Two Iraqis and a Syrian

The first days of the program it was hard to find a restaurant in Irbid whose selection was not limited to falafel, shawarma, hummus, or the multiple varieties you can get by mixing all three. After living off nothing but the said food items for slightly over a week, I finally found a restaurant that had more of a food selection than falafel, hummus, and shawarma! Jordanians typically eat their big meals like dinner or lunch at home so restaurants usually only sell what would be considered Jordanian snack food or light meals. For me this has been a pain since I wanted easy access to something that could be considered a traditional Jordanian meal (read food other than falafel, hummus, or shawarma).
About a week and a half into living in Irbid, I finally found what I was looking for! I had found a restaurant that had this traditional rice with spices and a slab of lamb or chicken; what I was told was pretty much the traditional Jordanian dining experience. The name of this restaurant is still a challenge for me to pronounce because of the arrangement of vowels, the name comes close to sounding like Ad-Da'aeeya.
Ad Da'aeeya is like any other restaurant in Irbid. Most Jordanian restaurants that I've been to have the feel of a gritty American diner; the customer just stumbles into the restaurant, says hi to an employee and sits himself down anywhere he pleases. Like the cafes, most restaurants have two levels, one for men on the ground floor and one for families and women on the second floor however western women can eat on the ground floor during the day when the restaurant is not as busy. Every table has a clean ashtray since most Arab men are heavy chain smokers, this creates a thick cloud of tobacco smoke in just about every building. My first time in ad Da'aeya I had jut woken up from my usual two to three hour weekday nap during the afternoon; early to mid-afternoon tends to be the hottest point in the day so most people stay inside away from the sun. After sitting down I was a man wearing the restaurant uniform blue collar shirt asked me for my drink order. This man's facial features remind me of an American Indian's, that was my first thought when talking to him. Placing the drinks on the table I began to have a conversation with this guy so I could practice my colloquial. One of the first things I learned he told me was that he was from Iraq, specifically a town an hour outside of Baghdad, and that his name was Hamid.
I've had an interest in learning about anything Iraqi since I bought this Arabic music CD with the Iraqi singer Ilham al Madfai. Needless to say, my ears flung up like a dog's when I heard that he was Iraqi. I began to excitedly bombard him about the most random things I had on my mind on Iraq… not the war but the culture or the people. Hamid and I clicked very well after that first meeting 3 weeks ago. Every time I pass by that restaurant and see Hamid there, he usually spots me and comes out for a few seconds to say hi and checkup on things with me before returning to work. Hamid is like a lot of the Arabs I've met here in Irbid who's very friendly and kind. Unfortunately I can't say that every Arab I've met while staying in Jordan has been kind.
Another afternoon three weeks into the program I decided to go back to ad Da'aeeya to get a hardy lunch of rice and chicken around two in the afternoon. For some reason, a lot of other people in Irbid were also pretty hungry at the same time I was so there were a lot of other men sitting down, eating, chatting, and puffing away at cigarettes. I sat myself down as usual and waited for someone to come by to take my drink order. There were about 15-20 people in the part of the restaurant I was in which could fit about 50. So it was somewhat crowded but not full. The waiter was a tall, stern looking man with a pronounced jaw I saw him going back and forth giving and taking orders for people. Assuming I would get served I just sat there watching this waiter. I sat and waited. After groups of Arabs sat down and got helped within two minutes I became slightly irritated. I continued to wait until a singled for one of the bus boys to get me a pepsi, he nodded and disappeared for about two minutes. I saw him come back empty handed. He took a glance at me then went to the tall waiter who said something to him. The bus boy went on his work of collecting plates from some of the tables noticeably avoiding my table. After another ten minutes a different waiter came into the area where I was and took my order. Very angry initially, I wanted to believe their avoiding me was just the result of forgetfulness or business.
I returned to the same restaurant the next but a little later for supper. This time there were probably less than five people eating there. The same tall, stern looking dude wearing the same blue collar shirt was there again. Again, I sat there for 20 minutes with my arms crossed over the table waiting for the waiter to come to give a hello, let alone a drink order. As I sat there two other Arab men came in and sat down to get something to eat like hummus (people tend to eat hummus in the Middle East). The tall waiter went over to them within a minute to take their order and placed two bowls of hummus and bread within two minutes. Huh.
As I was growing increasingly frusturated, I heard someone in perfect English ask me where I was from. I turned around and saw an Arab guy my age. He introduced himself as Mazhar and smiling, asked me to sit with him. I grabbed my backpack and moved to his table. Mazhar had already eaten but invited me over to get to know me. It turned out that Mazhar is a Syrian and a recent college graduate from another nearby Jordanian University and was staying in Irbid to study for med school exams. Last year, he told me, he had spent three months in Texas for something med school related since he hoped to study at an American med school sometime in the near future.
After talking with Mazhar for sometime I still had not gotten my drink or food order taken. I asked Mazhar to ask the tall guy to come over to our table since it was becoming obvious he was trying to avoid me. As the waiter was walking by to check for the third time on the other table with the men with hummus, Mazhar called him over. The waiter tried to ignore him but that didn't work out to well since Mazhar began to almost scream at him to come over. Embarrassed, probably because of the potential for a pleasent scene to erupt, the waiter walked over and rapidly and angrilly took my order.
Curious, I asked Mazhar where this man was from since I knew his accent was not Jordanian. "Iraq" Mazhar said. Mazhar told me an interesting Syrian idiom to describe people like this tall and blue shirted waiter; he's always got a finger up his head. Apparently it has the connotation of saying someone is "fucked up". I enjoyed that idiom a lot.

In Jordan I've had some many beautiful experiences with Arabs. This waiter's behavior really irritated me for some reason and is so weird and unusual here.