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)