Going in circles

I was somewhat at a loss of what to do with myself today: no classes for which I needed to study, no places to which I needed to go, no things I needed to do. The souvenir shopping was all done, save for the food items, which I’ll get tomorrow. I had wanted to go to Ajloun castle; however, after searching for a good bus route and realizing it would take 2 hours just to get to the bus station and cost about 1JD, which is not counting the bus actually to Ajloun or walking to the castle – I decided to be lazy. I thought I had seen all the castles I could, but then decided to go to Jebel Al-Qala’a just to get out of the house.

I waited at the bus stop; an old city bus pulled up. I gave him a dinar – normally it’s only 40 eirsh but he didn’t have change. Since the city busses aren’t supposed to carry change, it wasn’t a big deal; however, generally, they do. So, I settled into my seat, not expecting any “baggee.” I was pleasantly surprised, however, that when the next two passengers got on the driver instructed them to give me their change so that they still paid and I got correct change. That is, I must say, one of the great things in Jordan. Most of the time, no one tries to cheat or take advantage of you. For example, in Wadi As-seer when I bought the gum I pulled out to pay with a five, thinking he had said 5 JD and some odd eirsh. Instead, he had said 55 eirsh (khams w khamsiin eirsh, versus what I thought I heard was “khams wa *mumble* *mumble* eirsh,” assuming it to be 5JD and some mumbled eirsh.) No, he gave me change right away…..or in souvenir shopping when I calculated the price, trying to bargain, offering him more than what the price *actually* was, and he still brought the price down. Or riding the public bus to the tiny village of Iraq al-Amir, and not understanding a word the driver said; I just handed him my dinar and he gave me the correct amount of change. It’s the way it should be; but after experiencing Egypt and *cough* *cough* “Palestine,” it’s a refreshing change.

Anyway, got to Jebel Amman and walked up to the citadel. Wandered around the museum, kicking myself mentally every time I was reminded of what I got wrong on my Archaeology final yesterday, but still enjoying the beautiful Roman statues and some really excellent Byzantine glass bottles. I was again surprised at their version of security (and happily spent an hour imagining my life as a glamorous and high-society art thief) but disappointed that I didn’t get to see the Qumran scroll; it had been moved to the new Jordan museum.

I wandered about the premises, taking a few desultory pictures. My heart wasn’t really in it. It was strange being there – this was one of the first sites we visited in Amman, a day or two after my arrival. How much had changed! Now, instead of touring with a large and noisy group of Americans, I was with myself, guiding myself through the ruins and rather quite familiar with the time periods and the history they represented. Instead of arriving on a large tour bus, I navigated the public bus system and then walked through the streets to reach the entrance. This time, instead of CIEE paying the non-resident entry fee, I paid my 40 eirsh as a resident and got in easily. Now, when looking at the panorama, the city was no longer strange, new, exciting, and beautiful but familiar. I could look out in any direction and be able to tell the main features, the neighborhood, what there was in the region, and how to get back to my house - or the University, or Zahran Street, or any other major place - from there. The language was a little more familiar – I could read the Arabic plaques, but not necessarily understand them.

Walking down from the Citadel, then, I found my way to some steps that I knew would lead me to the street I wanted. The man just in front of me asked in English where I was going. I told him down town, to Hashems. I couldn’t quite place his accent, but we established I knew where I was going. I then asked in Arabic if he spoke Arabic (except I used the female “bteHkey” instead of just “bteHk.” Oh, well. ) He did, of course, and then asked me where I was from. What religion? Christian, really? Catholic or Protestant? Protestant? What kind, Baptist? Really? He’s a Baptist, too! This was somewhat of a relief as I was walking down a random stairwell in downtown Amman, just after reading that morning about what has been happening in Egypt. He asked if I went to church, and I explained that I was generally gone on Saturdays; he told me about the church he attends in Jebel Weibdah on Sunday evenings (this is one I had actually wanted to try, but hadn’t been able to – one of the other CIEE students went there.) He explained that he had been a Muslim, hence his name of Mohammed, but now he knows Jesus. We said our “ma3 sala3mas” and I went off downtown to spend the next 3 hours or so walking back and forth along the streets in Jebel Amman, debating on buying my sweets today or tomorrow. I though one day might make a difference in their freshness for my family, so I abstained. I did, however, get some more tea and three types of candied pickles – cucumber, apricot, and orange peel. I also accosted obvious tourists and asked if they needed help. The first was a group of Koreans, with their backpacks and their face dust masks, conferring among themselves. The second were two Canadians, who admitted their lost-ness, but said they were happy just wandering around (oooh, I sense a spiritual application here). I explained a little bit about the bus system, answered a few questions about how I liked Jordan, and bid them fare-well.

Oh, I also got my first “Aeesh, ya, moza!” today (or at least, the first one I’ve heard). That is to say, this twenty year old man walking with his consesrvatively hijabied mother called out to me, “Hey, ya, banana!” This is, supposedly, a term of flirtation. Hey, at least he didn’t call me a lettuce. Or a camal.

I then walked from down-town to Raghadan, passing through areas that don’t look that bad on bus but weren’t that great on foot. I expected a little more harassment as I walked through the section of down-town dedicated to garages, printing presses, and mechanic shops, but didn’t have a single bad experience.

Got a bus, and then back home.

And soon, I’ll be back home for good!

PS – do you see the haze in the pictures? Normally, Jordan has clear and sunny skies; but yesterday, this haze rolled in. Except when it arrived, it was this brown nearly green color that looked just like the sky before a tornado. I thought for sure there had been some sort of bomb blast (given the recent celebrations) and the end of the world was here. Nope. Just the sand from the Sahara, blowing on its way.