Khalas: it is the end

One week and a day since I landed at JFK airport in New York. It is time I say my peace and close this blog.  I have been thinking (and dreading) about it all week: how to summarize a year, what to say.  Khalas (enough), I cannot do that for I would not know where to begin.

Since being home, my family has picked up a few words in Arabic that I cannot leave out of conversation. It is fun hearing my sister try to get the proper amount of rasp in some of the words, and then to use the words in the proper context.  I am so grateful for my family and the willingness to just accept my occasional accent, my tea addiction, scattered Arabic and random stories about my time in Jordan.

The truth is, I think about Jordan all of the time. It is so fresh and still so real for me.  I found a family, built a community, and made wonderful friends there.  I have a life still in Amman, and my only consolation (besides returning to my life in the States) is that I will be back again.  A part of me is there, therefore, I must go back. And yet, a big part of me is here.

I did not just fall in love with Jordan. There were things that drove me crazy about the society, certain behaviors and traditions that were uncomfortable for me.  Yet, much of who the people are, and more importantly, how they are, I have found endearing.  I have adopted a lot from the culture.  In many ways, I have created an identity for myself there.

So, here I am, going through reverse culture-shock.  Why is water everywhere? Why is everything so big?  Why are politics so petty?  I often laugh to myself, and at myself, as I re-adjust.  I have such a patient and forgiving family.  God bless them for letting me go, and God bless them even more for letting me return.

This summer I am grateful for a nannying job that will allow me to relax and breathe as I prepare to jump into my last year at Denison University.  Thankfully, for that part of my life - my senior year - I have a tentative roadmap.  That roadmap ends on graduation day, and is replaced by a threshold of hopes and dreams that may or may not be realized.  My big hope is that one day, I'll be able to marry my two lives - my American life with my Middle Eastern life, and not lose a part of me to either place...... Ensha'allah.  God willing.

Khalas, it is time to close.  Thank you for following with my these past eight months as I studied and observed Jordan, its people, culture and traditions.  A lot has happened, and I know I was not very faithful on relaying the political events to you. I could only try to accurately and fairly relate what my life in Amman was like, realizing that it would be fruitless to try to generalize the people and politics, and what a daily life looked like for a Jordanian.  But the piece of it that I could share, I hope, if anything, sparked some interest in the country and the region.

If you are still curious about my experience or want to talk about the Arab Spring, come find me and I will be more than willing to put some mint and tea in a kettle, and sit with you and talk and ponder over sweet chai. Perhaps, if I am successful, there will be fresh baked pita bread and homemade hummus and falafel.  That may come after a bit of practice.  But come anyways, you are welcome, ahlan wa sahlan! 

!مع السلامة

~ Erin "Aronna" "Sua'ad" "Areen" ارن

On a whim, let's go to al-Salt

One of the most memorable days of this year included a spur of the moment decision to take a bus to a small city about a half hour drive outside of the city.  The last of my classes had just finished, and I was free for the afternoon before I had to teach.  My faithful travel partner, Zane, joined me, and by 10:30am we had arrived to the oldest city in Jordan. Al-Salt has a completely different character than Amman: it is quiet, old, and quaint, nestled on and between several mountains. Zane and I wandered the suq, enjoying the smells, sounds and the clips of conversations that we could understand.

With the sun at its highest, we decided to climb up one road to the top of the hill to see down into the city.  After several false summits, just when we thought the hill was leading to the heavens while the sun felt like Haites, we heard a man call out from his balcony for us to join him.  At first we were unsure if he was talking to us, but he laughed and beckoned with his hand.  His son came down and opened the door for us, led us upstairs to the balcony where we met the father.  Chatting away in Arabic, he had us sit down and offered us tea and coffee.  His wife joined us, and after a lovely 45 minutes or so of talking about ourselves, al-Salt, history, politics, marriage (apparently the son is shy but needs a wife) tea and gardens, our host offered to drive us to the very top of the highest mountain in the area to look over the city as well as over Israel and the Golan Heights.  A beautiful drive and a windy summit later, he dropped us off at the center of the city where we resumed our walking, this time accompanied by a dozen curious school children.  We stopped for some falafel sandwiches and it happened that the tables where we ate were also the gathering spot for the local elderly men who played each other in mancala.

These men were so sweet and enthusiastically invited us to join them and watch the game. As the game progressed, more and more men came to watch, as well as a handful of more youthful boys.  Zane was able to photograph the men playing, but after the boys became a little too friendly, we decided it was time we were on our way.

After some knafeh (see one of my first posts), walking some more, taking pictures with a couple of men enthusiastic to have us in their city and who then drove Zane and I around a bit before dropping us off at the bus station, we headed home.

It was one of the most beautiful afternoons and best cultural experiences I have had in Jordan.

A Weekend Excursion: Dead Sea

What better is there to do on a beautiful, warm Friday afternoon than to escape the city? After packing up two cars, a group of my local friends and I set out for the Dead Sea.  It seemed as if half of Amman had the same idea, as the public beach was packed.  Families gathered on the picnic blankets, with the women making kebab on small grills, the men smoking argileh (hookah) and the children running around the pebbly shore and in the salty water.  As it was a public beach, I was only bold enough to just wear my long basketball shorts that reached below the knees.  Every woman wore the hijab (veil), and were completely covered.  The men, on the other hand, would strip down, many not even wearing proper swim wear (I saw a lot more to middle aged men than I cared to see).  All enjoyed the water.  Despite its salinity, I feared that some of the women might drown from all the layers of clothing they wore.

Partway through the evening, I noticed (along with the rest of the beach) a lone young blond woman, clearly not Arab, wearing only a string bikini and wandering the beach as if lost.  After watching for a minutes, I decided it was too painful and rushed up to her with my large beach towel.  We started talking, and I learned that this Canadian had decided to move to Jordan to work here for ten years, and then she planned to move to the "Holy Land." In the meantime, she had been staying at some apartment by the Dead Sea, and hadn't had the opportunity to get out much. Clearly. Today was one of those few opportunities and she seemed to have missed the memo that public beaches tend to be more conservative.  As if bikinis are really accepted anywhere in Jordan.... Anyways, this poor girl lost her purse, which contained her money, ID and passport.  She ended up going to the tourism police, and while there, two men approached our group and asked me if I had a friend who had lost a purse.  Well, I was thoroughly surprised and excited (as I was pretty pessimistic about the whole situation) and rushed to get the girl.

The girl, the police, the two men, me and my friend all went to the location of the purse and before we had even fully arrived, a crowd of about fifty men had gathered. Anybody's business is everybody's business here.  Ahlan wa sahlan.  (Welcome.)  I stepped back as I clearly had nothing else to attribute to the whole situation. One curious gentlemen, wanting to push to the center of the milieu, saw me standing back, hands free, so he handed me his baby girl - not even a year old - smiled, and then tried to the discussion (there is always a discussion).  Again, ahlan wa sahlan - it's normal.  I now had a baby.

Well, the purse drama got cleared up, and despite a missing 150 dinars ($220), the girl reclaimed her items and departed the beach.  My friend and I returned to our picnic, baby still in hand.  It should be noted that I tried to return the wide-eyed baby, but the father just smiled and waved me away.  The poor baby went from person to person, receiving all sorts of baby-talk and kisses from members of my group before she started crying and the father came to take her away.  After several more hours of argileh, music and stories, we packed up and headed back to Amman.  We left around midnight and there was still a great number of families continuing their picnic on the beach.

If there is one thing Jordanians love, it is a family picnic. :)  I like this culture.

Picnic by the Dead Sea: me and my family :)

A Weekend Excursion: Beirut, Lebanon

Taking advantage of a three-day weekend, some friends and I got on a bus early Friday morning, April 22nd, and headed to the airport to catch a flight to Beirut.  One hour later, we landed in the city by the Mediterranean with the pine-tree mountains sloping into the blue water.  After hailing a bus that would be perfect for a "don't take candy from strangers" ad, and getting dropped off downtown, the party split ways to find lodgings and my friend and I began our day long foot tour of Beirut.

Unlike the government regulated short, white buildings that make up Amman, Beirut has a lot of varying architecture. There was everything from European style apartment buildings painted in fresh spring colors with shutters and cast iron balconies, to the classic white sandstone Middle Eastern homes to the modern skyscrapers that towered above.  So much old and new side by side.  Most striking of all were the buildings half fallen down or peppered with bullet holes from the 2006 Israeli strike in response to attacks from Hezbollah.

Zane and I spent one day by foot, walking till we were half crazy. We wandered along streets, explored neighborhoods, sipped coffee at a couple cafes and sat on the rocky shore.  Ecstatic about the bit of French culture, I insisted we stop somewhere to eat crepes. The beautiful trees in the well gardened campus of the American University of Beirut were just about enough to convince us to submit applications for grad school. The campus wasn't the only place with trees and gardens. The whole city was covered in floweres.... any open space was brightened up with a bedded garden or flower pot.  The city bloomed.  I was most happy.  :-)  Informed of an Arab contemporary dance festival, Zane and I tried our luck and attended one performance.  Tired from the day's wanderings, our minds couldn't quite grasp the many themes portrayed in the 2-hour performance of two men dressed only in black underwear.

We stayed in Beirut from Friday morning till Saturday evening.  So, as we wanted to give our feet a rest and not risk our precious money with taxi drivers, Zane and I rented bikes for the morning and afternoon, and enjoyed the lovely weather riding along the Mediterranean.  We did stop for a while to walk on a public beach which was mostly empty.

All-in-all, Beirut was definitely a highlight of the semester and a much needed break from the routine of Amman.  It was also a wonderful opportunity to experience another form of Arab culture.  As my host mom put it, "Lebanon might be in a war, might have their government run over by Hezbollah, or are attacked by Israel, but the people keep living and loving life.  They are just so happy." From what I could tell from my two days there, she is right.

I highly recommend a visit. :-)

The final posts

As these past few weeks have been all papers and finals, in addition to some lovely weekend outings, I haven't had much time to update this blog.  I will try to do so now in a few short posts that highlight some of the going-ons in this past month. In my few remaining days in Jordan before I ship back to the Americas, I think it will be nice to be able to take a break from all the goodbyes and lasts of everything, and to quickly reflect and write down some good memories.  So, if you are at all interested, stayed tuned over the next few days, or just wait to talk to me after Sunday!

But first, I have to go teach my second-to-last English lesson.....

Mind off of classes

Let's play catch-up.

Last week I had my spring break, and the wonderful gift of having my parents meet me in al-Quds (Jerusalem) to spend the next six days together.  For three days we traveled on the Israel side of the Jordan River, visiting Tel Aviv, Masada, the Dead Sea and Eilat, before crossing by the Red Sea into Jordan to snorkel in Aqaba, hike around Petra, blitzkrieg through Amman and meet my host family, and then finally squeeze in a trip to the Roman ruins of Jerash and Umm Qais, nestled in the rolling green hills of northern Jordan.

Since that lovely visit, I have been very unmotivated to labor on with the studies. I'd much rather spend my last month and a half here enjoying the network of friends that I have established in Amman and in the CIEE program.  Oh well, I dream.

I have been teaching English at an ESL center.  I have five students - four men and one woman - all but one older are older than me.  I love the job.  The two hours I spend with them three times a week is just good fun.  We laugh a lot at my efforts to define a word, as I resort to most anything: charades, pictionary, singing, you name it.  If the students are having half as much fun as I am, I'll be happy. :-)

Last Friday, I went downtown with my good friend Ahmad, to do a little market wandering.  We took a service (shared) taxi, and the twenty minute ride with two other passengers was a beautiful display of politics of the people.  The debate started between Ahmad, the driver and the first passenger.  Then another man was picked up, I was squished in the back corner (men around the world insist on sitting with their legs wide apart despite the apparent lack of space), and hid my smiles as all four men talked over each other, flailing their arms about as they argued their opinion on the politics of the region.  It was beautiful.  When one man was able to demand the others' attention by shouting "Isma'aee! Isma'aee!" (listen to me, listen to me), the three men would oblige for no more than a minute or two before pushing him off his soapbox.

Amanda the bunny,
photo courtesy of my dear friend Samer

After the taxi ride, our first stop downtown was a pet shop where my friend quickly picked out a fish, placed a tiny, fist-sized white bunny in my hands, handed the shop owner some money, and then guided me back up the street.  This bunny was precious! She buried herself in the crook of my arm, and I just cradled her for three hours as we navigated through the crowds and lingered by some cheap second-hand clothes sold in the bustling suq.  I did pay attention enough to buy a t-shirt, but the bunny really stole my attention and my heart.

After the suq and coffee with a friend in the mall (for which I had to hide Amanda in my pocket from the security guards), we went to the Modern American School to play ultimate frisbee with a group of young graduates from the States teaching at the school.  It's pretty amusing being introduced to more Americans through my Jordanian friends.  Being able to play frisbee is so nice, even if it is mostly with Americans on a turfed field within the high walls of the school.

I know this is long, and I really try to keep posts short.  But there is a lot going on, and I haven't even mentioned politics today.  In conclusion, I am ready for the semester to be over for the sake of ending classes, but am not ready to leave this community indefinitely.

Playing dress up

A good friend invited me to his host family's home for a show and tell of some beautifully embroidered, and rather old, traditional bridal outfits. The embroidery and colors act as a map to the region. My gown came from Umm Qays in Northern Jordan

The headpieces are laden with coins, and is a way of displaying the bride's dowry.  This headpiece that I'm wearing has coins dating back to the earlier part of the Ottoman Empire, and weighed at least 10 lbs.  

bsoora! bsoora! (Quick quick)

There is just so much to cover since I last wrote and I don't really have the time at all.

But first thing's first: I see my parents in three days!  They arrive in Tel Aviv on Wednesday and I will cross the border on Thursday to see them.

The reason I don't see them sooner is because I have midterms all this week, and my lovely and oh-so-threatening foos'ha (modern standard Arabic) exam is on Thursday and lord knows I need to do well on that.

Last weekend I went on the program overnight trip to Wadi Rum where we raced jeeps and camels through the desert and all its beauty. The stars at night were spectacular (nothing compares) and I would've spent the whole night on the sands, but the temperature plummets once the sun goes down.  And I raced a camel. That was one of my goals on coming here, and it was realized on Saturday.  Seriously, me and my camel raced for at least a mile, encouraging the others in the train to speed up their camels, but with about a kilometer to go, I paced the last twenty camels and arrived at the camp first. Along with my awesome partner in crime, Desiree (a neighborhood gal), and our wonderfully obliging bedouin, Yousef.

Finally, while on this trip, protests downtown on Friday, which just this past week gained momentum again, went from peaceful to downright ugly. Pro-reform protestors stood on onside of the Dakhlia circle, and supporters of the king stood on the other.  It started on Wednesday and they called themselves the March 24th Shabab (youth) as the pro-reform group mostly consisted of twenty-something year olds. Anyways, long story short, on Friday rocks were thrown from the opposition group (supporting the king) despite calls of peace from the March 24th Shabab, riot police came, water hoses were aimed on the shabab to be dispersed, and people were beaten in the process of evacuation.  One man, aged 56, died from heart failure that was caused from the beatings.  My Political Islam professor was there, and told us about it today. He was very discouraged and disappointed with the governments reaction and what this means for Jordan and state reform.

Rumors that the shabab consisted of Palestinians wanting to create a revolution against the king, or rumors that the Islamists were behind it, are false.  PM Bakhit blamed Islamists for the clash on Friday. However, according to my professor, Islamist groups did not show up the protest until it was well under way. It wasn't their push.  Nor were the shabab mostly Palestinian.

It is disheartening to see the government take such a position against people asking for reform - the same reforms that King Abdullah has been talking about in the past weeks.  This could have been a good opportunity to rally with the people, instead, the pitted the nation against itself.  People are taking sides, spreading rumors and not understanding each other.  Hopefully, people will start a dialogue.  In the meantime it is frustrating to watch - very, very frustrating.

Well, that wasn't as brief as intended. No matter. Now back to the books. :-)

Pictures are coming soon.

Dr. Samira

Perhaps, in my last post I was a debbie downer about my little exposure to the more conservative communities in Jordan. I realized, however, that there is someone who opens her religious world to me every Monday and Wednesday for an hour and a half in my Islam class.

My professor, Dr. Samira Khawaldeh, is a soft spoken, opinionated, and well-versed Muslim, who carries the class through concepts of the Quran and the various interpretations that have gained popularity over the centuries.

This past Friday, Samira took the class all around northern Jordan, hopping from shrine to shrine in order to see the tombs of important figures of Islam.  She asked the ladies to bring a scarf along in case we entered a mosque, but as we were mostly seeing shrines, we didn't have to cover our hair as much. However, at one stop, a boy saw our uncovered hair and started protesting loudly, pointing at us and saying, "Haram!" - forbidden.  Samira, clearly annoyed, went over a gently talked to him. The boy rudely ignored her explanation and kept on complaining loudly until the sheik arrived.  After the sheik informed the boy that Samira was a professor at his university and held two PhD's, the boy quickly left and didn't reappear.

In the bus, Samira tsked at the boy's behavior, called him a hothead, and explained that these young students of shariah think they know something after just starting their studies, and then try to enforce every little thing without understanding the surrounding text or the other verses that provide exceptions.

neighborhood girlies on the class trip at the Hussein mosque

At our last stop, the royal al-Hussein mosque, Samira engaged in a conversation with the muezzin - the one who gives the call to prayer - about the passages concerning marriage and the number of wives a man is allowed.  Afterward, she turned to us and translated the argument, finishing with, "at first he tried to defend the legality of having four wives, but after a little while, he started to see it my way."

This is how she is.  Her religion poses no conflict for her. She only sees people take it and misconstrue it to fit their own agendas.  She simply says that they do not choose to read the Quran fully, but take what they want from it.  If they were true scholars of Islam, she says, they will not try to make these claims about the religion. From issues such as the veil (which she wears), to Islamists, marriage, science, and history, she has confidence in her answers and smiles at the confusion of others before humbly "showing" them the truth.

Playing fair

I've realized that my exposure to Jordanian thoughts and opinions, is rather limited to one group of individuals who are relatively liberal in their thinking.

First of all, there is my family - practicing Muslims, they have defined their faith by embracing the modern context.  My host mom and host sister are not veiled, my host mom owns a hair salon, and my host dad tells me that, unlike most other men, he doesn't see it as a shame to cook.  They welcome the idea of living in a pluralist society with a mixture of religions, and are frustrated with the radical Islamists who capture the headlines.

Then there are my Jordanian friends, many of whom are guys my age or older, and the only reason I can hang out with them is because they are more liberal, or aren't very religious.  I am friends with a group of about six Jordanian girls who are conservative, but our time together is limited to our breaks between classes.

When I have conversations with these people, often times I agree with them.  I would like to post some of the things my host sister says about the idea of education and marriage, or my friends' thoughts on the political and societal impact of religion - but these would not fairly assess the opinion of Jordanians.  Most importantly, I do not feel like I have the right to analyze or critique a society because I can't  do that without there naturally being a comparison in my head between here and the states.  Not until I am part of this place can I try to fairly make social observations.

Here vs. there: defining democracy

Cries for democracy, reform, a renaissance for Egypt... this must be a good sign concerning future relations for United States and Isreal with this region, sah?  Not so fast. The people in the streets of Cairo are united in their mission to establish democracy.  In addition, most of those people are united in their opinion towards Israel and what is viewed as the occupation of Palestine.  Egyptians are also very critical of the United States unfaltering support of Israel and the continued occupation of Iraq.  Let's not be mistaken, democracy is the order of the day.  But to be true to its definition, if the people are to be fairly represented, the opinion of the majority will not naturally align itself with that of the U.S. or Israel.

Is this cause for concern? It depends. If the situation magnificently ends up being a democratic state that gives the Egyptian people fair elections and equality for all, the U.S. will find itself without the loyalty of Egypt, enjoyed during the reign of Mubarak.  Perhaps now, we need to be honest about our professed support of democracy.  This is what I hear from Arabs: that the U.S. is a realist nation through and through, acting in its self interest without a fault. It is clear with whom the U.S. is allied, and the Arab people have chosen a side as well, and it isn't with the States.  They are unhappy with our regional policy... and very unhappy with Israel.

So what does America want? Democracy for all as long as the democracy represents people supportive of us?  If that is not possible, would we rather just pay off one person with all the power and not have to worry whether the people agree or not? 

That is how people here see it.  They ask me these questions.  They want to know: is this how American politics work? Is this the beauty of being the top dog? Does America think it can write its own rules concerning global politics and not care whether people agree or not?

People are putting their lives at risk to finally have their voice heard.  Blood is spilled for democracy.  If it is obtained, it will be their democracy, not ours.

a few blurbs about some things

Marhaba! I'm sorry about my last post - it was a little pessimistic.  Politics never end here, and even as a political science major, I get a little tired of it from time to time.  Silly me for thinking that I could get a break from it in my religion class.

So let's talk about the next biggest thing in the news: Muhenat is engaged to Nihal.  If you happen to watch the soap "Forbidden Love" as every other Jordanian family does, this news would garner a few gasps.  Soap operas are very popular, most coming from Egypt, Turkey or Lebanon.  "Forbidden Love" is Turkish and involves a typical plot of an affair, dramatic cover ups, and dirty glances between the women.  And a little incest, but between cousins, it's okay.  It is very popular and to be honest, I love the new cocktail dresses for dinner each night. 

Last weekend I went with several girls to the southern port city of Aqaba and spent a day and a half on the beach in the balmy 80 degree weather.  It was wonderful to sit on the beach in February on the weekend, despite every cab ride being an argument in which I lost each time.

In case some of you are reading headlines, and even the articles attached to them (I'm a headline browser myself), you will have noticed the continued rallies in Jordan.  About 6,000 gathered on Friday calling for constitutional monarchy, with pressure on the king to reduce his absolute authority over the state.  But the character of the rallies is peaceful and with support from security forces.

Attention here is on Libya, with the common description for Gadafi being, "Magnoon!" (crazy).  Keep a look out for developments there - the International Criminal Court is beginning an investigation on the crimes committed by the military against the protestors.

Cote-d'Ivoire is seeing some violent clashes.  I have not read up on it, so I have not much to report other than that at least 6 women were shot dead while participating in a protest.  Security forces are becoming increasingly aggressive in their support of the incumbent leader.

What is with the military and security? It will never reflect well for the current leader and will only attract international criticism.

Doubts of Hope

Today, I was the most discouraged I have ever been concerning politics in the region.  This feeling was born from a discussion in my "Islam in the Modern Context" class where the guest speaker - an expert on Shariah law at the University - spent the whole class period arguing that the political actions of the West in the past century is the reason why the Middle East fails to overcome oppressive governments and to advance as a region socially, economically and politically. This conversation replaced the scheduled discussion of Islamic law.

Anyways, as I sat there, hearing yet again the blame, the bitterness and the bias, I realized that these feelings and opinions have penetrated and rooted itself within this society and it will take nothing short of a miracle to be able to move past it all.  And that's just the start.  For any sort of progress in the relations between Arabs and Israelis and Americans (political relations, that is), there will have to be a global cleansing of all theories that have become fact (each nation is guilty of this) and have thus further diluted the reputation of any side.  Finally, the widespread ignorance needs to be addressed, on all sides and of any background whether you are an American student, a Jordanian doctor, a Palestinian Shariah law expert or a Zionist grandmother.

Can you see where the discouragement is coming from?  If a class of American students who came to learn and study "the other side," can not hold a political discussion with a Palestinian professor of Islam without misunderstandings and wide disagreements about the "facts" of history, how on earth are whole nations of far less open-mindedness and oceans apart, supposed to resolve themselves?

I don't mean to use my class as a measure of the potential of international resolution. Nor do I want to somehow suggest that one nation is worse than another.  I will be the first to admit that we - the United States - have messed up.  But alongside that statement, I have to add that both the pot and the kettle are black and it does no good to point the finger.

Sometimes I wonder if, because of America's rather short, known, history, we tend to live for today and tomorrow and thus alienate ourselves in that aspect culturally, from other nations and regions that have centuries and centuries of developing national identity.  I say this, because it is easy for me to say, "Forget the last sixty years! Yella! Let's do something today." However, I don't know what it's like to live in the shadow of my family's memories or to have the political situation during my parents and grandparents' generation, still affect me today.

I don't know.  I'm ignorant of that life, of the culture of memory. And that will be the first difference between me and that professor.

Life in Pictures

I found these puppies on my run one evening and sprinted home to grab my camera and some cheese.  They were so cute and acted just like little kids... all nervous and falling over each other to be the first to come within a reach of the cheese.

Saturday, some students and I went to a girl's school in the industrial part of the city, and painted their walls with fun images.  These girls were absolutely adorable, gabbing away in Arabic and taking pictures of every and anything with my camera.

At first they were very camera shy, but after ten minutes of using my camera, the students wanted to be in every picture.  The sunflower behind them is part of the mural I painted.

King al-Hussein Mosque during evening prayers

Abbi - my neighbor CIEE student, her host brother Ahmad (taller one), and me and my host brother Naseem, explored the al-Hussein gardens and visited the mosque that His Majesty King Abdullah attends on Fridays.

A venture to the other side of town

Horns blared and shabab (youth) shouted early this morning as they lapped the neighborhoods in their cars.  It was too early for a wedding (as those are the typical sounds accompanying a wedding procession). The exam results were just released for the high school seniors.  Similar to the SATs, these tests are prepped for with sweat and tears, but differ in that the scores determine the university as well as the major a student can pursue.  This morning they celebrated. Early.

Yesterday I ventured into East Amman to help out at the Modern Arab School. It was similar to crossing the Walt Whitman bridge from Philadelphia into Camden.  The socioeconomic disparity between these two sides of the city was obvious.  My two friends and I took a bus to the school where over 300 Iraqi refugees attend each day to study English.  The school is run by the Jesuit Church and offers many services to the large Iraqi population in Amman.  We were able to sit in on an advanced English class and an art class for the children.

The English class was a brilliant display of Arab mentality. During introductions, two elderly women - well dressed and with their make-up done as fastidiously as the university girls - questioned us about Western behavior towards the East in the past decade. Once our answers proved satisfactory enough, the class broke into two teams to conduct a debate on food. I can't describe the discussions that went on as they made their points, but even with a simple debate like the role of food, the class took their positions seriously (or at least argued it seriously).  At one point, I whispered to my colleague, "I bet that momentarily, English will be forgotten." And just seconds later the class erupted and the two sides yelled at each other in Arabic and the poor ESL teacher was beside herself trying to reign them in.

It's not that they were angry, it's just how it is here.  Afterward, the two most heated debaters kissed each other goodbye as they promised to continue the debate in the class next week.

In the art class, non of the children spoke English.  The children kept laughing and laughing at my attempt to say butterfly, swing-set and slide.  But, if there is something I know how to do to connect with people, it is art.  It is such a happy thing to sit with 40 second graders and draw pictures of your house, your yard or your pet. When the bell rang, they boys and girls handed me their pictures so I could sign my name in Arabic and English. Anyone can be a celebrity if they find the right crowd.

Efforts: for sleep and peace

2:17 AM.  Severely jet-lagged.  Still.  Listening to my "Go-to-sleep" mix on iTunes hoping it will work the same magic it did for me freshman year at Denison.

So, instead of tossing in bed with a million thoughts running through my head while smelling the smoke in my hair each time I turn, I thought I would jot a few thoughts down here.

Recently, the eye of the media is focused on Egypt and the protesting in Cairo's Tahiri Square.  As you are probably aware of, Egypt isn't alone.  The exasperated act of a young merchant in Tunisia seems to have triggered the uprisings across the region which are broadcast daily.  Jordanians have joined the trend, and have taken to the streets each Friday for the past four weeks (peacefully).  They want reform within the government.  They are tired of the poor economy, and the ridiculous poverty rate.  Corruption is too common and too evident.  King Abdullah II works to meet the demands of his people and on Tuesday he disbanded the government and fired the prime minister.  He met with the Muslim Brotherhood - a political group heavily involved in the politics here - to discuss the prevalent issues.

The winter rains started this week as well, two months late.  Though the numbers were smaller, the weather didn't stop several hundred gathering downtown this afternoon.  The changes made are a step in the right direction - the people were listened to.  However, the new Prime Minister Bakhit, has already served a term.  The people know him, and they don't see him adopting the reforms they want to see.  Alongside this protest, Jordanians rallied in support of their Egyptian brothers.

This afternoon, I sat with my host family to watch the news cover Egypt, Iraq (a new country to join the list of protesting nations) and Jordan.  However, keep your eyes on the developments in Lebanon, and the tremblings in Sudan, among other nations.  There are also stirrings within the West Bank and Gaza.  And finally, my pet nation, Syria, called for a "day of rage" (to quote al-Jazeera) via social networks (which are banned in the country).  But today's protests in Damascus never happened, not surprisingly.  The country's secret police are too strong, and it is probably for the best that nothing did happen as that could have been very ugly, in more ways than one. 

Lifehouse - please put me to sleep.  It's going on 3AM and classes start Sunday.