Just curious...

So, I've been back for awhile. No news to report. But, I was checking my google analytics and saw the stats for this site. Apparently people are still visiting. Who are you? Why do you come? Don't be shy! You must know me to be reading all my past archives.

Khallas

Khallas: ad, vi, vt. No more, none remaining, at the end; to be completed; to finish

The semester in Jordan has finished, and with it, my record of it. I've completed the remaining backlogs: The Egyptian Chronicles (day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10a, 10b), Umm Queis, and Petra (day 1, 2, 3) are all up with links to pictures. And now, my finals are over, and so is my undergraduate career. My adventures in Jordan are to be no more - at least, for the present - and my adventures at home are just beginning again.

You know you've been in Jordan too long when....

…..you realize you have no need for a taxi, beyond speed. You can get anywhere you want by bus or serviis.

…..you realize you have most city bus routes memorized

…..you realize you have the fares for most of the city bus routes memorized

…..you think Western clothing is particularly ugly and uncomfortable

…..you look at Westerners as strange creatures and sadly click your tongue at their haram-ness. Shorts? Oh, my!

…..however, when you see obvious tourists, you immediately approach them to help them find their way around

……you are accustomed to seeing donkeys in the middle of your upscale neighborhood

…..you are accustomed to seeing sheep and goats grazing anywhere, particularly among church ruins

……you are absolutely sick of Roman ruins and if you hear the term Mamluk any more, you just might be ill

…..you are accustomed to 4 minute showers

……you would never throw the toilet paper in the toilet; it always goes in the waste can

…..you always carry TP with you, because even upscale restaurants will sometimes not supply it

……you have been to every worthwhile tourist site. Every. Last. One.

…..riding random busses and public transportation is no longer an adventure, but mundane

…..you have eaten at every restaurant in the guidebooks, and then some

….you know what the prices for most foods and basic goods should be and how to avoid being ripped off

….you can actually catch the waiter’s attention when you want to get your check

….you can ready Arabic calligraphy, because you read it all the time on the sides of buses you want to flag as they flash past you and

…..your favorite food is becoming “pita” bread because you eat it every morning

……falafel is becoming one of the four main food groups

……there are only four main food groups: falafel, hummus, babaghanouj, and bread

……you’ve forgotten what a sidewalk looks like

…..you stare when you see blonde hair

…..you can’t imagine using a credit card

…..you can tell by feel alone the difference between a 5 and 10 eirsh piece (they both have ridges on their sides and there is less than a millimeter’s difference in diameter)

…..you know how to flag taxis, serviis, city and private busses and you know how to stop/get off each one

…..most of the extra Arabic words you know outside class come from signs you’ve read: Not permitted, smoking, parking, drinking, recycling, company, establishment, foundation, center, complex/plaza, building, for sale, paints, tires, stores, bakery, sweet shop, car shop

….you can’t imagine drinking tea without mint

….freshly squeezed mango or guava juice is your daily drink of choice

…you are accustomed to seeing butcher shops with the animals displayed with enough gore to make Saw III proud

….you know where you can buy live roosters, chickens, rabbits, turtles, and sheep for your dinner

…..you know all the best places around to get fratta (change)

….English transliterations annoy you because how are you supposed to tell if that’s a taa or Taa?!

….you can probably recite the quran from memory because you’ve heard it played loudly in all the buses

….you hear Beethoven’s Fifth being tinnily played over the loudspeakers, and you don’t look for an icecream truck, you look for the brightly colored gas-selling truck

…digestive biscuits have become a major part of your life

….you walk through areas that would look like “bad neighborhoods” in the States all the time without fear of problem; when you see an area that looks like a Jordanian “bad neighborhood” you avoid it like the plague because it doesn’t correspond to anything you’ve seen in the states.

….you know more than you ever wanted to about the Arab Israeli conflict

….you keep your mouth shut if anyone ever asks you about the Arab Israeli conflict. Two state solution? Please. The only obvious solution is to send back every non-Palestinian to wherever their family came from 60 -100 years ago in some eastern European country…..somehow.

…..you’d rather take the stairs than the elevators, because the elevators are the slowest machines known to mankind

….you’d rather take a jet-pack than the stairs, because you know that hordes of shebaab will overtake the stairwells, thinking that they were obviously made for smoking and talking and drinking endless rounds of coffee

….you are accustomed to greetings lasting 15 minutes

….shouting doesn’t phase you; it only means someone is having a conversation

….seeing people throw trash on the ground only mildly irritates you instead of majorly infuriating you. Recycling? What’s that?

…you go to a pharmacist instead of a doctor to get whatever antibiotics you might feel you need

….seeing people walking dogs is a strange sight

….you think Nescafe is just a synonym for coffee

….you don’t get startled hearing gun fire in the evenings. It just means someone is getting married.

….you could win at any US version of frogger, since you regularly cross 8 lanes of roaring traffic

…you think that jeans and a sweater is perfectly reasonable attire in the summer

....Jordanians ask you about the best bus routes or approach you in the bus station, asking directions

…..you don’t remember what bacon tastes like

Sheepish secrets

“Hullo, George.”

“Afternoon, Rob.”

“Say, George,”

“Yes, Rob?”

“How’d’ya get your goats so fat-looking? Their coats are really good, too.”

“Well, Rob. Lemme tell you. It’s the best-kept secret this side o’ the Jordan, but what goats – and sheep – really like, what they really need is – “

“Yes, George?”

“Well, you mightn’t believe it, and that’s just fine by me, but lemme tell you. Sheep and goats purely *thrive* on church grass.”

“Church grass, George?”

“Yep, Rob. Church grass. Now, the way I reckon it is, them bishops or what not, they spilled some holy water probably on the church. Well, them churches are in ruins now, and where’d that holy water go, huh, Rob?”

“Where, George?”

“Why, into the ground, of course. So, the way I figure it is, that grass is just real holy now, and all it wants to do is grow. And it’s full off all sorts of good things. Well, Rob, all you gotta do to get some of this church grass is find yourself some ruined church and put your goats out there. They’ll just eat that grass right up, get fat in no time. ‘Course, if you don’t got no church grass around, that’s a problem, right there, Rob”

“Sure is, George. We don’t all have these churches just lyin’ around in ruins everywhere!”

“Right you are, Rob. But what you do have is just your general, run of the mill, average ruins everywhere. Now, I don’t know how they does it, but, Rob, just general ruins grass will get your goats and sheep and cows fat in no time flat, too. I reckon it’s the rocks as they do whatever rocks do – well, they just do something to the soil. Anyhow, all I know is, after church grass, general ruins grass is the absolute, best, tip-top, top-notch thing that sheep and goats like. Rob, they don’t like it, they love it.”

“So, that’s it, George?”

“Yep, Rob, that’s it. Just find you and your flock any one of the over 30,000 archaeological sites in Jordan, here, and those kids will be ready for market in no time flat!!”

“Boy, thanks, George!”

“No problem, Rob. No problem a’tall!”

......

My only question is, how do they pay admittance fee to most of these historical sites? I suppose it’s because “kids” get in free.

Life in Jordan

This is what I saw today, walking about Wust Al-Balad.

In case you need help translating the signs: (from top right to left)

Sausage, hearts, tongues, kidneys, liver, testicles, brains, spleen

On the bottom are feet/hooves and some eggs.

Please note the heads on the top, too.

You're welcome.

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.

Final Final

My final final – the last final of the area studies courses, of the study abroad program, and of my undergraduate career- was completed today at 5 minutes until noon. There were 4 essay questions and 3 hours in which to answer them. I wrote 14 pages and covered the history of Jordan from 1916 to the present. My hand developed cramps.

Nothing much else. I went home on the bus, and then stayed past my stop in order to see where the bus would go. I told the bus driver I wanted to return, since he was a little surprised at my staying on the bus. He told me okay, and then rattled something off quickly in Arabic, which I think was “Yes, the bus is returning, but you’ll have to pay again and wait just a little bit because I’m going to stop at the place and get myself lunch and a smoke.” Incidentally, he did have an amazing voice. Also, he offered me some of his sandwich.

At home I edited more medical personal statements while my host mom grilled me on what I thought of Jordan, Islam, and homosexuality. I then played the WWE wresting trading card game Smack Down with my host brother and his cousin.

After finishing my undergraduate career, WWE Smack Down seemed appropriate, if a tad anticlimactic.

Nothin' doing'

Today I had grand plans to make it to Ajloun Castle today....after waking up late and seeing the lowering clouds, I decided nothin' doin'.....and then I did just that. Nothing.

My nothing consisted of working on a few blog posts, reading some Milton, and then talking with my family for a nice long time. Meanwhile, the house is cold.

This evening, then, we went downtown and got heavenly knaffeh from Habibah. It was strange, and somehow fitting, I suppose: the first night I was here, we went to get knaffeh.

It's all nearly over.

Good luck

Today, I was filled with hope and enthusiasm: it was going to be a great day.

I started my great day by going with a friend to Souq Al-Jara, a small "market" on Rainbow Street that runs for about a week in the springtime. I had an enjoyable time going along the few stalls; there wasn't, however, much that I was interested in buying - and there weren't many stalls or great diversity in wares.

There were several other program students, there, and I did enjoy myself. Finally, they all went their several ways, and I went down town, with the idea of eating some lunch at Hashem's and doing a bit more souvenir shopping.

I forgot, somehow, that it was Friday. First, Hashem's was absolutely packed; so, not wanting to wait there, I proceeded on down town. I then realized that it would be much more difficult for me to get a good price, looking as I did: large sunglasses, flowing sweater, jeans, and battered shoes. I was "welcomed" to many shops, but didn't want to bother do much looking, realizing there would probably be at least a 20% increase in price.

Surprised by the number of police around, I remembered that, oh, yes, it's Friday. Yeah, didn't the program director text us not to go around this mosque today because of possible protests? Yes, that might explain the heavy police presence - and all these busses that are filled with them - and the lack of any traffic in the area. Oh, and yes, I'm passing by one of Amman's mosques. Oh, my, yes, I am just walking across the front courtyard area as the Friday address is going on. Yes, I think it might be a good idea to curtail my shopping. Now, where is a bus?

Just as I wished for a bus, there one appeared. I flagged the driver and forced my way on - it was crowded beyond what I had ever seen before. I ended getting a seat beside a rather large Jordanian man who was, apparently, from the states - from his accent, I would place him south of the Mason Dixon line, but well educated. Supposing me to be an American tourist, he explained that all the men on the bus (I was one of three females among the 50 men or so) were workers returning home after shopping on their weekend morning. He further elucidated that the bus driver was packing them on so tightly because, due to Friday prayers, there wouldn't be another bus for several hours. He was rather talkative, but polite. The bus lurched through the narrow, tortuous streets - and then came to a sudden halt. There was a hubbub. The man beside me explained there had been a car accident: the bus had swiped a car sloppily parked too far into the street. We waited there for a good bit and then the bus moved slowly forward. I had hope that the bus would not be waiting there for a long time - until it stopped and my seatmate explained that they had just moved to wait for the police. Just then, another bus of the same number passed by, and I was able to hop on. It took me to the 6th circle, just before which I hopped off, thinking I could take a short cut.

Never, ever think you can take a short cut - not when you have my talents of getting lost. I walked and walked. And then it began to rain. Heavily. I huddled under some shrubbery, wishing for a bus or a taxi or a kind-hearted driver. There were none. Finally gathering my courage, I walked on, drenched by the heavy rain.

I continued to walk. Eventually, the sun did come out: more so than i would have liked. I finally thought I had found where I wanted to go to regain my way home - and tried another short cut. This one didn't work either - although I did get to see another car accident. I have no idea how it happened; a single car was coming along the street above me and suddenly went flying over the curb and into a stand of trees. I heard a loud pop, as though a vehicle had run over a thousand pop cans simultaneously, and saw the bent car frame. I thought about running across the muddy field to proffer my first aid and CPR assistance, but the two men quickly emerged from the car, distraught, and several Arabic-speaking motorists had already started a large gathering around them.

I walked on, passing several embassies that I never realized were on our street. Finally arriving home, I discovered what explained the lack of wares at Jara, the police-crowded streets and my lack of appropriate clothes, the two car accidents, my lostness, and the sudden rain.

Today was Friday the 13th.

Humility

I had my Arabic post test today. I also prayed for humility last night.

The speaking portion went well; the conversation was just about me, my family, our history, why I was in Jordan, what I thought of the country, why I was learning Arabic, and what I wanted to do with my life. So, basically it was just the conversation that we always have with cab drivers. The teacher was impressed, however, and left me with the usual comment “Oh, you are so wonderful. You’re a Level 5 student, not level 1.” Then I went outside to hear all the UJ students…..and, of course, didn’t understand more than 1 word in 100.

That afternoon came the written portion of the test. I entered the classroom early, and there were already 1 or 2 students there. The professor handed me the exam and I started to work on the grammar section.

The exam might as well have been written in Urdu. I struggled to pronounce the words to myself, recognizing random words that I had seen on buildings: “Establishment,” “Center,” “Trade.” I persevered, trying to answer the questions, but knowing I couldn’t be getting more than 1 in 10 correct….I could only translate about half the words in any given sentence, let alone answer questions about grammar and how they should be used in the sentence! I started to sweat it. I had studied for 17 weeks, and could barely do the entrance exam the program gives to all its students? I was rather discouraged.

Then came the listening section. Although I could understand the general idea of the first selection and could understand the second selection fairly well, the questions made no sense and again, I could only get a vague, general idea based upon a few words from the questions. I sweated and struggled, and saw my classmates working at a decent pace. How were they understanding this?! I looked at the questions – they didn’t even match the reading section at all! How could I answer them if the readings didn’t match? I looked at the student behind me, who was from my class. We compared exams. I breathed a sigh of relief – I had the wrong exam.

I went to the professor and got it corrected, happily started on the appropriate exam. The one I had started with was for the advanced language students that come to the program and are only allowed to speak in Arabic for the semester. I felt much better. However, it was still so humbling to see how far there is to go before actually being able to say anything useful or to understand in any real sense. Goodness sake, I can’t even watch Spongebob Squarepants and understand the plot!

I finished the exam and went outside, where again the students around me spoke rapidly in a language I did not know.

Momtaaz.

Edit: I did get the results of the test back today, placing me with students who had just finished intermediate 2. It still doesn’t mean I can understand anything, though.

Last day of classes.....fil haqeeqa (really!)

Finished my Arabic classes today – I hope the FusHa final went well. I know of one rather egregious mistake I made: the word for “feelings” and the word for “hair” are very similar. I’m pretty sure I wrote “hair” instead of “feelings.”

Oh, well.

After class, I decided it was time to continue on my “eat at all the famous restaurants in Jordan” journey. I have tried Al-Quds and Hashem’s (and many other random hole in the wall cafeterias that may not pass sanitation review) and decided I needed to try Reem Shwarma today. My exams had finished by 12:30 and the entire afternoon stretched before me as a field of pleasure.

Now, Reem is located at the 2^nd circle. While I am sure there are busses that go quite close to there, I am not sure which ones they are. So I took the bus going to the 5^th circle, figuring I could catch but 26 that runs along the main street, Zahran, that connects all these roundabouts.

Uneventfully, I arrived at Duar Khamis, and walked a short distance to one of the few modern aspects of the bus system here – the bus-stop. Duly I waited for the bus, figuring there would be one every 15 minutes or so. I waited my 15 minutes, despairing of ever seeing a bus. Just as I was giving up hope, however, a bus appeared in view – and a bus that was nearly empty, at that.Alhamdulillah.

The bus, however, paid no heed to me as I stood and tried to wave it down. It ignored me, rumbling angrily by. Crestfallen, I turned to go, when I saw another bus. I tried to flag it; and it ignored me as well! Just on its bumper, however, was a third bus. That is, the third bus to ignore me!

Having been passed by three busses, I decided they were not worthy of my 40 piasters and decided that it was a lovely day for a walk.

So, walk I did. I went from the fifth to the fourth to the third and finally to the second circle – about an hour’s walk – finally arriving at the tiny shwarma stand. Braving the raging traffic, I crossed the street. Waiting in line, I gave my order and the correct, exact change an then waited some more to gain my well-earned prize. It was amusing to see the types of people waiting there: businessmen in suits, day-laborers, shebaab, a girl or two. I had wanted to take pictures of it – but figured that would ruin my sense of belonging. After all, one does not walk an hour through Amman traffic to find a tiny shwarma stand and give one’s order in Arabic only to take pictures like some tourist.

Getting my sandwich, I crossed into the circle and ate on a bench there in the middle of the city. It was good shwarma, but probably not worth two hours of walking. Definitely worth the 60 piasters I paid for it, however.

I then took a few surreptitious pictures of the shwarma stand – sorry they aren’t better, but I was being sneaky – and walked back to Duar Khamis. It took about the same amount of time, but it seemed so much shorter!

Still having time to kill, I hailed the microbus to Wadi As-Seer. On my earlier adventure there, I had stopped in a small “super market”, where I had seen boxes of Arabic gum, made in Jordan. What better souvenir could there be? So, I returned to the store and purchased three boxes;each box has 100 packets, with two pieces per packet.

I might have to return next week to buy another three boxes. Jus’ sayin.

Returned home, walking back from the 6^th circle. On my way, I walked through Abdoun and stopped at its mall. I felt woefully inadequate and out of place, dressed in my dusty shoes, sweaty shirt, and torn jeans and carrying a black plastic bag with my gum. However, I put on a swagger and pretended that I was an incredibly wealthy Euro-American – my father was a high ranking diplomat currently station in Amman, but just at the moment in London for a conference and my mother was a power attorney right now in New York. I was born in the states, but reared in England before returning and spending some time at Princeton, explaining my rather faded – but still quite posh – accent. No one, however, asked me about my life story, so I merely wandered about the mall for a while, before leaving to walk another hour to get home.

Finally I arrived and read for awhile, putting my poor feet up.

PS - Here is the link to all the pictures I took today, just of things I regularly see around Amman.

(In which I ramble about becoming...)

As a public service announcement, I'm informing you that you might not actually want to bother reading this post. It's boring. It's meandering. And it doesn't include fun adventures with taxis or foods! (It does, however, include lots of grammar, quotation marks, and parenthetical expressions.)

Sure you want to continue?

Okay, be my guest.

I had read on a friend's* blog a post about becoming a certain type of person. If you could choose one word to describe your ideal self, what would it be? Joyful, loving, spontaneous, kind, meek, humble, giving, hospitable, gracious, elegant, strong - what? I had asked myself that question, too, years ago and had "my word" chosen for about seven years now - and then last week was blessed to have several people use it to describe me. Great. (No, really!) Now - onwards and upwards! I guess my next choice will have to be "humble." Groan. All of my most difficult life experiences can be traced, I think, to specific prayers for God to make me humble. (I think this is why I became a chemistry major: so I'd have to face humility through Physical Chemistry.)

But that's not really why I'm rambling on, now. Other meandering thoughts of mine center on the word "becoming" - first, it's a process. This is even more evident in Arabic. (Another reason I love languages - beyond the funny sound alike words like "Toot" which means "berry" - is the word studies you get out of it. Just be thankful I'm not a man, so I can't become a preacher and inflict Greek upon my congregation.) In Arabic, there is a distinct lack of "linking/helping" verbs - is, are, were, etc**. For example, you don't say, "I am here," it's simply ana hone, "I here." It's very similar to Latin, in that regard. So in English, I would normally say I want *to be* something: a doctor, a wise person, an astronaut, proficient in twenty languages, whatever. I refer to the end product, glossing over the process of becoming. However, in Arabic I must say I want *to become* something: a lawyer, a nun, a servant, hospitable, or a friend or whatever. There is no skipping from the present to the final future state. You have to admit that, whatever your end goal is, you are still in the process of becoming it. There is no "To be, or not to be," - that is not the question. It is "To become, or not to become." This is a good reminder: we are all becoming something, someone. Who am I becoming? ***

Secondly, in English, we can use "becoming" as an adjective: "That dress is becoming on you." So, make sure who you are becoming is becoming!

All of that merely to say, I've had two very specific verses on my mind recently, that I've seen evidently lived out. Proverbs 21:19, 25:24/21:4. Look it up.

*Okay, actually not a friend, technically. I've never met her; she has no idea who I am. I have, however, stalked. Stalking is one of my spiritual gifts. I am considering a second career in JSOC.

**Obviously, this is not the entire story. You see, the specific type of sentence that I'm using as an example is a "nominal sentence": it's composed of nouns and the "predicate" nouns to describe the "subject" (put in English terms, hence the quotation marks). In the present tense, you merely use the nouns. If you put it in the past tense, you would use the conjugated form of the verb "kaan." There is also a form of "kaan" for the future, such as "I will be a teacher." However, you wouldn't use it in a sentence such as "I want to be a teacher," referring to a future state that you want to obtain. So, there are forms of "to be" in Arabic, but not like there are in English. And, of course, there is more to say on the subject of the existence of "kaan" in the "present" tense, but that would just get boring.

***Keats has a very good passage on this world being a place of formation of souls - while I obviously do not agree with all his theological conclusions, he makes several good observations. Also, Lewis in "Weight of Glory" has a good bit to say about our either becoming "eternal wonders or eternal horrors."

Heffla Al-Soff, Al-Thanee (Class Party, Round Two)

Seems like life is one giant party recently. This evening I got all dressed up – even put on my shiny, nice heels because I figured tonight would be the only opportunity I would have to wear them, and I didn’t want to bring them all the way from Iowa for nothing. The class met at a restaurant in Shmeisani as a farewell party for our teacher. She, of course, didn’t know why we had made her come out on a Sunday and eat dinner with us, but she was kind enough to come along. There was a fun brouhaha getting all of our orders settled – we wanted to order individually, but with 13 of us, our professor convinced us just to buy a lot of various food and then share it all together. Thus, I got to eat a lot of different things, whose names I can’t recall. But it was all very good!

We then surprised her with a class picture, signed: one that would forever encapture our crazy class. Yes, one of the guys was making bunny ears on one of the girls. Yes, one of the girls was making a hilarious pose. Each of us had also brought one of our favorite candy chocolate bars – and some Nescafe packets – and one of the girls had brought a nice gift bag and bow. I think our professor really appreciated it.

Then coming home, she ended up driving me and another girl back since she lives nearby. It’s always an adventure driving around Amman when not in a cab or bus – you appreciate exactly what the driving is, here. In a taxi, you feel a bit immune to it.

Fun evening, all around!

(In which having an imagination is helpful...)

Colloquial speaking and written final today! For the speaking portion, I and another girl got in front of the class to do a short skit. I pretended I was a radio announcer and she was a student from America living in Amman. We had a fun time playing on the words "mukhabaraat" (secret police), "muHaDaraat" (lectures), "muTHohiraat" (demonstrations), and "mukhadaraat" (drugs). (The capitalized letters are to show the certain Arabic letters that are 'emphatic' - Haa and Tho. Not that it means anything to anyone.)

The written exam was also fun, particularly given my rather lack of substantial study. There were two words that I couldn't remember: sunny and cashier. For sunny, we had to describe the weather in the picture, so I wrote "The sun is angry with us today" - which, very often, seems quite true and which was apropos because the image was of an anthropomorphic sun, with a rather perturbed expression on his face. For cashier, I couldn't do much except write "cashier" in Arabic script.

Dr. Muna told me it was correct. Arabeezy for the win!

Settings change....

I know some of you faithful and dedicated three readers had wanted to comment, but hadn't been able to do so, due to my settings. I finally changed them! Now anyone who wants to comment should be able to (*cough* *Dad* *Mom* *cough*). However, all comments have to be approved by *me* before they appear - so just take that into consideration. I have no objections to being called "Your Grace," you know. Or "Your Highness." "Your Excellent and Most Revered Majesty," is, however, pushing it just a tad too far. This is, I think, a much more satisfactory arrangement all around! ;-)

I know the changes are coming late, but I'm working on the last of the Egypt, Umm Quies, and Wadi Rum tomes, so it might be just in time.

Foot it featly forth the ford, ye fair and fauny fellows...

Foot it featly forth the ford,

Ye fair and Fauny fellows.

Falter not for fear of fray -

Your faithful shepherd follows!

I awoke this morning to the sight of a herd of sheep being driven up the street below my window, just past the white gazebo. I rushed to get my camera - alas, they disappeared as quickly as their mythical cousin Tumnus.

Eastern winds....

Lovely wind from the East today, a Mary Poppins arriving sort of home-like day, today. I could not help but think of every other sort of spring day; spring is eternally typical, despite its persistent newness.

I awoke, much like the Banks children, to my new host sister being home! Much sorting of her stuff, and now, all the families are visiting. I am hiding in the bedroom.

Had a water fight with my host brother, however. I asked him if his parents would agree; he said yes. We then proceeded to sneak outside with the water bottles behind our backs, grinning broadly at his dad. Then, after we were soaked, we came back through the foyer veeerrrry sneakily. I don't think he had permission, after all. Then I spent the evening helping him with a research project.

I just want to know: when did I become the editor in chief?

Don't know how to play this game...

I spent my afternoon editing medical school statements.

In the midst of my editing, the woman sitting beside me asked for my help. Could I edit her email to a professor, since it was in English? I said yes, of course. I think I was wearing my English major perfume today.

So I went through the email and perfected the grammar, added capitalization, and improved the vocabulary. I was, however, a little surprised at the condition of the email: she was an intern at a large U.S. hospital in a state with a certain huge and well respected medical school that might start with an M. She was emailing a professor at Mayo, explaining that she wanted to do an away rotation there in order to better her chances of landing a fellowship. She was doing this on the advice of her mentor.....whom, I suspect, is a colleague of the researcher at Mayo.

It's all about whom you know.

IMMD

I took the microbus home today; I enjoyed pulling back the thick black curtain to peer out the open window.

A small sedan pulled along side us. The four year old girl was amusing herself by sticking her tongue out at the bus. I amused myself by returning the favor. She gave me a huge grin; even her sullen teenaged brothers managed a smile. I drew the curtain, and we were gone. It was just a small moment of a care-free life, but it made my day.

Last day of classes....almost!

As I just mentioned, we had a small party in class today, since it was our last day of Arabic classes. There was a lot of food - particularly cake. Particularly yummy sponge cake with whipped cream frosting and layers of fruit in between along with deliciously fresh and glazed strawberries on top. Not that I minded - not one bit.

It was a tad bittersweet - we have been together as a class with the same teacher for 3 hours Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays for FusHa and together for 1.5 hours on Mondays and Wednesdays for Ammiyya for 3 months. Plus, this means - finals! We have our first round of finals on Sunday - eek! - and for Arabic we'll have at least six hours of exams, plus another several hours of post testing to see what level we are at now. Next week we still have area studies classes, but the week after that, we have our final exams for them; another 6 hours of tests. Fun, fun, fun!

Heffla-lumps and woozles

One of the great things about learning a new language is how often normal words in that language sound like other words in your own language. This often causes me private hilarity.

For example: "Tux" means "weather". "Be-yoot" isn't an Australian way of saying that's a beyoot one, mate, it means "houses." "Biddy" doesn't refer to an old hen here, it means "I want." And "fish" may sound a lot like something that lives in the sea, but really it's a way of making a negation. Oh, and "Elvis" may be a singer in the states, but the Jordanian pronunciation of it means "I wear."

All that to say, really, that today in class we had a "heffla." This does not mean that we caught the oft-fabled never seen woozle, it only means we had a party. Though, to think about it, catching the heffla-lump would be cause for celebration.

(In which I accomplish one of my Jordanian goals)

Tonight we had the host-family dinner, where all the students and their host families - over 75 of us and plus the families - get all dressed up and go to a nice hotel ballroom and eat a zaky kiteer (very tasty) dinner.

In the ballroom beside us just happened to be a wedding.

Just as our program ended, we filed out to the curved marble staircase leading from the lower floor where we were up to the lobby. We could not, however, go up because the groom and bride were coming down. Surrounding them were their family and friends; behind them was the group of singing men in dishdasha with hand drums.

We, of course, joined in with the general ululation and hand clapping. I'm sure the bride was wondering what all these Americans were doing at her wedding. I could see, however, the fear in the (very good looking) groom's eye.

"Who's paying for all these extra people?"

Now I've done it all.....

Coming home today in a taxi was quite the adventure. After some general horn-honking and confusion in the bus area, our taxi pulled out into traffic.

Beside us pulled out another taxi; the driver was a friend of our driver's.

This was evident because the two taxis drove inches from each other for quite a distance as the drivers chatted through the open windows. The buzzing traffic snarled about us. I was ready to see Jesus a lot sooner than I had planned on.

Petra, day 3

Awoke at a bit more reasonable time today, realizing that an early start wouldn't happen. Another delicious breakfast, and another stop for hummus and falafel. We decided to explore Petra's city center, which we did. We meandered along and posed in front of the tri-partite arch . Meandering along, we came to the Great Temple Complex and I, at least, had a grand time clambering over rocks. From there, to Qasr Al-Bint (Castle of the Girl), a large freestanding temple. According to legend, the princess said she would marry the man who could give it running water. I suppose human nature never changes. Human nature being what it is, I amused myself by discovering a slightly hidden doorway and going through it, climbing steps to climb onto the top of the building, walking around its crumbling roof walls to get a lovely view.

A hot walk to see some Byzantine churches - one in which a Spanish Roman Catholic group was holding a service (it was Sunday, after all) - and then on for a walk through the desert in order to get to some more tomb complexes.

And can I here insert what a trooper my traveling companion was? No complaints, even when I dragged her through the desert with no real path in sight. I had a marvelous time, but I don't think it was quite her idea of fun. However, I regaled her with the stories of what I was pretending as we trekked through the sand at noonday: I was the wife of a Roman general, station in Petra following its annexation by Trajan (in 106 A.D.) We had just returned from offering our sacrifices and libations in the Great Temple and from getting our meat from the macellum. A quick stop at the Nymphaeum, and now we were trudging back to our cool home cleft in the rocks. She was my slave, the daughter of a proud Nabataean family who had resisted the annexation. However, her lover was a proud Bedouin man who would eventually come to raid the proud Romans, destroying half the city and rescuing her to live with him in the desert. Their children would eventually come to live in the Badea and assist Lawrence with the Arab Revolt; their reward would be a rich piece of land in the place that would become the capital of the new country.

As we got farther in the desert, I imagined being lost and stranded there for days, dying a slow and painful death - eventually becoming nothing more than the bleached white bones of the goat we saw. I did not, however, tell my friend this. She might have killed me.

At her prompting, we found a nice cave - one or two of the tombs we had come to had been taken over by the goats - and had our lunch. We emerged to do some more exploring, making our way over to the more accessible town facade. This time I amused myself by pretending to be in Bedrock, on my way to visit the Flintstones.

Finally we reached the main tomb complex again, and made our way back to town. We puttered about for awhile, waiting until we could get on the bus that would take us back to Amman.

Petra rocks!

Any given Wednesday...

This is as good a day as any to take you through a normal Wednesday in my life. (I just turned in an Amiyya homework that did it in Arabic, but I thought you might appreciate the English. You are welcome.)

I cannot say that I woke up this morning, because I didn't wake up this morning (or this afternoon, for that matter), since I had stayed up all night working on a paper for my history class. Its title was "Transjordanian participation in the world wars and its effect upon nation building." I started the paper around 1am and had five pages finished by 6:45am when I needed to get my things together to leave by 7am.

Here is a picture of my wardrobe (in which, unfortunately, reside no Lions, Dwarves, or Fauns - I've checked) and here is a picture of what I see when I look outside the window. Although you cannot see it in the picture, directly below me is a small patio with an abundant overgrowth of vines and plants that bear the flower - the perfect sanctuary for the Cat Mother and her three small kittens. I just discovered them yesterday and have enjoyed watching them tumble over themselves and practice their urban jungle survival skills.

I grabbed a piece of bread with the lebeneh cheese spread and jam, hastily gathered my things, and went on my way to a pleasant walk up to the place where I meet my classmate so we can share a taxi from our neighborhood to the University. It really is a lovely walk, if a bit hilly. (Actually, that last one doesn't show any hills, but believe me - they are there, lurking, waiting to destroy my quads and hamstrings and other muscle groups I'd rather not think about.)

I arrived at the location, only to realize I had a text from her saying she wouldn't be there that morning due to work. So, I hailed a cab, made sure I memorized his number and then told him to the University. On my way, I worked on my homework for Amiyya about what I do every day.

I arrived at the classroom, surprised to find the classroom door open, and took my usual seat. I studied for a few minutes and the others trickled in. Dr. Muna arrived, and we teased her a bit about being on time because yesterday her alarm clock had broke and she slept in, missing the first half hour of class. We then reviewed some vocabulary and took our quiz (all about telling time, yay!).

So, the moment class was over I took my computer and hightailed my little self over to the office building where I could study in this "Knowledge Society Club" arrangement, using their internet. I finished most of my paper in the 3 hours I have between classes, then headed back to the giant yellow banana building (it's curved and yellow) that houses the language department in order to take my Archaeology class. I, for the first time, hauled out my laptop and used it to take notes while I proof-read my paper. Paper got corrected and I got complete notes for class - it was full of win for everyone except my poor back which had to lug it around all the time.

Then, back to the KSC to print out my 13 pages - for a dinar 30. *grumble* I had thought we were supposed to get 10 free pages of printing/day with our membership, but apparently not.

This was followed by the 30 minute walk across campus, past the School of Medicine, the School of Pharmacy into the College of Rehab Sciences, where I had my class. I presented my paper.

Then the 30 minute walk back to Suicide Alley to pick up a bus to Raghadan. Then at Raghadan to wait for 30 minutes for the bus home (only 90 piasters, though, instead of 220!). Once home, I helped cut up lots of vegetables for our dinner salad. Ummy, yummy food, now writing this.

Petra, day 2

Here is the link to the photos from Petra for days 1-3! Also, the first several pictures are of the inside of my host home.

Here is the rundown of Petra, day 2

It began as I awoke ridiculously early, wanting to get to the site early enough to go climb a few mountains. My traveling companion had other ideas, and so she slept a little bit longer and we had a later continental breakfast (which was amazing: loads of bread, smothered with rich jams, and dark and succulent dates to savor). Finally, we headed out for the day, stopping at a local falafel shop to pick up a container of hummus and some falafel for our lunch. We also brought a big container of water; all if it was worth it, but we did have to carry it around all day. God to the site around 10 and decided to climb up the the High Place of Sacrifice and then back, because we had made plans to meet up at 1 with some other students from our program who were coming for the day. It was a lovely, if brutal, climb. I, however, enjoyed it immensely as I convinced myself I was Frodo, climbing up the Stairs to Mordor, only the very rocks themselves had been stained red and not black due to the blood that had seeped through from Shelob's desecrations. It was a fun hike. We got to the top, saw some obelisks, took some pictures, and then I hiked up a bit further to see the platform where the ancient place of sacrifice had been. Coming back down, I got a text from one of the coming students, saying, oh, could we meet earlier? They were still at the hotel, so I told them it would probably take an hour for them to get there. I went back to my friend, and tried to climb down to the basin area to see the Lion Triclinium. had a fun moment, as I went over to a rock outcropping to get a particular picture, and then another tour group followed me, thinking I knew the way down to the Triclinium. Just takin' a photo, here, peoples. Nothing to see, move along. After that, we hiked a bit further down the path, but finally decided that we wouldn't make it back there in time; so I had to leave my Roman era tombs unexplored. *Sniff* *Sniff*. Went back to where we were supposed to meet them - on the way, met one of them hiking up the same path we had just come; I gave him the lay of the land, and convinced him to go to the Monastery. Finally got back to where we were to meet the rest of the group; we had 20 minutes to spare, but they weren't there. I left my friend to sit on a bench - and befriend some cute little Bedouin children - while I ran around to hike up another face of the mountain to see some of the Royal Tombs I hadn't seen the other day. Had a great sense of exploration and conquering places I shouldn't be allowed, until I saw another tour group coming towards me. Damped the sense of conquering a bit, I must say, to see old French ladies marching towards you. Oh, well. I was there first. Got back just at the stroke of 12 and met with the other friends. We walked towards the Monastery, and my travelling companion convinced the rest of us that taking a donkey up the steep climb was the best way to go - which it was. She argued the man down to 4JD/person for the donkey trip; she had been told it was 5JD by the little boy she had met while waiting for me. The donkey ride was a lot of fun - much more comfortable than a camel! Saw the Monastery (actually, a feasting room to the memory of the deceased and deified King Obodas, who died around 86BC, but, anyway). Sat down with my friend to eat lunch. We were approached by a large white dog, his tail gently wagging. We tore off half a biscuit to throw away to get rid of him; but he wouldn't be gotten rid of until another large dog cam running at him, barking and snarling. There was a dog fight in front of us and around us. It was, I must admit, one of the more harrowing experiences in my time in Jordan. Finally, some guys found some stones to throw at them and they took their fight away. The white dog then returned - we had a bag filled with the hummus that had spilled during our day's hiking that he wanted. I tried to take it with us, but after he went after my leg, I decided that littering was a better choice than getting rabies or fleas or bot-flies or trypanosoma or prostate cancer or whatever other scary medical condition I could think of. My friend and I walked back; had fun browsing at all the Bedouin knick-knack stalls, and she bought some things. By now, it was around 3pm; we had planned to see a few more sites, but the heavens opened and the rains came down - we hid in a cave, but we were already soaked. Back to the hotel - hot showers and internet once again.

Petra, day 1

Here is the link for pictures from day 1 of Petra!

The short version:

Went to bed frustrated because the internet was gone and I had the final part of a group project due; it was cold and rainy and none of the bus company numbers I had tried worked. Woke early today and it was *still* cold and raining heavily. Walked a great deal before finally getting a cab; very nervous I wouldn't make it in time for the 6:30 am bus. I did, however, and we got two of the last 5 seats on the bus. Waited with a lot of German, French, and Russian tourists. Uneventful bus ride, although my lovely traveling partner did bring food that I obligingly ate :-)

Got here and got a taxi; email from the hotel had said it would be 2JD (which really is generous). Like fools, didn't establish the price before hand....he tried to make us pay five at the end. He had to settle for 3 as he cussed us out. Lovely man. Room wasn't ready (checkout is at 2:30, what can I say), so we had a glass of tea while waiting. Got to our rooms, got wonderful internet access and got my assignments submitted. Then, a 1JD taxi ride to the opening - no maps available because the building is under renovation - and we got our 1JD tickets, instead of the normal 50JD or so. Being a Jordanian resident rocks! Went in and explored. Saw disgusting evidence and displays of public urination. Saw much other general "Haram-ness" (come on, ladies, you really should wear more than a camisole and short-shorts here!) at which I, in my long sleeved sweater and jeans, sadly clicked my tongue. Had fun climbing about. Pondered how the giant sand-stone walls made me feel under-water. Also ate an absolutely enormous sandwich for lunch, sitting in an old tomb, over looking the Wall of Facades. Thought deeply about the transitory nature of humanity and our accomplishments, standing in front of the nearly worn away Theatre build in the time of Christ. Beautiful weather, day, and company! Walked back to the entrance in the cool of the evening, got a 1JD taxi back to the hotel; then to lovely, steaming hot showers and more internet. You can see the pictures for yourself. Lovely day!

Ich habe genug....

*Sigh*

I was going to have a complaining moment or day or blog post or silent, primal scream.

However, Dietrich Fischer Dieskau, a good dinner, and a little old fashioned conviction do wonders for one's frustrations.

So, I will leave you with the words from JSBach's cantata for the Feast of the Purification, based on Simeon's canticle:

Ich habe genug I have enough

Ich habe den Heiland, das Hoffen der Frommen, I have held the Saviour, the hope of all people
Auf meine begierigen Arme genommen; In the warm embrace of my arms;
Ich habe genug! I have enough!

Ich hab ihn erblickt, I have seen him,
Mein Glaube hat Jesum ans Herze gedrückt; My faith has impressed Jesus on my heart.
Nun wünsch ich, noch heute mit Freuden Now I wish this very day with joy
Von hinnen zu scheiden. From here to depart.

Ich habe genug. It is enough.
Mein Trost ist nur allein, My one consolation is this:
Dass Jesus mein und ich sein eigen möchte sein. That Jesus is mine and I am His.
Im Glauben halt ich ihn, In faith I hold him
Da seh ich auch mit Simeon For I already see in Simeon
Die Freude jenes Lebens schon. The joy of life to come.
Laßt uns mit diesem Manne ziehn! Let us go forth with this man.
Ach! möchte mich von meines Leibes Ketten Oh! If only from my body's enslavement
Der Herr erretten; The Lord would free me;
Ach! wäre doch mein Abschied hier, Oh! If indeed my liberation were soon,
Mit Freuden sagt ich, Welt, zu dir: With Joy I would say, O World, to you:
Ich habe genug. I have enough.

Jordanian Culture Moment (Lahza Al-thuqafa Al-Urdineey)

My host father beckoned me over to the window.

"Come, see what they are doing outside."

In the street below was a grey van parked beside the half-built apartment complex opposite us. The fan was half-filled with men in keffiyah and khaki dish-dash like clothing. They were waiting as five of the others formed a semi-circled and practiced dabkeh on our street. Two or three of them stood to the side, laughing and playing hand-drums. One man in modern garb stood at their other side directing them.

I went to get my camera; but when I returned, they were gone as unexpectedly as they had come.

Lunch adventures

I had a lovely lunch today at a fast-food place called Lebnani Snack. It's a ME version of McDonald's.

On the menu today was lamb brain sandwich. It was pretty good, but a little spicy.

I think I'll have to return to try their hot spleen sandwich.

Easter Salutations!

Spent Easter weekend just beyond the Jordan and had a wonderful time!

If you want the details or pictures, you'll have to ask for them once I get back to the States.

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, hallelujah!

Umm Queis!

Here are the pictures from this weekend!

I shall post more later - along with the rest of the posts from Egypt and from Wadi Rum and the posts to go along with what a UJ day looks like - Lord willing.

But it was a fantastic weekend!

It takes talent.....

.....to send out an email meant for one person to all the 90+ people in your study abroad program. Including, I think, the directors and teachers.

Particularly an email that begins, "So, I just booked us a hotel for two nights!"

Yeah. 

Can I enter the Witness Protection Program, now? Please?

(On a side note, it totally was not my fault. I don't understand why, but here's what I happened: I used the "reply all" button on an email from our course director. Email screen pops up - I then delete all the contents of the email. I then go through and delete every single email address in the "to" box, except the one that I wanted. I write my email and then press send, having checked the recipients and having seen that it is only going to *one* person. I close my email account and go about my merry business. I then return a few hours later to a bunch of emails from people I don't know who are rather curious as to why I am spamming them with details about a hotel reservation. I check my "sent" folder and look at the email I sent: sure enough, in the folder it looked like it was going to only one person - but her name appeared about 90 times in the "to" box. I then opened the email - it still looked like it was only to one email address. However, I checked the "advanced properties" and there it listed all the email addresses of everyone in the program, to whom my email had apparently been sent. So, totally not my fault. Slightly embarrassing, nonetheless.)

Adventures in Umm Queis

Like most Jordanian adventures, this one begins with a taxi ride. I merely wanted to go to the North Bus Station, the Bus Station in Tabarbour, which is in Tareq. Now, I told my taxi driver this: "Tabarbour. I want to go to the bus station in Tababour." He said okay and I assumed that was it. We came to a turn-off for the general area and he asked, "Where?" I told him, "Tabarbour, you know, in Tareq." Tareq is the larger neighborhood and Tabarbour is the more specific area, or vice versa; maps and street signs are rather inexact sciences here. He said okay again and took the turn; I saw the signs pointing out that we were indeed in Tababour. He started driving down random streets that did not look like that streets I had seen before when I went to this particular bus station. Maybe, I thought hopefully, maybe he's taking a shortcut?

No, he wasn't. He gestured around. "Here's the mall in Tababour," (really just a small cement building), "where do you want to go?"

"MaHatat al-Bus fii Tababour."

He gestured in frustration and we took off in another direction, finally arriving at our destination. Why he didn't understand it the first time I told him and he agreed, I will never know.

I got on the public microbus, going to Irbid, sharing a seat with a young mother and her two children. This is where I noticed the difference a head-covering makes; every time I've been on a public bus in hijab, the lady beside me always strikes up a conversation and I generally wind up playing with her kids. Without hijab, there wasn't any conversation and she did her best to keep her (cute, pudgy!) little toddlers from annoying the strange Western woman.

In Irbid, I asked several people and finally got another bus going from the south to the north bus station in the city. From the north bus station, I found the bus going to Umm Queis, waiting in the hot sun for it to finally leave.

Finally, the bus made it to the modern town of Umm Queis and most of the passengers exited on its meandering streets. The bus pulled up to the end of a street and the driver pointed to a brown sign announcing "Ruins" that-a-way. I thanked him, and hiked up a rather steep hill.

Despite passing a Jordan Department of Antiquities guard lounging in a chair - to whom I showed my Jordanian ID - there was little to no marked entrance. I wandered about the premises, a bit overwhelmed by the large, partially restored basal structures in their grass coverings. Finally, I found a path - and realized I had come in the back way.

I entered the outdoor museum, where I signed the guestbook in Arabic, much to the impression of the curator. The museum had some fine first century medical tools; alas, no pictures. It also had some amazing sets of stone doors - some of which worked! (I was strongly reminded of Charn and greatly amused myself by pretending to be Jadis. The walls didn't shiver like silk, however, for me. So the the world is still safe, I guess.)

I meandered through the beautiful ruins, eventually stopping at the beautiful (but overpriced) outdoor restaurant to order some tea and babaghanouj. I then had my typical problem of getting the waiter's attention to remove my stuff and then even more of a problem getting his attention to give me my bill. With about 10 white-shirted waiters waiting around, one would think it would be easy - but nooooo. It seems that diners are supposed to linger for thirty or forty minutes, drinking in the scenery before a waiter will condescend to attend to such paltry matters as payment.

More exploring, surrounded by hordes of school-children and Jordanians. I was reminded heartily why I dislike traveling with crowds. I saw the theatre - you've seen Roman theatre, you've seen them all - and enjoyed walking about the town. I had wanted to see some specific basilica ruins, but couldn't find them. Being on an intense time budget - I had arrived around 12 and needed to leave by 3pm in order to catch what I supposed would be the last public transportation back - I hustled through the black ruins with a haste that was slightly frustrating. The scenery was absolutely stunning: you could see Israel and Syria in the distance, separated by the Sea of Galilee.

Rushing down the Cardo, I explored several small remainders of the once thriving city. I found a glorious old church, nearly taken over by wildflowers now buzzing with bees. There was a mausoleum and temple remnants, all being slowly hidden by the ever-encroaching green.

Among the eroding ruins, I found myself in a veritable Paradise; standing in the semi-circular remains of a basilica and surrounded by riotous flowers, I knew that if I could just remember the right words - if I could only put together the proper sequence of incantations - Aslan would come. I knew some of the trees had cousin in the Wood between the World or other distant relations in Archenland or perhaps even in Lantern Waste itself. Alas, I could remember no particular Words of Magic; but then, getting Aslan to come has never been about saying the exactly proper words, has it? So, just like Scrubb and Jill and their first attempts, I was disappointed. Not too terribly disappointed, though: I was still standing on a Roman road, in the midst of fields and fields of glorious color with Galilee just before me. What more could I want?

Well, a bus back to Amman, I suppose. I hurried to the end of the Cardo, noting the older French lady tourists and also seeing the biggest bulls of my life! (Thought Dad would appreciate that. Although some of them were cows, too. It was fitting, given that Umm Queis is in biblical Bashan) I left the ruins around 3:30, hustling down to the town. There was no particular bus stop - and the bus that morning had followed no particular route as it dropped off people to their given destinations. I realized I should have established with the driver when I needed to be picked up; but then, I hadn't been sure if it would be the same bus or not. I didn't want to wait until later, because I had heard horror stories from other students about having to pay a large amount of money to get back. I walked along the town's road, stopping at a small "super market" to buy a water and inquire of the owner how I could get the bus back to Irbid.

I pulled out the water bottle and approached him. He smiled, "Just water?" he asked in a very strong accent.

"Yes, just water," I replied in Arabic. He gave me a huge grin. "I want to take the bus back to Irbid. Can you tell me when it is? Where do I need to go?" His grin increased. He told me that there would be a bus coming along - 10 or 20 minutes - and I could wait there. As he slowly maneuvered about the shop, I had a thorough conversation about what I was doing in Jordan, what I thought of the country, the people, and the University. He motioned to a bright purple plastic chair, and told me I could wait there. I pulled it out to the porch, and enjoyed waiting my 30 minutes for the bus to arrive, surveying life like a local.

Day of rest

Spent the day catching up on some school work.

I also had volunteered to read personal essays for medical school through a website; so I amused myself by reading and closely editing about five of them. I then went and re-read my essay. It was even better than when I first submitted it.

I have then been writing blog posts to cover my time in Egypt and Wadi Rum; they are being posted under the dates they occurred, so you'll have to go back and find them.

My host mom's sister also came over for the day with her younger son. We had both Pizza Hut and Popeye's fried chicken today. I must admit, I prefer Arabic food. I don't know what I'm going to do when I get back home and can't get my babaghanouj!!!

Prince of Spain

I almost met the Prince of Spain and his wife today. Almost.

He was at the University of Jordan and was going to issue a speech to inaugurate the Spanish program at the language center at UJ. I was told to be there at 3:30 but when I arrived, they said, 4:30.

I decided to go home.

Taxiiiiiiiii

*Sigh* I was so glad to be back in Jordan after all the adventures with un-metered taxis in Egypt. No sooner do I arrive, however, than all taxis and buses seem to have gone on vendetta against my happy excitement to see them!


Yesterday, I left class to take a bus to 7th Circle, right beside the malls so I could buy some very much needed items. I knew which bus I needed: number 53. This was not a problem, as there were 3 number 53 buses lined up outside - normally, there's only one. The first one had open doors, but no one - not even a bus driver - inside. The second one had just disgorged its passengers, but it at least had a bus driver present. The third one had a bus driver, but no one else, and its doors were closed.

So, I did what any good, confused American would do: I wavered. Now, bear in mind, it was freezing cold out. It may seem that April should be perfect in the ME, but it has been rainy and cold and miserable for the last three days. So I stood outside, shivering, as I wandered from bus to bus, looking for hopeful signs such as bus drivers and passengers.

Finally, I caught the attention of the bus driver from the second bus, just as he was stepping out.

"Good evening," he said. (It was only 3 in the afternoon, but I'll take it.)

"7th Circle?" I tried in Arabic.

"Yes."

"Good. 65 or 60 piasters?"

"65." He then walked off the bus, leaving me holding my money.

Another official bus person poked his head around as he got off - "Where?"

"7th Circle. This bus goes to 7th Circle, right? But what about the other buses - which one goes first?" I tried my Arabic.

"Do you speak English?" he asked.

"Yes," I was a little disappointed. I just made it through Egypt where most people didn't speak English or Amiyya; one would think I could handle a little matter of which bus to get on.

"This bus." He said. "Sit down."

He really didn't need to bust out his English for that, I thought, as I sat down, still clutching my 65 piasters.

I waited; the first bus remained in its position, but the third #53 bus started moving. This, I decided, was patently unfair.

Apparently, the bus drivers thought so, too. They started yelling and gesticulating, persuading the other bus to maneuver into position in front of them. We then finally took off.

Quite some distance into the ride, the bus driver looked back at me. "Have you paid?"

"Nope," I said as I walked forward. I had been planning on doing that when I got off.

"Here," he took my money. "Let me tell you about the times."

"The times?"

"Of the bus."

"The bus times?"

"Yes."

I pondered for a second. What did he mean? His English was  a bit broken and accented (better than my Arabic, of course!), which is what I'll contribute my confusion.

"The times.....of the bus." I confirmed.


"Yes. You know when to take bus?"


"Yes." Now, I realize that between my searching for which bus to take and the whole not paying thing, it seemed that I might not know how to ride a bus. This is not true. It was very kind of him, but by now, my pride was involved. "Oh, I take the bus every day."

"You do?"

"Yes. Bus 53 or 52."

"What time?"

"Oh, around 5."

"Really/"

"Yes."

Finally, I went back to sit down and wait for the ride to end.


I got off at the mall, and quite successfully found what I wanted. Coming out of the mall, I was presented with a long line of taxis waiting. Normally, one merely goes to the first taxi in the row, gets in, and away you go. This time, however, a man stood outside waiting.

"Taxi? Taxi? You want a taxi?" He flicked his cigarrette in my direction.

I motioned to the taxis before me. "Well, yes."

He started walking me towards a car. "Traffic very bad today. For you, four JD."

I stopped, gave him my best gimlet eye and loudest American voice I could. "HA!" I walked off. I could hear him calling after me, "Look! Here! Here's a taxi with a meter!"

I then spent the next 20 minutes of my walk practicing my Arabic words - such as liar and cheat - and can now say quite confidently that I know how to properly tell off someone just trying to take advantage of naive Westerners. I'm only disappointed I didn't get to impress him with my abilities.

I finally found a taxi, relieved to be in the safe and non-confusing metered confines of a professional cab. We got to my destination without incident. I looked at the meter: 0.85JD. My 2JD were ready (with traffic, it can fall between 0.60 and 1.80, so I wanted to be ready or the meter would keep going as I fumbled with my change). Glad that I was all ready, I handed the driver the bills and waited a second for my change. He handed me a piece and I got out. As I walked home, I realized that the piece he had handed me was too large - 0.25JD instead of 0.10JD. What a nice taxi driver, I thought. I went to put it away - and realized that I had just given him an extra dinar. Well, I guess he can afford to be nice, with my dinar tip. I will, however, just assume that his taking it was as honest a mistake as my giving it. Riiiiiiight.

Then, today, I had more bus/taxi adventures. I got on the bus just in time and found a seat. However, shabayn in front of me decided that it was their bounden duty to serenade the entire bus with their loud Arabic love music selection. Seriously. They were acting as the unofficial stereo system of the bus. And no on batted an eyelash. Except me, of course. It wasn't too bad, though; it only reminded me of the 7 hour bus rides in Egypt in which they played Quranic chanting nonstop. For 7 hours. Straight. Quranic chanting. Loudly. Yes.

I get off at my stop and get a taxi for the ride home. Normally, this ride costs 0.80 JD at most. Somehow, his meter was going what seemed to be really fast. (They can adjust how fast the meters run to an extent.) I didn't want to call him on it, in case it was just my imagination, but we definitely reached 0.60 a bit before we should. So, I got out and walked.


Not the most frustrating things in the world - and I am truly glad to be back in Jordan - but still, it just goes to show you that human nature is the same every where in the world. It also goes to show you how eagerly I'm going to jump behind the wheel of the car when I get back. Although, I don't know - it has been really nice to be chauffeured everywhere. I could get accustomed to it - if I had a private limousine and the chauffeur had a uniform. And there was a strict no smoking and no Quranic chanting policy enforced. Then, I could definitely get used to it.

Normal class stuff

Today we covered "Flirting and Harassment" in Amiyya class. Great. Why couldn't we have covered this before I went to Egypt?

Just in case you really needed to know, the popular mating call of the Jordanian male involves, "Hey, ya, camel! Hey, ya, strawberry! Hey, ya, crisp lettuce!" These are compliments.

I would hate to hear their insults.

Midterms, part 2

So, the week before I left I had goodness knows how many midterms and papers. What I don't believe I mentioned, however, was that they were the easiest midterms of my life. I didn't want to mention it, because I am actually horrible at predicting how I did on exams - so if I thought the exams were super easy, it probably meant that I came close to failing each and every one.


I got the results back today.



Nope, I was right. For the first time in my life, how I felt about an exam was exactly how I did. Only four hours of studying for each exam or so. It was delightful, actually.


Now could someone please remind me why, exactly, I want to go to medical school?

There and back again

Here is the link to the first set of pictures from Egypt!

And here is the second set of pictures from Egypt! :-D

Home is the sailor, home from the sea

I have safely arrived from Egypt - thank you for all your prayers! I certainly saw ample evidence of God's goodness, grace, and guidance on this absolutely amazing and indescribable adventure!

There are two reasons I came to Jordan. Oh, I know I talked about wanting to learn the language and meet people and experience the culture, but really I am here only because of two people. These two men have had a large and unexpected impact on my life and have shaped it in ways I never could have expected. They are two true characters for whom I early felt a deep affection. It is strange to think that such small encounters and chance words, one's life should be forever molded and taken in a new and unexpected direction.

Really, I came to Jordan solely because of Tutankhamen and Aladdin. 

(Whom else were you expecting? Really.)

We covered Tutankhamen and the basic history of ancient Egypt when living in Britain; I was fascinated by the writing system and the story of his tomb's discovery. My interest in Tutankhamen eventually passed; but not before led to my love of Nat Geo and my current interest in languages. In the thick of it, however, I might have even passed through a tiny phase in which I was obsessed with hieroglyphics and the details of mummifications and in which I wanted to be an Egyptologist....but then, who doesn't? I might have also passed through a tiny phase in which I swore I would legally change my name to Jasmine as soon as I turned 18 and was convinced that flying carpets and genies were real.....but then, doesn't everyone?

So, although Egypt was not the place I wanted to go originally for break, it is little surprise that I did end up there. I was able to achieve several life goals - see the Valley of the Kings, Luxor Temple, and Karnak - and call myself Yasmine the entire trip. 

Now, when anyone asks me how spring break was, all I can think of are the lyrics to "A Whole New World":

Unbelievable sights

Indescribable feeling.....

A hundred thousand things to see....

I've come so far

I can't go back 

To where I used to be

A whole new world

With new horizons to pursue

Every moment red-letter

I'll chase them anywhere

There's time to spare

Let me share this whole new world with you.

So, now I am in the midst of writing up a weeks worth of posts to share with you. It may have been a completely amazing and indescribable adventure - but believe me, I'll try anyway!