Almost, But Not Quite

I made it onto the plane, with the help of a generous dosage of drugs. I'm currently in Toronto, awaiting the final flight of my journey that will take me home to LA.

Even now, before I've made it home, the discrepancies in lifestyles have been hitting me in the face. So many strange (strangely unfamiliar, despite how normal they were pre-Amman) occurrences have me continually falling into a sort of weary discomfort. Or maybe it's just the fact that I've been traveling for over 20 hours and have had very few precious hours of sleep in the past 48.

I'm sitting at a rather comfortable table next to my gate. It's some strange combination of restaurant and waiting area for the gate, and they've decked out every. single. table. with an iPad for customers to use. Such a strange excess that seems blatantly ostentatious, something you would never in a million years run into in Amman.

Proud display of water bottles before security in Queen Alia Airport

Complimentary water on the plane was another brick wall that completely floored me. Paying for every precious drop of drinkable water- and cherishing it- had become routine for me. The couple sitting across from me left with both of their water glasses completely full.

When I got off the plane from Istanbul, which was a lovely 14 hour flight, I immediately ran to the bathroom. And was very confused when there wasn't a trash can to throw the toilet paper into.

There are white people. Everywhere. I feel like a shabab now because I can't stop staring. But they're everywhere! And they're white!

I understand everything people are saying. It's almost overwhelming to be able to comprehend the passing conversations going on around me- it's a tidal wave of information I can't switch off.

5 hour layover in Istanbul = artsy traveling photos

I have to consciously stop myself from saying shukran or afwan. It was a relief when I ran into Derek (someone from the CIEE Amman program) in the airport here, because he didn't stare at me funny when I described something as a mushkila.

Every time I see someone wearing a plaid scarf- or even a plaid collared shirt with a sweater over it- I think it's a keffiyeh. It hasn't been a keffiyeh even once.

I can't charge my computer because I don't have the right plug- the American style plug- for it.

I paid for my coffee with a card, because I didn't want to dig out the American money I have sitting in my wallet. Anything to stave off that!

These are all small things that I've run into, and I haven't even made it back to the States yet.

Lasts

The binaya besties

Today is it- my last day here. Fittingly marked by me getting the flu and puking my guts out this morning. I'm actually not even sure if I'll make it on my flight, I'm feeling pretty miserable right now.

This last week has been one of the longest of my life- I was talking to Katie about it earlier and we agreed that we have been experiencing the half life phenomena here, with every day getting exponentially longer. Perhaps it's the conclusion of Arabic classes (alhamdulillah, so done with waking up at 6:30 for class!), perhaps it's the slow trickling out of everyone in the program, perhaps it's the fact that as my life in Amman comes to a close I feel less compelled to have one last hurrah.

Everything here is this uneasy shade of last- is this my last time seeing this person? My last visit to downtown? My last death-defying taxi drive? I'm not sure. It is, for now, I suppose. I'm going back to the States, finishing college. But perhaps I will be back, and what I thought was my last will turn into one of many.

Last night we were talking about returning to the "real world"- that is, returning home, back to life as we knew it before coming here. I don't know if I agree that that's the real world. Life here has been so much more demanding, thrilling, and challenging than anything from my "real life" back home, and it feels a little insulting to reduce it to a study abroad bubble isolated from the real world.

Returning home seems so daunting right now. While cleaning last week Katie found a penny in her room and gave it to me to look at. It seemed so foreign, so strange, and I had to put it down after a few seconds because it was overwhelming me a little too much. Something as mundane as a penny. I'm worried my next few weeks readjusting will be like that- overstimulating, overwhelming with something that is so foreign yet familiar.

I'd probably be lying if I said this was the best experience I've ever had. Some of it has been really shitty. But I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss life here.

It's been real, Amman. I wish you luck in the future.

This Is How We Procrastinate

I should be writing my term paper that's due on Monday. I should be researching the regional arms build up in the Middle East post-Gulf War and how the US has become a foreign balancer in the region to counteract Iran, a position that Iraq vacated after the war.

I should be.. but instead I'm writing this! It's because I love you guys so much.

I mentioned a while back that I had taken a weekend trip to the Dana Nature Reserve here in Jordan. Dana is down south of Amman, and the reserve is one of six in Jordan. I've been to a couple of the others- Azraq and Ajloun, but those paled in comparison to Dana. Dana is beautiful- arguably the prettiest (natural) place in Jordan. Wadi Rum is, of course, stunning, but I need a little more greenery in my life. What can I say?

I went down for a two day trip with three other people in the program who all shared the mutual interest of getting OUT OF AMMAN. Amman is great, and all, but after a while the city starts to get to you. And as carless students here, it's pretty much impossible to get out of it unless you're taking a weekend trip somewhere. Cue the organizing of this little excursion.

Posing with our naswangee driver, sorry T

We ended up taking a service taxi there in lieu of the buses, which was probably a smart idea looking back considering we would have had to make two transfers to get to the hotel in Dana. The 'village' we stayed in is actually completely comprised of hotels- I think there are four there in total? We stayed at Dana Hotel, which was pretty nice in comparison to other places I've stayed at around Jordan. Except for the cold shower. Holy shit, that shower was like jumping into a glacial lake.

We got there just before sunset the first night, so we just settled in to our room and talked with some locals before eating dinner. Afterwards we wandered the village a bit, met some donkeys, and found a wonderful perch on the side of the cliff overlooking the valley where we could stargaze and/or talk. I have to say, despite my parents both being astronomers, I've never quite appreciated the night sky as much as I have learned to here. Out in the remote wilderness the stars take on a much weightier presence.

 

The next day we started out around 9, planning on doing an out and back hike straight through the valley and returning before sundown at 5. Things don't always go as planned. We ended up deciding we were young and adventurous and instead took the, dare I say it, left branch in the fork which took us back up into the mountains and we instead crawled along the ridge line, which takes so much longer than just walking straight through the valley. And then there was the whole thing where our trail disappeared and we were trailblazing on a rather steep mountainside- that was fun and all, but after a while we decided it was probably best to abandon mountain and head back down into the valley.

 

Because of our detour, we didn't make it to the end of the valley (not even close- a man passing through on his donkey told us that we had another 5km to the end by the time we decided to turn around). I am glad we chose the ridge trail though, because it made the way back much less repetitive than it would have been otherwise. Highlight of walking back through the valley: we found a stray goat! It ran away from us.

See that mountain allllll the way in back? Yeah we had to climb back up that

I enjoy a good hike every now and then. I consider myself relatively fit. Sometimes I run for fun because I'm one of those people. But let me tell you.. the climb back up the mountain was pretty torturous. It just. kept. going. Switchback after switchback after switchback. I've never been so happy to be harassed by shabab as I was when we got to the top of that mountain.

But man, isn't this view worth it? We walked (crawled) back up the mountain just as the sunset was beginning, so at least we got a world class view.

Other highlights of the trip:
1) PUPPIES. SO MANY PUPPIES. There were stray puppies everywhere and they were adorable and it took all of my self control not to smuggle them back with us.
2) DONKEYS EVERYWHERE. It's not horses, but hey, I'll take it. I also managed to be a donkey whisperer and get one to stand still while I pulled off a metal can it had stuck its leg through
3) THERE WAS A LITTLE KITTEN. It literally jumped around like a bunny- no normal walking allowed, apparently! It was very elusive and would come up to you but run away before you could touch it, and on our last night there I managed (somehow) to pick it up and it let me carry it around for a bit.

Looking back these are all about animals. Hmm.

Winding Down

As my time here in Amman winds down, with almost exactly two weeks (!!!) left, I can't help but feel like I have been utterly irresponsible in cataloging and documenting this experience. The small journal I bought to record my life here has gone mostly unused- minus all the grocery and to-do lists- and this blog has been a burden to update, thanks to crappy wi-fi, making it a few and far between process.

There are so many small things, little memories, that I should have written down that are already gone. There are so many more that will be gone in a year, two, five.

Will I remember stealing water from my building mates because we ran out and the water guy doesn't come for another two days?

Will I remember the week and a half I took freezing showers because the hot water mysteriously decided to skip our floor?

Will I remember the time I walked home, by myself, all the way from University Street, and it took me an hour and a half and my feet hurt because I wore flats that day but it was worth it because for the first time I didn't feel trapped?

Will I remember what the cats that live in the lot across the street look like? Will I remember that my favorite, the brown tabby, had eyes the same color that lights up the minarets at night?

Will I remember the feeling I get when the call to prayer starts and I make myself stop for a moment, close my eyes, and just listen?

Will I remember the nights arguing about politics and foreign policy and we're all disagreeing but the passion is so raw and real that nobody is angry? (Well, maybe a little angry).

Maybe I'll forget the pancake breakfasts with the boys after late nights and the procrastination cookies I make with Katie when we want to pretend like we don't have responsibilities.

Maybe, but I hope not.

Ferguson

I was planning on writing this next blog post about my weekend trip to the Dana Nature Reserve. I was hoping to show all of you images of the stunning valley and the vibrant sunset and the adorable puppies I encountered there. But at this moment in time I cannot possibly write about something so mundane as my hiking trip.

Yesterday the grand jury decided not to indict Darren Wilson. There will be no trial for a cop who shot an unarmed teenager in the street. He will walk free, and Mike Brown's family will not see justice for his death- not even the attempt to gain justice.

I feel tired. I feel disappointed. I am upset, and angry, and disheartened by this news. It is wrong, it is a mockery of justice and a slap in the face of what America supposedly believes in. And in these emotions, there is only incredible privilege. Because upon hearing the news, I am upset and disheartened- but I am not worried for my life. I am not terrified for a future of uncertainty. I have that privilege, simply based on the color of my skin.

How is America considered the pinnacle of democracy? Of freedom? Of human rights? How are we the best, the greatest, that the world has to offer? What a joke. What a complete and utter farce. We are all lying to ourselves, and it manifests itself in an ignorance that has cost so very many lives.

We are all lying to ourselves.

On Belonging

This morning, I woke up at my usual hour of 6:30 and lay in bed for my usual 10 minutes before rousing myself for my usual cup of coffee. Maybe I'll just stay in bed today, is my usual waking thought. A fierce battle of wills commences, ultimately resulting in me forcing myself to flip the light on and slip my bare feet out of bed onto the chilled tile floor (fun fact, my room is the only one in our apartment without a working heater. Yay!)

The inevitable result of living somewhere for over three months is that you slide into a daily routine (something I've had to give a presentation on MULTIPLE TIMES in Arabic.. I might not be able to say much but I do know how to describe in excruciating detail my morning routine!). When I think about life here, it's hard to conceptualize it within a framework of normalness, simply because I am so far removed from the society and culture I have been acclimated to. But I guess that's the thing, nothing is ever actually a dichotomy, no matter how desperate Western knowledge is to frame concepts as such. So while life back home, in America, is "normal", that does not mean that life here simply reflects the opposite of normal. It occupies a more liminal space, something somewhere in between that encapsulates components of normality and comfort and simultaneously bewilderment and alienation.

Take this morning, for instance- I have a usual morning routine. I wake up. I get ready. I walk to Mustashfa Shmeisani, music spilling out of my headphones, past the dukkan and the bird garden and the three girls who wait for their school bus on the corner with their pink backpacks. The music is a welcome distraction from the lingering stares from slowing car windows, reclaiming a space in which I refuse to allow them to infiltrate. This is a recurring moment of normal.

But then we pile into a taxi, and the driver begins speaking animatedly in Arabic, and it's 7:30 in the morning and even with coffee my mind is not quite up to the challenge of deciphering sentences, so I sit silently in the back and disengage. This is a recurring moment of isolation and alienation.

I experience a plurality of these moments every day- moments that expose me as an imposter and then, not ten minutes later, demonstrate my inclusion.

I'm done with fusHa and another battle of the wills commences- to gym, or not to gym? And of course, the gym wins out because sleep was forgone in order to pack a bag of gym clothes, so I trek down the hill. I was doing this walk this morning, the same walk I do several times a week, and was realized that this routine- ritual, even, had come to embody a sense of home for me. Of place. Belonging.

Moments of realization like that- that not only am I residing here, in Amman, in Jordan, in the Middle East, but actually living here- instill confidence in me that I am not wasting my time, that I have chosen the right path in life for myself. That this is a viable life for me. It is comforting to come to acknowledge that I belong in America, but I also belong in Jordan, and that these belongings are not exclusive. These belongings differ immensely due to the affectation of the subtleties of context, and yet all the same, nurture the same inspiring thought in me. I belong here.

Reflecting

My stay in Amman is almost over- a thought, once reflected upon, that produces an instinctive rejection. I've only just got here, or so it seems. I feel as if I know the city intimately, and at the same time, I am on the outskirts with no hope of coming anywhere close to belonging in the next five weeks.

I miss many things about America, but none of them are merely because they are American. I miss being able to cook whatever I want, I miss the late nights in Cafe on the Ave with my stacks of books and frantic typing, I miss my wardrobe of more than three pairs of pants . None of these are intrinsically American, and all of them comforts that I have just as easily lived without here. And I am reminded every day here that these comforts of home, the comforts that America provides, are not really comforts that America provides- they are comforts that my wealth, my class standing provide for me back at home. And perhaps it is good for me to live without them, to learn to grow without the comforts afforded to me by wealth. In these last few weeks I have found myself wishing fondly for home, daydreaming of what life will be like when I return, building up grand plans in my head of how I will spend my next months. But just as I have been daydreaming of the return, I have been dreading it.

Sometimes I think, what if I don't go back? I could just as readily live here- being a fluent English speaker is, fortunately, a hot commodity here. I could easily find a job and a comfortable apartment, and put down the roots here that I have been so desperately missing. Life in Amman has become everyday life for me- a city once foreign, once wildly exciting and desperately confusing has become normal. I feel comfortable enough to walk through the city without a vigilant eye canvassing the streets for shabab that I must avoid, I have a comfortable grasp on the geography of most of West Amman, and I can redirect a cab driver who is attempting to take me down a time consuming- and more expensive- route.

I think I have grown accustomed to life here in the Middle East- albeit I am living in a rather Westernized section of it- and I am relieved to be able to say that I could pursue a life here, as my studies and subsequent career choice will most likely require (sorry, Mom and Dad). This study abroad- if doing little for me in an academic sense- has at least allowed me to prove that to myself. And when I do return to the US, I think I will miss my life here, however fleeting and ungrounded it has been.

Obligatory Kitty Pictures

Cats and their computers. Much fascinate

Kareem at his new home!

Beit Sitti

Tonight I attended a cooking class at Beit Sitti, which CIEE graciously provided as an opportunity for us poor starving students to learn how to navigate the waters of Jordanian cuisine. Thea and I managed to be forty minutes late to the class, courtesy of a time mix up and good for nothing friends who left without telling us. Luckily we were able to grab a cab right outside our apartment, as one of the other CIEE students had just pulled up in one, and our cab driver was one of the more speed-inclined ones, so we got there post haste.

I shway helped make this

We sheepishly arrived in the midst of some spice tasting and washed our hands and slipped into the provided aprons before joining everyone else. We missed the beginning of making maqloobeh (a chicken and rice dish) and the bread dough, unfortunately, but were able to join in on the salad and muttabal making. All of which were, by the way, delicious.

We were instructed on cutting technique- like a choo-choo train, knuckles first down the chopping board- and trusted with the very important steps of dicing up cucumbers, tomatoes, parsley and mint for the salad. We also partook in the flattening of the dough balls; I don't want to brag, but I think mine turned out the best. The hardest task I think we were put to was peeling the roasted eggplants; we were warned that if we pulled off flesh with the skin we wouldn't get dinner! A handy tip that helped the peeling go faster was to let the eggplant "sweat" - basically, mush it a bit with your hand to get the water to release to the surface. Also, fun fact: roasted eggplant looks suspiciously similar to smushed up brain.

All my shababs, pre-flip of the maqloobeh

 We also saw the first part of making knafeh, a dessert dish here, which involved "pulling" apart the angel hair and then mixing it with butter to form the bottom. Knafeh is traditionally prepared as a cheese pastry, but here it was made with a cream filling, which I actually prefer. Something about cheese and dessert doesn't quite mix well with me (unless it is cheesecake, of course, in which case yes please I will have 5 slices).

Feed me, servants

We then got to sit down and eat the delicious dinner we had just prepared. I, as a vegetarian, was exempted from eating the maqloobeh, so it was the salad and bread with muttabal for me, which ended up being more than enough because it was so delicious I went back for seconds. We also got a nice surprise visitor- their cat, which we were explicity instructed not to feed, decided that since we were ignoring it on the ground it needed to get up on our level and jumped up onto an empty chair. It then proceeded to alternate between meowing noisily for food and staring pleadingly into your soul. I think, towards the end, it was probably thinking something along the lines of "these stupid humans aren't fulfilling their sole purpose in life, which is to be my servant and feed me always". Sorry قطة!

Sexual Harassment: A Daily Journey

This is one of the topics I've been tiptoeing around talking about because I don't want to lend credence to the white imperialist perspective of feminism, in which the Middle East is a backwards,  patriarchal society where women are oppressed and dominated and have no agency or voice of their own. That is obviously a blatant, racist lie, full of willful misconceptions of Arab culture and dehumanization of Arabs themselves. What I write here does not in any way condone some sort of Western campaign of human righteousness in which it is the obligation, the duty, the responsibility of the West to invade and intervene in order to liberated the oppressed women of the Middle East. Rather the opposite, actually. But I do want to bring light to the sexual harassment I receive here, and draw some parallels and distinctions to what I experience back in the United States. Because while I do not want to condone the imposition of Western values upon perceived 'oppressed' populations, I also will not remain silent on the injustices I perceive in the world around me.

Today was a typical weekend day for me- perhaps a little more secluded, as I'm studying for midterms. I remained in my apartment all morning, until deciding that I need to do something with my life other than make delicious omelets and watch TV that I don't understand. I was running dangerously low on money- only a couple of dinar left in my wallet- so I decided to walk to the ATM and invited a friend to come along. Several of us ended up going on this excursion- two other girls and one guy- and I walked with one girl as the other two walked in front of us. Three minutes out from the apartment and a truck drove by, with two younger men in the front seats. The window was down, and the truck slowed as it passed us, both blatantly staring at us. One guy leaned his head out the window as they passed, saying "I love you" as they drove off. We were silent for a second until Katie said sarcastically, to herself, "I love you too!" and we laughed for the next minute. Because what else is there to do, really, but laugh off such a situation?

We all split up as we neared the banks, each of us walking off to our respective ATMs. Mine is a bit further than the others, so I was walking quickly with purpose towards it so the others wouldn't have to wait for long. There was a guy loitering on the sidewalk in front of a hotel, and alarm bells went off in my head. Since my trip during Eid al-Adha with Katie, I've gotten pretty good at picking out the creepers. Something about him seemed off, so I determinedly stuck a scowl on my face and tilted my head to stare at the opposite side of the street as I walked by him.

"Bsst bsst bsst" was the response that got- the literal cat call here- and when that didn't elicit a response from me, the whistling commenced. I don't know if whistling or words is worse, but all the same it generates a feeling of violation, of being unwillingly transformed into a display for someone else. I had to walk past him again after using the ATM, and generated the same response. Ignore, ignore, ignore, because what else is there to do?

We walk up the street to the grocery store. A car slows and men leer. We walk by a group of men on the way back home. Their stares linger for a bit too long. A passing car honks, and the guy inside smiles as he drives by.

This was my morning. This was all within a span of 30 minutes. This is not, by all means, reflective of every waking moment of my life in Amman- but it is reflective of a cultural conception of women, especially foreign women, here. We are objects. We are displays. We are easy. We do not deserve respect. We are not people.

During orientation week, there was a presentation given on sexual harassment and how it will likely manifest itself here. It is, honestly, the same way it manifests back in the United States. Unwanted leers, comments, cat calls- the insidious projection of men into my life, claiming that their right to comment on my body is more important than my right to walk down the street unmolested. The advice they gave in responding to it is much the same as how you would respond to it in the US - ignore, ignore, ignore (because if you don't, and you confront it, you might not come out of it alive) and that is what I do. I ignore. I behave like a good, meek little woman and walk down the street as if I can't hear you telling me to smile.

It is exhausting. Some days more than others.

The Story of a Cat

I think I've mentioned this before, but one of the hardest things about being here for me is the feral cats. They're everywhere, and it's not terribly uncommon that you stray across the body of one that was on the unlucky end of a collision with a car. I have somewhat of a bleeding heart when it comes to animals, I'll admit, and it's hard for me to see so many with no hope of a good life, especially as it will be many years before any sort of animal infrastructure is built up to instate a catch and release program to diminish the numbers.

So of course when a friend send me a picture of a tiny, really itty bitty kitten that followed him for a bit up the street I demanded to know where he had found it. And then I went out, scooped him off the streets, and brought him home.

And then I remembered that I am a college student in a foreign country living in an apartment and that I really, really don't have the time to raise a kitten. Oh, and there was also the fact that I'm leaving the country in another three months to return to the US, and there's no way I would be able to bring him with me (although, of course, I thought about trying).

The kitten- I named him Kareem (كريم), meaning generous- was seriously the tiniest thing I've ever seen. I estimated he was about 3 weeks old; when I first scooped him off the streets he couldn't really walk (it was more of a very, very drunken stumble) and his eyes were that hazy-not-quite-a-color that kittens have for the first several weeks. The first night I attempted to bottle feed him- not the easiest thing when your makeshift bottle is a ziploc baggie with a corner cut off, and ridiculously messy at that. Thankfully I quickly discovered that he could eat (kind of) by himself from a saucer, and from then on he got warmed up kitten formula with some mushy wet food in a saucer. This was also a really great way to make a complete and utter mess of things, as he decided that he needed to be as close as possible to the food, and would clamber INTO the saucer in order to eat. There were a lot of paper towel baths involved.

I also got to experience the truly thrilling job of being a momma cat in charge of making her kitten pee. Warm, wet paper towel to the butt after feeding- works every time. Who knew? I do, now. I certainly do not miss that part at all. I had him for two days before finding a vet to take him to (of course located in Abdoun, the richest neighborhood in Amman), and spent those two days waffling over what I should do with him. I didn't really want to keep him- it just wasn't logical on my part, and he was so time intensive that I wouldn't have time for anything else- but at the same time, pets aren't really a huge scene here, especially cats. I kind of just decided that whatever happened happened and decided to leave it at that.

That Saturday I took him to the vet, randomly located above a small grocery store in a very, very residential neighborhood. The vet took him into the exam room, prodded him for a couple minutes, and pronounced him healthy except for a flea problem. I left him there for an hour, hour and a half for the flea bath and waited outside for him. It was a relatively pleasant evening in a nice, quiet neighborhood, so I just tucked myself in a nook on the sidewalk outside someones house and read a book on my phone. Apparently in Abdoun they are not used to young white foreign women perching on sidewalks for prolonged periods of time, because a man came up to me after lingering in his garden for a while and struck up a conversation with me. His English was limited- although better than my Arabic- and our conversation was mostly based on Obama (he was of the opinion that Obama should have married a white woman, but liked him anyways). He ended up inviting me inside for some tea, reflective of the hospitable culture here, but I assured him that I was fine where I was. He was nice, it was a well to do neighborhood, but I was alone and it's better to err on the side of caution. He wandered away after that, and I went back to my reading.

...until 10 minutes later, when he walked up again, this time with an older gentleman in tow. This older gentleman struck up a conversation with me-- his English was flawless, and he told me that he had lived in the US for 10 years during the 60s and then taught Arabic to expats in Oman. He explained to me that he was the previous fellow's neighbor, and had been fetched because of his superior English skills. He repeated the invitation to tea, which I once again declined, explaining that my cat was at the vet and I was just waiting for him. We said our farewells, he went off and talked animatedly with the first man, and then they went back inside.

At that point the one and a half hours were up, so I went back inside to fetch Kareem. He was all fluffy and clean from his back, but mad as a devil and made sure we all knew it. The vet visit itself was wayyy cheaper than it would have been back in the states- just 20 JD- so that was nice, seeing as I am a starving college student and don't exactly have a lot of spare cash to throw at large vet bills. Been there, done that, ready to not do that again for a while now. I collected little Kareem and shuffled him back home, now flea free and much cleaner.

Upon arriving home one of my roommates made her distaste for him very clear- a bit confusing as she had been there when I first found him and had seemed supportive. Regardless, that kind of put a wrench in things, and I decided to pull out all of the stops to find him a home. There was a lot of web crawling as I tried to figure out if there were any animal rescues/shelters in Amman, and what the animal scene was like. Things I learned: there's one large animal shelter that may or may not still be operational (their phone number doesn't work and their website hasn't been updated in a while), there's a vet clinic that sometimes takes in rescues and rehomes them, and that there's a small but surprisingly present animal community.

I posted an adoption listing on the aforementioned vet clinic's facebook page, and then went through the really fun process of screening interested people. It was hard because I needed to significantly lower my standards from what I am used to in animal adoptions, simply because of the animal community here, but I also wanted to make sure he went to a good home and wouldn't end up back out on the street. It took a couple people- my favorite was a 16 year old boy who was significantly more interested in finding out how old I was than in Kareem, and who wanted me to keep him for another month to potty train him before selling him for 100 JD to him- but I ended up finding someone to take him, and it only took me five days!

So I had Kareem for about a week- a terrible, terrible week filled with waking up at 6am to feed the crying kitten and running home after every class to feed him again and not being able to go out because I needed to feed the kitten and.. you get the point. The little bugger got on my nerves a lot, but there were also some high points (like the first day he figured out the litter box; I went around telling everyone who would listen how smart he was for pooping in the right place).

I met with the final approved adopter that Thursday, handed Kareem off, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. And now I can officially say I have adopted out a kitten in Jordan.. I think that's one to add to my resume!

Umm Ar-Rasas, Wadi Rum, and Petra - Day Two

On Day Two I woke up ridiculously early.

It was worth it, because hey I got to sit in the desert and watch the sunrise, but still. I have 8 am Arabic classes everyday, during my weekends I should be able to sleep in at least past 6 . Alas, the world had other plans.

The sunrise was nice, if you're into the whole sitting under an already light sky waiting for hours for the sun to finally rise its lazy ass up above a mountain. Which I guess I am into, because I woke up ridiculously early to go do it. So I guess that says something about me.

The bus ride to Petra was uneventful, minus one very heart wrenching stop at a restroom where there were two stray dogs and a litter of puppies outside. They were covered in huge flying insects, clearly starving, and also just about the sweetest things ever. I got a bunch of water bottles and filled up some empty coffee cups with water for them, but other than that there wasn't much to be done for them. Just about broke my heart to leave them out there in the middle of the desert.

Petra is indescribable, so I'll leave this one mostly up to the pictures. It's definitely one of those places that you need to experience yourself in order to truly comprehend the civilization that lived there. I saw the Treasury, of course, and wandered through the main street that was once lined by massive columns. After lunch I did the trek up to the Monastery (so. many. steps. but worth it) and then on the way back down a friend and I explored some nooks and crannies that had little hidden caves and crumbling ruins.

Honestly, while the Treasury was impressive, my favorite part in Petra was probably the Great Temple- these were by far the coolest ruins I've seen in Jordan (and I've seen a lot!) and they were truly massive. If we weren't pressed for time I would have spent more time exploring, but unfortunately we had to be back at the buses in a timely manner.

(This post has been brought to you 2 weeks late courtesy of bad internet and big pictures)

داعش

I was going to finish writing the post about Petra, but in light of the US + coalition attacks against ISIS (or داعش as it is referred to here) I thought I would give some thoughts on the current situation and what it's like being in Jordan while this is happening.

I woke up this morning to an automated email sent out from the State Department to all US citizens currently traveling in Jordan. In light of the recent airstrikes against داعش in Syria, it warns us to remain vigilant and keep travel documents with us. "The U.S. Embassy is closely coordinating with Jordanian authorities, but at this time the Embassy has no specific information on increased potential for threats against U.S. citizens" - in essence, we want you to be worried but there is nothing specific to be worried about yet.

I have yet to legitimately fear for my safety since arriving in Jordan (minus the death-defying act of crossing the street every day). I think this is a concept difficult for a lot of people in the States to understand, given the media barrage of the barbaric and violent Middle East, but life in Amman is really quite similar to life in any major US city. And I know that can change, rather quickly, and conflicts are volatile and unpredictable, but I have no doubts that I am very safe here. My concern is not for my safety here- I have the immense privilege of being a US citizen, and therefore have no doubts at being evacuated at the slightest hint of trouble. My concern is rather for those without my immense privilege, who have no such avenues provided to them.

داعش has support here- داعش has support everywhere, even inside Western countries. It is a real, legitimate threat in this region that has impacted thousands of lives through a campaign of terror. But it is those lives that I urge you to think of, rather than my own. I know I give a window to this conflict, an avenue of concern and a closeness that otherwise would not be there. Perhaps my geoproximity can act as a bridge of empathy to those who are losing everything in this conflict. As for me, I have not been impacted, nor do I expect to be impacted in any substantial way.

The bombing campaign against داعش concerns me, not because I fear it will catalyze conflict here within Jordan, but because I fear that it is another campaign in which thousands of innocent lives- women, children, AND men, who are so often criminalized simply by gender in war reporting- will be lost unnecessarily in the name of combating terror. I fear that there is no strategy beyond war, that there is no solution to the power vacuum that it will cause, and that the US is again wandering into war without thinking of the people on the ground. The coalition gives me hope, and I am glad this is a multilateral effort. Perhaps it will temper some of the consequences.

Umm Ar-Rasas, Wadi Rum, and Petra - Day One

This weekend the entirety of the CIEE Language and Culture program went on the organized trip to Wadi Rum and Petra, myself included. It was spectacular, for the most part, although I could have done without some guy trying to buy me for ten thousand dollars in Petra. It's all part of the experience, I suppose. It was nice that he recognized my agency in selling myself, even if it was because the guy I was walking with refused to sell me and he thought, for some reason, that I would give him a different answer.

We made what could be called a pit stop in Umm Ar-Rasas, a partially excavated site containing ruins from several different ancient civilizations. It also just so happens to contain the largest preserved mosaic in Jordan, which itself just so happens to be ridiculously cool. One of the panels (because it's so large it contains multiple different panels and scenes) portrays all of the important cities of the region. There was another separate floor mosaic in the ruins of another church; to preserve it from the weather they had covered the entirety of the mosaic with sand and only had a small portion of it that could be uncovered for visitors.

In my opinion, Umm Ar-Rasas was worth stopping at only for the mosaics. It had tons of ruins as well, but my lack of imagination and creativity makes it hard for me to appreciate ruins as much as they should be appreciated. Unless they are truly magnificent (umm, the Great Temple in Petra) they hold little fascination for me, and the ruins at Umm Ar-Rasas did not quite pass my bar. That being said, I did have a great time clambering through them (to quote the guide: "Climbing through the ruins is dangerous... but you guys are young") and peeking into structures that long ago were fully erect, inhabited buildings.

The real magic of the day began when we arrived at Wadi Rum after what seemed like hours of driving in a bus that was determined to bob up and down like a small fishing boat on a rough sea. We were staying at a bedouin camp- although camp isn't really the right word for the establishment, it was more of a tent palace. Katie, Thea and I were the first people to claim a tent- only to realize that in our eagerness to settle in we had been given the tent right next to the bathrooms. It ended up not being an issue, as we slept outside under the stars instead (!!!).

 The activity of the day involved riding camels out through the desert, then switching modes of transportation with the other group of CIEE students and sitting in the back of a pickup on the return trip. The camels... were pretty cool. I do wish we had had more autonomy whilst riding- the camels were all tied together in "families" so we were pretty much just extra weight for them to pack around. My camel, who mysteriously did not have a name (I tried asking one of the bedouins, but he told us very proudly that his camels responded to names but the string of camels I was in didn't), was rather mean and tried to bite the smaller camel next to us frequently throughout the ride; I was helpless to try and stop it as I had no way of controlling my camel. That also became problematic further into the ride, when my camel became hungry and started attempting to walk through bushes in order to snatch a snack on the go. Some chaotic moments ensued, because walking through bushes is actually not that easy. Who knew?

After our trek through the desert was complete, we were deposited at a rocky crag at which we climbed to watch the sunset- which was pretty spectacular, if a bit noisy given that there were dozens of us there. We walked a short ways back to the camp through the desert, and upon arrival someone informed me that dinner was still an hour and a half away. I was pretty devastated, given that this pushed dinner back to 8:30, putting a solid 8 hours between food times. We made due with sitting in the amazing cushioned 'room' that dinner would be served in and drinking the most amazing tea I have had in my life. Seriously, I don't think I will ever find a tea that compares to this stuff. It was that good.

To distract us from our miserable empty stomachs there was live music and dancing, which I did not partake in seeing as my hunger was currently eating itself and I needed to continue downing tea in order to refrain from eating an innocent passer-by. And then finally, alhamdulillah, food was served and I got to stuff my face with wonderful food and this amazing bread that they made right in front of us. Seriously, I ate so much of that bread that they probably thought I had some weird bread obsession. After dinner was, of course, more dancing and music, but my friends had some other plans for the night.

We had until 11 to wander outside the camp, so a group of us set off into the darkness for some stargazing. We ended up climbing another rocky crag adjacent to the one we had watched the sunset on and sat at the top looking at the stars. I've seen a lot of starry night skies in my life- it comes with the territory, having astronomers as parents- but I think this one might just have been the most breathtaking. It was a bit of a bittersweet stargazing for me- something about being a speck sitting in an expansive desert looking up at an infinite universe brought out a lot of sad memories of Rush and Willie, and I felt their absence very profoundly in that moment.

Settling in for the night back at the camp included more tea (of course) and dragging our mattresses out into the open to sleep out under the stars. About half of the other students had the same idea, and we all slept out in the night chill together, neatly tucked in by blankets to keep the mosquitoes away. I didn't sleep soundly- I never do, when camping, although this wasn't really camping, but something about being so close to nature and having a starry night over me while I sleep makes me wake up throughout the night in order to appreciate it all the much more. Regardless, I was well rested in the morning- very necessary, seeing as we were going to explore Petra.

Qasr al Abd

Yesterday several of us went on an excursion out to Iraq al-Amir, which is about a twenty minute drive from Amman located in Wadi Seer. We had two taxis rented out for several hours that drove us out there and back; the drivers ended up being an uncle and his nephew. I was in the nephew's taxi, and unfortunately I never actually caught his name. He was very indulgent; at one point I had gotten excited about a donkey (so many donkeys, so little time)(but unforunately no mini donkeys. yet.) that was tied up just to the side of the road and he stopped the taxi so that I could take a picture of it.

 

It was really wonderful to get out of Amman, even if it was only a twenty minute drive out of the city. Amman is wonderful, and I love being here, but it doesn't feel reflective of life in Jordan, especially West Amman, where I'm living. Driving out into the 'countryside' gave more of a sense of the community life that I had been expecting- kids playing in the streets, groups of people standing around talking, teenagers slumped in the shade of an olive tree on their phones. Our taxi driver often slowed down and said a greeting to someone on the side of the road, or would honk his horn as a hello as we drove past.

Our destination was Qasr al Abd, which translates to Castle of the Slave. Local legend is that it was built by a slave who fell in love with the King's daughter, in an attempt to prove his worthiness, but after it was completed the King had him executed. It was built around 200 BC (so pretty dang old!) and was mostly destroyed in an earthquake in the early 1900s, but was partially restored thanks to extensive efforts. It was originally a two story palace, with a reflecting pool (or moat? opinions differ) surrounding it and expansive cultivated lands. It was a bit hard to imagine it in all of its future glory, perhaps a fault in my imaginative capacities, but it was stunning just the same. I think my favorite detail was the lions that had been chiseled into the stone on the outside. Some of them had been well preserved while others required a bit of creative interpretation, but the amount of detailing put into them was crazy (and probably crazy hard to do).

There was a lot of crazy rock climbing and bouldering around the ruins that I did not take part in due to the whole long skirt and inappropriate footwear look I had going on. I had unfortunately decided to be an adult and do my laundry the day before, forgetting that things take FOREVER to air dry, so I was quite limited in my choices of appropriate exploring outfits. It wasn't too much of a hindrance- I was able to, in my opinion, adequately scramble through the ruins, but I definitely want to go back in pants and real shoes at some point.

We ended up picnicking in the ruins, coaxed some bewildered Jordanians to take a picture of all of us, and then drove up to some caves in the hillside that the people used to live in. There was a lot of stairs involved getting up to them. A lot. It was the kind of staircase where you start off totally fine, start getting those feelings of death about halfway up, and then reach the top and have to act nonchalant and unaffected even though you want to collapse into a puddle. I'm not really a cave person, especially when they have the slimy, stuffy smell, but these were pretty big. The ceilings and sides were streaked with soot and ash from the fires from forever long ago and the middle cave had some rubble and pits that were apparently where the King used to execute people. I was a bit confused as the 'execution cave' was larger than the one where the King supposedly lived, but perhaps the grandeur of a larger cave is necessary for public executions. Who knows.

It was a long day- we probably spent around four hours out there- and upon returning back to Amman we did not go straight home to collapse into bed, much to my dismay. Instead منذر, a PSUT student that Brandon met and who had organized the trip for us, took us to a coffeehouse for shisha and shai. The place we went to, named بيت بلدي (my country house) was really nice and had a great view off the balcony in the back, but I was pretty beat and wanted to go home so I stayed for a polite amount of time and then made my excuses and left with Katie, Jeiel, and Derek. Socializing for hours on end is definitely a huge cultural phenomenon here, but I'm not quite ready for diving head first into that quite yet. I'm more of a slowly submerge and adjust kind of gal.