the comfort level with all that is increasing. Hamdl'allah.

شوارع عمّان

יום כיפור

An easy fast to all...
These last ten days are supposed to be the Days of Awe, the days when we ask forgiveness for all our sins against others of the past year, and tomorrow the day when we ask our forgiveness from God. It is coming at an interesting time, just after the end of Ramadan (Rosh Hashanah fell on the first day of Eid - good timing!). In one sense, I guess it's a good thing. My stomach is prepared and I'm in full fasting mode, although I did eat the requisite large pre-fast dinner, even if it was a bit later than sundown. Ramadan, too, is the beginning of the Islamic calendar year, and as such also a time for reflection, resolution, and repentance. So I feel more like I've had 40, not 10, Days of Awe and more than enough time to reflect on my life.I haven't done any Tashlich, although I suppose I still could, although I can't find any running water, this being the desert and all. As always I haven't actually asked anyone's forgiveness directly, but hopefully through actions and words I will grow to be a better person this year. That is, of course, always the goal, isn't it? And I hereby ask forgiveness of anyone I may have intentionally or unintentionally harmed in the past year.

I'm certainly feeling the lack of community here, as much as Yom Kippur is generally a miserable day, I would much rather be sitting in synagogue that in class/work tomorrow. If only I had a siddur with me... or can you imagine, Jerusalem on Yom Kippur? And only 50 km away...

What Happens When 5 Year Olds Take Your Computer

intahat al-eid

Eid is over now, school begins tomorrow with regular full-length schedules (i.e. three hours of Arabic a day). Things will be open so we can eat during the day, the RHSC office will be open until 5, and dinner will not exist in my homestay. This should be fun - a whole new version of culture shock. Who's ready?

Eid Sayeed!

Ramadan is finally over, and I have certainly been eating like it. Mish mushkilah.

Am currently contemplating trying out the (only professional certified) tattoo artist/place in Jordan. It's pretty close to my house, and I think it'll probably be cheaper than the states. Maybe they'll do piercings, too.

Turkish Bath. Part One.

Walking into Al Pasha Turkish Bath you see a tiled fountain and a spacious room filled with couches and coffee tables covered in the latest Jordanian fashion magazines. Waiting for my friends I was offered my choice of juice, tea, or coffee and my tea came ready for me to sweeten it just the way I like.
We were led first into the changing room to put on our bathing suits, and from there into the showers. After a quick rinse we began our treatment in the steam room. Through an unassuming arch in the wall and a white curtain, through a sort of vestibule, up four steps into a small stone room lined with stone benches, with small circular colored holes in the ceiling for light and filled with a thick, overbearing steam smelling of something like jasmine or sandalwood. Couldn’t breath at first, but it got easier, especially when relieved by the cool slushy-type juice we were brought. After we sweated out our toxins we were led to the hot tub where we soaked for a good fifteen to twenty minutes while waiting for our exfoliating scrubs. Once atop the marble “scrubbing tables” we were instructed to remove our tops and subjected to a rough – though incredibly effective – scrub down with soap and exfoliating pads. I’m pretty sure they removed skin from places I didn’t know I had. We were all encouraged (independently) by our scrubbing technicians to observe the amount of brown-gray skin gook they had removed and left sitting on our skin before being rinsed off. After the scrub came another hot tub soak in anticipation of the (warm/hot oil) massage. Ahh, the massage, the be-all-end-all of the spa experience. The masseuse began on the shins and the feet (ow and tickle), and proceeded to find all the knots and tight places I could possibly have had. My thighs – front and back – were punched, my back smacked, and my hair pulled. All in a good way – it was incredible and incredibly relaxing. After our massages we returned to the hot tub for a post-treatment soak and from there to the showers where my hair was smoother than I think it has ever been, thanks to the massage oil.
We made grand plans during our numerous soaks to return frequently to the baths. After all, who can say no to that ambience – arches, stucco, tile, low light, humidity, and topless bikini-clad women (men have their own hours, sorry boys) – or to the general sense of relaxation that followed. Don’t worry, we will return – post-midterms, post-finals, and pre-departure. And whenever else my (rapidly slimming) wallet will allow.

Life is frustrating...

It's so hard dealing with this language barrier. I feel guilty when I speak English but my functional ('amiya) is just not very good. Dilemma! Starting to speak more (English) at home though, I just want to try to get involved in general... The weather is finally getting cooler now, actually had to wear a sweatshirt thing when outside this evening.

Halfway, almost

...through Ramadan. Spent the weekend in Irbid with my host family's extended family, which was overwhelming and interesting. Kind of like my family, only in Arabic, so now I know what it's like for guests at Farber family events. Coolest moment of the weekend was when I was doing some yoga (everyone needs a little me time) and for about 20 minutes during my sun salutations I could hear the call to prayer. Not to sound cliche, but it made the yoga almost spiritual and even more calming. It was a rough day, not being able to communicate well with everyone, and that reminded me why I am here, and that that wouldn't happen anywhere else in the world. It totally reaffirmed the reasons I came and made me really want to figure things out. The words will come, I just have to give it time...

Jordan...

…so it’s now been just about two weeks. Just enough time to deal with King Hussein’s revenge, jet lag, airport customs detaining my laptop, and the first week of Ramadan. Whew. Classes start tomorrow and I feel like we’ll be getting into a rhythm, which will be good – although the lack of food during the week will be draining, I expect. Nevertheless it’s exciting and I’m looking forward to getting my Arabic up to par and, hopefully, some kind of internship or volunteer position. I am also hoping for an opportunity to make some Jordanian friends although I’m not sure when or where that will happen as we do kind of have a CIEE bubble. And my fake engagement ring might actually serve its purpose and keep the prowlers at bay. Or creepy taxi drivers. And men in general, which really is the point. Ah, Jordan.