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!