My host mom had to do a bit of shopping, and so I went with her and she showed me the lay of the land, so to speak. I also saw a sigh that I did not think I would: a whole room full of Jordanians waiting their turn patiently. No queues, no pushing – it was amazing. The phone company had the “take a ticket” method, which actually worked very well – until our number didn’t seem to appear on the screen and we had to spend another 10 minutes finding someone to setp out of the rigid alignment of slips to see us. We also stopped by a little one room craft store to pick up more yarn.

I had a fun time going to services this evening. I set out an hour and a half early, just to make sure I could get there in time. First, I walked around our area, making sure I could get back to the house from the main landmarks. Success.Then, on to flag a taxi and drive to 1^st Circle. I wandered around the streets , looking into the little store fronts. Surprisingly, the majoriy of people there seemed to be Americans….I think our program’s other group (for just the Advanced Arabic Language program) was the majority of the people.

Having read that the service began at 5:30, I wended my way through the side street and finally found the building, surrounded by a high gate on which all the solid gates were barred. This did not look promising. I continued around the road, to the side and back of the building; there was a carport that connected with the rest of the compound, and I entered the courtyard. Exploring, I found myself going up some stairs and then saw that the outer door of the sanctuary was open. I went through it and then opened the thick oak door of the sanctuary. It was completely dar – again, this did not look promising. “If only I can find a bulletin,” I thought. “This is, after all, Jordan time – I suppose 10 minutes before the service really means 30.” I turned and was on my way out, when a shadowy figure appeared in the dark doorway.

A little older woman stepped into the gloomy sanctuary. I doubted the existence of her teeth.

“Ahlan wa Sahlan,” she said. Given the circumstances, I’m surprised she didn’t demand, “Sho malik” – what’s your problem?

“Hello! Um, my name is, “ I introduced myself in Arabic, “When are the services? Is there something here?”

She held up six fingers and talked rapidly in Arabic. I assumed the meeting was at 6, then. “Here?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, here,” she replied.

“Thank you!” I wasn’t sure how to thank her for not calling the police that a prowler was going through their sanctuary.

I spent my time in a supermarket - now, although the shop was only one room, I could swear that it had as much variety as a WalMart - except the one thing I wanted, facial soap. The items were stacked two or three deep on the shelves and in the aisles. Services were in English; I was familiar with the order from the Book of Common Prayer, although I was a bit frustrated since this was the newest version of it and I am accustomed to using the rite with traditional language. Coming back, I think the world’s fastest taxi driver or at least one that wanted to bring back memories of home to an American by driving like a Nascar professional.

And now to bed – classes tomorrow morning!