Day 3
Like everything foreign and I mean truly foreign, the Middle
East is an acquired taste. Different in countless ways I find the only
familiarity being that we are all human, oh and not to mention the KFC just up
the road from my apartment, known locally as Kentucky.
I’ve woken up twice now in the mornings at around 4:30 am.
The call to prayer is easier to pick out when traffic isn’t bustling down the
street. This morning found me getting up at 6:30 to eat some flat bread and my
left over 80 cent falafel sandwich from yesterday. The fast food here is
ridiculously cheap. It’s not been two full days here in Amman and I’ve already
decided which is my favorite. Reem shwarma down on the 2nd circle. I
went there yesterday with our whole group on a city tour and I went again
today. I can’t make promises I won’t go again before the week is out. It’d be
the hotspot of the Provo food scene if they ever made it that far.
After a morning of visiting with the roomies we decided not
to all roam about in a huge group but split up. Dan and I took taxis around
town this first half of the day. I’ll be honest, that first taxi was a bit
intimidating. This may have been my first time ever riding in a taxi, let alone
in a foreign country. “Wast il-balad min fadlak” And we’re off! Jordan doesn’t
have much regulation when it comes to transportation. Lanes? Nope. Traffic
lights? I think I’ve seen one so far. Crosswalks? Anywhere you can frogger
across the road and not get hit. As for the drivers it seems a miracle I’ve not
seen an accident, though the people are so aware of all the other cars, then
again it’s kind of hard to miss someone when they’re honking at you. I wonder
what they think when they come to America, “Why are people not using their
horns?”
Wast il-balad is down town, and it really is down. Most of
Amman is built on hills with small valleys all around. Downtown is kind of the
center of all these valleys. We’d visited yesterday with the group but decided
to come back in a pair as it made perusing much easier. No shopping today, just
getting a feel for the area and what kinds of wares are being bartered. There
was a nice little clothes shop we stopped in, they had a nice vest in the
window. The owner, Khaled, offered some of his lunch to us as we came in, “La
shukran”. The next half hour was spent learning about his family and how his
grandfather rode a camel to Yemen and married his grandmother, why? Because he
was a soldier in the Ottoman military. Oh, ok.. It was fantastic watching and
listening to Dan comfortably converse. I’d piped in a few words but didn’t get
much going. Dan mentioned wanting to see the Roman amphitheater again. Down the
sidewalk and around the corner and, look at that, found it! 2 Dinars later and
we’re climbing around the steep steps of these ruins. Quick peruse through the
museum and we meet a family from Nablus. They noticed we were American and the
usual “Welcome to Jordan, Welcome welcome” but after my “ahlan wasahlan” they
excitedly came back with their whole family and introduced themselves. One man
took my hand and showed me around the museum for a short while. The hospitality
is fantastic.
From downtown you can see an old Roman citadel and from
where we were it looked like a short hike up to the grounds. A good hike later
around some abandoned buildings and we’re walking around the citadel grounds.
Apparently you had to pay to get in… No one checked for our tickets. Also it
seems we stumbled upon the temple of Hercules. Here we met a few Yemeni women
and their son Adan. Bold little 4 year old, he walked up and plopped right in
between the two of us where he sat while his mom/ family member took pictures
of us. We also met some fellow students who are here studying Arabic through a
different program. So I decided before coming to Jordan that this would be a
dry spell for me in a matter of dating, getting girls numbers… and it still
will be. But I did manage to get this girls number, Jade, from Minnesota. This
was in case we decided to go to Wadi Mujib and so we could invite them.
At this citadel we found a Roman temple, an old Byzantine
church, and an Umayyad mosque. What?! And an old bronze age cave too.
Day 4
After indulging in a siesta earlier today I find myself a
bit of an in insomniac today. Well that or I’m still in my first week of jet
lag. I do count my lucky stars I’m still so young. Like a new spring I bounce
back no problem.
Our apartment is large enough to hold almost two full sets
of living room furniture. We have a guest visiting area and a living
room/dining room separated by what could be a draped entrance. After exploring
more of the souq I may as of yet invest in a curtain. I’m currently lounging on
one of our living room couches with my trusty sock monkey. The sounds of the
night include a constant thrum of university street(whose actual name isn’t
university) full of people coming and going. Down 5 floors and outside the
front door is a lounge outdoor/indoor where men both young and old sit to watch
soccer, drink coffee and smoke hookah. Last night a few of us ventured down
there to discover that they also play
cards though I couldn’t tell what games they were playing. I did see one
familiar game, whose name I’ll tell when I remember… BACKGAMMON! Also, 7 Dinar
for 4 mango drinks and 4 small waters? A bit pricy but we’re foreigners so it
seems right. We’ve quickly learned that 5 dinar to anywhere by taxi is a
downright rip off. Most places can be reached in around 2 dinar which
translates to $3-$3.50. Today was full. Wonderful and fantastic.
MouGaDarab (adventures) I’m getting used to being up by 7 am
and eating a small breakfast. Today we walked down to Qasid (institute where we
are taking classes) just after 9 and did internet and a bit of studying before
class at 10. Ibrahiim, my native teacher for the semester is a funny guy. Short
and full of life, this man made sure our first class was entertaining. That or
the exhaustion and clear lack of preparation left us near lost as we navigated
fusha in our introductions, making us feel like we were back in 101.
Alhamdulillah. We know some Arabic. I did manage to talk about girls when
listing my hobbies, to which Ustaaz Ibrahim replied with Haraam!(forbidden)
probably not something I should be vocal about in public. I would hate to be
considered a ladies man out here… bad bad name. Though he said it partially in
jest I took note. By 12 I was already crashing, just in time for our class with
Dil. So much talking, so much information and opportunity to feel overwhelmed.
It took a bit to not want to sleep through it. But we made it. I sometimes
think he likes to intimidate us.
Falafel sandwiches after classes and a bit of blogging.
It seems to get dang hot here in the afternoons. Not much
worse than Provo but still, anything in the lower 48 of the US is hot for me. I
came home and napped after downing 2/3 falafel wraps. It was SUCH a good idea.
My headache left and I was ready to rock!
While waiting for a couple of the girls to take a taxi out to rainbow st we sat in front of Qasid and chatted up with a café owner there on the main floor. His friend, a taxi driver, knew a bit of English from foreigners and talked a little with us. He asked a couple times if we drank coca cola, sometimes… So the café owner opened up 4 and brought each of us a bottle. Guess we bought them. While leaving I asked how much and he insisted they were free. When Arabs do this, and they will near constantly with some foreigners, you must insist a few times. How far you insist and how much they push seems a delicate balance of decency. It’d be rude to accept this generosity outright yet forcing the money and finalizing the transaction seems to impersonal and Arabs are anything but impersonal, try having a conversation and not feel like your personal bubble’s still intact.
The taxi friend offered to get us a taxi and said he found a great deal of 5 dinar down to the rainbow st. No way! I negotiated it down to 3 dinar, mostly because I knew it’d be about 2-2.50.
While waiting for a couple of the girls to take a taxi out to rainbow st we sat in front of Qasid and chatted up with a café owner there on the main floor. His friend, a taxi driver, knew a bit of English from foreigners and talked a little with us. He asked a couple times if we drank coca cola, sometimes… So the café owner opened up 4 and brought each of us a bottle. Guess we bought them. While leaving I asked how much and he insisted they were free. When Arabs do this, and they will near constantly with some foreigners, you must insist a few times. How far you insist and how much they push seems a delicate balance of decency. It’d be rude to accept this generosity outright yet forcing the money and finalizing the transaction seems to impersonal and Arabs are anything but impersonal, try having a conversation and not feel like your personal bubble’s still intact.
The taxi friend offered to get us a taxi and said he found a great deal of 5 dinar down to the rainbow st. No way! I negotiated it down to 3 dinar, mostly because I knew it’d be about 2-2.50.
This driver we went with was kind of funny. It was Daniel,
MJ, Jessica and I so I got front seat.
We talked about this and that and after I decided to comment on how I
need to get married he began telling me how many of Jordanian women were the
best. Whenever we drove by one he would slow down and point them out telling
me, “There! See! Beautiful!” He also insisted we marry at least 4 women. Daniel
asked how he could deal with that many in one house and he explained that you
can only do that with one for each woman. Fun conversation. As we got out he
told me I should marry his sister, la shukran (no thank you). Perhaps in
another life. Rainbow st. Definitely the place of the shabaab, the young and
hip of Jordan. If you’re from the northern Midwest US I’d say it’s like state
street in Madison, Wisconsin or center st in Provo if you’re familiar with
that, which is still pretty accurate since all three have hookah shops (Whats
so hip about hookahs?? I’m thinking mini-oud is the next big thing)
Wandering Rainbow st is a great pass time. It’s easy for me
to exchange pleasantries with random strangers, mostly when they look friendly,
which is most of the Arabs I’ve met. Out in front of a coffee shop I met Gamal
(means camel) a young man from Egypt. Alhamdulillah I know Egyptian Arabic!
After a good chat he wanted to exchange numbers so we could get together
sometime. Woohoo! Made a friend! Jessica and MJ poked fun after walking away
saying we’d soon be holding hands walking around rainbow st. (I realize how
homosexual that sounds, especially since it’s rainbow st. but in the mind of
Arab men their expressions must be louder and more obvious to reach the person
down inside the body (no personal bubble) and so shows of friendship and
affection are more than we ever would consider normal) Just the night before at
the lounge near our apartment I was watching some young men play cards and when
they got up to leave two of them held each other in a hand shake half hug and
kissed each others cheek at least 5 times (kind of a hold each others face
close to the other and kiss the air, not necessarily the skin) Drastically
different. Anything less than the overt expressions and they assume there is
not relationship. Perhaps I’ll feel strange after a couple weeks but so far
it’s not so bad, no one’s tried to kiss me. I’m happy to enjoy the culture from
where I’m at.
We finished the night with another visit to Reem shwarema
and a taxi ride taking the girls home. I’m really glad I’ve got Daniel. He’s
been to Morocco for a month last summer and kind of knows what’s what and his
Fusha is mumtastic(Excellent) Not afraid to get in there and explore. He also
shares in my love for shwarma. Hopefully he doesn’t tire of me soon because I
have a feeling we’ll become good friends. Already we’ve boldy ventured back
into wast il-balad (downtown market) and conversed with random store owners,
stormed the roman citadel after exploring the roman amphitheatre, found some
sweet secret fantasticalities of this beautiful city. Alhamdulillah ashkur ‘ala
arrub! Hopefully now I can go to sleep with my day’s adventures logged away.
