Final Moments: Reykjavik Airport

I am at the end of yet another countdown. Though I think this one was definitely one of the more trying countdowns. I am sure the world, as its own absurd entity of trial and tribulations, carefully planned this one last attempt to break my spirit. But alas! I am in the final hour and a half of a 16-hour-layover until I load the plane to go to Seattle; my last leg that brings me back to the United States of America.

Being back in the US is a really odd concept to grasp right now. Sweden has been astounding. Whether it was just being with someone who had a long history of accepting my oddities, or the entrance into a “1^st world” or “developed” country—I felt so at home. I understood the people, they understood me, my awkward humor, and most of all: they shared my love for coffee, tea, and pastries! Their concept of chatting over coffee with pastries is one that I personally think every country should emulate: FIKA, how I’ve loved putting your definition into practice. See below for example “A” of Fika in Sweden with Neen-bo-beens.

Here is the after photo:

Yes, we ate all of it.

What a beautiful way to finish up my travels, with big larger-than-life cinnamon buns and coffee. The theme of this week has definitely been coffee—in fact I’ve already had three grueling cups today in attempt to get the internet. However, unlike Jordan, you actually have to buy an account here in Iceland.

Which brings me to my next travel story…

Yes. I have been in Reykjavik Airport for a cumulative total of about 13 hours.

Once I board this plane, I will have been at the airport or in a plane for 22 hours.

When I arrive in Seattle it will be 30 hours. I personally think this is very impressive! Accepting my fate early on was certainly a strong playing move by me. The fact that I knew I would be twiddling my thumbs for the majority of June 3^rd, 2011, allowed me time to prepare, and a calm general acceptance of doom to center in my hypothalamus or whatever facet of your brain that makes you calm…

Let me tell you about the airport. Downstairs: BORING. Metal seats and a chilly breeze from outside (fortunately I had this fantastic blue blanket, and Nina’s sweatshirt to create a makeshift hobo-home for myself next to two other poor souls doing the same thing I was).  However, you can buy one cup of coffee and get as many refills as you want—this I milked until I handed the coffee container back to the barista to refill it. Though I got maybe one successful hour of sleep, the coffee, GORP, and book Unscientific America, kept me company until 12:00pm, when I was allowed to re-check my bags.

At this point, I could go upstairs! THIS was exciting. Not only does Reykjavik airport have a HUGE sunroof, but they also have long black cushiony-plush couches perfect for napping. I took full advantage of this, after playing with the nail-polish in the Duty Free store.

Well, anyway, I ‘m sure the details of Reykjavik airport are thrilling for you, but I figure I should do some kind of closure for this blog!

Recalling the title, Real Hummus, I can safely say I’ve never had as good of hummus as I did in Jordan. That was a given. I am sure Hashem’s restaurant trumps all other hummus-types I’ve ever had. I’m not sure what they do…but Nina and I attempted hummus and it did not look like Hashem’s. Though it was tasty.

So, what is the Real Hummus that I’ve learned on my travels? Well I learned how to entertain myself for 16 hours in the airport—this is also known as “patience” I believe…J

Often people say that after students come back from doing a “semester abroad” they have changed—they have life-changing plans fizzing and stewing inside their brains. Well, I can assure you…the only thing inside me is a whole bunch of hummus which I’m sure has monopolized all artery real estate since February.

Anyway….as I wrote before, I thanked Jordan for opening my eyes to all aspects of a culture I never would have understood no matter how much I read about it. The same goes for Israel/Palestine (though not the same depth), and Sweden. Perhaps I will later have that “aha!” moment, though I’m not expecting it, nor neglecting it. I know how to travel more intelligently and with more preparedness. I know how to relate to the people I want to relate to. I know patience. I know what I want to learn more about, and I know I don’t know. But I think most importantly, I know how to be a fool, and that being a fool often teaches you how to be a genius.

No matter what I’ve learned or missed out on, I feel as though I’m coming back to Seattle satisfied, more understanding, full, and very, very broke.

Thankfully, this is America, and I have a job lined up.

So thanks for reading this you three or four people. And I apologize in advance for repeating stories you may have read over this coming summer.

See you soon,

Gabby

Inside the Natural History Museum...in the "Human Case"

Bunny Observation

Location: Random forest outside Berlin Airport

Date and Time: Dilemma. Is it 10:13 am or 9:13 am? I guess 9:13 am.

Reason for Visit: Connection from Tel Aviv, Israel to Goteborg, Sweden.

Present Activity: Rabbit observation. There is a little brown rabbit that hopped out from under a car and began to clean her paws. It is probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Thoughts:

1.       Streets are clean.

2.       There are trees.

3.       There is grass.

4.       Everyone’s car is from the past two decades.

5.       It is about 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

6.       No sandstorms.

7.       Everyone looks like me.

8.       Everyone is smiling!

Welcome to a “developed” country. Oh my goodness.

While I’m waiting for this flight, let me reflect on my last journey: Israel.

Israel was an illuminating experience. In six days I visited three different areas, the Palestinian camps, the holy city, Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv. Going from nothing to super-metropolitan city in short-shorts and banana-hammocks is a culture shock I really did not expect to find. Not to mention Jerusalem, the city I figured was going to be full of religious people humming versus from the Bible and the Quran, was in fact just a tourist trap.

UN resolution sign in front of the camp

I can’t elaborate too much about the location of the camp, though it was in Bethlehem, and my favorite memory of this trip was blasting Justin Beiber in the beat-up car of a Palestinian friend through the streets of Bethlehem. Otherwise the camps are exactly what you expect them to be, constantly in construction, bare minimum provisions, controlled by the Israelis and the supplied by the UN (speaking of which, I saw a lot of UN cars zooming around while I was there…). Though the people consider it a jail, they are generally more laid back in some areas of interaction—like with women. They are so oppressed that they need to give “their own people” (the ones in the same situation) some slack, especially in the Muslim world. Well, that’s my opinion anyway.

Inside one of the houses, where I slept

Jerusalem was my first experience couchsurfing, which was incredibly positive. I dropped my stuff with some Israeli officers in training for a few hours while I toured the Old City (very very very touristic, though I did touch where Jesus was born and died. I saw the Dome of the Rock, went to the Western Wall, and fought off yet another Arab marriage). After I got into the center of Jerusalem, its really quite an interesting mix of people. The vast majority there are Europeans or liberal, yet religious Israelis, with this interesting mix of Israeli-Arab culture, where the Arab culture comes through when you see the touristic items, tea, and food. Couchsurfing was great, the folk I stayed with graciously accepted me without question and fed me, walked around Jerusalem with me, and helped carry my bags to the bus station.

Where Jesus  died

Western Wall notes

Tel Aviv. Ohhhh Tel Aviv.

This part of the trip was particularly interesting. I stayed with a friend I met in Aqaba, who at the time was with his girlfriend (at this point his girlfriend was in the States, interesting timing, isn’t it?). In any case, it was a bit of a struggle in the home front, especially because the first night I arrived we went for a night time dip and all our stuff was stolen. Thankfully my passport and over-clothes were brought back, though they stole 600 shekels from me, which was frustrating to say the least. Not only that, but the night after, I was hanging out with two Israelis and one Russian girl I met on a tour, and one of the Israeli’s had his phone and money stolen! So, lest I say, I don’t trust the Israeli beach.

Tel Aviv on the few rocks on the beach

Though, Tel Aviv is great. Losing the money forced me to live off 100 shekels for the next 3 days (by the way, that’s about 30 USD) which meant I checked out a lot of the city, had a lot of conversations, and had to resist a lot of cute pretty and cheap dresses I couldn’t afford. Though the stolen money made me lose a little bit of hope in humanity, it was restored by the fact that there were still so many wonderful people I met. Once I was looking for money and I suppose I took too long and a man behind me just said, you must not have it, I will buy you your sandwich, because I am a nice guy. Another instance I went to the bathroom and a man gave me a rose. Another time I went to the bathroom, was supposed to pay a shekel, but didn’t have any on me and couldn’t communicate it in Hebrew. This was apparently very endearing to the old man, who motioned for me to wait, handed me a lemon, and kissed me forehead.

The last instance was that the Israelis and Sasha (Russian girl), the folk I was hanging with on the beach,  didn’t like the sound of the guy I was staying with, and so we all just sat on the beach telling stories until 4am instead of me going home. We attempted to sleep for a bit but surrendered to how cold it was without proper blankets. Then the next morning we all got up and went to his sister’s house where we all took turns showering the sand off us and making tea and sandwiches.

So, people are good. Tel Aviv is like Europe  (I assume, I‘ve never been), and it shows absolutely no evidence of the conflict going on outside of it. Everyone I met there is very straightforward and very open-minded…At least more so than I have been used to in the last four-ish months.

I think I’d like to return to Tel Aviv, but definitely with friends. Jerusalem, however, I could definitely live in…and I hear Eylat is supposed to be incredible--something about dolphins.

Tel Aviv Art

So, thanks Israel, for teaching me who to trust, to giving me a backbone, for showing me ancient religious tourism, and for showing me good people do exist in light of bad situations.

Now…onto Sweden!

The Difference

At this particular moment I am sitting in a cafe overlooking greater Jerusalem (AKA, Al-Quds).

This is a very big change from where I was in Jordan, and before now, in a Palestinian camp set up and provided by the UN.

The best way to describe my feelings right now are different. I haven't quite decided what to make of my experience I just had in the PA camp, especially in comparison to Israeli-Jerusalem, where I am surrounded by so much Western-influence I'm not sure where their culture is. The camp was basically like Amman, but dirtier, smellier, more populated, constantly in repair, and full of oppressed, and anxious inhabitants ready to get out of their jail as soon as possible. Nonetheless, I really appreciated meeting them, and blaring Justin Bieber through the streets of Bethlehem.

To try to put it the economics in perspective, I was just eating falafel with my friend before we left the camp: it was 4 sheckels. Now, I just paid a little under 30 sheckels for  an Americano and a very fancy but delicious apple-cheese pastry. Granted, I am in tourist land---as the Old City is to my right, which means there is a lot of khaki-white shirt-camera-around-the-neck tourists in their Jesus-sandals walking about who drive up all the prices. But here, things are clean.  The walls are not peeling, the  people are bare-shouldered (something I am thoroughly enjoying, especially when having to carry around my backpack and a duffel), and there is green. What does green mean? It means water. What does water mean in the middle east? Money.

In any case, today I stay in Jerusalem. Tomorrow I grab the bus to Tel Aviv--I am slowly leaving the East, the camels, and the falafel, and trading it in for overpriced lattes, soups, and salads. This isn't despair, or disappointment, its just different.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if I can negotiate leaving my bags at this cafe for 2 hours to go take a look at the Old City without 50 pounds on my shoulders--

See you later Jordan

Let me preface this that I don’t know when I’ll have internet next, but this entry was written on May 19^th, at 11pm.

I leave tomorrow morning at 6:30 am.  Well, that is at least when I start my journey.

Before I leave, I wanted to somehow mark the end of Jordan. All day today I felt as though I was supposed to be followed around with a trumpet or something, announcing my dispatch from the program. Obviously this wasn’t the case, and my entire day has been very anticlimactic. Nonetheless, I’ve said my goodbyes, I’ve looked at places in a that way you look at something that you know you won’t be seeing for a while, and I have packed up two bags of STUFF. In fact, a good one third of it (at least) is all presents, as I got rid of a bag of clothes already that are worn or I just didn’t want anymore.

So here I am. Sitting in my Jordanian bed for the last time, broken armoir to my left holding my duffel bag, coffee table to my right covered in socks and underwear set out to dry. I tried to stay awake to hang out with my host parents, but my eyes had other ideas for me, and I resigned to sleep in that Jordanian bed of mine. A buddy of mine said to me the other day, “Aren’t you sad?” And I told her, “yeah, I suppose…but I am ready to go, you know?” she acknowledged this, and concluded, “true. But aren’t you sad you can never do this again? I mean, you can come to Jordan, but not like this.”

This cynical realization is absolutely true. I will not be able to return to Jordan the same, with the same people, with the same experience and with the same intention ever again. I don’t know how exactly I’ve changed from this experience, but I wanted to give Jordan a bit of a thank you before I left.

So, Jordan…You Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan,

Thank you.

Thank you for introducing me to good coffee, incredibly fatty foods, your secret internet cafés, Rainbow Street, twenty qirsh falafel, sage tea, Maglouba, Wadi Rum, the Bedouins, humanity, generosity, insanity and sanity, argelieh, lemon ma na-na  juice, Petra, Sahlab, Madaba and Ma’in Hot Springs, beautiful CIEE students, shaaby shabaab hisses, the most incredible family I could ask for, tears, happiness, bliss, content, self-realization, sand-storms, the saltiest sea ever, beautiful fish at Aqaba, music, Hashem's, haggling, street cats, security and confidence,  little homework, minimal motivation, sunsets and desert sunrises, Arabic and all its friends, the appreciation of dresses, the politics, the hatred, the protests and corruption, and all the other pleasures and smiles you’ve given me on a day-to-day basis.

Thanks for everything Jordan, you’ve been grand. But now that you’re done, I think I am ready to go home. Though, I have to say..home is a very weird concept to grasp at this particular moment. We’ll see what happens when my past hits me in the face.

Bishufek, Urdun—see you in the future.

Wadi Rum Aftermath

Existing in the Exit

Two days ago the reality of my exit from Jordan became apparent. I’m not sure what exactly triggered it, perhaps it was the idea that I was under the five-day countdown or the “dis-orientation” CIEE had us listen to…But nonetheless, time came buzzing into my mouth mid-sentence, as if I wouldn’t mind.

 I now only have 3 more full days in Jordan. One of which is being spent in Petra, one is for goodbyes to my friends, and one is goodbye to my family. Somewhere squished between those emotions there is a fifteen-paper that I need to finish and a subsequent presentation on said paper.

But wow. Three days, three days, three days. I tried saying it aloud to myself today and it still hasn’t quite hit me. I thought typing would help. I leave the country in three days. Friday morning I head to the border, hopefully with my and giant backpack, some paperwork, and some of those memories stuffed into my back pockets.

Some lovely human right before I left sent me an email telling me how excited she was for me, and how my experience open my eyes in an elusive fashion. Well, I’m not sure if I’ve had time to process everything quite yet, but I can tell my dedicated four readers that I walked into a giant grocery store the other day in one part of Amman I had never  travelled to, and I practically had a panic attack. My job was to find Nutella. Instead, I found myself in the technology section, an entire floor away from the groceries. That being said, I guess it helped me realize how assimilated and accustomed I have become to this life.

In fact, after buying that Nutella (and some Peanut Butter) and eating mostly Nutella and Peanut Butter for a lunch and dinner, I was greeted with a gratuitous stomach-ache in the middle of the desert in Wadi Rum. Though, don’t get me wrong, Wadi Rum, for the second time was absolutely astounding. Especially because this time we were really out in the boonies—which was also why my plan to get to Petra the next day didn’t work out—because we were in the middle of no-where.

So I am used to the food, life, culture. I am just finding out things about Jordan I didn’t know about before—like hobbies I might like to pick-up, places I would like to visit more often, mahals I’d like to work at, apartments I’d love to share…But I am excited to travel again, to start anew, to go home, eat, drink and be merry, and yes, Mom, I will be making a slideshow for Grandma and Peepaw.  I only ask all of you to be preemptively patient with me and my constant shock, potential disdain for American greed, and impending panic-attacks in the middle of Cotsco.

I’ll write one more blog before Israel and Sweden, but after that…who knows what will happen! The journey is almost over, the experience is almost had.

In the words of that lovely writer whose name I forget,

                “So it goes.”

....In other news: PETRA photos!

Petra "Taxis"

THE TREASURY! What makes Petra famous...

Atop "The High Place"

The High Place Sacrificial rock thing

A cave with craaaazy rock colors!

Realizing You Are American

Recently we had a discussion in Internship Class about a contemporary critique a girl wrote from her time spent in Tibet. She essentially wrote that over privileged American’s are paying for an experience in an underdeveloped country for their own personal gain, and that they can never really get into the culture, and will always be treated like guests of honor because they are marked with that “American-ness” that defines them with a specific stigma. They can never really be “Global-Citizens”—only be more globally conscious.

In any case, we were talking about this, and my point of view practically drooled out of my mouth, but I forgot to write about it here—until now. My perspective on this is that, despite this girls’ clear pessimism for her study abroad program and that she also lacked insight and effort—one huge part of studying abroad is coming to terms with your nationality and your background and staring it in the face.

This may seem absurdly obvious. Because of course, everyone tends to know where they come from, and they know the history of said country and they have that mentality that yes, yes, I’m from _____. BUT, I don’t think anyone really gets behind their nationality and background. Especially if you are American in the Middle East. I say that because there IS a stigma here if you’re America. You trump everyone in terms of privilege here. People like to know you, and simultaneously like to hate you, just because you’re American. Well, if you really want to be immersed, accepted, and make friends. When they ask, “Where are you from?” you say, “America”—stick behind that, no matter what the next few comments are, and then ask them about something else.  It’s impossible to see the world without taking into account your nationality, and your background—so why hide it? If you acknowledge and accept that you are American and people will see that differently, you can move on from it and talk about much more fun things like music and food, as opposed to Obama and bin Laden.

Anyway, if I had any advice for future study abroad students it would be these two things:

1.       Know yourself, know your nationality and get behind it. Don’t deny it, don’t walk around it, don’t pretend you’re the nationality of the country you’re in because you aren’t and you won’t be. It’s the whole “beeeee yourself” from Aladdin. J

2.       Expect the unexpected and be able to constantly change your plans

3.       Bring more money than you ever think you’ll need for studying abroad.

4.       Expect to be depressed at one point, and recognize it when you are so you can get out of it.

5.       Take hold of all the chances you can—say yes more than saying no.

6.       Do and be exactly as you want to be.

I’m not saying these are right or wrong to follow, but I wish someone told me some of this stuff before I left in a more realistic setting. But who knows, I probably wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it for myself.

I have my first out of four Arabic Finals tomorrow.

Oh me oh my!

(on another note, I was roped into an Aerobics class today at the gym. Hilarious experience).

Osama is Dead?

Apparently Bin Laden was finally found and killed.

This event has triggered probably the most emails from the Embassy, telling us to watch out...but really, no one here has even signaled discontent. Jordanians are more preoccupied with the past Barcelona vs Real Madrid game last week.

Its funny, I'm sure there is a whole hubub about it in the states, but interesting timing isn't it? There are uprisings all over the Middle East, and now is the time Osama Bin Laden is located, and killed. Its convenience certainly begs for further investigation of American secret police. But who would investigate the death of the face of an international murderer? Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed by any means, only spinning this piece of news in a  separate direction.

So. Here's to Amurrrika! You finished Bush's mission.

3 Weeks to Go

April, 2011 is over today. 

In some ways, I really can’t believe it. In others, I am itching to get back to the States. As for my schedule, this weekend I cancelled plans to go camping after taking a peek in my wallet. The next week is our last two Arabic classes, then that weekend will be spent studying for the Final, buying presents, and prepping for my internship case-study. That week I will continue to write, go to Wadi Rum and camp under the stars, finally to Petra (inshallah), then more finals, end of classes…and then I leave to Israel! Four days later I move over to Sweden and then finally I go to the states June 2^nd. Absurd.

In any case, the last few weekends I have spent hanging with my host family, around Amman, talking with actual Jordanian residents, and doing some self reflection in Aqaba. Here are some cute photos of my host familia…(during a commercial of “Ashqa Mumnu’a” (Forbidden Love—an arab favorite Turkish soap opera).

Lara, Baba and Mousa

Lara and Mousa

Aqaba was beautiful. Originally I booked this trip by myself, with the intention of figuring some things out in my life—among them was being assured I could travel by myself. However, when I got to the hostel, I realized there were 8 other CIEE students in the same hostel! Though, this didn’t bother me, I just continued on with my figuring.

Essentially I spent most of my days thinking, swimming, sunning, reading, snorkeling, and talking with some of the folk I met at the hostel.  Here are some photos of beautiful Aqaba.

Aqaba Beach at Sunset

And if you think that women here are liberated of clothing when they are at the beach in 90 degree weather…you are severely wrong (in some cases). When I went to swim, not only was I harassed by many of the shabaab (youth, men), but a big Muslim family parked their camp about a foot next to me. It was laughable, really. So typical Jordan: hijab, full coated women and big bellied men, with a huge umbrella, naked children, brewing tea and coffee on the beach. It smelled good, I’ll give you that.

Aqaba Public Beach; notice the clothing contrast...

As a last thought: here is how I know I have assimilated to Jordan.

One day, as I was walking down to Rainbow Street to meet for argelieh on a roof (yes, so fun)…these events happened all in 2-3 minutes of walking, one after the other.

First, a car stopped on the road, rolled down the window and the man (maybe 5 years older than me) demanded for my phone number. After I refused, told him I was married, told him I had three children, and told him I lived in Amman, he persisted. Eventually I told him to “piss-off” in Arabic, and with the help of a loud car horn behind him (since he was holding up traffic), he went on his way.

The Sheep Herd

Two or three steps later, I realized I was headed straight for a heard of sheep travelling upstream the hill I was walking down! As I attempted to move around the sheep and their Bedouin hearders (mind you this is about 50-60 sheep!) while simultaneously avoiding oncoming traffic and sheep droppings, another car full of young men passed by me shouting out their window: “Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex! Sex!” At this point I’m sure I stepped in sheep poop, stopped dead in my tracks, and as I neared the end of the heard of sheep, the Bedouin header says, “Ahalan Wasahalan Ala’ al-Urdoun” (Welcome to Jordan).

Yes. Welcome to Jordan three months and 1 week later indeed, dear Bedouin header.

Addendum

Apparently there was a violent protest, as I was writing that last entry. Fortunately not in Amman. Just goes to show you the unpredictability. But not to worry friends and family--this protest WAS known and predicted to happen (not the violence), and I have to stay far far away from them or else I will be kicked out of the CIEE program.

Anyway, here is the link:

http://aljazeera.com/news/middleeast/2011/04/2011415153839185473.html

Welcome to Reality

                One of the biggest mistakes I have made here in Jordan is living under the impression that this experience is all about me. Which, when you’re assimilating and trying your hardest to stuff as many foreign words into your head as you can, is easy to do.

                Though this experience was my choice, it isn’t mine alone, and it’s certainly not all about me. My family has been kind enough to not freak out to the degree that I am hearing other CIEE students’ families are doing—but let me make something clear: Jordan is a third world country. There are a lot of things here that occur that I’ve ignored and not told my family or friends because (fortunately or unfortunately) I’ve been consumed with keeping myself inside the lines of harmony. So when I say this experience is not all about me, what I am implying is that it is about the people I am affecting here, and how family and friends home perceive my experience. 

                So let’s go back to the beginning. Here are some fun statistics about Jordan you may or may not know, but are important.

1.       Jordan is almost 70% or so Palestinian (this means they have some kind of “western” origin)

a)      However, the ministry is comprised of mostly “tribal” Jordanians…AKA “east Jordanians” who only comprise 30% of the population. AKA: representation is real unequal.

2.       Jordan has a huge youth bulge: almost 60% of the population is between 15-64 years-old. The median age is 24.3 years-old. This reality hit me recently when I met with some diplomatic attachés who were 24, 26, and 29. All of which,  dawned suits and ties, and worked in the foreign ministry of Jordan.

3.       92% of all people are Sunni Muslim. After that comes 6% Christian (mostly Greek, Syrian, Armenian Orthodox).

4.       Also: Jordan has constantly had a high unemployment rate, hovering between 11-14% usually.

5.       Jordan is pretty much owned by the World Bank. They are in debt to it since 2007 I think. This means a lot of their laws, changes, and economic reforms much be reviewed by the World Bank. –they are 6.7 billion dollars in debt since 2009.

6.       Jordan has very few natural resources. No oil. Though it does has phosphates, agriculture, and human capital (mostly in the form of Medical Tourism)

7.       Jordan is one of the most water-poor countries in the world, and can’t afford to desalinate their water, like Saudi Arabia.

So, consider these fun stats, and now I’ll tell you three things I’ve witnessed.

Something I never really addressed is the giant revolution craze going on through the Middle East. In case you’re wondering, yes: everyone is talking about it. In fact my Baba gives me an update every day telling me who died where, and where the protests are the hottest. Right now, is Syria. In fact, if you are over 40 years old and Jordanian, you are forbidden to cross the border right now.

Jordan, luckily one of the most stable countries in the area, has only felt faint left-over vibrations from the rest of the revolution-addicted countries. There have been protests every week, and only one was “violent.” I use this term because from what most Jordanians say, it was a misunderstanding between two groups that are actually relatively for a similar reformation, but rocks were thrown and one old guy died…so the media ran with it and called it “violent.”

In any case, most people want reform, they want representation in the ministry and the legislation, they are frustrated with the constant pouring in of immigrants…and they are taking hold of the strings of motivation from the neighboring countries and running with it.

The protests are unpredictable elsewhere, but many of the protests in Jordan are widely known. For example, there were two yesterday which was made known by CIEE staff and the traffic. So. There is that.

Many people are attributing the protests to facebook and other media, but honestly…I think the time bomb just went off when the dear Tunisian man set himself on fire. What a way to start a revolution. Here are two quotes I really enjoy concerning the revolutions in the Arab world:

“If the one dominating factor of events today is their unpredictability, then it would be foolish to predict where they will end up…we don’t even begin to know. But the one thing I’m sure of is that history is on the move, and we’re just at the beginning.” – The Independent

And….

                “It is fascinating but quite provincial to focus attention — as much of the Western media is doing — on whether Facebook drove these revolts or what will happen if Muslim Brothers play a role in the governments to be formed. The Arabs are like a bride emerging on her wedding day and many people are commenting on whether her shoes match her gloves, when the real issue is how beautiful and happy she is.” – Rami Khouri

Anyway, this entry was sparked also by this new graffiti I saw on the wall near my house:

This refers to the fact that education here IS NOT free, and those that are almost free, are not of good quality, or do not have any good resources. Not to mention, Jordanians tend to complain that they are paying for Iraqi education, since there are so many refugees here. But even University of Jordan has major issues. In the past there were protests about the poor quality of the bathrooms in the university (in case you’re wondering, maybe 60-70% of the bathrooms are still squat-toilets, and toilet paper is a rare find).

It is also sparked by the fact that my 7-year-old host sister constantly mocks Gadaffi by saying “Bayt Bayt Dar Dar Zenga Zenga!” Take what you will from that.

Another photo:

 

This is a photo of my host sister wearing a blanket, but it illustrates the whole hijab issue. Yesterday I met some of my host cousins and one of them (around my age) helped Lara put on a hijab—and Lara was beaming. Hijabs (just the head-covering) here are really a style statement, as well as a step toward maturity that many girls want to take. It’s probably 90% of the time completely their choice, and its kind of weird to see Arab girls without one now.

There is no photo to illustrate this, but Jordan is still struggling with some major racism issues. For example, today I was cat-called/yelled at (you can never tell) by the word: “whitey, whitey!”…but more importantly, others—like Jews and Iraqis are more often the victims of prejudice. You can imagine why.

So, that concludes my poly-sci discussion. It’s a rough overview, and does not encompass nearly enough of what’s going on here (when you add all the factors together), but it’s a start. 

Travels and Beyond

                Considering I have been quite incompetent in updating this blog in the last month, I do not blame you if you have stopped looking for updates. But for that one lone set of eyes still dedicated to my letters: here is your update on, well, myself.

                The last time I wrote it was March 14^th, my lovely 21^st birthday. However, I am pretty sure I only wrote about the sheer possibilities of my birthday happenings. WELL, ladies and gents, let me try to give you a giant, yet organized and skim-able gist of my past month.

                March, in general, has been quite nutty. Not only was it my birthday, but it also contained the birthdays of many CIEE students, which is quite evident from the looks of my bank account. Birthdays in Jordan all follow a similar ten-part recipe:

1 part singing

2 parts company

5 parts alcohol

2 parts food (mostly in cake format, though sometimes Kanafé—see below--, and sometimes French fries)

Lest I say, much fun has been had. Besides birthdays, I have also gone on many amazing jaw-dropping trips.

#1 Ajloun. This is a nature preserve. There is also a castle. Here are some photos.

#2 Wadi Rum. This is the desert that you think of when people talk about Jordan. The Bedouins, the desert, the wadis/valleys, the sugary chai, and of course: THE CAMELS. This trip was an overnight trip which, at one point, I was not sure I would ever be warm again. This is when I really came to the realization that I came to Jordan unprepared for cold. Because the desert was very cold at night. Thankfully, some Bedouin lent me his camel-jacket and aint NOTHING getting through that thing. Anyway. Riding camels through the desert was definitely something I advise every human to do, as well as getting up and watching the sunrise. It was astounding—and it was so much fun to climb over everything…I want to learn to climb professionally.

Wadi Rum Photos!

#3 TURKEY.

                Istanbul.

At the last minute sometime in March I decided to go to Turkey for CIEE’s made-up “Spring Break.” I went to Istanbul and stayed with my Dad’s friend (who, with his personal assistant, Hediye) was unbelievably generous. We stayed in his house for four days while Hediye organized a personal driver for us named Oral, who was a riot, for free, and twenty-four. Istanbul, albeit rainy our first four days, was absolutely wonderful. We visited all the touristy sites: Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, The Grand Bazaar (The Scarf Epicenter),  The Bosphorous Sea, Taksim Square, Istiqlal Street, Sultanhamet, The Dolmabahce palace, some absolutely wonderful breakfast nooks, and some great live Turkish music bars. We also got home-cooked meals, free breakfasts, and hot showers! The generosity of the Turkish folk was just way more than I could have expected and I hope to eventually repay them for everything. 

                Antalya.

After some debate, the four girls I was travelling with decided to forgo a 9-hour bus ride and buy some plane tickets to Antalya to stay in treehouses and get some sun. Yes. That’s right. TREEHOUSES.

…Six hours, a car ride, plane, and three buses later we arrived at the Bayram Treehouse Pension where we ate awesome food, sat by the fire, drank fat Efes beers, and skinny-dipped in the Mediterranean. Unfortunately, the beach was a whole quarter mile walk away and you had to walk through the 1^st and 2^nd century ruins in order to reach the beach. Haha, it was just beautiful. I would work there in a second if I had time/did not have to return to Jordan. When I told the Turkish workers that, they pointed at the “Help Wanted” sign and demanded I stay. In any case, this place was just incredible. Good company, GREAT breakfast nooks, quiet and lovely. Though our trip wasn’t over yet.

                Istanbul Part Two.

Six hours and, three buses, and one cab ride later, we arrived back in Istanbul to stay with my Dad’s friend’s sister-in-law’s apartment. Yes. That’s right. In Taksim Square. I loved them, and their apartment. Their generosity was again, humbling. We brought them cookies, and they brought us all over Istanbul—and danced until 4 in the morning, flipped a coin of fate which decided we should go back to sleep (though everyone else in Turkey on a Thursday was still up and about) to prepare for our journey the next day. We went back to the Grand Bazaar, haggled, ate more food, and enjoyed our last day in Turkey (and it was sunny!). Finally at 8:30 we called a taxi and headed to the plane back to Amman…

Link to whole Turkey Photo Album!

                The lessons learned this week include:

1.       I love nature. I think living in the city has made me realize how much I miss hiking, running in the hot sun and in the soggy rain, and napping in the grass.

2.       I can speak Arabic. For some reason, Turks don’t speak anything else but Turkish. Between the 4 girls, we could speak 6 languages: Hebrew, Russian, English, Arabic, Spanish, and French. But they only spoke Turkish. Thankfully our 10-word vocabulary of Turkish got us around. But when I returned to Amman, I realized how much I actually know. It’s worth a pat on the back. J

3.       Turkish men are much more direct than Jordanian men. Too many times I was directly hit on by Turkish men. They are much more direct, a little more dangerous, and kinda smelly.

4.       Pick the people you travel with wisely. I found out a lot about the ladies I travelled with. Good and bad. Travel brings out the best and worst in people. As Meredith (one of the girls I travelled with) said, “you can find out a lot about people from how they deal with two things: rainy days, and tangled Christmas tree lights.”Enough said.

5.       I want to live in Turkey. I plan on coming back and getting an apartment here. It is the perfect mix of middle-eastern culture and European style. I adore it. So much art, so much life!

6.       “Your niceness brings out the niceness in others.” Ercan (the boyfriend of the sister-in-law of my father’s friend) told me this when I told him he was too generous. Once I wrote in a journal entry of mine that there was not a shortage of genuinely nice people in the world. This saying, along with my own past thought, has certainly been solidified throughout this experience.  I could not have planned any of these events—they have all just fallen into place because of the generosity of others. It was beautiful.

This concludes the epically long update on my life. Now I am back in Amman, back to my schedule. It is crazy to think, but I only have four more weeks of the program here. I decided after travelling with the girls I would book an independent trip to Aqaba for one to just chill by myself, read, swim, scuba, and snorkel in the heat. Hopefully it will be sunny. Five weeks, and I will be in Israel/West Bank, then to Sweden, then home to Seattle. Time is speeding up. But I’m ready. 

Children & the Neighborhood

Three days after the race I attempted running on the treadmill again. After about 5 minutes, my shins were shouting some angry bits and pieces at me, and the end of my run (a whopping total of 5K) finished with an awkward and wobbly ending. Needless to say, I was still sore. However, I tried out running again yesterday and it was a bit less everywhere, yet still only 5K. Today my goal is to hit 6 or 7K.

                Skidding into another topic: TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!

This event has just begun, as its only 8:02 am here. I tried to sleep in, but the gargantoid windows in my room do a really good job at preventing this from happening. In any case, my plans are as follows:

1.       Go to Abu Jbara (a restaurant) for my Amiyah Jordan dialect class. We are studying food, so obviously we have to go out to get food to study it!

2.       1. Go to a meeting, then class (boring, necessary duties)

3.       2. Go run 6-7K at the gym, take a loooong shower  and a loooong sauna, and MAYBE even partake in some quality hot tub time.

4.      3.  Go home, grab some Maglouba (tasty chicken and rice) and celebrate with the family*

                (*This is something where I really don’t know what to expect. I know there is a cake      involved, but the extent of celebration is really unknown to me. I guess I’ll find out)

5.       Off to Paris Café for Tango and Tequila Night! (well, its just tango night…but for me its tango and tequila).

6.       Boogy home/sleep.

So anyway, those are my plans…we’ll see how they go. I shall update this blog about the realities of these plans on another date.

Anyway, this post is really about my perspective of kids here and my neighborhood. It is a positive and a negative topic.

In terms of children, the vast majority of children I’ve met here are horribly spoiled. Its not their fault, as the mothers and older siblings if any, dote upon the kids all day long—especially if it’s a boy. For example, Mousa, my dear brother, is three. Generally that’s not a bad age—however. Boys here are horribly destructive. He is obsessed with the song “Boom Boom Pow” (along with my two other sisters), and my computer has become a “boom boom pow” machine. Any time I am working, he says “Boom Boom?” and after I tell him no in about six different ways  and tones, he turns to the closest thing he can get his hands on and breaks it.

This is very frustrating.

My sisters are relatively similar, but they do less destruction and more “luk-luk-luk-luk-luking” (blah-blah-blahing). This is the best example of a day with them (translation from Arabic).

Gabby enters through main door and greets her Baba. After awkward mumbling renditions of “I’m good, yes, how are you?” she exits the kitchen and goes to her room to put her bags down.

Enter Sara and Lara to Gabby’s room.

Sara: Are you studying?

Gabby: Yes. How are you, how was school?

Sara: Okay. Do you want anything?

Gabby: No, thank you.

Silence incurs. Sara stares at Gabby as she studies. Three minutes pass.

Sara: Are you studying?

Gabby: Yes.

Sara: Do you want tea?

Gabby: No, thank you. I told you I don’t want anything.

Sara: Do you want to eat?

Gabby: No, I’m not hungry, thanks.

Sara: Are you studying?

Gabby stares at Sara, then looks back to her work shaking her head. Enter Lara.

Lara: Can I use your iPod?

Gabby: No. I’m using it.

Lara: Oh.

Lara and Sara sit in room, staring at Gabby. Enter Mousa and everything goes to hell.

Anyway, you get the point. The result of this interaction is that I cannot study in my house. Thankfully, there are now two places nearby I adore that I can go to hide when I am sick of these guys.

1.       Paris Café

2.       Zach’s apartment

Paris café is wonderful. It has anything you can ask for, and I’m finding out how truly wonderful my little town of Weibdeh really is. There are awesome artsy cafes and restaurants all around, an art museum, and lots of very friendly people. Café Paris is really my favorite though, as it is a French Café with a library, free internet, alcoholic, hot, and cold drinks, pasta, hookah, and a really great atmosphere. It also helps that the owner took a liking to me and insists I eat frozen cheesecake with him. Anyway, tonight is Tango night—and he is excited for me to come for my birthday.

                The second place I have uncovered is literally about 100 steps from my family’s apartment. Zach, a Fulbright scholar here, lives down the street in about the same size apartment my family lives in for 400$ a month. This place is huge. You could never find this quality of an apartment in New York for 400$. If you asked in NY for one for 400$, the landlord with laugh, hand you a box, and send you to the alley.  So, in any case, this new friend of mine (as I’ve told him a bunch of times) is really a savior, because not only can I swipe some of his internet, but I can get lots of work done, make dinner that won’t make me feel like I’m never going to be able to get out of my chair (we made salmon cakes and broccoli last night!) and I can sprawl across his couch or do yoga on his floor without feeling awkward. Needless to say, I feel at ease. This is a huge deal…as I am somewhat tense in my homestay.

               

                In other news, this weekend I go to Jerash to see chariot races, and I think there is a celebration at an apartment for my bday (though I don’t know what that entails..), and the following weekend in Wadi Rum (VERY excited for this). After that it is TURKEY TIME!! Lauren, Lura and I finally finalized our tickets to Istanbul, Turkey, and I am very, very excited.

So, until next time. I will try to update this little blogger post thing with more updates maybe this Thursday. 

Time Decided to Move

I’m not sure exactly when I wrote last, but it feels like it’s been a while…so to inform readers (if there still are any present) I’ll give you the lay down of the past two weeks of March/February.

Firstly, I’ve been here for over a month already! I know they said time would go fast, but it has really done its job on me! In fact, I have plans for every weekend until April (AKA Spring Break for us Americans)—which is just nuts. After Spring break, its already beginning-mid April, and in one month after that we will have finals! So, time is doing real work here.

The last two weeks have been quite enlightening. After a bunch of ups and downs in the beginning of the program, I’ve finally unearthed bits about myself that I didn’t really know existed. Mostly they are simple things, those qualities that you thought you no longer cared about, or those facets of yourself you think left on hiatus and would never return. Well kids, I did some accidental soul seeking and turned out to find some real hard details about myself. But I won’t get into that now…

The last two weekends I spent a lot of time outside, which has been WONDERFUL beyond anything that could have ever picked up my mood.

The last weekend of February a couple friends from CIEE and I went to Ma’In Hot Springs and Madaba. Madaba (for those who don’t know), is an ancient Christian city where lots of Biblical history occurred, and Moabites reigned. Personally, I’m not one for history, but I have to say the Church of the Map (a greek orthodox church) and the archeological museum (with ancient Roman and other era mosaics) were among my favorites.

After our historical tour of Madaba and a meal where I finally did not feel stuffed to the rim, our group collided into another CIEE group, and all hung out, doing fun American things in the Hotel rooms, which one room (not ours, I’m proud to say!) got kicked out of the hotel. Well, actually they got “evicted” because of some angry German man who demanded the manager perform RA-knocks on all our doors. In any case, we slept 7 people to a 3-person hotel room, and in the morning got free breakfast before heading to Ma’In Hot Springs which were just astounding, relaxing and wonderful. When I was there I could not think of having any other motivations in life other than to gain enough money in order to leave peacefully on a tropical island in the hot sun.

So, lest I say, Madaba and Ma’In were beautiful. And I got a 

slight marriage proposal from a very persistent Lebanese woman in the hot spring. She wanted me to marry her son from Chicago. I  said, “La” (no).

Church of the Map

Ma'In Hot Springs--the Public Hamam

THIS past weekend (Mar 3-5) was also quite the event! I and nine other official team runners ran 242 Km from the Dead Sea to the Red Sea. I don’t really want to talk about it, other than it was beautiful, difficult, and an experience I would advise any runner to partake in.  All I can say now is that I am sore (though not swaggering, like some of the guys). We finished in 19 hours and some amount of minutes.

The Beginning of the Race, After everyone did 10 min runs

Dawn, probably about 3/4 of the way through

Me! Running in the morning, about 30K left, Israeli border to the right.

FREE MUD! At the Dead Sea Spa Hotel, muddin' up.

The Dead Sea. Across the water (again) is Israel. The people in the distance are standing on salt.

Finally I went to the Dead Sea on Saturday, after coming back from the race on Thurs/Friday at 3am, which was very relaxing and very very salty. Though probably the best use of Mud I have ever seen. Here are some fellow students partakin’ in the fun!

I also have to say trying to touch the bottom of the sea is extraordinarily difficult! You bounce. Its just silly. And yes, you could totally read a book if you wanted to, although I would not advise trying to swim, as any water in your eyes will sting horribly. Apparently it is 33% salt. Yes. 33%.

This next weekend is Aqaba! (back to where I ran)…and its just for relaxing.

Things have been going smoothly, though I’m really needing to start stepping up my studying considering I really haven’t been doing any. And my writing is very poor. But this blog post I will use the excuse that I am exhausted from running 242 Km. Yalla Bye!