Right now, as I sit in the only air conditioned room in Irbid, Yarmouk University's Language Center computer lab, I enjoy the companionship of a cup my sludgey habibi, Arabic coffee. Arabic coffee is completely different from American style coffee in so many ways. Walking down the street I find stands for it everywhere. Stands that sell nothing but Arabic coffee. On the street across from our apartments there's a store that sells what we would regard in the states as gourmet coffee. The owner of the store roasts his own coffee, adds the spice cardomon to it, and finely grinds it up.
Unlike the generic style of American coffee, Arabic coffee contains ingridients other than coffee. Cardomon pods, one of the most popular spices here is added to the coffee beans. These cardomon pods are ground up with the beans. I spent about an hour last night pondering how to best describe the taste of cardomon to anyone who's never tried it. When added to coffee or tea I'd say cardomon gives a bright spicey lavendery flavor. The delicate spice flavor of the tea earl grey comes close to the taste of cardom. However this is my opinion; if someone else tries it they might think differently. In the grinder, the coffee beans are ground to an almost talcom powder consistency. When it comes out of the grinder, Arabic coffee, because of the cardomon, has a fragrance distinct from other coffee.
Brewing Arabic Coffee is also completely different from the way we brew coffee in the States. Compared to the way we make American coffee, Arabic coffee is made with about twice the amount of coffee grounds. These grounds are affectionately dumped into a unique saucer which probably has some unique Arabic name. I just don't know it. I'd describe it as a mini saucer with a long handle sticking out so you can serve it. Usually when I make Arabic coffee, I add about a tablespoon and a half of sugar. Because more grounds of coffee are served to water compared to American coffee, Arabic coffee tends to be very bitter without sugar.
After the coffee finishes boiling in the saucer, I tend to drink it or serve it. Here comes what I think is the beauty of Arabic coffee; you don't filter the grounds out! As you drink this amazing drink, the powder like grounds fall to the bottom. Apparently this is unusual to American standards but I sometimes like to eat the left over grounds at the bottom. This might explain why I was pondering about how to describe cardomon since I haven't been able to sleep too well after drinking 4 cups of coffee. Also... Arabic coffee is typically served in small cups so 4 cups would be like 1 1\2 American coffee servings... sahih... wadih? (that means is that clear? Our teachers often say that when they teach us something that we had no idea was).
One important tidbit, there is a difference between Arabic coffee and Turkish coffee. Apparently there's no cardomon in Turkish coffee while cardomon is an integral ingridient to Arabic coffee... or so I've been told.
When the semester starts up again in the fall, I'll have to make Arabic coffee for my friends at William and Mary so they can experience it.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Talib the Security Guy
Not this Saturday but the Saturday before last Saturday a tragedy befell me. Our drive from Wadi Rum was not the most smooth experience. Since We had to traverse about two and half hours of hot desert to get back to Amman our minivan overheated. Six times. Hussam, our beloved driver (I seriosly mean that because of everything he did for us), would stop the car each time, pull out a cigarette and light it, then get out to open the car's front so he could fiddle with the radiator which needed to be cooled down more.
Once we finally got back to the university I decided to do a load of laundary. Now I'm pretty sure our laundary machines date back to the late 70s or 80s so they are rather well loved and reliably unreliable. In fact these machines are supposed to leak ALL of the water on to the floor. Anyways I put a dark wash load in the machine and sat at the table nearby studying as I waited for the machine to go through it's cycle. Half way through, I stopped the machine to make sure my clothes were actually getting clean when I realized the machine was spewing out scorching (near boiling) water into my clothes. The water coming out of the machine was a nice shade of purple because the machine had boiled the dye out of my clothes.
Upset, I walked out of our apartment complex and decided to get something to eat. I called my mom and started venting about the new bringht pink shade of my nice khakis. Conspicuously angry and in the midst of my ranting sweet nothings and f bombs about the laundry machine, I walked by a Yarmouk University security guard. As I muttered curses, the security guard, ignoring the fact that I was on the phone, walked up to me and said "hey! American! Talk with me!". Confused on what to do I told my mom I'd call back and then I focussed my attention on this security guard. "Ahlan!" I said. In rapid colloquial Talib (the security guard) said something along the lines of I'd like to drink tea or coffee with you, sit down, I'll go make it. I was actually really hungry at this point so I told Talib, the security guard, that I wanted to get a shawarma sadwhich. After eating my sandwhich I promised Talib that I would come back to sit and chat with him for a bit.
After finishing a "wajbah 'arbiya", an "Arabian meal" which is just a shawarma and french fries I went back to Talib's bench by the same university gate that I had left him by. Having done abosolutely no studying during the week I watched the sun set anxiously as I walked to a visibly bored Talib. "Ahlan ya Mathion, keefak? bidak guhwah o shaiy?" do you want coffee or tea Talib asked completely in a Jordanian rural dialect. I decided on Arabic coffee (which will be the subject of my next blog... in sha Allah..."ان شاء ألله). Talib walked from the bench into a trailer like buling a couple yards away which I realized was like a security guard rest place. He made the coffee then walked back to the bench. We sat and looked at each other. "Ahlan wa sahlan ya Mathion". "Ahlan bik I replied. Smiling Talib said "marhaba ya Mathion" Marhabtayn ya Talib. This went on for about ten minutes. Ahlan and Marhaba both mean "hello" or "welcome" however whenever someone says "hello" to you you reply with "two hellos". In Arabic there are many different ways of saying "hi" and when you meet and converse with Jordanians they tend to use several varities of "hi", "hello", "two hellos", and "a 100 hellos to you". After the hellos you go through the varities of "how are you" s. In American Universities they teach us the super formal "kayfa al hal" which means literally "how is the state". Talib and I used "Kayfak" and "shloonak" which is the more down to earth "how you (doing)". Over the course of the first hour Talib asked me where I was from, what my parents do, what I'm doing in Jordan, what I think of Jordan... those kinds of things. I asked Talib about life in Jordan; where he was born, what other jobs he had worked, and his thoughts on the Qur'an. The latter provided the subject for the next 45 minutes.
One of the big differences between life in Jordan and the US is that religion is everywhere in just about every form. I find it amazing that Talib wanted to talk about religion with me, someone he had just met literally on the street. As a Muslim, Talib told me in colloquial Jordanian that he had no problem with the "injeel", the Gospels. However compared to the Qur'an it had some kinks in it. I listened and nodded and once and a while added some pithy comment about how I respected the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH... as everyone says in Arabic "God's prayers and peace be upon him" everytime they mention his name). Authoritatively Talib told me, "Matthion, you know, the prophet Jesus was a very good Muslim."
After talking about religion I told Talib I really needed to start studying. I gave him my cell phone number since Talib had said he wanted to call me sometime and invite me over for dinner with his family. I went on my way...
Once we finally got back to the university I decided to do a load of laundary. Now I'm pretty sure our laundary machines date back to the late 70s or 80s so they are rather well loved and reliably unreliable. In fact these machines are supposed to leak ALL of the water on to the floor. Anyways I put a dark wash load in the machine and sat at the table nearby studying as I waited for the machine to go through it's cycle. Half way through, I stopped the machine to make sure my clothes were actually getting clean when I realized the machine was spewing out scorching (near boiling) water into my clothes. The water coming out of the machine was a nice shade of purple because the machine had boiled the dye out of my clothes.
Upset, I walked out of our apartment complex and decided to get something to eat. I called my mom and started venting about the new bringht pink shade of my nice khakis. Conspicuously angry and in the midst of my ranting sweet nothings and f bombs about the laundry machine, I walked by a Yarmouk University security guard. As I muttered curses, the security guard, ignoring the fact that I was on the phone, walked up to me and said "hey! American! Talk with me!". Confused on what to do I told my mom I'd call back and then I focussed my attention on this security guard. "Ahlan!" I said. In rapid colloquial Talib (the security guard) said something along the lines of I'd like to drink tea or coffee with you, sit down, I'll go make it. I was actually really hungry at this point so I told Talib, the security guard, that I wanted to get a shawarma sadwhich. After eating my sandwhich I promised Talib that I would come back to sit and chat with him for a bit.
After finishing a "wajbah 'arbiya", an "Arabian meal" which is just a shawarma and french fries I went back to Talib's bench by the same university gate that I had left him by. Having done abosolutely no studying during the week I watched the sun set anxiously as I walked to a visibly bored Talib. "Ahlan ya Mathion, keefak? bidak guhwah o shaiy?" do you want coffee or tea Talib asked completely in a Jordanian rural dialect. I decided on Arabic coffee (which will be the subject of my next blog... in sha Allah..."ان شاء ألله). Talib walked from the bench into a trailer like buling a couple yards away which I realized was like a security guard rest place. He made the coffee then walked back to the bench. We sat and looked at each other. "Ahlan wa sahlan ya Mathion". "Ahlan bik I replied. Smiling Talib said "marhaba ya Mathion" Marhabtayn ya Talib. This went on for about ten minutes. Ahlan and Marhaba both mean "hello" or "welcome" however whenever someone says "hello" to you you reply with "two hellos". In Arabic there are many different ways of saying "hi" and when you meet and converse with Jordanians they tend to use several varities of "hi", "hello", "two hellos", and "a 100 hellos to you". After the hellos you go through the varities of "how are you" s. In American Universities they teach us the super formal "kayfa al hal" which means literally "how is the state". Talib and I used "Kayfak" and "shloonak" which is the more down to earth "how you (doing)". Over the course of the first hour Talib asked me where I was from, what my parents do, what I'm doing in Jordan, what I think of Jordan... those kinds of things. I asked Talib about life in Jordan; where he was born, what other jobs he had worked, and his thoughts on the Qur'an. The latter provided the subject for the next 45 minutes.
One of the big differences between life in Jordan and the US is that religion is everywhere in just about every form. I find it amazing that Talib wanted to talk about religion with me, someone he had just met literally on the street. As a Muslim, Talib told me in colloquial Jordanian that he had no problem with the "injeel", the Gospels. However compared to the Qur'an it had some kinks in it. I listened and nodded and once and a while added some pithy comment about how I respected the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH... as everyone says in Arabic "God's prayers and peace be upon him" everytime they mention his name). Authoritatively Talib told me, "Matthion, you know, the prophet Jesus was a very good Muslim."
After talking about religion I told Talib I really needed to start studying. I gave him my cell phone number since Talib had said he wanted to call me sometime and invite me over for dinner with his family. I went on my way...
Saturday, June 28, 2008
The Sougs!!! (In Fusha... Souqs)
My first week into the program I decided to go to the sougs (markets, stores) in Irbid to go buy a couple of Kufiyehs (the traditional Arab red-white or black-white scarves). I thought it would only take me an hour... ma sha Allah... it didn't. I took cab alone I drove through the alleys to get to the center of town which is considerably more busy than the section of town that our university is in. Anyways, the cab driver just dropped me off and I got out and began looking like an akward and lost tourist.
I went around to a couple of sougs and asked "weyn istatiya an ashtree kufiyeh", where can I buy a kufiyey? They would direct me to another street that looked just the same. So I kept on walking around and ran into a store owner. I asked him about kuffiyehs and he smiled and just said come in. I came in. He had no kufiyehs. This was a toy store. "Do you like tea or coffee?" he asked me. I said coffee. We exchanged names and I told him I'm American from Washington D.C. I ended up chatting with Muhammad (the toy store owner) for 4 hours about just about everything. During this time I met a Moroccan woman (who spoke excellent English) who complained about her in-laws. Muhammad kept on buying me drinks and invited me to a family wedding in a month. He offered me this drink called kerkadey which Muhammad told me was good for circulation and made like tea except it was left to brew for three days. I declined initially since I had a feeling drinking this kerkadey would garuntee me a night worshipping the porcelain goddess... the toilett. Muhammad declined my decline and insisted I drink. "Ma Sha Allah!" he told me. "Ma sha Allah!" I grinned back with reservation then took a gulp then finshed the thing. It was actually really good. After our four hour conversation I told him that I had lots of work to go but gave him my cell number then headed out to return to my kufiyeh search.
As I walked down a couple more streets I saw a bunch of kufiyehs through a window. I bought two Jordanian kuffiyehs and ended up talking for an hour with two of the shop keepers who spoke very little English. We ended up talking about the Quran. One of them told me repeatedly that the world is in the Quran. I promised them that I would buy a Quran and asked them if they knew where I could buy a nicely decorated Quran.
Walking by a couple more shops I saw a traditional Arab clothing store which I immediatly went into. It was about 9:30 at this time. This store had a radio playing what I think was Quranic recitations and a TV broadcasting night time prayers from the holy city of Mecca. If the radio or TV didn't hint anything the shop keeper's appearance certainly did tell me this a store for very religious clientel. The shopkeeper wore a full length thawb and big beard. We talked about Islam and I told him I was very interested in Islam and loved the Prophet. Even though I didn't say this directly, I knew the shopkeeper interpretted what I was saying to mean that I was interested in becoming a Muslim. I had no problem with this since I knew it was going to get me a deal with what I was intending to buy. From him I bought my own thawb, abaya, and aghal giving me the complete look of traditional sheikh. In addition I asked him to write down the times of prayer so I could know when they are and the opening seven verses of the Quran. I think he was happy. I was happy because I was able to barter more effectively for a deal. After a few pics I left with a salaam aleikum!
I took a cab back to the University. This cab driver was more interactive than the last, he was Palestinian and told me that he was from Jenin. I sighed once I got back to the campus. I had a crap load of work to do.
I went around to a couple of sougs and asked "weyn istatiya an ashtree kufiyeh", where can I buy a kufiyey? They would direct me to another street that looked just the same. So I kept on walking around and ran into a store owner. I asked him about kuffiyehs and he smiled and just said come in. I came in. He had no kufiyehs. This was a toy store. "Do you like tea or coffee?" he asked me. I said coffee. We exchanged names and I told him I'm American from Washington D.C. I ended up chatting with Muhammad (the toy store owner) for 4 hours about just about everything. During this time I met a Moroccan woman (who spoke excellent English) who complained about her in-laws. Muhammad kept on buying me drinks and invited me to a family wedding in a month. He offered me this drink called kerkadey which Muhammad told me was good for circulation and made like tea except it was left to brew for three days. I declined initially since I had a feeling drinking this kerkadey would garuntee me a night worshipping the porcelain goddess... the toilett. Muhammad declined my decline and insisted I drink. "Ma Sha Allah!" he told me. "Ma sha Allah!" I grinned back with reservation then took a gulp then finshed the thing. It was actually really good. After our four hour conversation I told him that I had lots of work to go but gave him my cell number then headed out to return to my kufiyeh search.
As I walked down a couple more streets I saw a bunch of kufiyehs through a window. I bought two Jordanian kuffiyehs and ended up talking for an hour with two of the shop keepers who spoke very little English. We ended up talking about the Quran. One of them told me repeatedly that the world is in the Quran. I promised them that I would buy a Quran and asked them if they knew where I could buy a nicely decorated Quran.
Walking by a couple more shops I saw a traditional Arab clothing store which I immediatly went into. It was about 9:30 at this time. This store had a radio playing what I think was Quranic recitations and a TV broadcasting night time prayers from the holy city of Mecca. If the radio or TV didn't hint anything the shop keeper's appearance certainly did tell me this a store for very religious clientel. The shopkeeper wore a full length thawb and big beard. We talked about Islam and I told him I was very interested in Islam and loved the Prophet. Even though I didn't say this directly, I knew the shopkeeper interpretted what I was saying to mean that I was interested in becoming a Muslim. I had no problem with this since I knew it was going to get me a deal with what I was intending to buy. From him I bought my own thawb, abaya, and aghal giving me the complete look of traditional sheikh. In addition I asked him to write down the times of prayer so I could know when they are and the opening seven verses of the Quran. I think he was happy. I was happy because I was able to barter more effectively for a deal. After a few pics I left with a salaam aleikum!
I took a cab back to the University. This cab driver was more interactive than the last, he was Palestinian and told me that he was from Jenin. I sighed once I got back to the campus. I had a crap load of work to do.
Mount Nebo, Madaba, and Wadi Rum
I went on my first big outing through Jordan last weekend June 20th-21st. We left Irbid around 9 AM to head to Wadi Rum. I hope to include a map on this blog to give an idea of where things are located in Jordan. Where we are staying, Irbid, is located in northern Jordan about 45 minutes away from the Syrian border. Last weekend we were headed to Wadi Rum which is in the far south of Jordan about a half hour (I think) fromo the Saudi border. So basically we traversed the country north to south that whole day (Friday).
Our driver, Hussam, spoke very little English which proved to be great for us to practice Jordanian 'Amiyah (dialect). Out of the whole group from the UVA program (30 people) only 6 of us ended up going on this trip to Wadi Rum. I was the only guy in the group except our driver Hussam. It took us about 2 hours to drive from Irbid to the suburbs of Amman. The most scenic part I'd have to say was the twisty drive on roads that were by high cliffs in the Jaresh Mountain range. As we drove through the Jaresh mountains I could see small roadside singns that had in Arabic Dhikr phrases which are very important in Muslim practice. Dhikr are phrases that you utter like "al Hamdu lil Lah" (Praise be to God" "La ilah illa Allah" (There's no god but God) "Muhammadan Rasuul li Lah (Muhammad is God's Messenger) "Idhkr Allah" (Remember God). I thought the religious signs on the road on the mountain cliff sides were pretty appropriate. If you happen to fall off the road and get killed in the fall down the cliff, you'd certainly be remembering God as you head down to the ground below.
Jordanian traffic laws I think are slightly more loose than they are in the US. Outside of Amman our minivan driver realized that there was a detour on the highway we were driving on due to construction. Some of the signs were a bit confusing so he decided to go northbound for a bit on a highway that many cars (read ALL) were going southbound on. After getting off the highway a bit we ended up in a town with streets with widths not much bigger than our van. We eventually got back on to I think another highway which continued to take us southbound to Madaba about half an hour south of Amman.
On our way to Madaba our driver asked us if we wanted to go to Mount Nebo which is 15 minutes west of Madaba. We decided to go and so went on our merry way. According to the Bible, Moses, the guy who got the 10 commandments who's played by the late NRA spokesman Charlton Heston in the movie "The Ten Commandments", is said to have seen the Promised Land from Mount Nebo before dying. Whether are not this is the real Mount Nebo in the Hebrew scriptures I dunno. We do know for certain that there's a fourth century church built on the site with bits of beautiful mosaics still preserved.
To me the most amazing thing about Mount Nebo was the view. From Looking West from Mount Nebo you can see the northern end of the Dead Sea on the left and the Jordan Valley beneath you. Beyound the valley we could see clusters of vegetation and dark smudges which we could tell were towns. One of the Americans from a group of Americans visiting the site (I think they were a church group) told me that one of the dark smudges is Jericho. Whether or not that's the same Jericho that Joshua beat the crap out with his annoyingly loud hords I dunno; but I do know that Jericho is the most important archaeological site for the neolithic period. I think that's pretty awsome. As we headed out to return to our minivan I saw this very bright spec in the distance coming from what looked like a very distant town. This spec was this tiny but brilliant thing. Looking on a map in someone's guidebook we realized that was the golden top to the Dome of the Rock mosque reflecting the sunlight. In other words, the dark smudge where that bright dot was coming from was Jerusalem. We could see Jerusalem. I can't wait to actually go to Jerusalem and hopefully go into all the sites.
After about 45 minutes at Mount Nebo we got back inthe van and went to Madaba. Many people haven't really heard of Madaba outside of Jordan. Madaba's only claim to fame is this mosaic from the fifth century in the still functioning Saint Georges Orthodox Church. One of my friends from William and Mary who graduated in 2007 is Jordanian and from Madaba. In the Saint George's Church visitors center I asked one of the guys who worked there if he knew the Kildani family (my friend's family). He said he did and gave my directions on how to get to their house. I find that funny that it seems everyone knows everyone is in their towns. Greeted by Arab men wearing golden crucifixes, we entered the church. As I expected, the feel of an Orthodox Church is not that much different from the feel of a traditional or old Catholic Church. All of the walls were decorated with Orthodox icons of saints and images revolving around the life of Christ. It took me a while to look at the mosaic on the floor which was what we actually came to see. The mosaic is a map of the whole Middle East labled in Greek. In all honesty, I was slightly dissapointed by what a saw. The mosaic was cool becasuse of its historical background but the whole thing was smaller and less spectacular in terms of its site that I had thought it was going to be. We spent about 30 minutes looking at the mosaic than decided to head to lunch at one of Madaba's restaurants.
Madaba gets much more tourism than Irbid so we could tell this restaurant was probably around for tourists since many of the waiters spoke English and the menu was in English.... I'm now smoking a sheesha as a write so if I start to make less sense, ma sha Allah, sheesha makes you slightly light headed.... anyways... the prices were also nicely catered for tourists since they were around 3-4 times more expensive than food in Irbid. Ya Allah, Ward! Rose, such a nice sheesha flavor. Running tonight will be fun... anyways... our waiter kinda pissed me off at this restaurant since I spoke in Arabic to him and he told me "just speak in English". Asshole. The food was good, I got meat kabobs with bread and yogurt. After lunch we got back on the highway for the next three hours to head to Wadi Rum.
The area around Madaba definitely had some vegetation around it. But once we headed south for about 2O minutes we entered almost a completely different planet, the desert. I don't know what the name for the desert north of Wadi Rum is but I can honestly say it appeared to be the most harsh environment I'd ever seen. The air changed as we drove through the desert. It felt like a hot blow dryer was blasting in our face as we zoomed down the highway. My hair began to stiffen with dryness as I put my fingers through it. Looking out the window we could see desert floor pulsating with heat it was so hot out there. Every 10 miles we would pass a couple of shacks that would have gas or cold bottled water. If we were lucky we would pass a really run down shack labled "Suber Markat" in Arabic. Looking back I thin the song "Horse with no Name" pretty accurately describes the desert. It really is a flat sea of sand; very sterile and biduun Hayaat. We'll be going back this way in two weeks to get to Aqabah. I'll have to take pictures to show you all how desolate this desert is.
The trip in the desert was slihtly boring after a while. The girl I was sitting next, Jessica, fell asleep and her head bobbed up and down for about 15 minutes. That was entertaining for us who were still awake. After spending 3 hours or so on the desert highway, the road became less straight and began to become more twisty since the terrain was becoming more hilly. After making a few turns we fell into Wadi Rum. The land immediatly became red and rocky. In the distance we could see massive rock mountains. This was Wadi Rum. If any of you have seen the movie Lawrence of Arabia, this was where some of the film's more memorable scenes were taken.
Soaking in the crimson sand, rocks, and boulders, we drove to the "Makhaim Jabal Rum", Camp Mount Rum. We got out at our campsite and went into the camp to get assigned our tents. The camp had about 100 permamnent large tents set up for tourists. The main section of the campsite was like a pavillion with a fire pit in the center and shaded area with coushins. We sat down and cold water and looked at the nearby mountain and pondered on climbing the mountain to watch the sunset. As we waited the camp director or head dude came out to greet us. One of the girls asked him where the bathroom was. "We are bedouin", he said, "our bathroom is everywhere". She nodded then went to find somewhere secluded. He went after her and said "No! I was only kidding! We have bathrooms, sinks, and showers!". They definitely did. This camping experience was certainly not a rough one since in addition to bathrooms the tents in this campsites had very comfortable beds with clean sheets and towels.
About 6:30-7 PM a bunch of decided to climb the nearby mountain. So far on the trip, I'd have to say our climb up this mountain was the most photographed. It was cool. I wore my read shmagh/kufiyeh on the way up. At first I put it on like an Iraqi insurgent. Our driver thought it was funny. Millie, one of the girls in the group at Wadi Rum showed us all up since she had some rock climbing experience, she climbed up some of the cliff faces. We reached the very top of the mountain and sat there taking pics of each other watching the sun set. I have a lot of footage of us waiting on the top. Our chain smoking driver, Hussam, also joined us and chatted with us at the top. After sunset, we climbed back down the mountain I got washed up.
Around dark dinner time came. All of the workers put on bedouini costumes. They helped me tie my kufiyeh in a more appropriate way. I chatted with most of them in broken 'amiya. Most of them weren't Jordanian, most of them were Syrian or Egyptian. I thought that was odd. The dinner we had there was great. We had sand cooked lamb, spiced rice and bulgar wheat, yogurt, vegetables, bread, hummus, baba ghnoush, and so much more. As we ate two of the guys who worked there played the oud (Arab guitar like instrument) and drums and sang Arabic (mostly Syrian, Lebanese, and Iraqi songs). After the guys there taught some of us how to dance to the dabkeh the choby. One of the girls on the program took video shots of me, Millie, and Martine dancing. I really had no idea what the hell I was doing. I got really excited when they played the Iraqi songs since I knew some of the words to them; Eid o Hob and Foug an Nakhal. I ended up going to bed after listing to eerie but soothing Arabic love songs.
We got up around 5:30 the next morning since we had an appointment with some local bedouins to ride camels for an hour around Wadi Rum. This hour was also thoroghly photographed. Except for one, all of the seven camels were female and very conversational with grunting and chewing. At one point I dropped my sun glasses and muttered shit. This too was caught on videotape.
After our camel ride, we had a quick breakfast of bread, foul, and apricot jam then headed back home. Our ride back home was slighlty disasterous since the car over heated about 5 times... that's for another blog post however.
Our driver, Hussam, spoke very little English which proved to be great for us to practice Jordanian 'Amiyah (dialect). Out of the whole group from the UVA program (30 people) only 6 of us ended up going on this trip to Wadi Rum. I was the only guy in the group except our driver Hussam. It took us about 2 hours to drive from Irbid to the suburbs of Amman. The most scenic part I'd have to say was the twisty drive on roads that were by high cliffs in the Jaresh Mountain range. As we drove through the Jaresh mountains I could see small roadside singns that had in Arabic Dhikr phrases which are very important in Muslim practice. Dhikr are phrases that you utter like "al Hamdu lil Lah" (Praise be to God" "La ilah illa Allah" (There's no god but God) "Muhammadan Rasuul li Lah (Muhammad is God's Messenger) "Idhkr Allah" (Remember God). I thought the religious signs on the road on the mountain cliff sides were pretty appropriate. If you happen to fall off the road and get killed in the fall down the cliff, you'd certainly be remembering God as you head down to the ground below.
Jordanian traffic laws I think are slightly more loose than they are in the US. Outside of Amman our minivan driver realized that there was a detour on the highway we were driving on due to construction. Some of the signs were a bit confusing so he decided to go northbound for a bit on a highway that many cars (read ALL) were going southbound on. After getting off the highway a bit we ended up in a town with streets with widths not much bigger than our van. We eventually got back on to I think another highway which continued to take us southbound to Madaba about half an hour south of Amman.
On our way to Madaba our driver asked us if we wanted to go to Mount Nebo which is 15 minutes west of Madaba. We decided to go and so went on our merry way. According to the Bible, Moses, the guy who got the 10 commandments who's played by the late NRA spokesman Charlton Heston in the movie "The Ten Commandments", is said to have seen the Promised Land from Mount Nebo before dying. Whether are not this is the real Mount Nebo in the Hebrew scriptures I dunno. We do know for certain that there's a fourth century church built on the site with bits of beautiful mosaics still preserved.
To me the most amazing thing about Mount Nebo was the view. From Looking West from Mount Nebo you can see the northern end of the Dead Sea on the left and the Jordan Valley beneath you. Beyound the valley we could see clusters of vegetation and dark smudges which we could tell were towns. One of the Americans from a group of Americans visiting the site (I think they were a church group) told me that one of the dark smudges is Jericho. Whether or not that's the same Jericho that Joshua beat the crap out with his annoyingly loud hords I dunno; but I do know that Jericho is the most important archaeological site for the neolithic period. I think that's pretty awsome. As we headed out to return to our minivan I saw this very bright spec in the distance coming from what looked like a very distant town. This spec was this tiny but brilliant thing. Looking on a map in someone's guidebook we realized that was the golden top to the Dome of the Rock mosque reflecting the sunlight. In other words, the dark smudge where that bright dot was coming from was Jerusalem. We could see Jerusalem. I can't wait to actually go to Jerusalem and hopefully go into all the sites.
After about 45 minutes at Mount Nebo we got back inthe van and went to Madaba. Many people haven't really heard of Madaba outside of Jordan. Madaba's only claim to fame is this mosaic from the fifth century in the still functioning Saint Georges Orthodox Church. One of my friends from William and Mary who graduated in 2007 is Jordanian and from Madaba. In the Saint George's Church visitors center I asked one of the guys who worked there if he knew the Kildani family (my friend's family). He said he did and gave my directions on how to get to their house. I find that funny that it seems everyone knows everyone is in their towns. Greeted by Arab men wearing golden crucifixes, we entered the church. As I expected, the feel of an Orthodox Church is not that much different from the feel of a traditional or old Catholic Church. All of the walls were decorated with Orthodox icons of saints and images revolving around the life of Christ. It took me a while to look at the mosaic on the floor which was what we actually came to see. The mosaic is a map of the whole Middle East labled in Greek. In all honesty, I was slightly dissapointed by what a saw. The mosaic was cool becasuse of its historical background but the whole thing was smaller and less spectacular in terms of its site that I had thought it was going to be. We spent about 30 minutes looking at the mosaic than decided to head to lunch at one of Madaba's restaurants.
Madaba gets much more tourism than Irbid so we could tell this restaurant was probably around for tourists since many of the waiters spoke English and the menu was in English.... I'm now smoking a sheesha as a write so if I start to make less sense, ma sha Allah, sheesha makes you slightly light headed.... anyways... the prices were also nicely catered for tourists since they were around 3-4 times more expensive than food in Irbid. Ya Allah, Ward! Rose, such a nice sheesha flavor. Running tonight will be fun... anyways... our waiter kinda pissed me off at this restaurant since I spoke in Arabic to him and he told me "just speak in English". Asshole. The food was good, I got meat kabobs with bread and yogurt. After lunch we got back on the highway for the next three hours to head to Wadi Rum.
The area around Madaba definitely had some vegetation around it. But once we headed south for about 2O minutes we entered almost a completely different planet, the desert. I don't know what the name for the desert north of Wadi Rum is but I can honestly say it appeared to be the most harsh environment I'd ever seen. The air changed as we drove through the desert. It felt like a hot blow dryer was blasting in our face as we zoomed down the highway. My hair began to stiffen with dryness as I put my fingers through it. Looking out the window we could see desert floor pulsating with heat it was so hot out there. Every 10 miles we would pass a couple of shacks that would have gas or cold bottled water. If we were lucky we would pass a really run down shack labled "Suber Markat" in Arabic. Looking back I thin the song "Horse with no Name" pretty accurately describes the desert. It really is a flat sea of sand; very sterile and biduun Hayaat. We'll be going back this way in two weeks to get to Aqabah. I'll have to take pictures to show you all how desolate this desert is.
The trip in the desert was slihtly boring after a while. The girl I was sitting next, Jessica, fell asleep and her head bobbed up and down for about 15 minutes. That was entertaining for us who were still awake. After spending 3 hours or so on the desert highway, the road became less straight and began to become more twisty since the terrain was becoming more hilly. After making a few turns we fell into Wadi Rum. The land immediatly became red and rocky. In the distance we could see massive rock mountains. This was Wadi Rum. If any of you have seen the movie Lawrence of Arabia, this was where some of the film's more memorable scenes were taken.
Soaking in the crimson sand, rocks, and boulders, we drove to the "Makhaim Jabal Rum", Camp Mount Rum. We got out at our campsite and went into the camp to get assigned our tents. The camp had about 100 permamnent large tents set up for tourists. The main section of the campsite was like a pavillion with a fire pit in the center and shaded area with coushins. We sat down and cold water and looked at the nearby mountain and pondered on climbing the mountain to watch the sunset. As we waited the camp director or head dude came out to greet us. One of the girls asked him where the bathroom was. "We are bedouin", he said, "our bathroom is everywhere". She nodded then went to find somewhere secluded. He went after her and said "No! I was only kidding! We have bathrooms, sinks, and showers!". They definitely did. This camping experience was certainly not a rough one since in addition to bathrooms the tents in this campsites had very comfortable beds with clean sheets and towels.
About 6:30-7 PM a bunch of decided to climb the nearby mountain. So far on the trip, I'd have to say our climb up this mountain was the most photographed. It was cool. I wore my read shmagh/kufiyeh on the way up. At first I put it on like an Iraqi insurgent. Our driver thought it was funny. Millie, one of the girls in the group at Wadi Rum showed us all up since she had some rock climbing experience, she climbed up some of the cliff faces. We reached the very top of the mountain and sat there taking pics of each other watching the sun set. I have a lot of footage of us waiting on the top. Our chain smoking driver, Hussam, also joined us and chatted with us at the top. After sunset, we climbed back down the mountain I got washed up.
Around dark dinner time came. All of the workers put on bedouini costumes. They helped me tie my kufiyeh in a more appropriate way. I chatted with most of them in broken 'amiya. Most of them weren't Jordanian, most of them were Syrian or Egyptian. I thought that was odd. The dinner we had there was great. We had sand cooked lamb, spiced rice and bulgar wheat, yogurt, vegetables, bread, hummus, baba ghnoush, and so much more. As we ate two of the guys who worked there played the oud (Arab guitar like instrument) and drums and sang Arabic (mostly Syrian, Lebanese, and Iraqi songs). After the guys there taught some of us how to dance to the dabkeh the choby. One of the girls on the program took video shots of me, Millie, and Martine dancing. I really had no idea what the hell I was doing. I got really excited when they played the Iraqi songs since I knew some of the words to them; Eid o Hob and Foug an Nakhal. I ended up going to bed after listing to eerie but soothing Arabic love songs.
We got up around 5:30 the next morning since we had an appointment with some local bedouins to ride camels for an hour around Wadi Rum. This hour was also thoroghly photographed. Except for one, all of the seven camels were female and very conversational with grunting and chewing. At one point I dropped my sun glasses and muttered shit. This too was caught on videotape.
After our camel ride, we had a quick breakfast of bread, foul, and apricot jam then headed back home. Our ride back home was slighlty disasterous since the car over heated about 5 times... that's for another blog post however.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
My First Catholic Mass in Jordan... and the All Present Arab Hospitality
The Arab week is one of the more annoying cultural differences that I haven't fully gotten used to... ma sha Allah (What God wills). Since Jordan is an Islamic country, the Arab weekend begins on FRIDAY (The Arabic word for Friday translates to Gathering day since it's the day all Muslims go to the Mosque for their Friday noon prayers and sermon). Saturday is also a day of rest for Arabs however Sunday is a work day. So my first Sunday in Jordan was a big test day for all us in the Arabic language program. I won't go into my Academic experiences here in this post since there's so many other things to tell. One of the program coordinators from Yarmouk University who's official job is to take care of foreign students (like us) is named Ayham Abu Sha'ur. Ayham is Jordanian and is part of a visible minority group here in Jordan; the Jordanian Christians most of whom are either Roman Catholic or Orthodox. The Arabic terms for Christian denominations is slightly confusing since the Arabic word for Orthodox is Catholiki or Rumi while the Arabic word for Roman Catholic is Latin.
Our first Sunday here in Jordan I found out Ayham was also Catholic so I went to his office and told him in Arabic that I was Catholic and that I was very interested in going to mass that day. Most importantly at the time I asked him where a Catholic Church is and what time mass was. He arranged to pick me up an hour before 6 PM mass so that he could take me town the town the Church is located in (El Husn which is a suburb of Irbid and his a Christian population of 20-30%) and show me all the different churches in the area. Ayham showed me the Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Mormon, and Seventh Day adventist Churches in the town. Of course I decided to go to the Catholic church.
Ayham decided not to go to mass with me because he said he wanted to sleep, I think he had been up for 2 days straight trying to get things together for the program. This is random but all of us in the program love Ayham, despite the fact he is kinda of chain smoker he loves to play volley ball with us. Apparently he's very good too. Anyways, I was over 30 minutes early to mass so I knelt in the pews looking at the religious artwork the Church's walls are decorated in and tried to read excerpts from scriptures in decorative Arabic calligraphy that are all over the Church.
Despite feeling pretty comfortable with the Arabic language, I only understood about 15% of the words of the mass. Everything was said very quickly. Arabs tend to speak Arabic very quickly specifically when they speak in their dialect. Two men in their mid twenties sat next to me and helped me with the pray books and hymnals so I could follow along with what was going on despite the language barrier. The most interesting things that struck me in the church were the groups of Palestinian teens from Ramallah who had come to visit Jordan and were helping with the mass and the fact that this church is in the Diocese of Jerusalem. I find that pretty cool I'm going to be celebrating mass in the Catholic diocese of Jerusalem; Technically the oldest diocese!
After mass I walked out of the church and walked around the nearby streets wondering if I should look around or go back to Yarmouk University. As I pondered the two men who sat next to me began to talk to me in Arabic and asked what my name was and where I was from. I walked with them for a bit and then they introduced me to their mother who was walking a couple yards in front of us. I found out the two men were Michael and Samat and their mother was Adeel. "Hey, come see our house. Have a pepsi with us." Amazed at the time at this unreserved friendliness on their part (now I'm used to it... Arabs love to greet people they see on the street and invite them for tea.) I gladly accepted their invitation and walked with them to their house. They opened their door for me and I stepped into their living room which was very clean and had family pictures, a poster of George Wassouf (a Lebanese singer who they told me is also Christian) and picture of the Blessed Mother with a Rosary dangling down. After having two cups of pepsi (Arabs do NOT like to see that you have an empty cup) they asked me if I wanted coffee. I love Arabic coffee, it is very different from American coffee or even espresso. Arabic coffee is made in a special tiny saucer like thing with a long handle. The grounds are not filtered and Arabs drink it with a good amount of sugar and bits of ground up cardamon which give a very nice zing to it. It's the cardomon that distinguishes Arabic coffee from Turkish coffee which is also very popular here in Jordan. Mid way through my second coffee I began to catch on to the Nimri family's devious plot: they were going to keep me for dinner. After coffee they told me (I already knew by now) that I had to stay for dinner. Of course I did and enjoyed it. For dinner we had this vegteble, chicken and rice soup along with tomatoes, bread, olive oil, olives, tuna fish, and lebneh (thick strained yogurt). Over dinner I told them about life and the states and they told me about their lives. The mother, Adeel, is from Damascus but moved to Jordan with her husband I think some time in the sixties or 70s. I met their daughter Rina who had recently graduated from a technological University with a degree in engineering. Rina spoke pretty good English but the family mostly spoke to me in Arabic because they knew I'm here in Jordan to study Arabic. Adeel (who spoke Arabic and French fluently) joked with me about the different dialects. When I speak the Jordanian dialect I try to use words and pronunciation that would be more rural. Rina was joking about this since Syrian Arabic is gentler and considered more urbane. Anyways, Rina made fun of qafs (and Arabic letter that Syrians tend to skip over with a pause while bedouins use a gaf sound) and the way non-Syrians say it.
I arrived at the Nimri around 7 PM and didn't leave till 11 PM. My first dinner with an Arab family. In Sha Allah more to come.
Our first Sunday here in Jordan I found out Ayham was also Catholic so I went to his office and told him in Arabic that I was Catholic and that I was very interested in going to mass that day. Most importantly at the time I asked him where a Catholic Church is and what time mass was. He arranged to pick me up an hour before 6 PM mass so that he could take me town the town the Church is located in (El Husn which is a suburb of Irbid and his a Christian population of 20-30%) and show me all the different churches in the area. Ayham showed me the Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Mormon, and Seventh Day adventist Churches in the town. Of course I decided to go to the Catholic church.
Ayham decided not to go to mass with me because he said he wanted to sleep, I think he had been up for 2 days straight trying to get things together for the program. This is random but all of us in the program love Ayham, despite the fact he is kinda of chain smoker he loves to play volley ball with us. Apparently he's very good too. Anyways, I was over 30 minutes early to mass so I knelt in the pews looking at the religious artwork the Church's walls are decorated in and tried to read excerpts from scriptures in decorative Arabic calligraphy that are all over the Church.
Despite feeling pretty comfortable with the Arabic language, I only understood about 15% of the words of the mass. Everything was said very quickly. Arabs tend to speak Arabic very quickly specifically when they speak in their dialect. Two men in their mid twenties sat next to me and helped me with the pray books and hymnals so I could follow along with what was going on despite the language barrier. The most interesting things that struck me in the church were the groups of Palestinian teens from Ramallah who had come to visit Jordan and were helping with the mass and the fact that this church is in the Diocese of Jerusalem. I find that pretty cool I'm going to be celebrating mass in the Catholic diocese of Jerusalem; Technically the oldest diocese!
After mass I walked out of the church and walked around the nearby streets wondering if I should look around or go back to Yarmouk University. As I pondered the two men who sat next to me began to talk to me in Arabic and asked what my name was and where I was from. I walked with them for a bit and then they introduced me to their mother who was walking a couple yards in front of us. I found out the two men were Michael and Samat and their mother was Adeel. "Hey, come see our house. Have a pepsi with us." Amazed at the time at this unreserved friendliness on their part (now I'm used to it... Arabs love to greet people they see on the street and invite them for tea.) I gladly accepted their invitation and walked with them to their house. They opened their door for me and I stepped into their living room which was very clean and had family pictures, a poster of George Wassouf (a Lebanese singer who they told me is also Christian) and picture of the Blessed Mother with a Rosary dangling down. After having two cups of pepsi (Arabs do NOT like to see that you have an empty cup) they asked me if I wanted coffee. I love Arabic coffee, it is very different from American coffee or even espresso. Arabic coffee is made in a special tiny saucer like thing with a long handle. The grounds are not filtered and Arabs drink it with a good amount of sugar and bits of ground up cardamon which give a very nice zing to it. It's the cardomon that distinguishes Arabic coffee from Turkish coffee which is also very popular here in Jordan. Mid way through my second coffee I began to catch on to the Nimri family's devious plot: they were going to keep me for dinner. After coffee they told me (I already knew by now) that I had to stay for dinner. Of course I did and enjoyed it. For dinner we had this vegteble, chicken and rice soup along with tomatoes, bread, olive oil, olives, tuna fish, and lebneh (thick strained yogurt). Over dinner I told them about life and the states and they told me about their lives. The mother, Adeel, is from Damascus but moved to Jordan with her husband I think some time in the sixties or 70s. I met their daughter Rina who had recently graduated from a technological University with a degree in engineering. Rina spoke pretty good English but the family mostly spoke to me in Arabic because they knew I'm here in Jordan to study Arabic. Adeel (who spoke Arabic and French fluently) joked with me about the different dialects. When I speak the Jordanian dialect I try to use words and pronunciation that would be more rural. Rina was joking about this since Syrian Arabic is gentler and considered more urbane. Anyways, Rina made fun of qafs (and Arabic letter that Syrians tend to skip over with a pause while bedouins use a gaf sound) and the way non-Syrians say it.
I arrived at the Nimri around 7 PM and didn't leave till 11 PM. My first dinner with an Arab family. In Sha Allah more to come.
Um Qais
Um Qais
Since it's difficult to get a good internet connection it's taken me a long time to update this blog. Last weekend, our first weekend in
Having only been in the country two days, all of us were a bit jet lagged and still unfamiliar with how to work with the language and cultural barrier. Um Qais is located about an hour north of Irbid, the town we're staying in. Thus to get to Um Qais we needed a mode of transportation which we thought would be a Hejazi Company (the main bus company you see everywhere) bus. Because the bus station is in a separate section of the city we had to take a taxi. This required some slight bartering from Alex with our taxi drivers (yes, there were two but only one was driving and both of them were named Ahmed).
I believe our arrival at the bus station marks the beginning of some culture shock I'm naturally feeling in
Our minivan ride around Irbid and to Um Qais was definitely an experience unlike any I've had. Naturally, the mini-van was pretty run down (it did drive safely since I'm writing this). The seat Andy and I were sitting in was partially broken so when ever we made turns the seat would move in some direction forcing us to readjust ourselves. I took about 15 minutes of video of this ride to Um Qais because I thought it was awesome for the sensually. The driver, who I'd later learn was Mahmoud, blasted Arabic music as we passed gritty streets with bits of trash blowing in the wind. The most amazing thing (in my opinion) was the military checkpoint we had to go through. This skinny dude not that much older than us in Jordanian fatigues and slung assault rifle in hand examined our IDs I guess to maintain security.
The drive to Um Qais took about 50 minutes and once we arrived there our driver asked us what time we thought we'd be done so he could pick us up and take us back to Irbid. We told him to come back within 4 hours and then went on our way to the ruins. A few yards from where our driver left us there were venders selling Arabic coffee, water, kufiyehs and post cards. I bought a small cup of Arabic coffee and a large bottle of water since it was very hot that day. Because of the lack of humidity in the air it's difficult to gage by feel the temperature. This means that the heat can be more comfortable however you lose a lot more water in your body since your sweat evaporates very quickly. That's why I bought a big bottle of water.
In addition to this refreshment tourist trip that I ran into, I got a good glimpse of one of
Having never been to mainland
As we began to explore the site the first thing we ran into was one of two Roman amphitheaters. Here we met another American tourist who was from
Being the tourist, I took my time climbing the steps of the amphitheater taking pictures along the way. At the top of the amphitheater we could see an amazing view of the whole region. Because Um Qais is in northern
After walking out of the Amphitheater I remembered something the program director Mohammad Sawaie had said to us about Um Qais. Apparently Gadera is mentioned in the Gospels since Gadera was close to the place that Jesus cured a processed man and flung demons into a nearby herd of swine. The thought of being at a place mentioned in the Bible was very interesting (as you can imagine).
Sunday, June 15, 2008
The Bus Drive from Amman to Irbid
Like a lot of people, land and my physical sorroundings are the first things I notice when I'm in a new place. Out of the places I've traveled to I'd say the desert hills north of Pheonix, Arizona look a lot like Jordan we saw through the bus windows on our ride from Queen Alia Airport near Amman to Irbid an hour north of Jordan's capital. As we drove we passed car dealerships with spray-painted Arabic signs and herds of goats and sheeps. Since it was early evening and the sun was setting we saw a lot of produce stands on the highway's side closing up and putting watermelons in run-down cars and mini vans.
After about a half hour on the road we stopped at a Safeway ("Seyfwey" سيفوي ) in what I think was west Amman. The biggest challenge I've found here in Jordan is crossing the streets. In Jordan there are few traffic lights and even fewer cross walks. Jordanian drivers, like American drivers, have somewhere to go so they're not a huge fan of stopping or slowing down. When Jordanian drivers se you on the side of the road trying to cross, they don't stop, they don't slow down, they speed up and maybe honk their horns at you if you step into the road. It was here at this fateful Safeway that we learned to cross Jordanian streets. Completely puzzled, and again slightly clueless we crossed the street in isolated groubs. The key to crossing Jordanian streets is to just walk and for the most part ignore the oncoming and increasingly speeding traffic who stop abrubtly when they see you crossing then angrilly honk their horns.
Safeways in Jordan are a big deal, they're more like a Walmart since they sell a lot more than just food. So far I've been to the first one we went to in Amman and one in Irbid. As we strode through the isles of the Amman Safeway we heard Titanic's theme song played in muzack form... repeated about six or seven times. Having gone to Middle Eastern grocers in the states many times I know that Arab stores have unique smell of mixed exotic spices. One segment of the Safeway was filled with this pleasent aroma since it was where about 20 huge buckets of tradtional Arab spices were kept.
After about a half hour on the road we stopped at a Safeway ("Seyfwey" سيفوي ) in what I think was west Amman. The biggest challenge I've found here in Jordan is crossing the streets. In Jordan there are few traffic lights and even fewer cross walks. Jordanian drivers, like American drivers, have somewhere to go so they're not a huge fan of stopping or slowing down. When Jordanian drivers se you on the side of the road trying to cross, they don't stop, they don't slow down, they speed up and maybe honk their horns at you if you step into the road. It was here at this fateful Safeway that we learned to cross Jordanian streets. Completely puzzled, and again slightly clueless we crossed the street in isolated groubs. The key to crossing Jordanian streets is to just walk and for the most part ignore the oncoming and increasingly speeding traffic who stop abrubtly when they see you crossing then angrilly honk their horns.
Safeways in Jordan are a big deal, they're more like a Walmart since they sell a lot more than just food. So far I've been to the first one we went to in Amman and one in Irbid. As we strode through the isles of the Amman Safeway we heard Titanic's theme song played in muzack form... repeated about six or seven times. Having gone to Middle Eastern grocers in the states many times I know that Arab stores have unique smell of mixed exotic spices. One segment of the Safeway was filled with this pleasent aroma since it was where about 20 huge buckets of tradtional Arab spices were kept.
The Flight and First Few Moments in Jordan
I've never actually done a blog before so here goes. The flight to Jordan was a long 13 hours. Royal Jordanian (the airlines) seated me about 15 rows in front of most of the group so I was sitting away from anyone I knew fortunately this turned out to not be much of a problem. To my right was sitting a family of a mom and her three children. Since she was clearly Muslim (she was a muhajib= wearing the hijab) I was cautious about how to interact with her since in our orientation packets it warned males to not go out of our way to converse with women because from the view of Arab Islamic culture this could be seen as attempting to compromise her honor or humility. I was so happy we ended up having a light 10 minute conversation about where we were from and why we were going to the Middle East. Throughout the whole conversation we spoke in Anglebic. It turned out that she and her family were American of Lebanese descent who were flying to Lebanon to visit family. Her sister and sister's daughter were sitting in the seat in front of her. Before our plane took off (about 50 minutes behind schedule) I gave them my cell phone for 2 minutes so they could call family back in Baalbek, Lebanon.
As we waited for our plane to to depart the flight attendants passed out Arabic and English newspapers, feeling cocky I smiled to the flight attendant who was about to hand me an English newspaper and I said "Arabiyaah!" she threw the Jordanian "Ar-Ra'ee" ("The Opinion") newspaper into my lap. I skimmed over the front page and realized I could only understand the pictures of the smiling King Abdallah II doing this and that.
The best part of the flight I have to say would be the guy who sat next to me. Right now I can't remeber his name but we talked about a lot of interesting stuff. He had flown all day from California where he lived with his wife and children. He told me that he had studied accounting at a California University in the 1970s and had lived in the states since then and that he was now an American citizen. Like many Jordanians he was of Palestinian descent. After speaking some Arabic with him he decided that he was going to teach me some Arabic. I read to him little snippets of the Arabic newspaper I had gotten. He told me "no! you don't speak Arabic from the mouth, you speak it from the stomach! Speak from the stomach." We spent most of the flight that we were awake talking about Arabic, Arabs, Bush, and the hord of screaming children around us. The latter ensured a restful and comfortable flight.
To me, the descent into Jordan was amazing. As our plane sank below the clouds it was awsome to see the hills and brown desert of a region I've been reading about and have wanted to see for so many years. Stepping out of the airplane I knew I was in a new place. Everyone around us was speaking Arabic. My first sense of the Middle East was the light smell of cigarette smoke. As we exchanged our American dollars for Jordanian dinars we saw dress uniformed Jordanian Army officers walking around and talking with who were probably family.
Jordanian baggage claims is very different from the way it's done in the U.S. It was a mess. Bags were everywhere and Jordanians were running around chatting away in Arabic looking for bags and family. While I was completely cluless about how I was going to find my bags, a Jordanian airport worker dude walked up to me as he crawled around the sea of scattered bags saying "ticket do you have your baggage tickets? I find your bags". Still confused and completely dead (tired, I couldn't sleep Monday night and I didn't sleep much if at all on the plane) I gave him these tickets someone had given me back in NY. For the next 10 minutes I saw this guy running around turning over bags. Al Hamdu lil Lah he found my bags, smiled, and put out his hand saying "Teep". Still clueless I just nervously smiled back at him. Looking upset he stood in front of me and wouldn't go away saying "No teep?" I handed him a dinar and walked away.
It was around 7 PM when all of us had gotten our bags and we stood by one of the airport's entrances looking for the bus from Yarmouk University to take us from Queen Alia Airport slightly south of Jordan's capital of Amman to Irbid. From the University we met two men who were assigned to help us out in the program for the next two months, Ayham and Khaled. Looking around as I we waited for the bus to come was unlike any experience of had. Around us stood Jordanian military personel, western dressed Arabs, and Arabs wearing the traditional kufiyeh (red and white scarf) tied to the head by the aghal with the thawb (long flowing outfit). About 3/4 of the Arab men around us were smoking.
As we waited for our plane to to depart the flight attendants passed out Arabic and English newspapers, feeling cocky I smiled to the flight attendant who was about to hand me an English newspaper and I said "Arabiyaah!" she threw the Jordanian "Ar-Ra'ee" ("The Opinion") newspaper into my lap. I skimmed over the front page and realized I could only understand the pictures of the smiling King Abdallah II doing this and that.
The best part of the flight I have to say would be the guy who sat next to me. Right now I can't remeber his name but we talked about a lot of interesting stuff. He had flown all day from California where he lived with his wife and children. He told me that he had studied accounting at a California University in the 1970s and had lived in the states since then and that he was now an American citizen. Like many Jordanians he was of Palestinian descent. After speaking some Arabic with him he decided that he was going to teach me some Arabic. I read to him little snippets of the Arabic newspaper I had gotten. He told me "no! you don't speak Arabic from the mouth, you speak it from the stomach! Speak from the stomach." We spent most of the flight that we were awake talking about Arabic, Arabs, Bush, and the hord of screaming children around us. The latter ensured a restful and comfortable flight.
To me, the descent into Jordan was amazing. As our plane sank below the clouds it was awsome to see the hills and brown desert of a region I've been reading about and have wanted to see for so many years. Stepping out of the airplane I knew I was in a new place. Everyone around us was speaking Arabic. My first sense of the Middle East was the light smell of cigarette smoke. As we exchanged our American dollars for Jordanian dinars we saw dress uniformed Jordanian Army officers walking around and talking with who were probably family.
Jordanian baggage claims is very different from the way it's done in the U.S. It was a mess. Bags were everywhere and Jordanians were running around chatting away in Arabic looking for bags and family. While I was completely cluless about how I was going to find my bags, a Jordanian airport worker dude walked up to me as he crawled around the sea of scattered bags saying "ticket do you have your baggage tickets? I find your bags". Still confused and completely dead (tired, I couldn't sleep Monday night and I didn't sleep much if at all on the plane) I gave him these tickets someone had given me back in NY. For the next 10 minutes I saw this guy running around turning over bags. Al Hamdu lil Lah he found my bags, smiled, and put out his hand saying "Teep". Still clueless I just nervously smiled back at him. Looking upset he stood in front of me and wouldn't go away saying "No teep?" I handed him a dinar and walked away.
It was around 7 PM when all of us had gotten our bags and we stood by one of the airport's entrances looking for the bus from Yarmouk University to take us from Queen Alia Airport slightly south of Jordan's capital of Amman to Irbid. From the University we met two men who were assigned to help us out in the program for the next two months, Ayham and Khaled. Looking around as I we waited for the bus to come was unlike any experience of had. Around us stood Jordanian military personel, western dressed Arabs, and Arabs wearing the traditional kufiyeh (red and white scarf) tied to the head by the aghal with the thawb (long flowing outfit). About 3/4 of the Arab men around us were smoking.
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