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.