And I wanna bring Ahmad too! we are super super excited!!! Hopefully this week or next we will find out about scholarship decisions! I sure sure sure hope I get either a FLAS or a Fulbright Alumni Fellowship!
smiling like an idiot!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
More things from my list of things I love about Jordan
Olive Oil process in Ajloun
For the majority of November and December, exactly when the weather cools to a crisp calm and the trees generously feed us their sweet fruits, this is when you can stock up on a year's supply of olive oil.
Pick a clear weekend day and drive to Ajloun or Jerash to watch farmers bring truck loads of olives to a juicer factory. Olives are dumped in one end, and pure thick olive oil pours out the other end. If you don't have your own olive tree grove you can bargain with one of the farmers and buy a tanakeh of olive oil.
Any other place in the world a year supply of cooking oil might be an odd gift, but in Jordan, fresh olive oil is sacred and valued. Some companies give a tanakeh of the liquid gold to employees as a bonus, farmers can purchase a goat with their tanakeh, and sometimes a business buys tanakehs in bulk so that people can pay for their oil in installments.
Wadi Al-Mujib
Lather on your sun block, pack snacks in waterproof ziplock bags, convince your most fun and adventurous friends to wake up early, and drive an hour north of Amman. When you arrive to Wadi Al-Mujib Nature Reserve, you see steep mountainous cliffs harboring a valley full of bright blue water dancing around rocks and flowers. The view is breath taking, and to make it even more overwhelming, all you have to do is turn around, 180 degrees, and you are staring at the Dead Sea.
The escapade starts when you and your friends board the pickup truck and ride on a bumpy road to the trailhead. The trail is about an hour long hike through dry areas until you reach the fertile ground of gigantic shrubs, small pools of water, and a mini water fall. Wear your swimming suit and water shoes because after another short hike you arrive to the mother of all waterfalls. The problem is that you are at the top of it, looking down. The first thing that crosses you mind is, "What was I thinking! I can't possibly get down from here!" Then all your other friends start to gear up with helmets, ropes, and excited smiles and they start to repel down the waterfall. Don't be the downer of the group! Put your fear on the back burner and step into the harness.
So whether you gracefully and smoothly repel, like a pro, down the gorgeous waterfall or you pinball back and forth beating yourself up against the rock and getting soaked by the falling water in your face… Wadi Al-Mujib is an amazing opportunity to test your wits and play in the clear clean water.
Hashem Restaurant
Framed newspaper articles, national and international from past decades, wallpaper the interior of Hashem Restaurant. One article described Hashem as the "McDonalds for the poor" another describes it as "His Majesty King Abdullah's choice in food for a surprise family outing." Hashem is cheap, suitable for royalty, and delicious!
For a tourist or a daily customer, walking into the concrete open space between a counter serving hummus on your left and one frying falafel on your right, you might think the two workers are from the same tasty restaurant. There is no sign to distinguish the duality, but actually, each side is its own successful business, partnering together to bring complete satisfaction to hungry customers.
Immaculately crispy falafel and creamy hummus is a job too big for one restaurant, so the two businesses work together to produce the best food in the belad, and even better, it is open 24 hours a day!
Petra Kids
Home for hundreds of Nebatian families is one of the seven wonders of the world, it's Petra. As you stare upwards in awe at the carved Romanesque light red rock, there are constant little voices at your heels selling postcards and hand made jewelry. If you try to trick them by saying you don't understand English or Arabic because you are from Germany, they will repeat their discounted offer to you in German. Russian doesn't work, and Polish was a nice try, but they have those phrases memorized and practiced too.
Every parent's dream is that their child serenades them with a foreign language and grows up to be independent. The children of Petra usually don't attend formal school, but they speak about as many languages as are present at the UN, and support themselves and family members. These children are polite, entrepreneurs, and can help you in purchasing souvenirs or give you a guided tour, in any language.
Webdeh Park
Before there were bright lights in Abdoun and heavy foot traffic on Rainbow street, people flocked to Webdeh Park. Jabel Al-Webdeh was the "first downtown" in Amman and Webdeh Park was the first park constructed in the area, originally planned for the local families.
Webdeh Park is conveniently located in the middle of ____________ Museum. To get from one building of the museum to the other, you have to take a deep breath of fresh air and walk through the newly cut grass of Webdeh Park, almost as if the park is another exhibit in itself.
Since Webdeh is a residential area, full of families and apartment buildings, Webdeh Park serves as a backyard for the neighborhood; but also acts as a venue for concerts, private events, and even wedding parties. The carefully maintained green space is beautiful year around, and inviting to all for any occasion.
Arafat Sweets
If only the politicians of the world could work together like their food exports do at Arafat Sweets. Iran, Afghanistan, and Syria's pistachios are sprinkled on top of khishneh made from American flour wrapped around Palestinian and Jordanian cheese, and cooked in specialty lard from Belgium. With the precision of the Arafat Sweets' cooks, these ingredients create the world famous Ka'k bil kenaffeh.
Ka'k bil kenaffeh is a one serving, half JD spiral with magical powers to make your entire body feel out of this world! The heavy sweet base topped with fluffy cheese and wrapped in light khishneh and decorated with crunchy pistachios is a one of a kind treat that satisfies all senses. When you see the Ka'k bil kenaffeh your spirits will rise. When you smell the combined ingredients your sugar level rises. When you hear the metal clank of the scooper putting the treat on your plate from the tray your smile rises. And when pick up the plate and you touch the plastic spoon to the ka'k your body's hair raise with anticipation.
Finally, the taste of ka'k bil kenaffeh is delicious to the point that if there was any food that could raise the level of peace in the world, this is it.
BBQ-ing
Meshawi can be used as a timeline in a Jordanian's life. Favorite childhood memories include watching your father pour gas on top of the black coal and lighting it and jumping back as the fire climbs high in the air. Then as a jobless teenager the meshawi marks a pivotal point of freedom as it symbolizes the opportunity to drive, be out with friends unsupervised, and talk around homemade hot food.
On a clear weekday evening or a daylong picnic, meshawi cures all ailments and cravings. Put the meshawi and spears in the trunk, stop by C-town to buy essentials (meat, tomatoes, onion, and coals) and on your way out of town or to the park when you are filling the car up with gas, just bring an empty water bottle for 10 qirsh of gas to speed up the process of burning the coals.
Friday in Jerash
Spending the day in Jerash is truly a combination of ancient times and modernity. Take a history lesson by spending a couple hours walking around the Romanesque ruins in awe of its grandeur and preservation. Once your tummy starts to grumble with hunger or the kids start complaining about aching legs, you can drive to a favored restaurant.
Reenergize your body at one of the restaurants close to the ruins is a treat after a long walk in the sun recalling childhood textbook facts about Jordan's prided Jerash. It doesn't matter how many extended family members are with you, the restaurants in Jerash can make table extensions big enough for all of you. Bring a cake and celebrate a birthday or just take advantage of the beautiful view and relaxed atmosphere.
With outside seating, your whole family can enjoy delicious mezze, shade from grapevines, and natural cool breezes. The kids can play in the stone water fountains as you sip tea and chat in complete leisure.
Take the long way home: if you have the afternoon, try to get lost in the mountains of Jerash in order to find the perfect sunset.
Milano Italian Restaurant
After returning to Jordan from Milano on one of Raja' and his wife's many trips for their lighting fixture business, they decided they wanted to enhance their lives with a dramatic change.
In Jordan, at the time, only lower class families served others in public settings like restaurants. Raja' and his wife challenged the "culture of shame" in 1986 by being a prominent family in the service business. Raja' said, "Milano is a city either people love or hate. My wife and I loved it, so we named our business Milano hoping Jordan would love us. We serve at the restaurant like we serve at home."
With over 20 options for each salad, pizza, appetizers, and main course, the menu can be quite daunting. Too many scrumptious options to choose from! No matter what you chose from the patient waiter, the gigantic portion of food will take you on a ride through Italy.
At first there is quick eating because it is the best food your stomach has invited in a long time, then there is slow sensual chewing as your tongue tries to identify all the herbs and spices used in hopes to replicate it next week in your own kitchen.
By the end of your time at the restaurant you will be so full you will not be able to move. So while you sit there, you can start to plan a trip to Italy!
From lighting fixtures to one of Jordan's favorite restaurants, Raja' and his wife feel blessed and are thankful for their success. Raja' says that the most important part of their process was that they have been persistent throughout the 23 years and they never let the level of quality drop below perfection. Whether you love or hate the city of Milano, Jordan has chosen to love the restaurant, Milano.
Ma'in Hot Springs
If the naturally hot waterfall in Ma'in only made you want more, well, you are in luck because Six Senses Spa offers any body or skin spa treatment under the sun. The philosophy at Six Senses Spa is "Sustainable, local, organic, and wholesome" as they use environmentally friendly products to treat your body like you have always dreamed.
The spa treatment menu is 25 pages long! Maybe you could use a three hour "Signature Journey" which includes improvement to your cell metabolism and full body detoxification, mud wrap, and rejuvenating massage. Or maybe you need a specified facial, scalp treatment, or manicure/pedicure. If relaxing while your body gets pampered isn't your thing, there are also yoga, personal training, and meditation sessions… but in either situation your view is of Ma'in with the clean Dead Sea air filling your lungs.
But it is more than just a spa. It is a hotel and body care oasis between mountains, waterfalls, trees and flowers. You can stay for an afternoon or a week long retreat, whatever works for your schedule and budget, Six Senses caters to your desires.
Volunteering
What is the best feeling in the world? Maybe it is a break from the norm or being with someone you love. Put these two experiences together and you can create a volunteer opportunity. Find an organization that matches your interest and bring hope to the people they serve. When you help someone in need without any strings attached, sometimes the warm and fuzzy feeling is more satisfying than any amount of money.
Gibran Khalil Gibran once said, "It is when you give of yourself that you really give." There are many institutions in Jordan that give volunteer opportunities to people: everything from children to environment, from assisting the elderly to picking tomatoes with village farmers.
A popular volunteer venue is SOS Children's Village. It is an organization that cares for Jordan's orphans by providing them with not only food, clothing, and education, but volunteers offer the stability of a family structure.
Volunteering your time also allows you to make contact with people you might not regularly interact with, which brings citizens closer, and strengthens our communities.
Watermelons
Are you a watermelon connoisseur? In the spring, on Mecca Street, watermelon stands line each side of the road. Instead of a "taste test" you can "tap test" each watermelon until you find your favorite thud sound. If you are a lazy watermelon eater and you trust that all the round green gems are ripe and sweet, you can pull your car over to the side of the road and let an eager seller jog over and tap his watermelon for you. After you pay the enthusiastic thumper with strong arms, he will place your watermelon on the floorboard of your backseat.
They can cut it up for you, or you can make a fun mess at home. Either way you can spit seeds at friends outside or save them for roasting.
If you don't feel like getting sticky and on a natural sugar high, you can just watch the watermelon sellers in the early afternoon unloading watermelons from the trucks onto the stands. One man stands at the top of the truck and hoists the watermelon down to a man below with his arms in the air. The watermelon is carefully tossed with ease as if it is a weightless ball of tissue paper, but falls as fast as a bowling ball to the little guy on the ground. Every time the watermelon flies through the air from one man to the other your breath stops as you expect the man's hand to slip or knees to buckle under him. But each time the watermelon is caught, carried like a baby, and displayed like a trophy.
Gigantic Jordanian flag on the largest flagpole in the world
At the Louver in Paris you can walk from one side of the room to the other and Mona Lisa's eyes follow you; in most parts of the world you can drive through the night and the moon follows your car; but in Amman it is the gigantic Jordanian flag that follows you. You can see the symbol of Jordanian nationality at pretty much any location in Amman.
The flag itself is 30 by 60 meters, and if numbers don't mean anything to you, it was in the Guinness Book of World Records for many years. Not only is it one of the world's largest and most important pieces of cloth, it is hung on one of the largest unsupported flagpoles in the world.
Love on a Bike
Splendid solid colors, invitingly smooth brush strokes, and fluffy yarn crafts with big eyes welcome you into the Love on a Bike Art Gallery. After only 5 seconds you might need to pinch yourself or splash cold water on your face to determine if you are dreaming.
Coving the walls are large paintings of still children with their eyes closed while their imaginations go wild around them within the frame. Dreams are one of Rima Malallah's themes throughout her artwork. There are scarves for women and ties for men, but the prints and ceramics will accentuate any house and bring out creativity in any room's decoration.
Rima Malallah, the creator of the artwork and the gallery, scurries down the winding staircase to greet you. When you first see her you are shocked that she isn't a skipping pig-tailed 10 year old girl wearing a polka-dotted dress, but instead a business woman with the ability to create a space different from any other in Jordan.
Well, there is only one other place that could compete, and that is the painted wall outside the Radisson SAS. The only reason it stands in comparison is because Rima Malallah master minded the wall's mural as well.
For the majority of November and December, exactly when the weather cools to a crisp calm and the trees generously feed us their sweet fruits, this is when you can stock up on a year's supply of olive oil.
Pick a clear weekend day and drive to Ajloun or Jerash to watch farmers bring truck loads of olives to a juicer factory. Olives are dumped in one end, and pure thick olive oil pours out the other end. If you don't have your own olive tree grove you can bargain with one of the farmers and buy a tanakeh of olive oil.
Any other place in the world a year supply of cooking oil might be an odd gift, but in Jordan, fresh olive oil is sacred and valued. Some companies give a tanakeh of the liquid gold to employees as a bonus, farmers can purchase a goat with their tanakeh, and sometimes a business buys tanakehs in bulk so that people can pay for their oil in installments.
Wadi Al-Mujib
Lather on your sun block, pack snacks in waterproof ziplock bags, convince your most fun and adventurous friends to wake up early, and drive an hour north of Amman. When you arrive to Wadi Al-Mujib Nature Reserve, you see steep mountainous cliffs harboring a valley full of bright blue water dancing around rocks and flowers. The view is breath taking, and to make it even more overwhelming, all you have to do is turn around, 180 degrees, and you are staring at the Dead Sea.
The escapade starts when you and your friends board the pickup truck and ride on a bumpy road to the trailhead. The trail is about an hour long hike through dry areas until you reach the fertile ground of gigantic shrubs, small pools of water, and a mini water fall. Wear your swimming suit and water shoes because after another short hike you arrive to the mother of all waterfalls. The problem is that you are at the top of it, looking down. The first thing that crosses you mind is, "What was I thinking! I can't possibly get down from here!" Then all your other friends start to gear up with helmets, ropes, and excited smiles and they start to repel down the waterfall. Don't be the downer of the group! Put your fear on the back burner and step into the harness.
So whether you gracefully and smoothly repel, like a pro, down the gorgeous waterfall or you pinball back and forth beating yourself up against the rock and getting soaked by the falling water in your face… Wadi Al-Mujib is an amazing opportunity to test your wits and play in the clear clean water.
Hashem Restaurant
Framed newspaper articles, national and international from past decades, wallpaper the interior of Hashem Restaurant. One article described Hashem as the "McDonalds for the poor" another describes it as "His Majesty King Abdullah's choice in food for a surprise family outing." Hashem is cheap, suitable for royalty, and delicious!
For a tourist or a daily customer, walking into the concrete open space between a counter serving hummus on your left and one frying falafel on your right, you might think the two workers are from the same tasty restaurant. There is no sign to distinguish the duality, but actually, each side is its own successful business, partnering together to bring complete satisfaction to hungry customers.
Immaculately crispy falafel and creamy hummus is a job too big for one restaurant, so the two businesses work together to produce the best food in the belad, and even better, it is open 24 hours a day!
Petra Kids
Home for hundreds of Nebatian families is one of the seven wonders of the world, it's Petra. As you stare upwards in awe at the carved Romanesque light red rock, there are constant little voices at your heels selling postcards and hand made jewelry. If you try to trick them by saying you don't understand English or Arabic because you are from Germany, they will repeat their discounted offer to you in German. Russian doesn't work, and Polish was a nice try, but they have those phrases memorized and practiced too.
Every parent's dream is that their child serenades them with a foreign language and grows up to be independent. The children of Petra usually don't attend formal school, but they speak about as many languages as are present at the UN, and support themselves and family members. These children are polite, entrepreneurs, and can help you in purchasing souvenirs or give you a guided tour, in any language.
Webdeh Park
Before there were bright lights in Abdoun and heavy foot traffic on Rainbow street, people flocked to Webdeh Park. Jabel Al-Webdeh was the "first downtown" in Amman and Webdeh Park was the first park constructed in the area, originally planned for the local families.
Webdeh Park is conveniently located in the middle of ____________ Museum. To get from one building of the museum to the other, you have to take a deep breath of fresh air and walk through the newly cut grass of Webdeh Park, almost as if the park is another exhibit in itself.
Since Webdeh is a residential area, full of families and apartment buildings, Webdeh Park serves as a backyard for the neighborhood; but also acts as a venue for concerts, private events, and even wedding parties. The carefully maintained green space is beautiful year around, and inviting to all for any occasion.
Arafat Sweets
If only the politicians of the world could work together like their food exports do at Arafat Sweets. Iran, Afghanistan, and Syria's pistachios are sprinkled on top of khishneh made from American flour wrapped around Palestinian and Jordanian cheese, and cooked in specialty lard from Belgium. With the precision of the Arafat Sweets' cooks, these ingredients create the world famous Ka'k bil kenaffeh.
Ka'k bil kenaffeh is a one serving, half JD spiral with magical powers to make your entire body feel out of this world! The heavy sweet base topped with fluffy cheese and wrapped in light khishneh and decorated with crunchy pistachios is a one of a kind treat that satisfies all senses. When you see the Ka'k bil kenaffeh your spirits will rise. When you smell the combined ingredients your sugar level rises. When you hear the metal clank of the scooper putting the treat on your plate from the tray your smile rises. And when pick up the plate and you touch the plastic spoon to the ka'k your body's hair raise with anticipation.
Finally, the taste of ka'k bil kenaffeh is delicious to the point that if there was any food that could raise the level of peace in the world, this is it.
BBQ-ing
Meshawi can be used as a timeline in a Jordanian's life. Favorite childhood memories include watching your father pour gas on top of the black coal and lighting it and jumping back as the fire climbs high in the air. Then as a jobless teenager the meshawi marks a pivotal point of freedom as it symbolizes the opportunity to drive, be out with friends unsupervised, and talk around homemade hot food.
On a clear weekday evening or a daylong picnic, meshawi cures all ailments and cravings. Put the meshawi and spears in the trunk, stop by C-town to buy essentials (meat, tomatoes, onion, and coals) and on your way out of town or to the park when you are filling the car up with gas, just bring an empty water bottle for 10 qirsh of gas to speed up the process of burning the coals.
Friday in Jerash
Spending the day in Jerash is truly a combination of ancient times and modernity. Take a history lesson by spending a couple hours walking around the Romanesque ruins in awe of its grandeur and preservation. Once your tummy starts to grumble with hunger or the kids start complaining about aching legs, you can drive to a favored restaurant.
Reenergize your body at one of the restaurants close to the ruins is a treat after a long walk in the sun recalling childhood textbook facts about Jordan's prided Jerash. It doesn't matter how many extended family members are with you, the restaurants in Jerash can make table extensions big enough for all of you. Bring a cake and celebrate a birthday or just take advantage of the beautiful view and relaxed atmosphere.
With outside seating, your whole family can enjoy delicious mezze, shade from grapevines, and natural cool breezes. The kids can play in the stone water fountains as you sip tea and chat in complete leisure.
Take the long way home: if you have the afternoon, try to get lost in the mountains of Jerash in order to find the perfect sunset.
Milano Italian Restaurant
After returning to Jordan from Milano on one of Raja' and his wife's many trips for their lighting fixture business, they decided they wanted to enhance their lives with a dramatic change.
In Jordan, at the time, only lower class families served others in public settings like restaurants. Raja' and his wife challenged the "culture of shame" in 1986 by being a prominent family in the service business. Raja' said, "Milano is a city either people love or hate. My wife and I loved it, so we named our business Milano hoping Jordan would love us. We serve at the restaurant like we serve at home."
With over 20 options for each salad, pizza, appetizers, and main course, the menu can be quite daunting. Too many scrumptious options to choose from! No matter what you chose from the patient waiter, the gigantic portion of food will take you on a ride through Italy.
At first there is quick eating because it is the best food your stomach has invited in a long time, then there is slow sensual chewing as your tongue tries to identify all the herbs and spices used in hopes to replicate it next week in your own kitchen.
By the end of your time at the restaurant you will be so full you will not be able to move. So while you sit there, you can start to plan a trip to Italy!
From lighting fixtures to one of Jordan's favorite restaurants, Raja' and his wife feel blessed and are thankful for their success. Raja' says that the most important part of their process was that they have been persistent throughout the 23 years and they never let the level of quality drop below perfection. Whether you love or hate the city of Milano, Jordan has chosen to love the restaurant, Milano.
Ma'in Hot Springs
If the naturally hot waterfall in Ma'in only made you want more, well, you are in luck because Six Senses Spa offers any body or skin spa treatment under the sun. The philosophy at Six Senses Spa is "Sustainable, local, organic, and wholesome" as they use environmentally friendly products to treat your body like you have always dreamed.
The spa treatment menu is 25 pages long! Maybe you could use a three hour "Signature Journey" which includes improvement to your cell metabolism and full body detoxification, mud wrap, and rejuvenating massage. Or maybe you need a specified facial, scalp treatment, or manicure/pedicure. If relaxing while your body gets pampered isn't your thing, there are also yoga, personal training, and meditation sessions… but in either situation your view is of Ma'in with the clean Dead Sea air filling your lungs.
But it is more than just a spa. It is a hotel and body care oasis between mountains, waterfalls, trees and flowers. You can stay for an afternoon or a week long retreat, whatever works for your schedule and budget, Six Senses caters to your desires.
Volunteering
What is the best feeling in the world? Maybe it is a break from the norm or being with someone you love. Put these two experiences together and you can create a volunteer opportunity. Find an organization that matches your interest and bring hope to the people they serve. When you help someone in need without any strings attached, sometimes the warm and fuzzy feeling is more satisfying than any amount of money.
Gibran Khalil Gibran once said, "It is when you give of yourself that you really give." There are many institutions in Jordan that give volunteer opportunities to people: everything from children to environment, from assisting the elderly to picking tomatoes with village farmers.
A popular volunteer venue is SOS Children's Village. It is an organization that cares for Jordan's orphans by providing them with not only food, clothing, and education, but volunteers offer the stability of a family structure.
Volunteering your time also allows you to make contact with people you might not regularly interact with, which brings citizens closer, and strengthens our communities.
Watermelons
Are you a watermelon connoisseur? In the spring, on Mecca Street, watermelon stands line each side of the road. Instead of a "taste test" you can "tap test" each watermelon until you find your favorite thud sound. If you are a lazy watermelon eater and you trust that all the round green gems are ripe and sweet, you can pull your car over to the side of the road and let an eager seller jog over and tap his watermelon for you. After you pay the enthusiastic thumper with strong arms, he will place your watermelon on the floorboard of your backseat.
They can cut it up for you, or you can make a fun mess at home. Either way you can spit seeds at friends outside or save them for roasting.
If you don't feel like getting sticky and on a natural sugar high, you can just watch the watermelon sellers in the early afternoon unloading watermelons from the trucks onto the stands. One man stands at the top of the truck and hoists the watermelon down to a man below with his arms in the air. The watermelon is carefully tossed with ease as if it is a weightless ball of tissue paper, but falls as fast as a bowling ball to the little guy on the ground. Every time the watermelon flies through the air from one man to the other your breath stops as you expect the man's hand to slip or knees to buckle under him. But each time the watermelon is caught, carried like a baby, and displayed like a trophy.
Gigantic Jordanian flag on the largest flagpole in the world
At the Louver in Paris you can walk from one side of the room to the other and Mona Lisa's eyes follow you; in most parts of the world you can drive through the night and the moon follows your car; but in Amman it is the gigantic Jordanian flag that follows you. You can see the symbol of Jordanian nationality at pretty much any location in Amman.
The flag itself is 30 by 60 meters, and if numbers don't mean anything to you, it was in the Guinness Book of World Records for many years. Not only is it one of the world's largest and most important pieces of cloth, it is hung on one of the largest unsupported flagpoles in the world.
Love on a Bike
Splendid solid colors, invitingly smooth brush strokes, and fluffy yarn crafts with big eyes welcome you into the Love on a Bike Art Gallery. After only 5 seconds you might need to pinch yourself or splash cold water on your face to determine if you are dreaming.
Coving the walls are large paintings of still children with their eyes closed while their imaginations go wild around them within the frame. Dreams are one of Rima Malallah's themes throughout her artwork. There are scarves for women and ties for men, but the prints and ceramics will accentuate any house and bring out creativity in any room's decoration.
Rima Malallah, the creator of the artwork and the gallery, scurries down the winding staircase to greet you. When you first see her you are shocked that she isn't a skipping pig-tailed 10 year old girl wearing a polka-dotted dress, but instead a business woman with the ability to create a space different from any other in Jordan.
Well, there is only one other place that could compete, and that is the painted wall outside the Radisson SAS. The only reason it stands in comparison is because Rima Malallah master minded the wall's mural as well.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Role of Arabic in US Foreign Policy
Just before New Years Eve, a group of friends and I huddled around a table in Amman, with the TV humming in the background while we planned what we hoped to be the hottest party to start the year. The death toll in Gaza quickly climbed from 155 to 387, which caught our attention to the news. The party was canceled, Jordan froze in disbelief, and we sat glued to Al Jazeera for three weeks, heavy with depression and helplessness.
We did our fair share of volunteer work and demonstrations; my friends and I even created a short film to express our feelings (posted on this page at the top left), but I was most encouraged by my potential to make a positive change: a young American with a Masters in Public Policy and fluency in Arabic. The misunderstandings, many caused by language, in the Middle East have given me frustration but also a second wind for studying Arabic. I will start a Masters in Public Policy at The University of Chicago in September 2009, but I need formal training in Arabic before being fluent.
I am interested in public policy because as a US Fulbright Student Research Fellow in Yemen I observed the power of change in educational policy by participating in the establishment of the nation’s first public school that integrates deaf children into the general student body. I witnessed the project’s progression from abstract blueprints and budget line-items to “disabled” children playing in the school’s courtyard with their “abled” peers. This one milestone not only taught me about public planning and implementation, but also inspired me to do further work in the area of policy in the Middle East using Arabic. Minority education policy in Yemen is different from foreign policy in the US, but this experience introduced me to the power of policy change.
Having spent significant time in the Middle East, I know it is vital that the US Department of State have more policy makers fluent in the languages and ways of life of the people with whom they interact. I am grateful that The Kathryn Davis Foundation agrees with this concern, and provides support through fellowships for Middlebury's Arabic program for those of us who desire to use Arabic in policy positions in the government. I hope to continue my Arabic studies, as it has been a long road.
Not finding any of my favored courses to be available my freshman year in 2003, my counselor said, “Why don’t I just start with the “A” section and tell you which classes are available?... Anthropology, Arabic…” That was the first time I ever considered studying Arabic, and was hooked within the first week. After only three semesters of undergraduate Arabic I exhausted City College of New York's Arabic classes. Determined to continue Arabic and curious about the culture that follows the language, I went abroad the following semester to teach English in Yemen for six months and to have my first experience living in the Middle East. Upon graduating from City College's International Studies program in June 2007, I was awarded a US Student Fulbright scholarship to research the Deaf Community in Aden, Yemen.
Additionally, I received a Critical Language Enhancement Award (CLEA) to formally study MSA at the Yemen Language Center in Sana'a. Shortly after the completion of the CLEA, and at the beginning of my research, the US Embassy in Yemen was attacked and I was evacuated to Jordan for the completion of my Fulbright research. In Jordan, I formally studied “Qasid's Classical Arabic track” for four months, and have studied with a private tutor for the past 6 months and plan to continue the private tutoring until Middlebury’s Arabic Summer program.
I desire to attend Middlebury's Arabic summer course because after classical training in Arabic, I want to apply my deep grammar and theoretical skills in a more contemporary setting to prepare me for the dynamic levels of Arabic I will confront using Arabic in a foreign policy career.
We did our fair share of volunteer work and demonstrations; my friends and I even created a short film to express our feelings (posted on this page at the top left), but I was most encouraged by my potential to make a positive change: a young American with a Masters in Public Policy and fluency in Arabic. The misunderstandings, many caused by language, in the Middle East have given me frustration but also a second wind for studying Arabic. I will start a Masters in Public Policy at The University of Chicago in September 2009, but I need formal training in Arabic before being fluent.
I am interested in public policy because as a US Fulbright Student Research Fellow in Yemen I observed the power of change in educational policy by participating in the establishment of the nation’s first public school that integrates deaf children into the general student body. I witnessed the project’s progression from abstract blueprints and budget line-items to “disabled” children playing in the school’s courtyard with their “abled” peers. This one milestone not only taught me about public planning and implementation, but also inspired me to do further work in the area of policy in the Middle East using Arabic. Minority education policy in Yemen is different from foreign policy in the US, but this experience introduced me to the power of policy change.
Having spent significant time in the Middle East, I know it is vital that the US Department of State have more policy makers fluent in the languages and ways of life of the people with whom they interact. I am grateful that The Kathryn Davis Foundation agrees with this concern, and provides support through fellowships for Middlebury's Arabic program for those of us who desire to use Arabic in policy positions in the government. I hope to continue my Arabic studies, as it has been a long road.
Not finding any of my favored courses to be available my freshman year in 2003, my counselor said, “Why don’t I just start with the “A” section and tell you which classes are available?... Anthropology, Arabic…” That was the first time I ever considered studying Arabic, and was hooked within the first week. After only three semesters of undergraduate Arabic I exhausted City College of New York's Arabic classes. Determined to continue Arabic and curious about the culture that follows the language, I went abroad the following semester to teach English in Yemen for six months and to have my first experience living in the Middle East. Upon graduating from City College's International Studies program in June 2007, I was awarded a US Student Fulbright scholarship to research the Deaf Community in Aden, Yemen.
Additionally, I received a Critical Language Enhancement Award (CLEA) to formally study MSA at the Yemen Language Center in Sana'a. Shortly after the completion of the CLEA, and at the beginning of my research, the US Embassy in Yemen was attacked and I was evacuated to Jordan for the completion of my Fulbright research. In Jordan, I formally studied “Qasid's Classical Arabic track” for four months, and have studied with a private tutor for the past 6 months and plan to continue the private tutoring until Middlebury’s Arabic Summer program.
I desire to attend Middlebury's Arabic summer course because after classical training in Arabic, I want to apply my deep grammar and theoretical skills in a more contemporary setting to prepare me for the dynamic levels of Arabic I will confront using Arabic in a foreign policy career.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Things I love about Jordan
My personal list of things I love in Jordan exceeds this one, but here are some simple articles I have written for a booklet coming out in a couple months. The booklet is designed to be like a "Lonely Planet" for Jordanians to think, "Ah yes, I do love Jordan, and there are a lot of great things to do in this country!" It is written in simple (and slightly cheesey at some times)language because our audience will be reading in their second language. Some of it is stuff that you might only understand if you know Arabic, or the culture here in Jodan, but most of it is straight forward. Enjoy! And you still have another (almost) 2 months to come visit me and see all of these things!
Sugar Daddy's
"When you walk in, you feel like cake is going to come out of the walls, such a cute 'Alice and Wonderland' setting," says a Sugar Daddy's addict. Just by walking in or passing the vivacious store, your sugar level rises.
Some children dream of becoming firefighters or doctors, but Fadi Jaber knew of his destiny from a young age. Growing up on an American compound in Saudi Arabia, Fadi was jealous of the children whose mothers baked them brownies and cookies. "My mother didn't know how to bake, so I had to use box mixes, and make cakes myself." That was the first step of his success; the second was a bite of a cupcake in New York which led to a job in the bakery. Next he baked from his house in Jordan which built a solid customer base, and led to opening Sugar Daddies in Amman, Beirut and Dubai.
People warned Fadi that Jordan might not be "ready for cupcakes", but he took the risk and opened Sugar Daddy's in 2007 and introduced Amman to fluffy, homemade, and colorful frosting topped cupcakes. Fadi Jaber has achieved his dream of establishing a cupcake frenzy outburst in the Middle East. His success is a fairy tale and inspiration in itself. It is a testament to those who aspire to challenge the norm!
A cupcake is the best anti-depressant, or just perfect for any occasion!
Knaffe from Habibeh
In the Belad at Habibeh, on any evening you will find anywhere between 5 and 25 people outside leaning against the brick walls with a white plastic spoon in one hand and balancing a steaming styrofoam plate in the other. Fresh knaffe "tastes best standing" says a satisfied Habibeh customer shoveling the stringy cheese and syrup drenched spoonfuls into his mouth.
Whether it is an evening snack or after a filling lunch of mansef, there is always room for warm knaffe from Habibeh. No matter how cold the evening or how long the ordering queue, the knaffe from Habibeh is a fix for all those with a sweet tooth.
Floating in the Dead Sea
Brilliant minds from around the world have tried to reproduce effects the Dead Sea has on the body. But there is only one place on this planet where you can effortlessly float in natural salt water and lean your head back to see the beautiful surrounding mountains and open sky.
Some call it magic, other try to explain it scientifically, but people from every corner of the world come to the Dead Sea to reap its benefits for their skin, bone structure, or a general "pick-up". Studies say that sleeping for only 5 minutes while floating equals up to 8 hours of regular sleep in your bed.
Just a 30 minute drive from Amman, the floater can read a newspaper, take a nap, or try to impossibly stand in the water on the ground. It is a "zero gravity" out of the world feeling!
Fireworks
In some countries fireworks are prohibited, and can only be viewed on select days. How repressive! Year around, the night in Jordan is lit with colorful fireworks. When you hear the bang and see the sparkles in the sky, you imagine groups of people laughing and dancing in celebration of weddings, graduations, or engagements. A smile is contagious; so when you see the fireworks and think about the people's joy, you can't help but to smile about their festivities.
Salahaldeen
Salahadeen is the bakery which acts as the central hub for the hearty sesame loaves for all of Amman. You can buy the delicious bread from carts serving them as half JD egg and tomato sandwiches on busy sidewalks during the day, but the best time to get them is steaming hot, fresh out of the oven at 3AM!
After a fun night of dancing or if you just desire a midnight snack, you can buy a small loaf, an oven baked egg, a triangle of wrapped cheese, slices of tomatoes, and a small bag of zataar. You can assemble your own sandwich just two steps from the cash register at a small bar decorated with cheese wrappers, egg shells, and sesame seeds. In the wee hours of the morning, the warm sandwich hits the spot and will satisfy all.
Souk Al-Juma'
"One man's trash is another man's treasure!" Every Friday morning, before the sun rises, the large parking lot in Abduli is transformed into a haven for those who love to dig for deals. Tables topped with mounds of colorful clothes make a complex maze for hours of surprises. Everything from lime green wool suits to squeaky clean running shoes is available in excellent condition for a cheap price.
After purchasing a new wardrobe for 10 JD, you can wander through the fruit and vegetable market on the same parking lot. Much cheaper than the fruit stand next to your house, you can do your produce shopping here for the week and chose from Amman's very best selections.
A full morning of shopping will make you excited to reach home and show off your loot, but the treasures are worth every ounce of energy!
Royal Film Commission
Nothing feels better than seeing pictures of your country on the big screen, and the Royal Film Commission is spreading scenes of Jordan to televisions and cinemas all over the world.
Established in 2003, the goal of the Royal Film Commission (RFC) is twofold: to "advance Jordan's creative economy" and to put Jordan on the map as a venue for international film makers. RFC is good for Jordan and Jordan's image to the rest of the world.
This government organization gives Jordan's youth the opportunity to express themselves through an artistic lens with workshops, internships and supports local students' films.
The environment at the RFC is relaxed and ideal for those of all diverse backgrounds. Strategically situated off Rainbow Street in a quiet cove between trees, the RFC has a large screen in front of cozy seats for the audience. The best thing about the RFC is that all screenings are free! So you will take no risk by going every week to a different film, because if a film is too artsy or too factual for your taste, you can leave, no problem! But if you love it, there are always more films to quench your desire.
Kite Flying
During the summer days in Amman the sky is sprinkled with kites of all colors and sizes. The wind holds some steadily and tosses others along the horizon of limestone buildings in front of Amman's mountains.
Now, follow the diamond's string, in the air, down towards the Earth to small hands of laughing children.
Kite flying is world famous in Amman. Many children learned to fly kites from an older sibling or neighbor, which inspired the Musa Al-Saket Cultural Center to have a Kite Flying Summer Camp. Ranna is one of the directors at this camp, and has been an avid kite flyer since her childhood. She believes in the children of Amman, and she believes that kite flying can develop creativity as another option for children's entertainment. Ranna hopes that "when you look into the summer sky of Amman and see kites, you think of dreams and success of our children."
Abu Saleh
Pushing a cart down Amman's busy morning streets in 1983, Abu Saleh gave taxi drivers and the busy working force the boost they needed to wake up by serving coffee and tea.
It didn't take long before the trend caught on and he didn't need to push his cart anywhere. He parked his portable coffee/tea machine, and cars drove to him. Since he didn't need to be mobile any longer, Abu Saleh decided he could better serve his clientele with a fully functional shop on the same corner.
Keeping with the system, the drivers need to only roll their window down and give a hand gesture for their preferred beverage: coffee or tea. Since coffee is the more commonly ordered, it is assumed that you want coffee unless you sign to him that you want tea by dipping an imaginary tea bag in the air with your thumb and forefinger tips touching with other three fingers tucked under (see figure 1).
The next question is always, "How much sugar?" No need to ask that question here, cause after you distinguish if you want tea from coffee, you can sign to him, "medium sugar" with your palm and four fingers at a 90 degree angle and give the "cut off" gesture (see figure 2). "I like it really sweet" can be communicated with a palm up, raising motion (see figure 3). And, you guessed it, palm down, pressing down means, "light sugar, please" (see figure 4). "No sugar" is signed with palm facing away from your body and a slight shake of the head (see figure 5).
Abu Saleh brought his son and other energetic boys to deliver the coffee and tea from the shop's stove to the tired drivers. They run to the street with your hot energy drink without spilling a drop.
Abu Saleh has now set up or inspired 15 more shops with the same system across Amman.
Friday breakfast at The Bakehouse
The only reason to get out of bed early on a Friday morning is to go to the American Bakehouse. Take a taxi in your sleepy state close to 1st circle just off rainbow street, then follow the smell of pancakes and hot syrup.
As you open the door, the smell of freshly brewed American coffee opens your eyes and gives you the energy to run up the stairs for a table absorbing the morning's sun.
You might be shocked when the server comes to your table and is not a hair-sprayed blond "Sally" with a blue apron and smacking on gum. In your confused state, just say, "coffee." After one sip of classic smooth coffee the laminated paper in front of you becomes a dream of breakfast options. With waffles, pancakes, French toast, and sunny side up eggs, every choice is a delicious one.
The only way you will be convinced that you are not at an American diner is if you look out the window to Amman's classic beautiful view.
Amigo
Asam spent months meticulously planning every inch of Bistro One's design, décor, and menu. Painstaking detail went into the process. When he finally purchased the building for Bistro One, the seller of the land asked, "Why don't you take the empty lot next to it?" Asam thought, after all the work it has taken to prepare Bistro One, I can't put any more effort into another place!
No effort was the theme of the empty lot purchased. They hung some old rock and roll posters on the wall, put a boom box on the bar, bought a second hand pool table, and told some college kids to sell cheap drinks and keep it homey. Amigo bartender says, "People love it here because it is so relaxed, and they call it their 'home away from home', it is like a friend's living room."
Amigo's timeless play list accompanies the "best burgers" in Amman. Rumors say that the only explanation for the delicious burgers and chicken wings is that Amigo shares a kitchen with Bistro One… regardless, it is a bar that can't be beat.
Not only did Amigo not have any planning, there is no schedule for renovation or remodeling. Amigo's familiar comfort, affordable drinks, and late hours keep young faces visiting every night of the week.
Dead Sea Marathon
For over 16 years The Dead Sea Ultra Marathon has been the annual highlight and goal of many people's spring. People from all over the world come to Jordan to run to the lowest place on Earth. Thanks to the Society for Care of Neurological Patients, the Dead Sea Marathon encompasses an ultra marathon, regular marathon, half marathon, a 10 Km, and children's fun run.
It is an event for the whole family! Everyone can run at their own paces and distances. A past participant glowed while saying, "Crossing the finish line and knowing that you did something that challenges you both physically and mentally was my favorite part of the day… plus it makes you feel even stronger because your entry fee went for a worthy cause."
The race is well established, catering to as many as 3,500 participants, so organization and plenty of water stations is a bonus. The race starts off chilly at 7AM; but once you start running, you take a look at the beautiful view of the Dead Sea, and you have your friends and family cheering you on, you feel like you could run forever.
King Hussein Car Museum
The Royal Automobile Museum not only takes you on a historical journey through the Hashimite Kingdom of Jordan, but also through the political background of the past three kings, all by walking around their car collections. This museum is a one of a kind as each car has an importance to one of the kings during his time as ruler.
The largest car collector was His Majesty King Hussein (***how do we word this?). As you walk through the museum, the years of the cars increase as His Majesty King Hussein’s story progresses. His cars tell his story from: “He bought a Ford Pilot 1950 to remind himself of the first car he ever drove” to the cars given to him as wedding gifts.
The beginning of your time at the museum is winding around shiny classic cars, and learning about history in Jordan, then you walk into a lit up room where two bright red Ferraris face you. They are parked next to a Lamborghini and a 1966 convertible Amphicar, “the car that swims". You can watch footage of His Majesty King Hussein driving on land in Aqaba, entering the Red Sea, and then speeding off into the deep blue horizon.
Even if you don’t know anything about cars or care about automobiles, you will be impressed by the Armored Rolls Royce or an Aston Martin, which is the same car used in James Bond movies. It is a car lover's preferred way to take a history lesson!
Scuba Diving in the Red Sea
For out of this world colors and creatures, Jordan’s Gulf of Aqaba give scuba divers the chance to see 158 species of living corals which home 500 different kinds of fish. Since scuba diving and water adventures is relatively new to this part of the world, the beautiful sea life still flourishes and is virtually untouched.
On avid Red Sea scuba diver said, “For the first time in my life I swam next to eels and even a sea turtle! It is so magical that every time I put on my flippers I feel like I am in a Disney movie!"
The diver warns that "no prior experience or expensive gear is needed for beginners", and that there are "a lot of eco-friendly companies to hold your hand every stroke of the way."
King Hussein Children Museum
With 150 exhibits and a different monthly theme, Amman's King Hussein Children Museum is children's favorite place to be the rulers of their own world. It is surprising that the kids are infatuated by "a big kid's world" with a bank, supermarket, police station, and theatre for them to pretend to be a boss with a jail cell or a customer with a miniature shopping cart. All the corners at the museum have rounded edges and counters are half the regular size, but the ATM spits out coins when you put a card in, and the cash register rings and scans the container of Nido.
The "Where do things come from" section is for video game lovers to learn about farm life. Here they can sit on a bee that moves back and forth like a motorcycle might at an arcade, but this time they are flying on a screen in front of them while dodging trees and producing honey. They can milk a virtual cow and pick up her neighbor, a hen, to gather eggs.
Most amusing for the adult bystander might be the television station where kids can see themselves on a large screen “on air”. Children spend ten seconds as serious as Barbra Walters then stick out their tongues and dance on camera.
From recycling processes, robots and "how the internet works", to a human body exhibit and a planetarium, there is something interesting for everyone in the family!
Sha'r al-binat
In the past, a man used to walk down your neighborhood yelling, “sha’r al-binat”. He held a large stick decorated with clear plastic bags filled of either bright pink or white cotton candy, otherwise known as "fairy floss". Even at 9 o'clock in the morning children are ready for a pure sugar start to their day.
Some say that the "cotton candy machine" was invented by a New Orleans DENTIST! But regardless, whether delivered to your doorstep or watching it made in a large silver spinning pot, the cheap sweet treat tastes fluffy and heavenly.
In the same way that children will always love sugar at any time of the day, there will always be a man who walks the neighborhood streets selling sha'r al-binat. The only difference is that maybe hoarse from yelling, he now uses a loud unique whistle to get children to jump for their saved coins.
17 articles above… plus two from mock….. equals 19 totally FINISHED!
Below are 6 more first drafters for Thursday’s meeting….. totaling 25
Wild Jordan
Wild Jordan is more than just a delicious restaurant with vegetarian and organic options; it is the location where you can learn all about The Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RCSN). RCSN, whose office is situated at the entrance of Wild Jordan, promotes eco-friendliness in Jordan in efforts to preserve nature’s beauty for locals and tourists. At this office, there is information about the six nature reserves; each with its own special appeal, catering to the different preferences of wilderness lovers.
After eating a filling and healthy meal while looking at the breathtaking view from the top of Jabel Amman (right?), you can stroll through their merchandise section. Walk carefully, because it feels like a museum with such delicacies! You can “just look” by keeping your hands in your pockets and your children on best behavior, or you can purchase the perfect gift or house display item: decorated ostrich eggs, ornate silver jewelry, or handmade soaps. Proceeds go to the creators of the ornaments, as they are all crafted by locals living around or within the nature reserves supported by RCSN.
Eat a hearty meal, browse through carefully crafted gifts, and plan your next adventure vacation all in one afternoon without leaving the Wild Jordan building!
Dana and Feynan Nature reserves
A scenic two hour drive south from Amman, Dana Biosphere Reserve has spectacular sunsets, wildlife, and fresh air from the Rift Valley to the desert lowlands of Wadi Araba. Whether you are a seasoned hiker looking for a challenge, or a casual stroller looking for wild birds, Dana has a trail for you. Depending on your preference, a trained guide can push your physical limits or give you vital information about your surroundings.
If you are in need of seclusion, you can chose one of the self guided trips ranging from 1-6 hours in length. Bring your own food or eat from the tasty dishes offered at the Dana Guest House. Come for the day, or stay the whole holiday. You can stay in a posh guest house with a balcony and canyon view, or rough it at a comfortable campsite.
You can take a vigorous day long hike from Dana or you can drive an hour after reaching Dana to Feynan eco-lodge. The lodge is untouched by civilization with no paved roads or electricity! Solar power is used for emergency items, but the eco-lodge is lit by candles at night, creating a desolate desert ambiance.
A recent visitor to The Dana Biosphere Reserve said, “My favorite part about being at Dana is walking to the Feynan eco-lodge through wooded highlands, rocky slopes, gravel plains, and sand dunes. Jordan’s biodiversity is at its best at Dana!”
Recycling in Jordan
Jordan is taking its first baby steps towards creating a recycling population. With information about recycling processes at Amman’s children’s museum and placing big plastic green bins at offices, people are beginning to catch on to what could make a beautiful Jordan even cleaner for generations to come.
Did you ever imagine that a company starting off in 1967 producing cars for the disabled would evolve, in 1998, into “Nasser for Environmental Services”, a recycling company? They are leaders in the Arab world in terms of economic development through managing waste with our environment in mind.
It feels empowering to know that you have some control on your carbon footprint on our Earth, and it is getting smaller by recycling with Nasser for Environmental Services.
Sugar Daddy's
"When you walk in, you feel like cake is going to come out of the walls, such a cute 'Alice and Wonderland' setting," says a Sugar Daddy's addict. Just by walking in or passing the vivacious store, your sugar level rises.
Some children dream of becoming firefighters or doctors, but Fadi Jaber knew of his destiny from a young age. Growing up on an American compound in Saudi Arabia, Fadi was jealous of the children whose mothers baked them brownies and cookies. "My mother didn't know how to bake, so I had to use box mixes, and make cakes myself." That was the first step of his success; the second was a bite of a cupcake in New York which led to a job in the bakery. Next he baked from his house in Jordan which built a solid customer base, and led to opening Sugar Daddies in Amman, Beirut and Dubai.
People warned Fadi that Jordan might not be "ready for cupcakes", but he took the risk and opened Sugar Daddy's in 2007 and introduced Amman to fluffy, homemade, and colorful frosting topped cupcakes. Fadi Jaber has achieved his dream of establishing a cupcake frenzy outburst in the Middle East. His success is a fairy tale and inspiration in itself. It is a testament to those who aspire to challenge the norm!
A cupcake is the best anti-depressant, or just perfect for any occasion!
Knaffe from Habibeh
In the Belad at Habibeh, on any evening you will find anywhere between 5 and 25 people outside leaning against the brick walls with a white plastic spoon in one hand and balancing a steaming styrofoam plate in the other. Fresh knaffe "tastes best standing" says a satisfied Habibeh customer shoveling the stringy cheese and syrup drenched spoonfuls into his mouth.
Whether it is an evening snack or after a filling lunch of mansef, there is always room for warm knaffe from Habibeh. No matter how cold the evening or how long the ordering queue, the knaffe from Habibeh is a fix for all those with a sweet tooth.
Floating in the Dead Sea
Brilliant minds from around the world have tried to reproduce effects the Dead Sea has on the body. But there is only one place on this planet where you can effortlessly float in natural salt water and lean your head back to see the beautiful surrounding mountains and open sky.
Some call it magic, other try to explain it scientifically, but people from every corner of the world come to the Dead Sea to reap its benefits for their skin, bone structure, or a general "pick-up". Studies say that sleeping for only 5 minutes while floating equals up to 8 hours of regular sleep in your bed.
Just a 30 minute drive from Amman, the floater can read a newspaper, take a nap, or try to impossibly stand in the water on the ground. It is a "zero gravity" out of the world feeling!
Fireworks
In some countries fireworks are prohibited, and can only be viewed on select days. How repressive! Year around, the night in Jordan is lit with colorful fireworks. When you hear the bang and see the sparkles in the sky, you imagine groups of people laughing and dancing in celebration of weddings, graduations, or engagements. A smile is contagious; so when you see the fireworks and think about the people's joy, you can't help but to smile about their festivities.
Salahaldeen
Salahadeen is the bakery which acts as the central hub for the hearty sesame loaves for all of Amman. You can buy the delicious bread from carts serving them as half JD egg and tomato sandwiches on busy sidewalks during the day, but the best time to get them is steaming hot, fresh out of the oven at 3AM!
After a fun night of dancing or if you just desire a midnight snack, you can buy a small loaf, an oven baked egg, a triangle of wrapped cheese, slices of tomatoes, and a small bag of zataar. You can assemble your own sandwich just two steps from the cash register at a small bar decorated with cheese wrappers, egg shells, and sesame seeds. In the wee hours of the morning, the warm sandwich hits the spot and will satisfy all.
Souk Al-Juma'
"One man's trash is another man's treasure!" Every Friday morning, before the sun rises, the large parking lot in Abduli is transformed into a haven for those who love to dig for deals. Tables topped with mounds of colorful clothes make a complex maze for hours of surprises. Everything from lime green wool suits to squeaky clean running shoes is available in excellent condition for a cheap price.
After purchasing a new wardrobe for 10 JD, you can wander through the fruit and vegetable market on the same parking lot. Much cheaper than the fruit stand next to your house, you can do your produce shopping here for the week and chose from Amman's very best selections.
A full morning of shopping will make you excited to reach home and show off your loot, but the treasures are worth every ounce of energy!
Royal Film Commission
Nothing feels better than seeing pictures of your country on the big screen, and the Royal Film Commission is spreading scenes of Jordan to televisions and cinemas all over the world.
Established in 2003, the goal of the Royal Film Commission (RFC) is twofold: to "advance Jordan's creative economy" and to put Jordan on the map as a venue for international film makers. RFC is good for Jordan and Jordan's image to the rest of the world.
This government organization gives Jordan's youth the opportunity to express themselves through an artistic lens with workshops, internships and supports local students' films.
The environment at the RFC is relaxed and ideal for those of all diverse backgrounds. Strategically situated off Rainbow Street in a quiet cove between trees, the RFC has a large screen in front of cozy seats for the audience. The best thing about the RFC is that all screenings are free! So you will take no risk by going every week to a different film, because if a film is too artsy or too factual for your taste, you can leave, no problem! But if you love it, there are always more films to quench your desire.
Kite Flying
During the summer days in Amman the sky is sprinkled with kites of all colors and sizes. The wind holds some steadily and tosses others along the horizon of limestone buildings in front of Amman's mountains.
Now, follow the diamond's string, in the air, down towards the Earth to small hands of laughing children.
Kite flying is world famous in Amman. Many children learned to fly kites from an older sibling or neighbor, which inspired the Musa Al-Saket Cultural Center to have a Kite Flying Summer Camp. Ranna is one of the directors at this camp, and has been an avid kite flyer since her childhood. She believes in the children of Amman, and she believes that kite flying can develop creativity as another option for children's entertainment. Ranna hopes that "when you look into the summer sky of Amman and see kites, you think of dreams and success of our children."
Abu Saleh
Pushing a cart down Amman's busy morning streets in 1983, Abu Saleh gave taxi drivers and the busy working force the boost they needed to wake up by serving coffee and tea.
It didn't take long before the trend caught on and he didn't need to push his cart anywhere. He parked his portable coffee/tea machine, and cars drove to him. Since he didn't need to be mobile any longer, Abu Saleh decided he could better serve his clientele with a fully functional shop on the same corner.
Keeping with the system, the drivers need to only roll their window down and give a hand gesture for their preferred beverage: coffee or tea. Since coffee is the more commonly ordered, it is assumed that you want coffee unless you sign to him that you want tea by dipping an imaginary tea bag in the air with your thumb and forefinger tips touching with other three fingers tucked under (see figure 1).
The next question is always, "How much sugar?" No need to ask that question here, cause after you distinguish if you want tea from coffee, you can sign to him, "medium sugar" with your palm and four fingers at a 90 degree angle and give the "cut off" gesture (see figure 2). "I like it really sweet" can be communicated with a palm up, raising motion (see figure 3). And, you guessed it, palm down, pressing down means, "light sugar, please" (see figure 4). "No sugar" is signed with palm facing away from your body and a slight shake of the head (see figure 5).
Abu Saleh brought his son and other energetic boys to deliver the coffee and tea from the shop's stove to the tired drivers. They run to the street with your hot energy drink without spilling a drop.
Abu Saleh has now set up or inspired 15 more shops with the same system across Amman.
Friday breakfast at The Bakehouse
The only reason to get out of bed early on a Friday morning is to go to the American Bakehouse. Take a taxi in your sleepy state close to 1st circle just off rainbow street, then follow the smell of pancakes and hot syrup.
As you open the door, the smell of freshly brewed American coffee opens your eyes and gives you the energy to run up the stairs for a table absorbing the morning's sun.
You might be shocked when the server comes to your table and is not a hair-sprayed blond "Sally" with a blue apron and smacking on gum. In your confused state, just say, "coffee." After one sip of classic smooth coffee the laminated paper in front of you becomes a dream of breakfast options. With waffles, pancakes, French toast, and sunny side up eggs, every choice is a delicious one.
The only way you will be convinced that you are not at an American diner is if you look out the window to Amman's classic beautiful view.
Amigo
Asam spent months meticulously planning every inch of Bistro One's design, décor, and menu. Painstaking detail went into the process. When he finally purchased the building for Bistro One, the seller of the land asked, "Why don't you take the empty lot next to it?" Asam thought, after all the work it has taken to prepare Bistro One, I can't put any more effort into another place!
No effort was the theme of the empty lot purchased. They hung some old rock and roll posters on the wall, put a boom box on the bar, bought a second hand pool table, and told some college kids to sell cheap drinks and keep it homey. Amigo bartender says, "People love it here because it is so relaxed, and they call it their 'home away from home', it is like a friend's living room."
Amigo's timeless play list accompanies the "best burgers" in Amman. Rumors say that the only explanation for the delicious burgers and chicken wings is that Amigo shares a kitchen with Bistro One… regardless, it is a bar that can't be beat.
Not only did Amigo not have any planning, there is no schedule for renovation or remodeling. Amigo's familiar comfort, affordable drinks, and late hours keep young faces visiting every night of the week.
Dead Sea Marathon
For over 16 years The Dead Sea Ultra Marathon has been the annual highlight and goal of many people's spring. People from all over the world come to Jordan to run to the lowest place on Earth. Thanks to the Society for Care of Neurological Patients, the Dead Sea Marathon encompasses an ultra marathon, regular marathon, half marathon, a 10 Km, and children's fun run.
It is an event for the whole family! Everyone can run at their own paces and distances. A past participant glowed while saying, "Crossing the finish line and knowing that you did something that challenges you both physically and mentally was my favorite part of the day… plus it makes you feel even stronger because your entry fee went for a worthy cause."
The race is well established, catering to as many as 3,500 participants, so organization and plenty of water stations is a bonus. The race starts off chilly at 7AM; but once you start running, you take a look at the beautiful view of the Dead Sea, and you have your friends and family cheering you on, you feel like you could run forever.
King Hussein Car Museum
The Royal Automobile Museum not only takes you on a historical journey through the Hashimite Kingdom of Jordan, but also through the political background of the past three kings, all by walking around their car collections. This museum is a one of a kind as each car has an importance to one of the kings during his time as ruler.
The largest car collector was His Majesty King Hussein (***how do we word this?). As you walk through the museum, the years of the cars increase as His Majesty King Hussein’s story progresses. His cars tell his story from: “He bought a Ford Pilot 1950 to remind himself of the first car he ever drove” to the cars given to him as wedding gifts.
The beginning of your time at the museum is winding around shiny classic cars, and learning about history in Jordan, then you walk into a lit up room where two bright red Ferraris face you. They are parked next to a Lamborghini and a 1966 convertible Amphicar, “the car that swims". You can watch footage of His Majesty King Hussein driving on land in Aqaba, entering the Red Sea, and then speeding off into the deep blue horizon.
Even if you don’t know anything about cars or care about automobiles, you will be impressed by the Armored Rolls Royce or an Aston Martin, which is the same car used in James Bond movies. It is a car lover's preferred way to take a history lesson!
Scuba Diving in the Red Sea
For out of this world colors and creatures, Jordan’s Gulf of Aqaba give scuba divers the chance to see 158 species of living corals which home 500 different kinds of fish. Since scuba diving and water adventures is relatively new to this part of the world, the beautiful sea life still flourishes and is virtually untouched.
On avid Red Sea scuba diver said, “For the first time in my life I swam next to eels and even a sea turtle! It is so magical that every time I put on my flippers I feel like I am in a Disney movie!"
The diver warns that "no prior experience or expensive gear is needed for beginners", and that there are "a lot of eco-friendly companies to hold your hand every stroke of the way."
King Hussein Children Museum
With 150 exhibits and a different monthly theme, Amman's King Hussein Children Museum is children's favorite place to be the rulers of their own world. It is surprising that the kids are infatuated by "a big kid's world" with a bank, supermarket, police station, and theatre for them to pretend to be a boss with a jail cell or a customer with a miniature shopping cart. All the corners at the museum have rounded edges and counters are half the regular size, but the ATM spits out coins when you put a card in, and the cash register rings and scans the container of Nido.
The "Where do things come from" section is for video game lovers to learn about farm life. Here they can sit on a bee that moves back and forth like a motorcycle might at an arcade, but this time they are flying on a screen in front of them while dodging trees and producing honey. They can milk a virtual cow and pick up her neighbor, a hen, to gather eggs.
Most amusing for the adult bystander might be the television station where kids can see themselves on a large screen “on air”. Children spend ten seconds as serious as Barbra Walters then stick out their tongues and dance on camera.
From recycling processes, robots and "how the internet works", to a human body exhibit and a planetarium, there is something interesting for everyone in the family!
Sha'r al-binat
In the past, a man used to walk down your neighborhood yelling, “sha’r al-binat”. He held a large stick decorated with clear plastic bags filled of either bright pink or white cotton candy, otherwise known as "fairy floss". Even at 9 o'clock in the morning children are ready for a pure sugar start to their day.
Some say that the "cotton candy machine" was invented by a New Orleans DENTIST! But regardless, whether delivered to your doorstep or watching it made in a large silver spinning pot, the cheap sweet treat tastes fluffy and heavenly.
In the same way that children will always love sugar at any time of the day, there will always be a man who walks the neighborhood streets selling sha'r al-binat. The only difference is that maybe hoarse from yelling, he now uses a loud unique whistle to get children to jump for their saved coins.
17 articles above… plus two from mock….. equals 19 totally FINISHED!
Below are 6 more first drafters for Thursday’s meeting….. totaling 25
Wild Jordan
Wild Jordan is more than just a delicious restaurant with vegetarian and organic options; it is the location where you can learn all about The Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RCSN). RCSN, whose office is situated at the entrance of Wild Jordan, promotes eco-friendliness in Jordan in efforts to preserve nature’s beauty for locals and tourists. At this office, there is information about the six nature reserves; each with its own special appeal, catering to the different preferences of wilderness lovers.
After eating a filling and healthy meal while looking at the breathtaking view from the top of Jabel Amman (right?), you can stroll through their merchandise section. Walk carefully, because it feels like a museum with such delicacies! You can “just look” by keeping your hands in your pockets and your children on best behavior, or you can purchase the perfect gift or house display item: decorated ostrich eggs, ornate silver jewelry, or handmade soaps. Proceeds go to the creators of the ornaments, as they are all crafted by locals living around or within the nature reserves supported by RCSN.
Eat a hearty meal, browse through carefully crafted gifts, and plan your next adventure vacation all in one afternoon without leaving the Wild Jordan building!
Dana and Feynan Nature reserves
A scenic two hour drive south from Amman, Dana Biosphere Reserve has spectacular sunsets, wildlife, and fresh air from the Rift Valley to the desert lowlands of Wadi Araba. Whether you are a seasoned hiker looking for a challenge, or a casual stroller looking for wild birds, Dana has a trail for you. Depending on your preference, a trained guide can push your physical limits or give you vital information about your surroundings.
If you are in need of seclusion, you can chose one of the self guided trips ranging from 1-6 hours in length. Bring your own food or eat from the tasty dishes offered at the Dana Guest House. Come for the day, or stay the whole holiday. You can stay in a posh guest house with a balcony and canyon view, or rough it at a comfortable campsite.
You can take a vigorous day long hike from Dana or you can drive an hour after reaching Dana to Feynan eco-lodge. The lodge is untouched by civilization with no paved roads or electricity! Solar power is used for emergency items, but the eco-lodge is lit by candles at night, creating a desolate desert ambiance.
A recent visitor to The Dana Biosphere Reserve said, “My favorite part about being at Dana is walking to the Feynan eco-lodge through wooded highlands, rocky slopes, gravel plains, and sand dunes. Jordan’s biodiversity is at its best at Dana!”
Recycling in Jordan
Jordan is taking its first baby steps towards creating a recycling population. With information about recycling processes at Amman’s children’s museum and placing big plastic green bins at offices, people are beginning to catch on to what could make a beautiful Jordan even cleaner for generations to come.
Did you ever imagine that a company starting off in 1967 producing cars for the disabled would evolve, in 1998, into “Nasser for Environmental Services”, a recycling company? They are leaders in the Arab world in terms of economic development through managing waste with our environment in mind.
It feels empowering to know that you have some control on your carbon footprint on our Earth, and it is getting smaller by recycling with Nasser for Environmental Services.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Gaza Calling!!
No matter your politics, over 1,300 HUMAN BEINGS have been killed in Gaza, and we should all be shocked and do our best to help these people. Here is a short film that a friend and I did as a "wake up" message. Though this would have been more relevant 2 weeks ago when we actually filmed it, but technical difficulties forced us to postpone it a while. Sari Hammouri finally finished editing it at 5:30 this morning (and added the graphics at the end- needs to be "goes" not "gose"... it was early, give him a break!), and I am so thankful he helped me, it is beautiful. Gaza is calling us, answer! Answer Gaza's call by educating yourself on the many perspectives of this complex conflict. My heart hurts for the innocent people living in fear of living.
Monday, January 19, 2009
First DRAFT of first chapter of what COULD one day be a... book!?!
Intro to “My Chameleons: A story of four Gay Palestinians befriending an American Girl in Jordan.”
My Kali
November 10, 2008
All Zain phone lines were busy so I awkwardly stood in a hoard of excited young people, straining my eyes to see a familiar face. Instead of my smiling boys I saw young Jordanian college guys with their spiked hair, bright tee shirts and (in an American’s opinion) tight jeans. The young girls wore “painted on pants”, heels, pounds of make up, and either board-stiff straight hair or teased-up curly hair. Regardless, everyone was looking his best in hopes to catch Tamer Housney’s eye. I can only sing along to the “Ya Habibi” parts of his songs, but I too had put a few extra minutes into my appearance… which I blamed myself for as I stood alone like an idiot waiting for my boys. Maybe I am late because I changed shirts ten times before leaving the house… It is really hot out here; I wish I didn’t sweat so much… Maybe the boys already entered the concert arena… Damn, I wish my phone was working… Even if it isn’t working, I’ll just hold it up to my ear so I look like I am talking to friends.
I put on my only-special-occasions pink lip gloss for the fourth time to keep my hands busy. My eye caught a guy talking on his phone. So I asked him, in Arabic, if I could use his phone to call my friend because my phone wasn’t working. He replied with a sympathetic smile, sympathy towards my butchered Arabic, not because my phone wasn’t working. I called Mouse (all names have been changed to honor the privacy of the real characters) who was laughing and yelling over the loud music on his side of the phone connection, “Hey babe! Where are you!? We are waiting for you!”
I pulled the phone from my ear to about shoulder level to end the call with Mouse and froze; the sympathetic man and I made eye contact. I was confused: Do I wipe my cheek’s sweaty make-up off of his phone screen? Do I leave it on so that he doesn’t see me wipe my cheek’s sweaty make-up off of his phone screen? The millisecond I stood there making this decision might have seemed to him like I was considering running off with his phone. Embarrassed, I handed him his phone, with evidence of a sweaty make-up, and briskly walked away.
I followed Mouse’s directions to the car they were waiting in. Many other young people were skipping down the same street to get closer to the entrance of the concert. My lips felt heavy with gloss, which I don’t find exactly comfortable. I considered wiping it off, but the boys are always telling me to wear it, so I left it. I walked with confidence to the car, You are hot, Jess. You look great. Just suck in your stomach a little, put your shoulders back, and don’t look at the guys yelling at you from across the street. Look for a car crammed with gay men.
Cars lined the streets leading to the entrance of the Tamer Housney concert. Bodies topped with spiked hair leaned against cars as they watched bodies on high heels shuffle down the street to the entrance line. High heels tried to stand balanced in line and attempted to look relaxed; but knowing they were being watched, mixed with anticipation for entering the concert, equaled a tap dance show on the sidewalk. Gelled black hair standing like television antennas also tried to look cool and confident, but watching the stunning show of tap dancers in front of them, mixed with well, just beautiful women in front of them was enough to keep them jittery like an Arab 2008 version of West Side Story.
Flamingo’s head emerged from a grey car. His perfect smile and sleek body comforts me. I immediately felt my shoulder muscles sigh with relief. I rushed to the car, a safe haven for me in this unfamiliar musical-like world. The parked car’s windows were rolled up, three bodies were already in the back seat, and the front two seats were filled. I distributed the traditional three kisses (one on the right cheek, and two on the left) to all five smiling guys in the air conditioned car.
In my very American punctual way I immediately started to apologize for being late, but assured them that I had been waiting a few streets away, for a long time. But all ears were tuned to Tamer Housney’s recorded voice coming from the car speakers. My happiness and ease adjusted to match the level in the car.
My left shoulder rested on the back of the drivers’ seat, and to my right was Flamingo with his long legs folded into his chest. Flamingo has smooth dark skin and a smile, but tonight I can see that behind his smile he is constantly thinking about his boyfriend. They are in a fight, as usual, but this time Flamingo wants it to be for the last time. His phone rings, he reads the name on the screen, sighs, pushes ignore, and returns the phone to his pocket. I ask him how he is doing, and he says that he is sad about his boyfriend.
Next to Flamingo is Cat. Cat is the fluffiest in body size and personality. He purrs as he listens to his speaker. Cat sleeps until the afternoon hours when he has the opportunity. Snuggling and making people feel loved is what he does best. He moves slowly, no matter the situation. Cat dances more sensually and sexier than any woman I have ever seen dance to Arabic music.
Perched on top of Cat is Mouse. Mouse’s dark shaped eyebrows and thick curled eyelashes make people take a second look, but his kind demeanor make people feel important and valued. Mouse is the smallest of the four, but is busier and more determined than the others. He reminds me of Cinderella’s helpers. Mouse gets shit done, loves decorating his apartment, and is comforting and encouraging like Cinderella’s friends.
In the front seat sits Cricket, the loud, night creature who is sensitive and sharp witted. Cricket often has tired students knocking on his apartment door, telling him that his music is disturbing the studying attempts of the entire building. He is tall and thin, always bouncing and smiling. When Cricket’s music plays, his body transforms to all the dancers combined from the music video. Cricket sits in the front seat in order to control the radio and because it is his boyfriend’s car, Bulldog.
Bulldog, who I will call Bull throughout the rest of this article because it is easier, is a bear in Gay Culture. He is not “gay acting”, he is rough and tough looking, but Bull is a complete teddy bear. If Cricket just gives him a pouty face or anyone asks him for any favor, he immediately pleases the asker. Bull is always very gentle and polite with me, treating me as a prince might.
Bull was concerned about taking care of me during the concert, as he is usually concerned about taking care of me in any situation. He was concerned that because there were separate lines for girls and guys, that there might also be separate view areas for guys and girls inside the concert arena. So Bull and I left the car to ask the security guard about the gender situation inside. He took my wrist and put it around his forearm as we walked between the tap dancers and antennas towards the front of the line where the security guards stood. I felt like Bull wanted me to be his arm candy to ensure his identity to the TV antenna boys, but I don’t mind, I like playing along and helping him feel proud.
We returned to find the boys exiting the car and greeting Mouse’s pseudo-girlfriend, Space. Mouse says he is bi-sexual, enjoys Space’s personality, long hair, and presence, but is also maybe with her as a cover-up, so that no one will suspect he is attracted to men. Space was smiling and talking loudly with the same excitement as the rest of the high heels on the sidewalk. Her friend, Turtle, stood motionless and emotionless, wrapped in a white hijab, looking down at the curb, and counting down the seconds to when she and Space could go stand in the girls’ line together without the boys. This was my first experience seeing the boys “acting straight”. I had heard rumors about it before, they had warned me that in public things would be different, but upon the arrival of Space and Turtle they resembled the TV antenna boys, but with better style and less gel.
Bull and I reported the good news that only the lines were separated by sex, but that when we enter, we will be able to reunite and watch Tamer Housney together. We were all relieved, except probably Turtle, who was still counting.
I had heard a lot about Space, but this was my first time seeing her. Mouse told me of her rich family, her long hair, and her spontaneous actions. I decided she really wants to be paid attention to, she wants someone, anyone to fill her. I stood in line with her and Turtle. I started tapping out of anxiousness with the other high heels. When the three of us were permitted to pass the security guards, we entered what was once a large parking lot, but tonight it was a concert arena for Tamer Housney.
I looked around for my boys, but another group of guys caught my eye instead. They were about 20 meters away, and as I recognized them Space said, “Ewww, Yuck, look at those GAYS! Eww!” After hearing this, I grinded my teeth together in hopes that my jaw wouldn’t drop to the ground out of disgust for her ignorance. My mind raced back and forth about what to do. I recognized them from the night before at the gay dance club, and they were really sweet to me. Do I say hi to them now to shock Space? Do I pretend like I don’t know them? I do want to protect my boys from being associated with obvious gays. I decided to look away, hoping that the flamboyant skinny gay guys didn’t see me. Honestly, the biggest part of me wanted to slap that girl and tell her about my boys who had been welcoming, nice, polite, respectful, and “straight acting” to her and her friend.
The boys met up with us and I gladly handed off the two girls to Mouse, and didn’t associate with them very much for the remainder of the night. I rotated linking arms with Cat, Cricket, Bull, and Flamingo for the next few hours of the concert.
All night Cat was calling his boyfriend in Dubai so he could hear Tamer Housney sing live. Cricket got jealous because Bull got a girl’s phone number. Mouse held hands with Space. Turtle continued counting down moments until she could leave us. Flamingo had a sad face behind his smile about his boy. I smiled and giggled all night as the boys passed me around from one set of shoulders to another so that I could see; they built a wall around me so that no spike head could “accidentally” touch the only American girl in the crowd, and we sang at the top of our lungs with Tamer Housney, each wishing he was gay.
My Kali
November 10, 2008
All Zain phone lines were busy so I awkwardly stood in a hoard of excited young people, straining my eyes to see a familiar face. Instead of my smiling boys I saw young Jordanian college guys with their spiked hair, bright tee shirts and (in an American’s opinion) tight jeans. The young girls wore “painted on pants”, heels, pounds of make up, and either board-stiff straight hair or teased-up curly hair. Regardless, everyone was looking his best in hopes to catch Tamer Housney’s eye. I can only sing along to the “Ya Habibi” parts of his songs, but I too had put a few extra minutes into my appearance… which I blamed myself for as I stood alone like an idiot waiting for my boys. Maybe I am late because I changed shirts ten times before leaving the house… It is really hot out here; I wish I didn’t sweat so much… Maybe the boys already entered the concert arena… Damn, I wish my phone was working… Even if it isn’t working, I’ll just hold it up to my ear so I look like I am talking to friends.
I put on my only-special-occasions pink lip gloss for the fourth time to keep my hands busy. My eye caught a guy talking on his phone. So I asked him, in Arabic, if I could use his phone to call my friend because my phone wasn’t working. He replied with a sympathetic smile, sympathy towards my butchered Arabic, not because my phone wasn’t working. I called Mouse (all names have been changed to honor the privacy of the real characters) who was laughing and yelling over the loud music on his side of the phone connection, “Hey babe! Where are you!? We are waiting for you!”
I pulled the phone from my ear to about shoulder level to end the call with Mouse and froze; the sympathetic man and I made eye contact. I was confused: Do I wipe my cheek’s sweaty make-up off of his phone screen? Do I leave it on so that he doesn’t see me wipe my cheek’s sweaty make-up off of his phone screen? The millisecond I stood there making this decision might have seemed to him like I was considering running off with his phone. Embarrassed, I handed him his phone, with evidence of a sweaty make-up, and briskly walked away.
I followed Mouse’s directions to the car they were waiting in. Many other young people were skipping down the same street to get closer to the entrance of the concert. My lips felt heavy with gloss, which I don’t find exactly comfortable. I considered wiping it off, but the boys are always telling me to wear it, so I left it. I walked with confidence to the car, You are hot, Jess. You look great. Just suck in your stomach a little, put your shoulders back, and don’t look at the guys yelling at you from across the street. Look for a car crammed with gay men.
Cars lined the streets leading to the entrance of the Tamer Housney concert. Bodies topped with spiked hair leaned against cars as they watched bodies on high heels shuffle down the street to the entrance line. High heels tried to stand balanced in line and attempted to look relaxed; but knowing they were being watched, mixed with anticipation for entering the concert, equaled a tap dance show on the sidewalk. Gelled black hair standing like television antennas also tried to look cool and confident, but watching the stunning show of tap dancers in front of them, mixed with well, just beautiful women in front of them was enough to keep them jittery like an Arab 2008 version of West Side Story.
Flamingo’s head emerged from a grey car. His perfect smile and sleek body comforts me. I immediately felt my shoulder muscles sigh with relief. I rushed to the car, a safe haven for me in this unfamiliar musical-like world. The parked car’s windows were rolled up, three bodies were already in the back seat, and the front two seats were filled. I distributed the traditional three kisses (one on the right cheek, and two on the left) to all five smiling guys in the air conditioned car.
In my very American punctual way I immediately started to apologize for being late, but assured them that I had been waiting a few streets away, for a long time. But all ears were tuned to Tamer Housney’s recorded voice coming from the car speakers. My happiness and ease adjusted to match the level in the car.
My left shoulder rested on the back of the drivers’ seat, and to my right was Flamingo with his long legs folded into his chest. Flamingo has smooth dark skin and a smile, but tonight I can see that behind his smile he is constantly thinking about his boyfriend. They are in a fight, as usual, but this time Flamingo wants it to be for the last time. His phone rings, he reads the name on the screen, sighs, pushes ignore, and returns the phone to his pocket. I ask him how he is doing, and he says that he is sad about his boyfriend.
Next to Flamingo is Cat. Cat is the fluffiest in body size and personality. He purrs as he listens to his speaker. Cat sleeps until the afternoon hours when he has the opportunity. Snuggling and making people feel loved is what he does best. He moves slowly, no matter the situation. Cat dances more sensually and sexier than any woman I have ever seen dance to Arabic music.
Perched on top of Cat is Mouse. Mouse’s dark shaped eyebrows and thick curled eyelashes make people take a second look, but his kind demeanor make people feel important and valued. Mouse is the smallest of the four, but is busier and more determined than the others. He reminds me of Cinderella’s helpers. Mouse gets shit done, loves decorating his apartment, and is comforting and encouraging like Cinderella’s friends.
In the front seat sits Cricket, the loud, night creature who is sensitive and sharp witted. Cricket often has tired students knocking on his apartment door, telling him that his music is disturbing the studying attempts of the entire building. He is tall and thin, always bouncing and smiling. When Cricket’s music plays, his body transforms to all the dancers combined from the music video. Cricket sits in the front seat in order to control the radio and because it is his boyfriend’s car, Bulldog.
Bulldog, who I will call Bull throughout the rest of this article because it is easier, is a bear in Gay Culture. He is not “gay acting”, he is rough and tough looking, but Bull is a complete teddy bear. If Cricket just gives him a pouty face or anyone asks him for any favor, he immediately pleases the asker. Bull is always very gentle and polite with me, treating me as a prince might.
Bull was concerned about taking care of me during the concert, as he is usually concerned about taking care of me in any situation. He was concerned that because there were separate lines for girls and guys, that there might also be separate view areas for guys and girls inside the concert arena. So Bull and I left the car to ask the security guard about the gender situation inside. He took my wrist and put it around his forearm as we walked between the tap dancers and antennas towards the front of the line where the security guards stood. I felt like Bull wanted me to be his arm candy to ensure his identity to the TV antenna boys, but I don’t mind, I like playing along and helping him feel proud.
We returned to find the boys exiting the car and greeting Mouse’s pseudo-girlfriend, Space. Mouse says he is bi-sexual, enjoys Space’s personality, long hair, and presence, but is also maybe with her as a cover-up, so that no one will suspect he is attracted to men. Space was smiling and talking loudly with the same excitement as the rest of the high heels on the sidewalk. Her friend, Turtle, stood motionless and emotionless, wrapped in a white hijab, looking down at the curb, and counting down the seconds to when she and Space could go stand in the girls’ line together without the boys. This was my first experience seeing the boys “acting straight”. I had heard rumors about it before, they had warned me that in public things would be different, but upon the arrival of Space and Turtle they resembled the TV antenna boys, but with better style and less gel.
Bull and I reported the good news that only the lines were separated by sex, but that when we enter, we will be able to reunite and watch Tamer Housney together. We were all relieved, except probably Turtle, who was still counting.
I had heard a lot about Space, but this was my first time seeing her. Mouse told me of her rich family, her long hair, and her spontaneous actions. I decided she really wants to be paid attention to, she wants someone, anyone to fill her. I stood in line with her and Turtle. I started tapping out of anxiousness with the other high heels. When the three of us were permitted to pass the security guards, we entered what was once a large parking lot, but tonight it was a concert arena for Tamer Housney.
I looked around for my boys, but another group of guys caught my eye instead. They were about 20 meters away, and as I recognized them Space said, “Ewww, Yuck, look at those GAYS! Eww!” After hearing this, I grinded my teeth together in hopes that my jaw wouldn’t drop to the ground out of disgust for her ignorance. My mind raced back and forth about what to do. I recognized them from the night before at the gay dance club, and they were really sweet to me. Do I say hi to them now to shock Space? Do I pretend like I don’t know them? I do want to protect my boys from being associated with obvious gays. I decided to look away, hoping that the flamboyant skinny gay guys didn’t see me. Honestly, the biggest part of me wanted to slap that girl and tell her about my boys who had been welcoming, nice, polite, respectful, and “straight acting” to her and her friend.
The boys met up with us and I gladly handed off the two girls to Mouse, and didn’t associate with them very much for the remainder of the night. I rotated linking arms with Cat, Cricket, Bull, and Flamingo for the next few hours of the concert.
All night Cat was calling his boyfriend in Dubai so he could hear Tamer Housney sing live. Cricket got jealous because Bull got a girl’s phone number. Mouse held hands with Space. Turtle continued counting down moments until she could leave us. Flamingo had a sad face behind his smile about his boy. I smiled and giggled all night as the boys passed me around from one set of shoulders to another so that I could see; they built a wall around me so that no spike head could “accidentally” touch the only American girl in the crowd, and we sang at the top of our lungs with Tamer Housney, each wishing he was gay.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
writing for a gay online magazine in Jordan
Didn't chose the title... but regardless, I have great friends!
"Behind every straight girl there is a fabulous Gay guy"
Some call me a “fag hag” because I have several close gay guy friends in my life. Many straight people assume that being female and having gay guy friends is the same as having girl friends. They are correct in a shallow understanding, but my personal dynamic with my dearest gay friends is more profound than their theory.
It is important to not generalize when viewing gay people. It is incorrect to think that I only talk about make-up and J-Crew’s fall fashion line with my gay friends. Though I do have gay guy friends who are brilliant in music theatre on Broadway and who are successful artists in the field of cosmetology, I also have gay guy friends who are deep into politics, are star athletes, and who pride themselves on being manly by riding horses, burping, not having style, and not being ‘obviously gay’. Gay men are dispersed on the same spectrum of personality and interests as the rest of us human beings.
When I think about why I value my gay friends, I realized that in men, I seek protection and male attention. It was hard to write that sentence, being a feminist of the twenty-first century. I do not mean that I need a man to protect me on the dangerous streets of Amman and that I beg for men to notice me. Rather, if I am walking with a male, gay or not, I will receive less negative attention and hassle from men in passing cars, sitting at coffee shops, and walking on the street looking to talk to any girl they see. When I am with a gay guy, other men will not think of me as a target because I already look “taken”. I don’t want “cat calls” and men hollering at me, but I naturally appreciate the positive attention from males in general.
My relationship with gay guys lacks the competition that accompanies having girl friends, and lacks the sexual confusion that accompanies having straight guy friends. Girl friends normally struggle with competing for similar goals and men. Attempting a friendship with a straight man usually involves awkward moments, such as when his leg accidentally brushes yours. In both situations, a straight girl must constantly be on her guard to not say an inappropriate thing to piss off her girlfriend or flirt with her guy friend. With a gay guy friend I do not worry about competing for the same boyfriend: the potential boy will either be interested in men, in which case I will be the one to assist in date outfits, or the boy will be interested in women, in which case my gay friend will be helping me with flirting techniques. With a gay guy I can act silly and hold his arm without wondering if I am sending the wrong signs.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Ali's birthday, maga-makeover, and my birthday
1)Ali's birthday! left to right: "Father of War", my language partner, me, then Sari and Ali.
2) All of us at Ali's birthday dinner.
3 and 4) make over pictures that are hilarious... there are more here
5) my pretty birthday dress/make-up/hair
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Life in Amman, Jordan
This is going to be a step by step prospectus of my days in Amman... I promise, it will not interest everyone!
I wake up at 6:00Am every morning. I turn on the heater for the water (cause the water tank takes half an hour to heat up), make my bed, pack one bag for my afternoon run and another bag for my school books. I take a shower, get dressed, eat something for breakfast, and take a sandwich and fruit for lunch. ( I have already lost most of my readers huh?)
I cartwheel from my house (I just walk, I was trying to make it more captivating), at 6:45, to a bus stop about 15 minutes away. I wait for the bus anywhere between 2 seconds and 20 minutes (after 20 minutes I give up and take a taxi for 3 bucks), there is no schedule that I am aware of. The bus costs the equivalent of 50 cents. I take the bus to a stop where I meet up with 2 of my girlfriends. Then we share a taxi to school. We rotate paying for the taxi, but it is usually about a dollar and a half (for me only every third day). We usually arrive about 10 minutes till 8.
Our class and teachers usually stroll in 5 minutes late for our 8:00 Arabic class, but then we hit the ground running and move pretty quickly. I am taking the "Classical track" at Qasid, the Language School where I study.
I study grammar from 8-10. I have always hated grammar, but with the methodology used at Qasid, I actually look forward to it everyday (plus, us girls have crushes on our teacher, so that doesn't hurt). For those who know a little about Arabic grammar, this is for you: I understand case endings!
Then I have a FIVE hour break before my next class. I usually change into running clothes: loose pants and a cotton long sleeved shirt. I walk 20 minutes to a free beautiful running track that is mostly shaded. The windy, dirt filled, pine tree track is 2 kilometers, so it's not too monotonous. I run for about 45 minutes usually, then walk back to my school. The only problem is that my school in on top of a mountain, so to walk/climb up takes almost an hour.
After sponge bathing in the bathroom at my school and eating lunch, I usually have a solid two hours before my next class, called "skills". I use the two hours to study and play with the little neighbor girl, Fatima.
Skills class is less fun. The layout of the class is simple and the same everyday: look up new words, read a passage with those new words, answer questions about the passage, and do exercises about what we have learned. We are supposed to be doing lots of speaking in the class, but because there are 12 students, and only 2 hours, it seems to leave students with only about 5-8 minutes of speaking time each. I think that I get a lot more out of a one on one tutor session than this skills class. So next semester, starting in Sept, I will just hire a private tutor and only take the grammar class at Qasid.
Then my girlfriends and I descend the mountain together, giggling the whole way. I usually take a bus or two to get home, take a bus to my friends' houses to study or hang out, or go to hip hop dance class.
Yes, you read correctly, I am in Jordan taking American hip hop classes. And I love it. I am going to add to my list of things I want to do on my Fulbright: learn to dance better. I think that unchecked box will replace my forgotten desire to learn the Oud since I haven't heard that instruments since I left Yemen, plus my nails are long. Being evacuated is about being flexible and altering your goals (oh by the way, if you want to read/ listen to my interview with Fulbright you can. It is on a podcast and the transcript is available).
Then at night I usually speak (in Arabic) with my "host mom" about my day, what is happening in the news, what she is cooking, or the weather. She makes wonderful food! Yesterday she made a raisin bread that had apricots and orange peels in it... it was the most delicious thing I have eaten in Jordan. I told her that, and she gave me another piece. And I hate raisins. Oh, and while we are on the topic of food, I love the zatar here. It is tyme (and maybe some other stuff) mixed with olive oil, put on big flat fresh bread and baked. And an occasional falafel is necessary for living in this part of the world.
This weekend I am going camping with some friends. I am still training for that marathon between bouts of kidney infections. Diana and I are still trying to figure out how to make the marathon into a fundraiser. I am still dreaming of going to Princeton for Public Policy. I am still dreading the act of opening the GRE study book. I am planning to do a documentary on disabled children in Jordan starting in September. I am planning to go to Isreal, Palestine, and Syria at the end of August.
I have great friends and family both in Jordan and around the world who enrich my life. I am so blessed.
I wake up at 6:00Am every morning. I turn on the heater for the water (cause the water tank takes half an hour to heat up), make my bed, pack one bag for my afternoon run and another bag for my school books. I take a shower, get dressed, eat something for breakfast, and take a sandwich and fruit for lunch. ( I have already lost most of my readers huh?)
I cartwheel from my house (I just walk, I was trying to make it more captivating), at 6:45, to a bus stop about 15 minutes away. I wait for the bus anywhere between 2 seconds and 20 minutes (after 20 minutes I give up and take a taxi for 3 bucks), there is no schedule that I am aware of. The bus costs the equivalent of 50 cents. I take the bus to a stop where I meet up with 2 of my girlfriends. Then we share a taxi to school. We rotate paying for the taxi, but it is usually about a dollar and a half (for me only every third day). We usually arrive about 10 minutes till 8.
Our class and teachers usually stroll in 5 minutes late for our 8:00 Arabic class, but then we hit the ground running and move pretty quickly. I am taking the "Classical track" at Qasid, the Language School where I study.
I study grammar from 8-10. I have always hated grammar, but with the methodology used at Qasid, I actually look forward to it everyday (plus, us girls have crushes on our teacher, so that doesn't hurt). For those who know a little about Arabic grammar, this is for you: I understand case endings!
Then I have a FIVE hour break before my next class. I usually change into running clothes: loose pants and a cotton long sleeved shirt. I walk 20 minutes to a free beautiful running track that is mostly shaded. The windy, dirt filled, pine tree track is 2 kilometers, so it's not too monotonous. I run for about 45 minutes usually, then walk back to my school. The only problem is that my school in on top of a mountain, so to walk/climb up takes almost an hour.
After sponge bathing in the bathroom at my school and eating lunch, I usually have a solid two hours before my next class, called "skills". I use the two hours to study and play with the little neighbor girl, Fatima.
Skills class is less fun. The layout of the class is simple and the same everyday: look up new words, read a passage with those new words, answer questions about the passage, and do exercises about what we have learned. We are supposed to be doing lots of speaking in the class, but because there are 12 students, and only 2 hours, it seems to leave students with only about 5-8 minutes of speaking time each. I think that I get a lot more out of a one on one tutor session than this skills class. So next semester, starting in Sept, I will just hire a private tutor and only take the grammar class at Qasid.
Then my girlfriends and I descend the mountain together, giggling the whole way. I usually take a bus or two to get home, take a bus to my friends' houses to study or hang out, or go to hip hop dance class.
Yes, you read correctly, I am in Jordan taking American hip hop classes. And I love it. I am going to add to my list of things I want to do on my Fulbright: learn to dance better. I think that unchecked box will replace my forgotten desire to learn the Oud since I haven't heard that instruments since I left Yemen, plus my nails are long. Being evacuated is about being flexible and altering your goals (oh by the way, if you want to read/ listen to my interview with Fulbright you can. It is on a podcast and the transcript is available).
Then at night I usually speak (in Arabic) with my "host mom" about my day, what is happening in the news, what she is cooking, or the weather. She makes wonderful food! Yesterday she made a raisin bread that had apricots and orange peels in it... it was the most delicious thing I have eaten in Jordan. I told her that, and she gave me another piece. And I hate raisins. Oh, and while we are on the topic of food, I love the zatar here. It is tyme (and maybe some other stuff) mixed with olive oil, put on big flat fresh bread and baked. And an occasional falafel is necessary for living in this part of the world.
This weekend I am going camping with some friends. I am still training for that marathon between bouts of kidney infections. Diana and I are still trying to figure out how to make the marathon into a fundraiser. I am still dreaming of going to Princeton for Public Policy. I am still dreading the act of opening the GRE study book. I am planning to do a documentary on disabled children in Jordan starting in September. I am planning to go to Isreal, Palestine, and Syria at the end of August.
I have great friends and family both in Jordan and around the world who enrich my life. I am so blessed.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
time flies
Where has the time gone!? It has been over a month since I have posted anything.
1. Spent three weeks with family in KS, AR, an TX.
2. Got E. coli (almost killed me!)
3. Mark broke up with me.
4. Moved back to Jordan and live with an old lady.
5. Study Arabic at a language institution everyday.
6. Making friends and learning to love Jordan.
7. Missing my family back home very very much!
will update more. love you Nana and Susan, I think you two are the only ones who reads these!
1. Spent three weeks with family in KS, AR, an TX.
2. Got E. coli (almost killed me!)
3. Mark broke up with me.
4. Moved back to Jordan and live with an old lady.
5. Study Arabic at a language institution everyday.
6. Making friends and learning to love Jordan.
7. Missing my family back home very very much!
will update more. love you Nana and Susan, I think you two are the only ones who reads these!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Fulbright Gaza
Hello dear ones,
I am deeply concerned about a decision that has been made by the US State Department.
There is a New York Times article about Gazans who were awarded Fulbright Grants to study for a Masters in America. It would mean a lot to me if you would read it.
Fulbright is an exchange program. I am a US Fulbrighter studying abroad, but on the other end of it Fulbright sends people from all over the world to the US, they do their Masters, and return home "better educated in their field, and about America".
There were 7 Gazan students who were supposed to come to the United States to study for their Masters. Their grants were canceled because Israel will not let them out.
Here is a blog we outraged Fulbrighters are working on:
http://gazafulbright.blogspot.com/
Please check it out and send an e-mail to fulbrightgaza@gmail.com expressing your concern.
I am deeply concerned about a decision that has been made by the US State Department.
There is a New York Times article about Gazans who were awarded Fulbright Grants to study for a Masters in America. It would mean a lot to me if you would read it.
Fulbright is an exchange program. I am a US Fulbrighter studying abroad, but on the other end of it Fulbright sends people from all over the world to the US, they do their Masters, and return home "better educated in their field, and about America".
There were 7 Gazan students who were supposed to come to the United States to study for their Masters. Their grants were canceled because Israel will not let them out.
Here is a blog we outraged Fulbrighters are working on:
http://gazafulbright.blogspot.com/
Please check it out and send an e-mail to fulbrightgaza@gmail.com expressing your concern.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Liked these pictures
For more pictures of my life, go to: http://picasaweb.google.com/jessica.tibbets
Top one is at the Jerash ruins in Jordan, the second is of Petra in Jordan, and the bottom in me in Yemen in front of the mountains.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
...about that Marathon...
Well, we are on for it! Please look at our site here: www.milesofthanks.blogspot.com and look at our pictures here. We have done a couple long runs (well, for us that is only 8 miles, but it is a good start) but really enjoy the Yoga and Pilates every other day we don't run.
Diana, too, will be leaving me soon to go to Oman for her research. Why is it that everyone in my life leaves once I fall in love with them?! This is a hard life to live with little stability!
And I am still on the search for a family to live with. I have met with two thus far, each wanting some outrageous amount of about $600 USD a month. That is more than I paid to live in New York City, so no thanks. I was chatting with an old woman at a pharmacy the other day about looking for a family and she offered one of the three empty bedrooms at her house for free. Of course I would pay her, but living with a quiet old lady for a few months doesn't sound all that bad. I just want to study and run. But then again, I am 22... do I really want to be so boring?!
Still learning my way around Amman and trying to convince myself to like it here. I know it will just take time. But it is hard when things are so expensive, and I don't understand yet the way to get around on the cheap. "Just take some deep breaths, Jess."
Well, I am off to bed. I am so glad to have Diana here for a few more days! Oh, and I posted my pictures from our trip! Well some of them. look here at them
Diana, too, will be leaving me soon to go to Oman for her research. Why is it that everyone in my life leaves once I fall in love with them?! This is a hard life to live with little stability!
And I am still on the search for a family to live with. I have met with two thus far, each wanting some outrageous amount of about $600 USD a month. That is more than I paid to live in New York City, so no thanks. I was chatting with an old woman at a pharmacy the other day about looking for a family and she offered one of the three empty bedrooms at her house for free. Of course I would pay her, but living with a quiet old lady for a few months doesn't sound all that bad. I just want to study and run. But then again, I am 22... do I really want to be so boring?!
Still learning my way around Amman and trying to convince myself to like it here. I know it will just take time. But it is hard when things are so expensive, and I don't understand yet the way to get around on the cheap. "Just take some deep breaths, Jess."
Well, I am off to bed. I am so glad to have Diana here for a few more days! Oh, and I posted my pictures from our trip! Well some of them. look here at them
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
back to LIMBO
Well, the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf (HLID) in Salt, Jordan is an incredible facility which helps hundreds of deaf Jordanian and Palestinian children. I admire and have loads of respect for it and I am very glad to have seen this place. But... the institute desires me to volunteer there 6 full days a week.
The best part about being on a Fulbright Grant is the freedom we are given to create our own projects and spend our time and efforts where we think best benefits ourselves and our communities (it is called INDEPENDENT RESEARCH for a reason).
So, I will not be staying at the HLID. I am glad to leave now before getting too attached to the children and settled in. I am currently looking for a host family to live with (the only real way I learn Arabic), an internship with UNDP in the disabilities section, and permission to research the Palestinian Refugee camps' deaf schools.
I am still in limbo, but trying to make the most out of it. Diana and I went on a 10 day tour of Jordan once I realized the research situation wasn't going to work out at HLID. We rented a car and drove from the northernmost tip that looks over the Sea of Gallalee in Israel, along the Dead Sea to the southernmost beach on the Red Sea in Aqaba. It was lovely! I will write more soon about the adventures and hopefully will update my online albums with pictures from our trip.
In the meantime I keep repeating to myself, "Jess, things are going to be better soon. You will fall in love with Jordan soon. You will make the most out of this situation."
The best part about being on a Fulbright Grant is the freedom we are given to create our own projects and spend our time and efforts where we think best benefits ourselves and our communities (it is called INDEPENDENT RESEARCH for a reason).
So, I will not be staying at the HLID. I am glad to leave now before getting too attached to the children and settled in. I am currently looking for a host family to live with (the only real way I learn Arabic), an internship with UNDP in the disabilities section, and permission to research the Palestinian Refugee camps' deaf schools.
I am still in limbo, but trying to make the most out of it. Diana and I went on a 10 day tour of Jordan once I realized the research situation wasn't going to work out at HLID. We rented a car and drove from the northernmost tip that looks over the Sea of Gallalee in Israel, along the Dead Sea to the southernmost beach on the Red Sea in Aqaba. It was lovely! I will write more soon about the adventures and hopefully will update my online albums with pictures from our trip.
In the meantime I keep repeating to myself, "Jess, things are going to be better soon. You will fall in love with Jordan soon. You will make the most out of this situation."
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Marathon in Jordan?
As Diana and I were hiking through the Dana Nature Reserve, we were chit-chatting about how we both really wanted to get back in shape and train for something. One thing lead to another, and suddenly we were totally lost on the trail, but brainstorming for a marathon we could run together. We decided it would be great to raise money for our projects in Yemen that we weren't able to continue with, raise awareness about the lovely time we had in Yemen, and get in shape!
December 5th we are going to attempt the Aqaba Red Sea Marathon. The planning and course looks pretty basic, but we are excited to work on this project together and maybe give back to our Yemeni friends who helped us, especially when we were really there to help them!
We will update you more when we get more organized.... wanna come join us for the race? Or just cheer us on? You can see Petra while you are here!
December 5th we are going to attempt the Aqaba Red Sea Marathon. The planning and course looks pretty basic, but we are excited to work on this project together and maybe give back to our Yemeni friends who helped us, especially when we were really there to help them!
We will update you more when we get more organized.... wanna come join us for the race? Or just cheer us on? You can see Petra while you are here!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Amal, I am so proud of you!
My best Yemeni friend was my Arabic teacher in Sana'a. She is vivacious and smart. She applied to over 200 different schools outside of Yemen to teach Arabic. After a long 3 months of receiving nothing good, she finally got a job at Al Akhawayn University in Ifrane, Morocco teaching Arabic
I am so so proud of her hard work. Diana and I have set up a place for her to stay on her over night layover in Casablanca, Mark is going to pick her up from the airport in Cairo during her 14 hour layover in Egypt, and then the school will pick her up in Fez and take her to her brand new one bedroom apartment all of her own! She can't take her daughter with her now, but when the next semester starts, if they sign her on to teach more, she will bring her daughter to join her in Morocco.
Good job Amal!
I am so so proud of her hard work. Diana and I have set up a place for her to stay on her over night layover in Casablanca, Mark is going to pick her up from the airport in Cairo during her 14 hour layover in Egypt, and then the school will pick her up in Fez and take her to her brand new one bedroom apartment all of her own! She can't take her daughter with her now, but when the next semester starts, if they sign her on to teach more, she will bring her daughter to join her in Morocco.
Good job Amal!
Friday, April 25, 2008
On a Lighter Note
I am very happy and enjoying my time here in Cairo with Mark. We have studied, danced, watched movies, walked around the city, and cooked together for the past two weeks with smiles. In a few days we are going to travel to a beach where we will stay in a hut, swim, and read. It will be great to go to the beach with Mark. I am really lucky to have him!
I wrote up my proposal for Jordan yesterday. I will paste it below:
I wrote up my proposal for Jordan yesterday. I will paste it below:
STATEMENT OF PROPOSED RESEARCH
Jessica Tibbets, Jordan, Deaf Studies
Study of the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf in Salt, Jordan
Unfortunate events have lead to my evacuation from Yemen and the alteration of my Fulbright research project. I would like to spend my remaining Fulbright research time in Jordan, studying their Deaf Community.
I have made contact with Brother Andrew at the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf (HLID) in Salt, Jordan, and he has agreed to support my research. I will rent a small room on the HLID campus; I will study, research, and eat with deaf students, hearing and deaf teachers, and staff. Living in the Deaf Community will be the best possible situation for my qualitative research.
During my time in Jordan, I plan to take Jordanian Arabic classes (since this is virtually a different language than the one spoken in Yemen) and Jordanian Sign Language (JSL) classes. I will also start right away with observing and filming classes for deaf students, chapel for the deaf, and different trade classes that are taught to deaf graduates.
With this footage, I hope to produce a documentary about HLID and how they operate. A documentary of this successful deaf institution could offer an example for other developing Arabic deaf institutions, such as the ones in Yemen. More developed deaf programs can also view the documentary to see what HLID is doing, to enhance communication and spread the word about the success of the Jordanian Deaf Community.
Since the individuals I will interview will be of different ages and educational levels, the method of communication with them will vary. At the institution I will individually interview staff members and teachers, in Arabic, with questions specifically about the institution and their reasons for working with it. I want to understand their teaching methodology and the nature of their commitment to their job. For the young students (ages 9 – 16), I will use a less formal style of group discussions. I will ask them simple questions in JSL and make observations during their classes and during their free time. In order to view the situation from a different perspective, I want to listen to the parents' views concerning communication with their deaf child, their child's education, and their own thoughts about how their family situation could be made easier.
Although this was an unplanned change in my research, I believe it is a suitable adjustment because of the relationship between the Jordanian and Yemeni Deaf Communities. About 20 years ago the Jordanian Deaf Community came to Yemen to help its Deaf develop a National Sign Language and Deaf education curriculum. Because of that initial step, Yemenis are thankful to Jordanians, but also continue to look to them for assistance. In addition, Yemeni Sign Language, which I am familiar with, is very close to Jordanian Sign Language, which I will have to learn.
If given my full 9 months of research, I will have about 7 and a half months remaining in Jordan (I started Feb 19th, and was told to prepare for evacuation April 8th). I will begin my research after the May 3- 6 Fulbright conference, and am prepared to continue until December 18th.
The Pain of Others' Disbelief
I woke up to a call from the woman in charge of my sexual harassment case against a man who used to work at the US Embassy in Yemen. Her first words were, "Well, there is a little problem." She continued to tell me that the harasser's witness has a story differing from mine. She asked if maybe I remembered the night wrong, "maybe he didn't grab your butt, maybe he was just leaning on your back or shoulder in support because he was drunk?"
This all happened over a month ago, and the following morning when I reported the sexual harassment, I was told that the man would be dishonorably discharged immediately. I was guilt filled that what had happened to me was going to ruin this man's life. He had inappropriately touched me twice, I reported both incidents, and he deserved some kind of punishment, but I wasn't sure how I felt about his career being terminated.
As soon as I vocalized my concern I was laughed at by the US Embassy's Regional Security Officer in Yemen. He said there is a zero tolerance policy at the US Embassy, and there was no way they were going to stand for what had happened to me.
So now I am frustrated that this sexual harassment case manager doesn't believe me; I am not worried that he won't be punished. I don't care about revenge. I would have been fine if they just had him apologize and do community service or if it would have just been put on his record. But now that they might not believe me, now I am angry. I guess this is the way it works in the real world when you take a case to the courts, especially if you are in a position like I am now, without a lawyer. I have attached my statement below (taking out all the names of US Embassy workers), and below is the case number and how to access the case file when it closes.
This all happened over a month ago, and the following morning when I reported the sexual harassment, I was told that the man would be dishonorably discharged immediately. I was guilt filled that what had happened to me was going to ruin this man's life. He had inappropriately touched me twice, I reported both incidents, and he deserved some kind of punishment, but I wasn't sure how I felt about his career being terminated.
As soon as I vocalized my concern I was laughed at by the US Embassy's Regional Security Officer in Yemen. He said there is a zero tolerance policy at the US Embassy, and there was no way they were going to stand for what had happened to me.
So now I am frustrated that this sexual harassment case manager doesn't believe me; I am not worried that he won't be punished. I don't care about revenge. I would have been fine if they just had him apologize and do community service or if it would have just been put on his record. But now that they might not believe me, now I am angry. I guess this is the way it works in the real world when you take a case to the courts, especially if you are in a position like I am now, without a lawyer. I have attached my statement below (taking out all the names of US Embassy workers), and below is the case number and how to access the case file when it closes.
Wednesday night March 5th at the Marine Party, at around 11:45, I was walking with a friend (who is willing to write a statement or help in any way possible) from the far outside tables to the dance floor inside to the Marine House. As we passed close by the ping pong tables I felt a hand on my stomach as a man’s voice said, “Where are you going?” I turned towards him, and when I did not recognize his face I pushed his hand off, pointed my finger at him, and sternly said, “Don’t touch me.” He looked at me in the eyes and said, “Well, fuck you.” He turned back around to his ping pong game. He was wearing jeans and a greenish brown sweater with buttons at the top. He had brown hair and was very chubby. He was short for a man, maybe around 5’7 and in his thirties probably.
Jessica Tibbets
Here is CIDs case number: 0033-08-CID609-36322. For a copy of the case file once it's closed (in a few weeks), contact the Crime Records Center thru this website:Sunday, April 13, 2008
A new plan everyday!
It looks like my next 7 months of research will be at the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf (HLID) in Salt, Jordan. click here to see website
I think I will actually get to live on the campus with the deaf children and the teachers (both hearing and deaf)! I am still sad that I had to leave Yemen, but I am trying to make the most of this new opportunity. And I will return to Yemen as soon as possible. And actually, the Deaf in Yemen told me that their goal was to have a system similar to the Deaf school in Jordan. I hope my research can be helpful to Yemen!
Headed out now to try to find a Jordanian Arabic tutor and maybe a Jordanian Sign Language Dictionary.
Peace
Saturday, April 12, 2008
From an e-mail I sent to the fam
Hello loved ones!
I am safe in Cairo right now. Here is a quick account of my last whirl wind week.
I wrapped up my studies and research in Sana'a the night of a small bombing on a residential complex in Sana'a (no one was hurt, and Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility for it).
The next day I moved with my many heavy bags down to Aden (the city Mark and I lived in two years ago), where the focus of my project and research is. I traveled the 8 hour bus ride by myself, but wearing the traditional women's Yemeni clothing (including a face veil so that the military men on the way would not ask for paperwork). I had the correct permission and paperwork to travel if I was found out, but didn't want to hold the bus full of Yemenis for hours at military check points.
My plan worked out lovely. I sat next to a very sweet 25 year old Yemeni girl (wearing an identical outfit to me) who had traveled to Sana'a looking for a job. Since she didn't find anything, she was now returning home to Aden. She said this was her first time traveling alone, and was very nervous. We held hands and giggled and whispered to each other as I explained my reason for wearing naqab (face veil) and being slightly worried myself.
I arrived in Aden at 11pm to find Shahira (my dear dear Yemeni friend who is a hearing teacher of the Deaf in Aden) waiting for me with the deaf school's bus full of kids happy to see me. We loaded my stuff in and signed frantically about how happy we all were to see each other and how excited we all were for me to be back in Aden! I slept that night at Shihira's house after a long girl talk in the dark about how we were going to go shopping for apts the next day.
Shihira left for work very early the next morning as I told her i would meet her in the early afternoon to look at an apt she had found for me. I woke up a couple hours later to a phone call from Ryan, at the US Embassy. He said good morning, and that there was another bomb a few hours ago, and that all non-emergency persons affiliated with the US Embassy were being ordered to evacuate from Yemen. My heart in my throat I told him I couldn't. I explained that I had not even been in Aden for more than 8 hours. "Well, at least you are all packed."
The next day and a half were spent telling people hello and good bye in the same swift motion of my hands. The deaf school saw how sad I was (maybe the tears streaming down my face were a clue) and offered to take me home one afternoon. We took a route that was unfamiliar to me.... and ended up at the beach! they signed the word for "surprise"!! As we piled out and played for a few minutes. They gave me a bracelet they had made to remind me of them. I cried more.
The Embassy bought me a flight from Aden to Sana'a, and 8 hours later a flight to Cairo. During the 8 hours of a layover I got to say goodbye to my loved ones in Sana'a and slept for an hour and a half at another Fulbrighter's house.
I am now in Cairo and have until Monday morning to decide where I want to spend the next 7 to 8 months doing my research. They have told me that I will not be allowed to return to Yemen on my Fulbright, but can chose pretty much anywhere else in the Middle East. So even though this is a very difficult decision for me (and I wonder if ANY of them have EVER done any kind of qualitative research in their lives!!!! Do they know I need contacts and support!!??!?!?) So I am writing frantic and pathetic e-mails to every deaf association in Arabic and English asking for some support in my research. I hope to figure out what the heck I will do in the next few days.
I am trying to look at this positively: this will be another country case study in my grand study... and I will return to Aden as soon as I possibly can.
Thank you for all of your support and love. I am staying with my dear wonderful caring and calming Mark for the next three weeks. I am so blessed and straight up lucky to have him. I would be singing a very different tune if I was in some hotel room alone in a new city by myself.
I am safe in Cairo right now. Here is a quick account of my last whirl wind week.
I wrapped up my studies and research in Sana'a the night of a small bombing on a residential complex in Sana'a (no one was hurt, and Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility for it).
The next day I moved with my many heavy bags down to Aden (the city Mark and I lived in two years ago), where the focus of my project and research is. I traveled the 8 hour bus ride by myself, but wearing the traditional women's Yemeni clothing (including a face veil so that the military men on the way would not ask for paperwork). I had the correct permission and paperwork to travel if I was found out, but didn't want to hold the bus full of Yemenis for hours at military check points.
My plan worked out lovely. I sat next to a very sweet 25 year old Yemeni girl (wearing an identical outfit to me) who had traveled to Sana'a looking for a job. Since she didn't find anything, she was now returning home to Aden. She said this was her first time traveling alone, and was very nervous. We held hands and giggled and whispered to each other as I explained my reason for wearing naqab (face veil) and being slightly worried myself.
I arrived in Aden at 11pm to find Shahira (my dear dear Yemeni friend who is a hearing teacher of the Deaf in Aden) waiting for me with the deaf school's bus full of kids happy to see me. We loaded my stuff in and signed frantically about how happy we all were to see each other and how excited we all were for me to be back in Aden! I slept that night at Shihira's house after a long girl talk in the dark about how we were going to go shopping for apts the next day.
Shihira left for work very early the next morning as I told her i would meet her in the early afternoon to look at an apt she had found for me. I woke up a couple hours later to a phone call from Ryan, at the US Embassy. He said good morning, and that there was another bomb a few hours ago, and that all non-emergency persons affiliated with the US Embassy were being ordered to evacuate from Yemen. My heart in my throat I told him I couldn't. I explained that I had not even been in Aden for more than 8 hours. "Well, at least you are all packed."
The next day and a half were spent telling people hello and good bye in the same swift motion of my hands. The deaf school saw how sad I was (maybe the tears streaming down my face were a clue) and offered to take me home one afternoon. We took a route that was unfamiliar to me.... and ended up at the beach! they signed the word for "surprise"!! As we piled out and played for a few minutes. They gave me a bracelet they had made to remind me of them. I cried more.
The Embassy bought me a flight from Aden to Sana'a, and 8 hours later a flight to Cairo. During the 8 hours of a layover I got to say goodbye to my loved ones in Sana'a and slept for an hour and a half at another Fulbrighter's house.
I am now in Cairo and have until Monday morning to decide where I want to spend the next 7 to 8 months doing my research. They have told me that I will not be allowed to return to Yemen on my Fulbright, but can chose pretty much anywhere else in the Middle East. So even though this is a very difficult decision for me (and I wonder if ANY of them have EVER done any kind of qualitative research in their lives!!!! Do they know I need contacts and support!!??!?!?) So I am writing frantic and pathetic e-mails to every deaf association in Arabic and English asking for some support in my research. I hope to figure out what the heck I will do in the next few days.
I am trying to look at this positively: this will be another country case study in my grand study... and I will return to Aden as soon as I possibly can.
Thank you for all of your support and love. I am staying with my dear wonderful caring and calming Mark for the next three weeks. I am so blessed and straight up lucky to have him. I would be singing a very different tune if I was in some hotel room alone in a new city by myself.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Started Research Finally!!
Every day I meet a bus full of deaf kids and their teachers at a major street, a 10 minute walk from my house, and spend the day with these kids. I am dropped off at the same place they pick me at 1pm. I usually eat lunch with my Yemeni family and spend the afternoon going through my tapes and seeing friends. I love my life here! I will update much more soon.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Tea Time
My dear friend Bradley wrote this... it is NOT from my head. But I think it is brilliant! He wrote it a while ago, but I think all should read it. Read more of his stuff: http://yementia.wordpress.com/
The boy not much younger doesn’t smile, gives me a look of curiosity.
مسلم؟
“Are you Muslim?” Look, I’m just trying to buy some smokes. He had answered that yes, he has them, but he made no move for them.
No.
Why not? he asks.
أنا ولدت في أسرة مسيحية.
“I was born into a Christian family.”
Satisfied with my answer, he cracks a smile and notices the money I had laid on the counter. I was no longer to blame for my apparent ignorance. The passive word “I was born” relinquished me from all responsibility. I didn’t choose Christianity over Islam any more than I chose to be an American rather than a Yemeni. I decided I’ll give this answer from now on.
“Do you want to convert?”
“I study Arabic. I live in that house.” I point up the street.
“Do you want to convert to Islam?”
I reach for my change, but he wants an answer. “I hope after studying lots I can read the Qur’an in Arabic.” This seems good enough. I tell him thanks as I shove the bill into my pocket and pass the the mosque my district of the city is named after. There are hundreds in this city alone, and as Yemen’s population explodes, the growth of mosques is outpacing the growth of schools. The people are responsible for building mosques, the state responsible for schools. It’s no wonder the people don’t trust their state, but rely more on their families, their tribes, and their religion to provide for them.
This afternoon I’m treating myself. I’m getting sweet milk tea at the little shop at the end of my street. My brain’s aswirl and I want something nice and warm to cool it down.
The Old City of Sana’a, inhabited for thousands of years, its buildings and streets a testament to the perseverance of tradition, a strong identification with the legacy of the past, is almost neatly bordered by a modern gully avenue. At places, the boundary of the Old City slopes down at thirty degrees, the alleys and thoroughfares dumping its residents and their cars, wheelbarrows, and carts into this busier race track encircling the ancient. I’ve heard that during the rainy month, this street becomes a river, swelling to carry the torrents away from the aging mud brick stone center of town to the outskirts, sometimes taking unfortunate taxis or joy-riding children along with them.
My friend Jessica calls this tea place “Café Exquisite.” There’s no sign out front indicating this isn’t the case, but I’m pretty sure the old man inside doesn’t use this name to describe his hole in the wall from which he serves his tea. Usually this place is bustling, but today I’m the only one. As I enter, I notice the owner is wearing the same green army-issue sweater I’ve seen on him every time I’ve come for tea. The neck hem is unraveling and where loose sleeves once hung his wrists are exposed, the ends charred to a halt. His wrinkled brown skin hangs from his face as well as a cigarette from his lips, and ashes fall to the cracked cement floor as he mutters to himself. A cat yawns and arches its back on a smoothed-over oily bench to the right, and another sits atop a case of condensed unsweetened canned milk. I wonder if the owner is too old or to gone to care about these pests lazing about, or if he’s come to consider them friends.
I shout peace upon him. If his makeshift stove weren’t on, I wonder, with its butane tank at my feet and its foot-high flames warming my face, if he would have heard me anyway. He grunts a response back to me, his incomprehensible words whistling as they flow through the stubby remains of his teeth. One Tea Milk Please, I literally say, and he’s quick to work. Before him are three buckets and a dented metal tray holding exhausted clear glasses, the last centimeter of sludge still at the bottom, a mix of tea grounds and sugary white liquid. He grabs one, dunks it into the first bucket, swipes his hand through the interior, dunks it into the second, the third. From a crimped can with a happy cow printed on the front he fills half my glass with milk, stretching the stream with a bob of his hand like a bartender would with a shot of whiskey. He dips his hands into the bucket of water and grabs a metal pitcher from atop the flames, fills my glass with tea, grabs a different pitcher, and empties my glass into it.
A cat atop a wobbling bucket loses its balance and empties onto the floor. It crawls out of the bucket with a chicken head in tow, and happily gnaws on it right in the middle of the floor. The other cats are probably full, because they give no fuss.
My tea begins to bubble, and the man again sticks his hand into the bucket, uses his wet fingers to pour my tea from its flaming container. I step over the feasting cat as I walk out of the room to the edge of the dry riverbed of the stone road. I sit and sip my treat, daydreaming about what Thanksgiving would be like tomorrow, both for me in Yemen, and for my extending family back home, without me.
Straight ahead a car begins rolling backwards, unable to make it up the ramp from the ساءلة, the name of the road, which I was taught also means ‘flood’ or ‘big water after a rain’. My teacher started with ocean, went to sea, to river, to lake, to stream, to creek, to well. I asked him, What’s it called after a rain, you know, the water on the ground? Children like to jump in these? This is the word he gave me, and I realized why he was confused. Rain is never a pleasant drizzle here, it comes down constantly in torrents for a month, to clear up for another eleven. Instead of puddles, it causes floods and rivers where for a year there is only dust.
The car disrupts the flow, and the cars behind him honk and honk. He backs up a little more, revs his engine, throws it into gear. With a lurch, it makes it two thirds the way up the hill, but again he begins the slow descent backwards, slamming his hand on the horn to the let the oncoming traffic know that he’s not going to stop. Again a traffic problem, he revs, the tires screech, and he attacks the base of the hill, but only inches over the top. The car was old, sure, but this road is pretty new. I bet this car hasn’t been out of Sana’a in years. Anywhere you look you see a mountain. I live in a valley of sprawling population at 7,000 feet.
Before me passes a man wearing his traditional gown, his waist bordered by a decorative knife, and his head covered in a red and black checkered shawl. He’s carrying two large containers you might buy at a gas station to bring to your stalled coach, but these are uncapped, and the liquid splashes out on to the ground as he hurries by. Either this is filtered water for drinking, or his house lacks its own tap.
Today I’m not paying attention and realize I’m done with my tea when I feel its grit between my teeth. I’m not here to study or meet with a new friend, so I just hold the glass in my lap, content to look out at the old buildings highlighted by the fading light of sunset. As the sun slips behind the mountain, night falls quickly, and I squeeze the glass for the last of its warmth. I think a little in Arabic, trying to practice even when not talking. Every day I learn some new words, or another way for saying something I thought I had down pat, and feel like a physicist: answering one question opens up five more. I’m learning two languages. The Arabic of the books and media and government, and the Arabic spoken here in the streets of Sana’a. This spoken Arabic comes in many colors and varieties, influenced by the tribes and regions of Yemen, each with their own identity, history, and traditions, blending together in a city that was a tenth of its size twenty years ago.
My daydream is broken by the grunts of the old man. He wants his glass back. I look around and notice that the place is filling up quickly. The men are pouring out of the mosque next to the shop, and and many stop in for some tea after the sunset prayer.
“Do you chew?” He points to his cheek, slightly sunken for the lack of teeth that give mine shape. “Sometimes!” I shout. His eyes close as he pulls his lips towards his ears, giving me a smile I appreciated all the more for the effort it must have taken. I say no more to discourage this man from talking any further. Everything he does must hurt, his body tattered from the years of military service, or the incessant qat, or just living in this city, and besides, I couldn’t understand him anyway. His dialect was beyond me.
I head back to my house to take a shower. No studying tonight because there’s no class tomorrow, not because of Thanksgiving, but because it’s Thursday, the same as any other Saturday back home.
Monday, February 18, 2008
my quote from Yemen Times, leave a comment, tell me what you think!
“During my year in Yemen I have met many women content with their lives; I have also spoken to women of different ages and socioeconomic groups who feel that they are treated unjustly because they are women. I had one friend who desired to climb a mountain, one who wanted to ride a bicycle, and another who wanted to travel abroad for studies. They were each denied this desire because of her gender. I am the ‘foreigner in a foreign land’ and cannot provide an answer or a ‘better’ solution to this imbalance of opportunities in Yemeni society. What I can give is my opinion: if women are given the freedom to take risks, I feel that they might have more confidence in their actions and presence in the public sphere.”
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Obama for President!
Living with a family in Yemen has given me a new perspective on US Foreign Policy and its impact on human beings. Reading both US news and different Arab news sources I am now starting to better understand both the histories and current events troubling this Middle Eastern region (particularly Palestine, Iraq, and Yemen). The more I understand Arabic, the closer Obama gets to Presidency, and the more I learn about this region, the more I want to be a part of US Foreign Policy CHANGE!
I believe that Obama will be the change this world needs to encourage us all to take care of each other as global citizens. I believe that Obama will be the change this world needs for citizens to take accountability for their actions. United States Foreign Policy needs to be dramatically different than it has been in the last 7 years in order for positive communication and compromise to occur. Obama has agreed to communicate and cooperate with countries other candidates refuse to speak with (Iran, Cuba, and Venezuela). In order for peace and understanding to be present, there must be active dialogue. On the other side of the world, where war and poverty tear countries apart, we have hope for change because we have hope for Obama to be President.
I believe that Obama will be the change this world needs to encourage us all to take care of each other as global citizens. I believe that Obama will be the change this world needs for citizens to take accountability for their actions. United States Foreign Policy needs to be dramatically different than it has been in the last 7 years in order for positive communication and compromise to occur. Obama has agreed to communicate and cooperate with countries other candidates refuse to speak with (Iran, Cuba, and Venezuela). In order for peace and understanding to be present, there must be active dialogue. On the other side of the world, where war and poverty tear countries apart, we have hope for change because we have hope for Obama to be President.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Niqab
The niqab is the black piece of material worn over the faces of most women in Yemen. It usually leaves a slit for the eyes, but sometimes even that slit is covered with a sheer piece of cloth so that only the woman wearing the niqab can see out, but men cannot see even her eyes.
It is a rare rare occasion, but I do sometimes desire this niqab.
1- When I want to be as close as possible to invisible so that people to not know that I am white.
2- When I have a zit on my face that I would like to have covered.
3- When the smells of the streets are really nasty.
4- When I have bad breath.
One time I asked my very liberal Yemeni girl friend, whom I had never seen in niqab, if she ever wore niqab, expecting a sharp "NO WAY!" But instead she said, "well, under two circumstances: If I am wearing a lot of make-up on the way to a wedding and don't want extra attention, or if I am having private relations with [dating] a man and don't want my mom's friends to see me with him."
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Finally made it to the dermatologist!
About two weeks ago I noticed a few bumps on my lower back that I figured must be ingrown hairs or maybe a pimple or two. A few days later I noticed that there were more bumps. It didn't hurt, it didn't itch, it didn't bother me at all. I only have two mirrors in my possession: one hanging in my bathroom which allows me to see my collar bones and up, and the other a small hand held make-up mirror. It was next to impossible for me to actually see what was growing on my back. So, naturally, I lifted the back of my shirt at school for a few of my girlfriends to diagnose for me. Their eyes got big, they covered their mouths with their hands, and leaned away from me as they gasped and said, "Uhh, Jess, uhh, get that thing checked out." Then other people claimed they had the same thing in the past caused by spiders or worms etc.
After using an anti-fungal cream that didn't help at all for about a week, I finally went to the dermatologist a few days ago. I arrived at the building for the security guard to say that he only accepts patients in the afternoons. I really didn't want to return to his office hours later, so I did the AS... remember, the awful American Sass that sometimes slips out... and insisted on getting my way. And as I argued with the guard in Arabic a nicely dressed man walked in from behind us and introduced himself as the doctor I was looking for, and said he would see me.
We walked into his large fancy office with leather chairs, bookcases, and fancy pens. We switched into English which was also easier for me since I was struggling with the word for rash (hadn't ever needed to use "rash" in Arabic before). He asked,"Do you have a picture of it, or can you describe it for me?" In Yemen the men are so respectful (and scared to death of women) sometimes it is funny. I asked him if I could just lift the back of my shirt and show him, that would be easier for us both. So I hiked up my abaya and tee-shirt, he took one look at it, exclaimed, "EASY!" and immediately returned to his seat to start writing out a prescription for me.
"Excuse me, but can you tell me what it is? I don't think I understand."
He gave me some doctor terminology. After seeing that my face was still crinkled up and confused, he said, "In your language.... ummm, what is it called.... uh, herpes. yes herpes."
My heart skipped a few beats, I held my breath, and went pale.
Then he said, "no, not herpes, I mean exima!"
He refused my money, saying it only took him two minutes and that wasn't long enough to charge me any money for the visit. He welcomed me to Yemen a few times and handed me a prescription. I insisted more than three times but failed to be able to pay him anything. I exited his office, smiled at the guard on the way out, apologized for being so rude earlier, and walked to the pharmacy around the corner.
It has only been two days since I started the medicine, and the exima is already much better.
al humdolila! Thank God!
After using an anti-fungal cream that didn't help at all for about a week, I finally went to the dermatologist a few days ago. I arrived at the building for the security guard to say that he only accepts patients in the afternoons. I really didn't want to return to his office hours later, so I did the AS... remember, the awful American Sass that sometimes slips out... and insisted on getting my way. And as I argued with the guard in Arabic a nicely dressed man walked in from behind us and introduced himself as the doctor I was looking for, and said he would see me.
We walked into his large fancy office with leather chairs, bookcases, and fancy pens. We switched into English which was also easier for me since I was struggling with the word for rash (hadn't ever needed to use "rash" in Arabic before). He asked,"Do you have a picture of it, or can you describe it for me?" In Yemen the men are so respectful (and scared to death of women) sometimes it is funny. I asked him if I could just lift the back of my shirt and show him, that would be easier for us both. So I hiked up my abaya and tee-shirt, he took one look at it, exclaimed, "EASY!" and immediately returned to his seat to start writing out a prescription for me.
"Excuse me, but can you tell me what it is? I don't think I understand."
He gave me some doctor terminology. After seeing that my face was still crinkled up and confused, he said, "In your language.... ummm, what is it called.... uh, herpes. yes herpes."
My heart skipped a few beats, I held my breath, and went pale.
Then he said, "no, not herpes, I mean exima!"
He refused my money, saying it only took him two minutes and that wasn't long enough to charge me any money for the visit. He welcomed me to Yemen a few times and handed me a prescription. I insisted more than three times but failed to be able to pay him anything. I exited his office, smiled at the guard on the way out, apologized for being so rude earlier, and walked to the pharmacy around the corner.
It has only been two days since I started the medicine, and the exima is already much better.
al humdolila! Thank God!
Monday, February 11, 2008
It's a small world after all...
This is a complicated story, but an ironic one, so worth telling. A dear friend of Mark’s and mine used to live in Yemen. His name is Tim, and his roommate’s name was Derek. Mark and I met Derek back in August when Mark came to Yemen to visit me. Derek was living with Tim to save up money for his wedding. He was giddy about getting married to a Yemeni girl who worked as a secretary at the Ministry of Water. He secretly showed me a picture of her and told me he was very excited to get married.
Ok, now fast forward to my second trip to Cairo during our Christmas break (my lovely friend Elian came to Cairo for 5 days, it was wonderful to see her!). Elian and I had just finished our hour long camel ride around the pyramids and walked to find a taxi. I bargained with the driver for a few seconds and then we got into the taxi. A man with two women at his heels asked if they could share taxi with us, it was a station wagon after all. Eli and I shrugged and opened the door for them. I had a few pieces of chocolate in my purse and offered them to each of the passengers and driver. I used the Egyptian word for “Would you like…” to everyone except the last girl, my Yemeni Arabic slipped in and I asked her in the wrong dialect. I laughed to myself as I corrected it, asking her again.
She looked up at me and said in Arabic, “Are you Yemeni?”
“No, but I live in Yemen. Are you Yemeni?”
“I live in Sana’a! We should get together when we are in Yemen again. Where are you from?”
“I’m American.”
“I am going to marry an American. Well, he is Korean-American.”
“Wait a sec, is he friends with Tim?”
“That is his old roommate. How do you know Tim?”
“Wait, I know you!”
Well, one thing lead to another and I learned that the three of them were from Yemen on a business trip to Cairo for the week. The women turned out to be the fiancé of Derek! I told her how I knew Derek and Tim and had even seen her picture. She smiled and blushed. I invited them to the park which was where I was going to meet up with Mark and his friend.
We dropped Elian off with one of her friends and the man the Yemeni girls were traveling with in another area of town. My two new Yemeni friends and I went to the park and chatted in Yemeni dialect the whole evening. It was nice to show off my Yemeni Arabic speaking skills (cause people in Cairo speak differently than people in Sana’a) and giggle with Yemeni girls. She told me that she is planning to get married in the next few weeks, and I was invited to her wedding.
Now fast forward to today! She is getting married this weekend and has invited me to all three days of the party process. I am very excited, and will try to write down as much as I can. I have been to many many weddings, but never have I actually known the bride or gone to more than one day of the three day wedding party! Shoot, I only have one long dress; I can’t wear it three days in a row. This means I will either have to shave my legs or buy another long dress.
Ok, now fast forward to my second trip to Cairo during our Christmas break (my lovely friend Elian came to Cairo for 5 days, it was wonderful to see her!). Elian and I had just finished our hour long camel ride around the pyramids and walked to find a taxi. I bargained with the driver for a few seconds and then we got into the taxi. A man with two women at his heels asked if they could share taxi with us, it was a station wagon after all. Eli and I shrugged and opened the door for them. I had a few pieces of chocolate in my purse and offered them to each of the passengers and driver. I used the Egyptian word for “Would you like…” to everyone except the last girl, my Yemeni Arabic slipped in and I asked her in the wrong dialect. I laughed to myself as I corrected it, asking her again.
She looked up at me and said in Arabic, “Are you Yemeni?”
“No, but I live in Yemen. Are you Yemeni?”
“I live in Sana’a! We should get together when we are in Yemen again. Where are you from?”
“I’m American.”
“I am going to marry an American. Well, he is Korean-American.”
“Wait a sec, is he friends with Tim?”
“That is his old roommate. How do you know Tim?”
“Wait, I know you!”
Well, one thing lead to another and I learned that the three of them were from Yemen on a business trip to Cairo for the week. The women turned out to be the fiancé of Derek! I told her how I knew Derek and Tim and had even seen her picture. She smiled and blushed. I invited them to the park which was where I was going to meet up with Mark and his friend.
We dropped Elian off with one of her friends and the man the Yemeni girls were traveling with in another area of town. My two new Yemeni friends and I went to the park and chatted in Yemeni dialect the whole evening. It was nice to show off my Yemeni Arabic speaking skills (cause people in Cairo speak differently than people in Sana’a) and giggle with Yemeni girls. She told me that she is planning to get married in the next few weeks, and I was invited to her wedding.
Now fast forward to today! She is getting married this weekend and has invited me to all three days of the party process. I am very excited, and will try to write down as much as I can. I have been to many many weddings, but never have I actually known the bride or gone to more than one day of the three day wedding party! Shoot, I only have one long dress; I can’t wear it three days in a row. This means I will either have to shave my legs or buy another long dress.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Friday Goodness
Every Friday (the second day of the weekend, so like a Sunday in the West) I go to my teacher’s house for lunch. I try to bring something for her daughter or something to contribute to the meal, but I don’t always get around to it. We sit and eat lunch on the floor of her one bedroom apartment, we giggle in Arabic about politics or newest gossip, I tickle and color with her daughter, we review the lessons from the past week, we dance around the room to different kinds of Arabic music, and we talk about how she needs to get out of Yemen.
I have helped her apply to over 40 different universities in the US, and we are thus far unsuccessful. We are optimistic, because she is by far the best Arabic teacher I have ever studied under, smart, speaks English pretty well, and the most motivated Yemeni I have ever witnessed.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
sick again!!
It is only one month since I last wrote. And I am sick again. I can hardly breathe. I am having a very difficult time today. It is really hard to breathe. All I want is attention and love when I am sick. Someone to rub my back (BTW I have a huge rash on my back that hasn’t gone away in over a week, so I am going to the dermatologist in a few days) and make me tea.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Sick is not normal, but what is normal?
After throwing up all night and day, all I want is to be in my mom’s arms with a fire in the fireplace while we sip hot chocolate and talk about life. Instead, I am in Yemen, recovering from a long night of vomiting and feeling lonely. I do not get homesick much, because really, where is home? When I go to KS I do not have a place of my own, or even a room or a bed. Whenever someone asks me if I get homesick, I respond that I sometimes miss my family, and would like to spend a few weeks with them, but I am always on the move, and have not lived in one place for more than 6 months in the past 5 years. It is times like these that I look with longing at many of my friends who have good jobs, steady income, a dog, a husband, a child, an apt, some freakin stability! It is not what I desire at all for this stage in my life, but I sometimes look forward to the day when things get normal. What is normal? I guess normal for me is:
Overall things are good, just difficult.
Why can’t I chill out a little bit? I am in the most chilled out country in the world, where people don’t stress about much of anything, but I am running around like a chicken with her head cut off sometimes
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Random Ramblings from a random 22 year old
I am not 100 percent sure he is the one…. But are we ever? I know that if we did get married we would be really happy about it, but if we didn’t we would move on eventually. I also think that if we stick it out for another 3 or 4 years, and see where we are after Grad school, that might make more sense. I think that in 3 years I will know better where my life is going. And after being with someone for 6 years, good grief, we should know whether to tie the knot or not. So can we just be patient for another 3 or 4 years? Get our masters and get good jobs…. THEN decide if our lives are going to go in the same direction or not. So that is my decision. I am not going to propose to him or even the idea before 4 years from now. I also am telling myself to not even think about marriage before the end of grad school.
Okay, well, I seem pretty cool with all that. Looks like I have my life pretty well planned out. Things never really go as I plan them to, so I guess I will just have to wait and see what happens. This is what I do know: I am not getting married before I have a Masters!! End of story!
Saturday, November 3, 2007
break from the Abaya!!
The other day I said to myself, “I don’t feel like wearing an Abaya (the long black dress) today, I will wear pants, a long sleeved loose shirt that comes to my knees, and a scarf to cover my hair.” As I was crossing one of the bridges on the way to a friend’s house, a man standing ten feet in front of me throws his arms in the air, as one might do if a police man or woman had a gun pointed at you, and waved them around as if he was then trying to stop a helicopter. Then yelled in perfect, slow, and loud English, “WAIT! STOP! COVER YOUR BODY!” I just laughed as I walked off, showing no skin other than my hands and face… he must have been practicing that phrase for a while, just waiting to yell it at a white woman.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Nady Belquis- women's gym
Two or three times a week I go to a women’s gym named after Yemen’s president’s daughter (who was named after Queen Belquis, others know her as Queen Sheeba). The first time I went to this gym I was by myself and had basic directions from a Yemeni friend of mine.
After a bus ride and long walk I slid the latch of the large metal door to the left and stepped into a thin carpeted dark entry room where three girls stopped giggling to stare at me. They were cheery and informed me that because Eid had just finished, the gym was being cleaned this week and I would not be able to see the workout equipment. I agreed to come back the following week when the regular daily schedule of 9:30-12:00 and 3:30-6:00 would resume.
During the week of waiting for the women’s gym to be cleaned, I went to a very expensive mixed (gender) gym in a nice part of town. At this gym I listened to the first two chapters of Harry Potter (about an hour) while I ran on a modern treadmill. No one talked to me or bothered me, and they didn’t even make me pay because I told them I wanted a trial time at the gym to see if I would later join. While I was running on the treadmill, I could not help but to notice the large blown up glossy pictures of body building men on all three walls visible to me. Bulging muscles from jaw lines to wrists and rippled neck to strained toes, these men stared at me as Harry Potter got locked in his small closet space under the stairs. I tried to focus on the letters coming in for Harry, but the pictures and the Television with a body building contest facing my treadmill were a distraction. Distraction meaning I was grossed out by them, not attracted to them. After the long run I took a shower with HOT WATER in the locker room. When I am at the gym I don’t usually like to talk to people. I am here to run off steam, focus on my breathing, and think about things that make me happy.
A week later I returned to Nady Belquis, excited for a long run without muscles staring at me. I confidently strolled into the gym, knowing the way and procedure since I had been there before. I used the same line that I did at the mixed gym, “I want to try the gym for a day. If I like it I will pay for a month. Is this okay? Normal?” The women looked at me like I was a little strange, but that look is almost comforting to me at this point in my stay in Yemen. They told me that I could do one day of trial, but was not allowed to use the treadmill until after I had attended the aerobics class for two weeks.
This is when the American Sass (AS) comes out in me, and unfortunately she comes out more than I would like her to. I told them that I am very strong, I run a lot, I can run for a long time, and I have run on a treadmill since I was little. They give me the same look, but I felt only annoyed that they would belittle me like this and the woman gave me the back of the hand sweeping motion toward the aerobic class that was about to start. I grumbled off toward the group of girls lining up.
I thought, well I don’t deserve special treatment because I am American. Do I? No. But I don’t want to do an aerobics class, aerobics are silly. A few minutes into the class I realized silly was a weak word to describe the “exercise,” ridiculous was more like it. I could not help but laugh as we waved our arms around like puppets on strings and did stretches we learned not to do in Ms. Livingston’s elementary school P.E. class such as the butterfly stretch (sitting on the ground with the bottoms of your feet pulled in and touching each other) where your push your knees down to the ground and let them bounce up in time to slam them back down on the ground.
The girls in my class were all overweight except one who came over to practice her English with me. The girls wear matching pant and long sleeve shirt exercise outfits. A lot of them don’t have tennis shoes or sneakers, so they exercise in socks. Many of them keep their hair pulled back in a low long ponytail or have some kind of bandana around their heads. I am the only one in shorts with a high dirty blond peepy ponytail. On my legs are basket ball shorts, so they almost reach my knees. Luckily no bodybuilding pictures line the walls, but they were replaced by a gigantic poster of Ali Abdulah Saleh (Yemen’s president) and about 40 8x10 sized pictures of him in only 5 different poses. I feel somehow more comfortable with the pres. watching me workout than bumpy waddling shinny practically naked guys.
Whereas the typical aerobics teacher in America might wear a matching spandex revealing outfit, the aerobics teacher at Nady Beliquis does not follow this stereotype. Though she does not do all of the aerobic motions with us, she does show us some initial moves, sits in a chair, and lifts her arms or feet to show what she wants us to do. She wears leather low heal boots, light brown fitting pants, a button-down silk blouse with shoulder pads, gold dangling jewelry, and hijab (a scarf that covers her hair, neck, and ears). I do my aerobics in the back, so I can really only understand her counting, when she said what direction to go, and “HUB!” which means switch sides.
Somehow, by the end of the hour long class I was tired and sore. The teacher came to talk to me after the class and kissed my cheeks. When have I ever had an aerobics teacher, or any teacher for that matter, kiss me? She asked the usual questions of: Where are you from, What’s your name, Are you married, Where do you live, Are you Muslim, How long have you been in Yemen, and Why are you here? I spouted the usual speech I have prepared for this conversation, and she seemed pleased. I tried to ask her a few polite questions, but she got distracted and had to go. I went to examine the work out equipment.
In the “machine room,” as it is called in Arabic, there are three working treadmills, and one gathering dust. In this small room there is a girl on each working treadmill, and at least two waiting for each of them. When I ask about the rules, and who is in line for which treadmill, I am told that girls are only allowed to run for up to ten minutes. I figured it was because of the line of waiting girls and limited treadmills, but when I asked for clarification, I was told, “If a girl runs too much, she will not be able to have children, so you can only run for 10 minutes.” I explained that my mother ran for 4 hours and still had children, that many women in my life run for hours at a time and still have the ability to have children. I decided that I could just run around the interior perimeter of the gym, even though it is only the size of a basket ball court.
I start the third chapter of Harry Potter on my i-pod and run to the left, the direction the other 3 girls are running in. After about 30 minutes my left leg was cramping from the constant turning in a small circle, so I turned around to run in the other direction, I figured since there were only 2 other girls running at this point it wouldn’t be a big deal. No more than 20 strides later a woman in an official looking black polyester vest, white button down shirt, tight black jean pants and black shoes comes to tell me, in Arabic, that it is very dangerous for me to run in this direction because the blood in my body runs this way (as she makes a circular motion with her pointer finger that went from her knees to her right elbow to her head, to her left elbow, then back to her knees), and if I run in the opposite direction (which I was doing for only the 20 strides before she saved me) I will get dizzy and fall over.
Baffled, I think about the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday direction at the YMCA indoor track and how it dangerously differs from the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday direction. I have to keep reminding myself that just because I was taught differently, does not mean that my way is right. It is very hard to think that way when I am at this gym. I suppress the AS. I know about warming up muscles and not bounce stretching them. I know that I have run in both directions on a track for many miles and never felt dizzy or fallen over. I know that I can run for more than 10 minutes on a treadmill. I know that a woman would have to be of Olympic pedigree to workout enough to lose the ability to have children, and that isn’t exactly my goal or current situation.
I had had it. Not angry but just done for one day’s workout. As I walked toward the locker I had crammed my stuff into, the aerobics teacher came over to me. “Prohibited” she said in Arabic as she pointed to my revealed hairy dry shins. At this point I just laughed and thought, well of course it is! But said, “no problem, next time I will wear pants, see you the day after tomorrow.” We kissed and I rode the bus home to take a cold shower.
After a bus ride and long walk I slid the latch of the large metal door to the left and stepped into a thin carpeted dark entry room where three girls stopped giggling to stare at me. They were cheery and informed me that because Eid had just finished, the gym was being cleaned this week and I would not be able to see the workout equipment. I agreed to come back the following week when the regular daily schedule of 9:30-12:00 and 3:30-6:00 would resume.
During the week of waiting for the women’s gym to be cleaned, I went to a very expensive mixed (gender) gym in a nice part of town. At this gym I listened to the first two chapters of Harry Potter (about an hour) while I ran on a modern treadmill. No one talked to me or bothered me, and they didn’t even make me pay because I told them I wanted a trial time at the gym to see if I would later join. While I was running on the treadmill, I could not help but to notice the large blown up glossy pictures of body building men on all three walls visible to me. Bulging muscles from jaw lines to wrists and rippled neck to strained toes, these men stared at me as Harry Potter got locked in his small closet space under the stairs. I tried to focus on the letters coming in for Harry, but the pictures and the Television with a body building contest facing my treadmill were a distraction. Distraction meaning I was grossed out by them, not attracted to them. After the long run I took a shower with HOT WATER in the locker room. When I am at the gym I don’t usually like to talk to people. I am here to run off steam, focus on my breathing, and think about things that make me happy.
A week later I returned to Nady Belquis, excited for a long run without muscles staring at me. I confidently strolled into the gym, knowing the way and procedure since I had been there before. I used the same line that I did at the mixed gym, “I want to try the gym for a day. If I like it I will pay for a month. Is this okay? Normal?” The women looked at me like I was a little strange, but that look is almost comforting to me at this point in my stay in Yemen. They told me that I could do one day of trial, but was not allowed to use the treadmill until after I had attended the aerobics class for two weeks.
This is when the American Sass (AS) comes out in me, and unfortunately she comes out more than I would like her to. I told them that I am very strong, I run a lot, I can run for a long time, and I have run on a treadmill since I was little. They give me the same look, but I felt only annoyed that they would belittle me like this and the woman gave me the back of the hand sweeping motion toward the aerobic class that was about to start. I grumbled off toward the group of girls lining up.
I thought, well I don’t deserve special treatment because I am American. Do I? No. But I don’t want to do an aerobics class, aerobics are silly. A few minutes into the class I realized silly was a weak word to describe the “exercise,” ridiculous was more like it. I could not help but laugh as we waved our arms around like puppets on strings and did stretches we learned not to do in Ms. Livingston’s elementary school P.E. class such as the butterfly stretch (sitting on the ground with the bottoms of your feet pulled in and touching each other) where your push your knees down to the ground and let them bounce up in time to slam them back down on the ground.
The girls in my class were all overweight except one who came over to practice her English with me. The girls wear matching pant and long sleeve shirt exercise outfits. A lot of them don’t have tennis shoes or sneakers, so they exercise in socks. Many of them keep their hair pulled back in a low long ponytail or have some kind of bandana around their heads. I am the only one in shorts with a high dirty blond peepy ponytail. On my legs are basket ball shorts, so they almost reach my knees. Luckily no bodybuilding pictures line the walls, but they were replaced by a gigantic poster of Ali Abdulah Saleh (Yemen’s president) and about 40 8x10 sized pictures of him in only 5 different poses. I feel somehow more comfortable with the pres. watching me workout than bumpy waddling shinny practically naked guys.
Whereas the typical aerobics teacher in America might wear a matching spandex revealing outfit, the aerobics teacher at Nady Beliquis does not follow this stereotype. Though she does not do all of the aerobic motions with us, she does show us some initial moves, sits in a chair, and lifts her arms or feet to show what she wants us to do. She wears leather low heal boots, light brown fitting pants, a button-down silk blouse with shoulder pads, gold dangling jewelry, and hijab (a scarf that covers her hair, neck, and ears). I do my aerobics in the back, so I can really only understand her counting, when she said what direction to go, and “HUB!” which means switch sides.
Somehow, by the end of the hour long class I was tired and sore. The teacher came to talk to me after the class and kissed my cheeks. When have I ever had an aerobics teacher, or any teacher for that matter, kiss me? She asked the usual questions of: Where are you from, What’s your name, Are you married, Where do you live, Are you Muslim, How long have you been in Yemen, and Why are you here? I spouted the usual speech I have prepared for this conversation, and she seemed pleased. I tried to ask her a few polite questions, but she got distracted and had to go. I went to examine the work out equipment.
In the “machine room,” as it is called in Arabic, there are three working treadmills, and one gathering dust. In this small room there is a girl on each working treadmill, and at least two waiting for each of them. When I ask about the rules, and who is in line for which treadmill, I am told that girls are only allowed to run for up to ten minutes. I figured it was because of the line of waiting girls and limited treadmills, but when I asked for clarification, I was told, “If a girl runs too much, she will not be able to have children, so you can only run for 10 minutes.” I explained that my mother ran for 4 hours and still had children, that many women in my life run for hours at a time and still have the ability to have children. I decided that I could just run around the interior perimeter of the gym, even though it is only the size of a basket ball court.
I start the third chapter of Harry Potter on my i-pod and run to the left, the direction the other 3 girls are running in. After about 30 minutes my left leg was cramping from the constant turning in a small circle, so I turned around to run in the other direction, I figured since there were only 2 other girls running at this point it wouldn’t be a big deal. No more than 20 strides later a woman in an official looking black polyester vest, white button down shirt, tight black jean pants and black shoes comes to tell me, in Arabic, that it is very dangerous for me to run in this direction because the blood in my body runs this way (as she makes a circular motion with her pointer finger that went from her knees to her right elbow to her head, to her left elbow, then back to her knees), and if I run in the opposite direction (which I was doing for only the 20 strides before she saved me) I will get dizzy and fall over.
Baffled, I think about the Monday, Wednesday, and Friday direction at the YMCA indoor track and how it dangerously differs from the Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday direction. I have to keep reminding myself that just because I was taught differently, does not mean that my way is right. It is very hard to think that way when I am at this gym. I suppress the AS. I know about warming up muscles and not bounce stretching them. I know that I have run in both directions on a track for many miles and never felt dizzy or fallen over. I know that I can run for more than 10 minutes on a treadmill. I know that a woman would have to be of Olympic pedigree to workout enough to lose the ability to have children, and that isn’t exactly my goal or current situation.
I had had it. Not angry but just done for one day’s workout. As I walked toward the locker I had crammed my stuff into, the aerobics teacher came over to me. “Prohibited” she said in Arabic as she pointed to my revealed hairy dry shins. At this point I just laughed and thought, well of course it is! But said, “no problem, next time I will wear pants, see you the day after tomorrow.” We kissed and I rode the bus home to take a cold shower.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Manakha and Hoteib
Today is the second day of our weekend and some of the students and I got up early to go to ride for 2 hours to Manakha. The drive was lovely, windy, and lucky for us Backstreet Boys blared the whole time. I sat in the front with the Arab "guards" from our center so that I could speak Arabic and not get carsick in the back.
The first picture is of the two little boys in Manakha who held my hands for an hour as we wound around their city. They told me about every building and about how the city used to be half Muslim and half Jewish. The two religions lived in peace in this city for hundreds of years. Now there are only Mulims in Manakha. All of the Jews have either moved to Israel or moved up to northern Yemen where, unfortunately, there is a lot of fighting and land disputes.
This second picture is of Hoteib, a city that is a pilgrimage for Ismielis (spelling?). This was the first time I saw women in something other than black! It was really exciting! For the pilgrimage, the women wear these really pretty white dresses with white hijab. The men wear all white, and they pray together in the same room of the mosque, which I had never heard of either. The whole city was very clean, and the plants were well kept. It was a lovely change of pace.
Yeay, I finally have a picture of me with Yemeni scenery! Tomorrow is another two day trip! I need to get some sleep tonight! cheers!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Understanding Arabic better
Every morning from 8 - 12 I have Arabic classes. My favorite class is from 8-10, with Amal, my conversation teacher. In this class we must come prepared to present three different news pieces each morning. We are allowed to read the article in our native language, but we must, of course, translate them into Arabic in order to talk about them in class. The entire class is performed in Arabic. She puts absolutely no pressure on her students, which I think is where the most learning can take place. As soon as I start to feel under pressure I feel nervous then insecure and incompetent, and that is when I give up or start to feel sad or angry. The three of us students in her class try really hard and are encouraging to each other, which also helps for a positive and productive learning environment.
So Amal knows my level of Arabic and knows that I understand a lot, but sometimes have a hard time responding (like any beginner of any language, I have to keep reminding myself). Another teacher, Amal's friend, came in yesterday to our class during one of our breaks. I asked her about a women's gym I had heard about. She said she knew where it was and would give me directions. As I got out a piece of paper to take notes, she and Amal started arguing. They were arguing over not how to get to the gym but how to tell me how to get to the gym. Amal kept saying, "she understands more than you think. She will be here for a long time, you need to explain the street names to her, the area it is in, and the surrounding buildings." And Sayda kept saying, "no, it is too confusing, because the bus name is 'street Haial', the street the gym is on is a different street I don't even know the name of, and the street the bus goes down is a third street, 'street zubairy'." As they argued I wrote down, in Arabic, the name of the bus, the gym, the street the bus goes down, and the place where I get off and the direction to walk from the bus to the gym. When she turned around after the argument she said, "wow, you are right she does understand!"
It felt really good to be better than someone thought I was, but today, the same woman came in during our break. I told her I went to the gym yesterday afternoon but they are closed until next week (after Eid, sometimes places take a while to open),I also told her the days and hours and prices. Then the women were giggling about who needs to go the the gym and who doesn't. I was reading over an article from our book, but halfway listening to the chattering women. Sayda was sitting right next me, thinking I had no peripheral vision or any knowledge of the conversation. She said, "she needs to go, she isn't skinny." I looked shocked and kind of hurt at Amal, not Sayda. Amal scolded Sayda saying, "how many times do I have to tell you, she understands!" Then Sayda says, covering up her mistake, "I mean, she doesn't need to go, she is skinny." I looked at her, smiled, and said, "I ran for 45 minutes yesterday at a different gym, let's have a race or a contest if you want to see who needs to go to the gym." It was perfect, and totally the way Yemeni women, I have come in counter with, handle things: someone says something rude, just say something back, as long as no one cares or has any hard feelings. so it was fine, I could beat her in a 6 mile run any day, abaya or not!
Today I am off to the Women's National Organization. I'm looking forward to it. I really want to find a family to live with, I am kind of sick of living in a dorm...
I went to the Women's Org. with Julia. The director sat us down and talked to us for a long time about a project that they are working on and what they needed our help with. We agreed to do minimal work because we are busy students and doing research already. Then she went into horror stories about how the business is so corrupt, and it is the fault of NGOs. Her org was government funded, but just scraping by.... as she paused to answer one of the two cell phones on the table, next to her Audi keys. I was skeptical. She told us stories about how the president of Yemen (Ali Abdullah Saleh) has recently started his own NGO... and that the minister of something in Kuwait had just donated 5 million dollars to his NGO, so that he could bribe Saleh to do something he wanted, she wouldn't go into detail. Recently Saleh went on national television to donate 20 million dollars to an NGO, and he picked his own NGO. She told us that her employees go to work for NGOs because they pay more, because they are funded by the UN or other "big names". These big names won't support her org because they always respond, "You are funded by the government, we don't need to give you money."
On the way home Julia explained to me that the director's last name is Hamdani. Immediately I thought of qat (the addictive leaf that is RUINING the economy in Yemen), because Hamdani qat is the nicest qat you can buy in Sana'a. Sure enough, she is rich because her family prospers SO much from the qat. It seems ironic to me that she is wealthy from the very poison that pulls the country down, but is the director, and very passionate about women's status and well being. It seems like there are moves that she could make that would have a large affect on the whole of Yemen, men and women. I don't know her whole story, so I shouldn't judge. It is just an ironic story. Overall it was a nice place with positive people who want to make Yemen and better place, so I support it.
So Amal knows my level of Arabic and knows that I understand a lot, but sometimes have a hard time responding (like any beginner of any language, I have to keep reminding myself). Another teacher, Amal's friend, came in yesterday to our class during one of our breaks. I asked her about a women's gym I had heard about. She said she knew where it was and would give me directions. As I got out a piece of paper to take notes, she and Amal started arguing. They were arguing over not how to get to the gym but how to tell me how to get to the gym. Amal kept saying, "she understands more than you think. She will be here for a long time, you need to explain the street names to her, the area it is in, and the surrounding buildings." And Sayda kept saying, "no, it is too confusing, because the bus name is 'street Haial', the street the gym is on is a different street I don't even know the name of, and the street the bus goes down is a third street, 'street zubairy'." As they argued I wrote down, in Arabic, the name of the bus, the gym, the street the bus goes down, and the place where I get off and the direction to walk from the bus to the gym. When she turned around after the argument she said, "wow, you are right she does understand!"
It felt really good to be better than someone thought I was, but today, the same woman came in during our break. I told her I went to the gym yesterday afternoon but they are closed until next week (after Eid, sometimes places take a while to open),I also told her the days and hours and prices. Then the women were giggling about who needs to go the the gym and who doesn't. I was reading over an article from our book, but halfway listening to the chattering women. Sayda was sitting right next me, thinking I had no peripheral vision or any knowledge of the conversation. She said, "she needs to go, she isn't skinny." I looked shocked and kind of hurt at Amal, not Sayda. Amal scolded Sayda saying, "how many times do I have to tell you, she understands!" Then Sayda says, covering up her mistake, "I mean, she doesn't need to go, she is skinny." I looked at her, smiled, and said, "I ran for 45 minutes yesterday at a different gym, let's have a race or a contest if you want to see who needs to go to the gym." It was perfect, and totally the way Yemeni women, I have come in counter with, handle things: someone says something rude, just say something back, as long as no one cares or has any hard feelings. so it was fine, I could beat her in a 6 mile run any day, abaya or not!
Today I am off to the Women's National Organization. I'm looking forward to it. I really want to find a family to live with, I am kind of sick of living in a dorm...
I went to the Women's Org. with Julia. The director sat us down and talked to us for a long time about a project that they are working on and what they needed our help with. We agreed to do minimal work because we are busy students and doing research already. Then she went into horror stories about how the business is so corrupt, and it is the fault of NGOs. Her org was government funded, but just scraping by.... as she paused to answer one of the two cell phones on the table, next to her Audi keys. I was skeptical. She told us stories about how the president of Yemen (Ali Abdullah Saleh) has recently started his own NGO... and that the minister of something in Kuwait had just donated 5 million dollars to his NGO, so that he could bribe Saleh to do something he wanted, she wouldn't go into detail. Recently Saleh went on national television to donate 20 million dollars to an NGO, and he picked his own NGO. She told us that her employees go to work for NGOs because they pay more, because they are funded by the UN or other "big names". These big names won't support her org because they always respond, "You are funded by the government, we don't need to give you money."
On the way home Julia explained to me that the director's last name is Hamdani. Immediately I thought of qat (the addictive leaf that is RUINING the economy in Yemen), because Hamdani qat is the nicest qat you can buy in Sana'a. Sure enough, she is rich because her family prospers SO much from the qat. It seems ironic to me that she is wealthy from the very poison that pulls the country down, but is the director, and very passionate about women's status and well being. It seems like there are moves that she could make that would have a large affect on the whole of Yemen, men and women. I don't know her whole story, so I shouldn't judge. It is just an ironic story. Overall it was a nice place with positive people who want to make Yemen and better place, so I support it.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
on line pictures of Yemen and Egypt
If you can, click on "slide show" when looking at my pictures on my web album. That way you can see the picture big and clear.
at: www.picasaweb.google.com/jessica.tibbets
I hope you like them!
at: www.picasaweb.google.com/jessica.tibbets
I hope you like them!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
home again to Yemen
In the morning, before my flight back to Yemen, Mark tells me he wants to take me to a restaurant (that had been closed the entire time of my visit for renovations) he frequents at least once a day on a regular basis. Mark introduces me to everyone with an excited face, saying, “This is Jess!” The response is usually along these lines, “Oh! Your girlfriend who is living in Yemen! It is so nice to finally meet you. He talks about you all the time. You are lucky to have each other.”
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
last full day in cairo
Unfortunately this is my last full day in Egypt, and I woke up with terrible kidney stones, and was really sad to see Mark go off to school.
I tried to busy myself by cleaning up the house, packing up my stuff for my flight the next day, going across town to pick up my ticket, and decided that I can not be a housewife, I am just not cut our for it.
Mark took the afternoon off saying, “you are more important than my afternoon class”… yes, I guilt tripped him, but he is graceful and makes me feel loved.
That afternoon we took pictures of the festival (look at the web albums) until we were literally attacked by curious children who wanted me to take pictures of them.
We watched Finding Nemo and enjoyed our last night together by just hanging out with Kam and relaxing with sweets and wine.
Monday, October 15, 2007
last day of Eid vacation for Mark
Mark’s morning words were, “I am going to work really hard today on the book so that I can finish it tonight and tomorrow we can play all day for the last day of my break.”
Sunday, October 14, 2007
happy happy
We did go to the festival, but didn’t really take pictures because it was too dark. We did get to see some nice fireworks. That night Mark took me on a great date to a WONDERFUL Lebanese food restaurant and we had the best sheesha of our lives. We sat there for hours.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Official first day of Eid.
Mark worked on his book all day! The three of us went to a park, which is where everyone else in Cairo also went to celebrate Eid. Mark and Kam read, getting excited about new works, and I reviewed old vocabulary words and took pictures. On the ride home we saw a small festival, “Mark, I want to go there tomorrow!”
Friday, October 12, 2007
freedom!
Mark finally gets to sleep in! We wake up to relaxed smiles around noon. Ahh, no
more babysitting!
We were so excited to have a four day break for Eid, but his homework was to read a 350 page book in Arabic, so about 5 or 6 or sometimes 8 hours of our vacation days were spent: Mark’s nose in a book, and me working on grad school stuff/pouting because
I wanted him to take me around Cairo. He is a sweet boy; he would stay up late reading and get up before I woke up to read. This was either done to maximize time we could spend together while I was awake or it was to avoid my complaining that I came to Cairo to see your face, not your books.
The second picture is a view from Mark and Kam's balcony at dusk.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
grounders
Mark has really done way more than his part in terms of taking care of the girls this week. He has gotten up every morning with them, done their breakfast and lunch, and done more than I have in the evenings. So I let him sleep in for the first time, and I did “morning duties”.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
back to school
I walked the girls to school in case Caroline wasn’t allowed to go to class. This way I would already be there, the nurse wouldn’t’ have to call, and Caroline wouldn’t have to wait in the office for me to walk there, etc…. plus, I really wanted the nurse to look at my head because I was starting to have paranoia scalp itch. Luckily she passed the lice inspection and got to go to class! Then I went to meet Mark for lunch.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
lice-land
I slept in this morning and let Mark get up with the girls and get them off to school. Around 9am, when he usually leaves for school, he woke me up saying, “The nurse called and said Caroline has to come home from school cause she has such bad lice, so I have to go pick her up.”
So when he returned with Caroline around 9:30 he left for school saying, “Hey Caroline, can I rub my head on yours so I don’t have to go to school?” I stayed with Caroline until around noon, when the nanny comes to clean and cook. Before I left to meet Mark, I asked Caroline if she would make Mark a thank you note for picking her up from school. She proceeded to draw a picture of Mark giving her a hug, smiling, and lice (symbolized by dots) traveling from her head to his. It was adorable. When I gave it to Mark he said, I want to keep this to show her when she is our age.
The picture is of Abbey giving Mark a back massage (for two Egyptian pounds, less than 50 cents, so she could buy a pen at school) and Caroline reading. This wasn't the night of lice. sorry, picture misplaced.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Hidden Brownies
This week I am going into “Cairo” with Mark (meaning, away from Maadi) when he goes to school, so I can get out of the house and get some work done. This means that we return to Maadi around 5:15 and let the nanny, Fifi, go home. Tonight we had Iftar with a family friend, Amal. It was nice, and afterwards we went out for ice cream.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
not sure what day this was...
Not on this day exactly, but one weekend day or free day, Mark and I took the girls to their school where they played on the playground while the two of us ran around the track for about 4 miles (or less, cause I don’t think the track was exactly 400 meters, meaning it was a little easier than expected). Then we all went and played in the pool until the girls were so exhausted and hungry we had to practically drag them home kicking and pouting and complaining until we warmed up some chicken fingers and gave them Capri-Suns. Then things are better, Al-humdulila!
The girls also talk to their parents about 3 times a day. I think this helps them not to miss them.Saturday, October 6, 2007
morning free, evening busy
The kids were gone until 5pm, so we took advantage of the opportunity to go to the Pyramids, since I was going to have to return the next day. When we got back from the pyramids, we went to the private swimming pool down the street and swam for a few hours having breath holding contests, underwater flip contests, different stroke races, and dancing and singing underwater. It was really fun to be carefree, in a swimming suit, and with Mark for hours.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Falooka
The kids were picked up at noon for a slumber party, swimming, and a “High School Musical 2” debut. Mark and I studied for most of the afternoon, and then went into Cairo for a date. We took a falooka ride, sailboat, on the Nile. It was relaxing and peaceful. It was also brilliant to be on the largest river in the world. I feel like I never even imagined myself here. I remember doing a report about the Nile when I was in middle school, who knew that ten years later I would be in a sailboat on it? We sailed for an hour, and asked the driver to go back after yet another half hour just because I had to go to the bathroom.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Maddi girls
Days in Maadi are: wake up at 6AM to pour Lucky Charms into Abbey’s bowl and Tricks into Carloine’s bowl, make lunches which includes pre-packed fruit roll-ups, individual chip bags, cookies, pretzels, crackers, and bagel and/or sandwich. Abbey will eat ham and cheese on bread, Caroline will eat bagel with butter or bread and peanut butter with crusts cut off and sandwich then cut in half twice, so there are 4 tiny sandwiches. Abbey likes corn if it has lots of butter on it and she likes perfectly bright fully yellow bananas. Caroline likes cut up green apples. They both eat bagel bites. And this is about the extent of it.
Then they get dressed, brush hair and teeth, take lunches and anything else they need for that day’s after school activity, and we walk them downstairs to wait for the bus.
Anytime between 3:30 and 5:30, depending on what after school program is happening that day, the girls are dropped off on the bus and come in wild, hungry, and with Tisha. Tisha is the girl from down the stairs and across the hall; she comes over everyday.They have a snack, bicker, giggle, run down the hall, scream, run back, watch movies, argue, dance, laugh, run back down the hall, and beg Mark to play “ZOMBIE” with them, throw them up in the air, give them piggy back rides, and play Night at the Museum. I will explain: ZOMBIE is a simple game that requires one extremely energetic, strong, patient, endurance-filled, and loving young man (in this case, Mark filled the role), and three girls who have the ability to run fast, scream loud, enjoy being picked up in the air, thrown down on the couch, tickled until just before the point of peeing, and love the Zombie (Caroline, Abbey and I filled those roles). Mark and I are pretty sure that the people who live below them must think that we spent hours torturing the girls every night cause there was lots of running, screaming, and ZOMBIE being played during our time in Maadi.
Maadi
We kept thinking, “we will be in Maadi for only 4 days, not a big deal.”
That night we made chocolate chip cookies and somehow they all seemed to be eaten… so all the girls blamed it on Mark, naturally.
Monday, October 1, 2007
last day before babysitting
Mark had school all day. I spend the entire day at the Costa Coffee Shop working on grad school research and getting delightfully distracted by Jamie, Elian, and my mom all working really hard at their jobs in the States, but finding time to “g-chat” with me for a good part of my afternoon (their morning).
After only 5 days of adjusting to a new Arabic dialect, learning my way around the city, getting confidence in walking on the busy streets, we packed up our bags to take the 30 minute subway to Maadi. Caroline (6) bypasses Mark and runs into my arms as the door is opened. Abbey (8) is excited but a little to cool for the run and jump thing, plus it would be impossible to actually follow the younger sister’s lead.
After a nice American meal of steaks, salad, and mashed potatoes, we got the list of kids’ rules, schedule, and emergency numbers.
Robin gave me big bags of chocolate chip cookies to take back with me to Yemen.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Non Governmental Organization, called Fatha Kheir
Mark doesn’t have class on Sunday mornings, so we went to an NGO that the American University in Cairo (where Mark studies) wants its students to volunteer with. It seemed that Mark and Sam, his classmate who is from Kansas, were the only ones interested in micro credit and the NGO’s cause. So Mark’s idea was to video tape interviews of the women involved in the NGO and the micro credits and figure out what is needed, if the process could maybe be altered for better outcome, and possibly help them advertise their products and get their word out about their cause.
This picture is of the woman who we interviewed, and the hot mitts are just one of the many hand crafted products they sell.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Alexandria for a day long trip (pictures are available on web album. Link to the left.)
We sat in first class on the train to Alexandria! Mark really spoils me: we take lots of taxis instead of crowded buses or subways. I slept most of the train ride while Mark read part of his book for the weekend.
We went to the fort in Alexandria (look at my pictures!).
We met a guy named Mohammed on a bus, and he became a tour guide, letting us take pictures from his apartment balcony.
Afterwards, we stayed at a park so long we lost track of time. On our way to the bus station to catch our bus back to Cairo (trains were full), we stopped at a fish restaurant and quickly ate the best fish of my life: excellent service and food, which is a rare combination anywhere in the world.
Friday, September 28, 2007
First day of Weekend in Cairo!
I went to the Egyptian Museum while Mark went to buy our train tickets for our Alexandria trip on Sarurday.
A boring looking guy followed me from room to room of the museum and kept asking stupid questions like: what’s your name, do you speak Arabic?
I knew that if I responded in Arabic it would only feed the fire, so ignored him until I lost it and told him loudly with mean eyes to leave me alone. When he continued to follow me around I jetted past most of “Middle Kingdom”, which is kind of dull anyway, to stand next to a security guard in the sarcophagus section. When Mark arrived with train tickets for tomorrow I told him about the annoying guy. Immediately Mark couldn’t enjoy the museum because he was so obsessed with finding the guy. When we saw him again Mark approached him saying (in the local Egyptian dialect smoothly and calmly), “Were you bothering this woman? Do you come to the museum to bother foreign women? This isn’t appropriate behavior and you should be ashamed of yourself. Foreign women, like Egyptian women, do not like to be bothered and followed around my men. Do you have something to say to her? I think you do. You need to apologize for bothering her. Now.” The man trembled, looked like he was going to cry, but apologized finally. Sometimes Mark is overprotective, but we both felt so much better after the chastising because we thought, well, maybe that will be one less young Egyptian man who hassles a foreign woman.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Arrived in Cario!
Saying goodbye to Gwen was really hard, I will miss her a lot. She is a friend I know will keep in touch with.
I had a bad experience in the airport with the immigration officer asking me inappropriate questions he would never ask a covered Arab woman like: "Are you married?" "Are you Christian?”
When I arrived at the Cairo airport Mark hugged me, took my bag and my hand and we walked to the bus stop in the heat wearing big smiles. Mark turns to me on the bus and says, “I have some news for you, I mean, well, did you check your e-mail this morning, cause I did e-mail you about it.” I said that I had left my apartment at 7AM, and had not had time to check it. “Well, the last four days of your 10 day trip… umm, we, I mean... I... have to babysit my cousins. My uncle and aunt have to fly to London for medical reasons.” It seemed like a fun thing to do, go hang out with 6 and 8 year old girls, so I shrugged and said, “cool”.
On the bus ride from the airport to Mark's neighborhood he overwhelmed me with all of the new words of Egyptian dialect, but I am going to try my hardest to learn and use as much as I can while I am here.
That night we went to a coffee shop where men sit, smoke sheesha and play tawila while sipping on tea.
Mark taught me how to play tawila and moved his pieces quickly while I miscounted my spaces slowly and learned his strategies. On the last time I finally beat him, I think he let me.
We sat and drank tea.
He read a book in Arabic, turning the pages quickly while I struggled with a children’s Arabic comic strip. This was a happy moment as I looked over at is pointer finger moving steadily from right to left and down the page of his book.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Gwen's last night
Monday, September 24, 2007
On the way from Aden to Sana'a
We got up early to pack up the hotel and take a taxi to the bus station.
Chris got on his 2007 air conditioned squishy seated greyhound-esk bus while Gwen and I realized that we had somehow misread our tickets, and that our bus had left at 5am, not 10am. So we had to wait for the next bus, which was scheduled to leave in 3 hours. At 11am, the summer sun in Aden is at its cruelest. With our heavy bags, we, for the first time in 5 weeks just had a complaining contest. We could barely keep our eyes open, we found a little shade, and there was nowhere to even lean our backs. The exhaust from the huge buses just added to our misery. We were very despondent, but so much so that it was almost funny. Like, “Wow, look at how pathetic we are!” The last straw was when the men sitting next to us started preaching. We went into a hotel and asked if we could sit on their comfortable “lobby” chairs under a fan. We were relieved that he not only let us sit, but he also let us use that bathroom and spoke Arabic with us, which is why we are in Yemen. (The reason I italicize this word is sometimes after speaking English with each other for too long we remind each other that we are in Yemen to learn Arabic, then we switch over to speaking Arabic. This phrase also comes in handy when people on the street speak English you us, we can respond in Arabic and tell them that is why we are here... and secretly, we add a sentence: and not to tutor Yemenis in English!)
Sounds all fine and dandy until a reevaluation of our state of mind and body. We were on the verge of heat stroke, exhaustion, and dehydration (although really none of them, just irritated and tired), and this guy spoke so fast, and with an odd accent, that we didn’t understand much of what he said. We got really good at just nodding our heads and giving intuitive facial expressions. It was so miserable trying to convince him that you knew what he was saying. I mean, after 2 and a half hours, what other “I understand, oh yeah, umm hum, that is interesting, please tell me more” facial expression can you give? We took turns asking him lame questions when there was a pause, we assumed that the pauses meant he was finished answering the previous question. We were afraid that we couldn’t say, “Can we just take a nap in these chairs?” or “Can you please stop talking, we don’t understand anything that comes out of your mouth” that he might kick us out, and the fan was heaven compared to preachers of “the only true religion” in the sun.
Also, this is probably a common beginners/intermediate Arabic student’s excuse, but when we don’t understand anything that a person says, we just shrug our shoulders and say, “he’s from the sticks!” meaning, that man is from the uneducated countryside, so he speaks in an accent that I don’t understand…. Isn’t my fault! This was one of those situations. And there will be many more of them to come.
Buying sambusas for Iftar, we saw a guy who looked exactly like Mark and my friend from Aden who is so generous and hospitable. I immediately felt good about him. He smiled jollily, not creepily, so we asked him if there were taxis that went to the top of the mountain. He told us about a bus service, and that we could take a regular taxi too. As we walked off towards the cheap buses, I turned and told him that what we really wanted was a truck, like this one, where we could sit back here with the wind… as I pointed to a white Huilex truck behind us. He called his son in law, and within 15 minutes Gwen and I were smiling ear to ear with our scarves and hair and abayas whipping around our bodies in the back of the truck, shocking every person with his pointer finger in our direction and jaw to the floor, and having our adventure.
The view was excellent and Gwen kept repeating, I am going to live here some day. It is one of my best memories. There was a light rain and some of the most breathtaking scenery I have ever witnessed. Winding up the mountain with every turn gave us a new scene to add to the list of most beautiful things we had ever seen. Unfortunately, neither of us had cameras, so we will have to go back.
Right before sunset (just before iftar), the driver said he was taking us to his house for Iftar. We semi fought him with phrases like: oh no, it’s okay. Thanks anyway….. and then we smiled really big and said: Yeay! Let’s go!
Iftar was delicious and this family was most hospitable. Gwen and I got on the bus that night for an overnight ride back to Sana'a.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Iftar
Most of the big group left today. Chris, Gwen, and I stayed around. We all slept in pretty late.
Gwen and I went into the my old neighborhood to scheme. I really wanted to introduce her to them, sit and talk with them for a while (because last time I had seen them I was with Mark and so sick) to get invited to Iftar. We went in the morning, but everyone but the mother (who is from the sticks, so I don’t ever understand anything she says) and “suggested” that we could come back later that evening when everyone was awake… and it worked, we were invited for Iftar!
Meanwhile we hung out with Chris on the beach across the street from our hotel. We must have looked like the craziest people they had ever seen… sitting in the sun reading. Gwen more optimistically phrased it as: sweat out impurities on the beach while reading a soggy sweaty book.
Dinner with old neighbors was perfect! The food was all homemade and there was a nice balance with Gwen there. I used to get so exhausted and not even want to see them sometimes because they are so excited to see, and when I do see them they ask me a million questions a minute, shove food and drinks in my face, dance around me like puppies, and laugh when I don’t understand them or if I mess up an Arabic phrase. So with Gwen there, she could take some of the load.
Seeing them and also seeing my improvement in Arabic makes me excited to live here. In March I will actually start my research and will be living in Aden, speaking better Arabic, and enjoying my time because it will, insha’allah, be easier communication.
We bought bus tickets for the three of us for the next morning. Chris to Sana’a and Gwen and me to Taizz.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Deaf Association changing!
Gwen, Simone and I went to the Deaf association in the morning. It looks completely different! When I was here a little less than 2 years ago there was an administration building and blueprints and estimations for a public school where deaf children can be educated. We arrive and I thought I had the wrong door. The school was up and filled with hundreds of children running around. This makes me really excited to work with this group. They have attainable goals and work really hard to make things happen. It was great to see everyone!
We sat in on a class for deaf children. They were excited to teach us signs and give Gwen and Simone “sign” names. Simone has long straight bangs, so her sign in hand facing forehead, fingers spread apart like a wide comb, and move hand from top of forehead to eyes. Gwen’s is similar with her hair parted to the side, but the same idea. Will Simone have an identity crisis if she grows out her bangs?
The group packed up swim gear and picnic food for the private beach.
We took a fun boat ride from a public beach to a beach only accessible by boat and told the boat driver to pick us up after 4 hours. We played in the ocean and walked along the beach in the sand. It was great having iftar on the beach with fire in the sand.
On our way back to the hotel we saw that the Chinese restaurant was open! So we ate a spicy delicate meal there and then went back to the hotel to talk, listen to music videos, and study Arabic.
Friday, September 21, 2007
good vibes
We got up early to see the “Tanks” that Aden is so famous for. Afterwards, we were going to walk to a Zoroastrian temple (look at my blog form 2 years ago when Mark and I lived here and you can see pictures of the temple’s ruins. The link is on the left), but saw a huge group of men entering a door. We assumed it was the entrance to a mosque, but realized it was over an hour until itfar, until the call to prayer. It couldn’t be a mosque. The men waved us over, seeing that we were curious. It was a soccer game, and the player actually had matching jerseys and cleats. Few of them had soccer shorts or shin guards, but it was an aggressive and skillful game! We can’t believe that they play only one hour before Iftar; this means they fast all day, then play soccer for an hour, THEN eat.
Next was the Zoroastrian Temple. I couldn’t remember exactly how to get there, so when I was on the phone with Mark a few days earlier, I asked him for directions from the souq. He told me it was just past the fish market, and then to turn left just before the unfinished building. I told him, “It has been two years! Don’t you think they have finished it by now?!” Sure enough, we turned left just before the unfinished building. Then we climbed for about 20 minutes to the Zorastrian Temple ruins. We sat on the top of the hill while watching the lights of the city come up one at a time, the call to prayer starting at each mosque around the city and the sun sinking into the ocean. Then we chowed on some crackers, cookies, and juice that we bought for Iftar, just to tide us over until dinner.
The infamous Adeni Chinese restaurant was not open, so we went to a new Restaurant that Mark had told me about, it was excellent and very cheap!
Everyone is being totally appreciative with good vibes. We are all excited to be in Aden.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
On the way to Aden
Classes were over for the term and 8 of us students took advantage of the vacation time and went to Aden for a few days. I felt really responsible to make the trip fun for everyone since I knew the city best, and some people were a little negative at first.
“I heard Aden is really boring,”… “yeah, I had a friend who said it wasn’t worth the trip.”
“I heard Aden is really boring,”… “yeah, I had a friend who said it wasn’t worth the trip.”
Instead of taking a big nice bus we thought it would be more fun, and the same price, to rent a car and a driver and all 8 of us cram into a station wagon.
After an hour in the taxi, we were stopped by a boarder patrol who said that there are not supposed to be more than 4 Americans in a car. Knowing that he just made all of that up we argued for a while. We gave up and called for another car to come to pick up half the group. Now we were paying twice as much! Not a good start to a trip. But everyone stayed in good spirits.
My favorite comment of the day occurred when we were waiting in the sun for the second taxi to come and pick up the second half of us. I needed to go to the bathroom and when not finding one learned that there WERE NO WOMEN’S BATHROOMS… I asked, "why are there no women's bathrooms?" and the man sat there and looked at me like I had asked him why is the sky blue, and answered me blatantly, "It's Ramadan." So for the rest of the trip, we answered every question with, “it’s Ramadan.”
After the long 7 hours winding through the mountains, we came to our hotel. It was probably one of the nicest hotels I have ever stayed in with clean floors, bathrooms, sheets, and kitchen. Hungry and eager to walk around, we went to the souq and had dinner in Krater: egg and bread omelets. Dinner was great and the boys split to find mouezes, the Adeni man skirt, and the girls shopped for sweets. As I was tasting a huge chunk of halaway, my friend Simone said, “hey Jess, I think those guys over there are signing. Look.” They were my friends I had met almost two years ago. After some signs and smiles I turned to the group of girls huddled around and said, “We are invited us to the deaf association in Khormaksar at 10am on Saturday.” They all said, “wait, how do you know!?” “because I understand their signs…” It was a very cool feeling.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
BRIEF update from Aug 25 to Sept 19
This is a little less than a month -long update with incomplete sentences and thoughts; from Mark's visit in Yemen at the end of August until the end of my first term's classes in the middle of September. This is just to keep you updated, without going into much detail.
Sorry for the briefness during this month! I am just so happy and busy that I don't have time to type!
My favorite comment from Mark’s time in Yemen is: "excuse me Mister, you Arabic is FABULOUS!" Someday maybe someone will say my Arabic is fabulous. I need to start using that word more often... fabulous.
I got really sick in Aden from some food we ate on the first night that put me out for the next day, but Mark took care of me, like always. It was really too bad, cause we only had a day and a half to spend in Aden.
Weak and smelling of vomit, we did see Sina (my old Arabic teacher who is pregnant!!! I am so excited!), Latif (a good friend of Mark and mine), and our old neighbors from when we used to live in Aden.
The goodbye to Mark was miserable. It was so hard to let go of him, not knowing when we would see each other. But he went back to Cairo and I went back to my classes.
Gwen and I walk around the old city a lot. We have a great time together, and with Hana too, our Yemeni American friend.
Gwen, Simone, and I went to the HAMMAM today! After only seeing women in black from head to toe, it is shocking to walk into a steamy stone enclosed cave-like hamam to find women naked and scrubbing each other. The three of us awkward foreigners tug on our towels, try to cover body parts, and scrub each other until black chunks of skin peels off. As the dead skin rolls off, so does our insecurities and discomfort.
There are 2 boys at center who act like 16 year old snooty drama queens. Their way of flirting or communicating, or whatever, with American girls is to ignore them and be rude to them. I am sick of them!
I found a deaf guy on the street I signed with for a minute, until there was a huge crowd around me, I got nervous, and had to walk away. But he was really really happy to sign with me. I am going to try to go back there during a less busy time soon.
Gwen and I were walking down an austere street and a security guard said, “hey baby.” Not blinking, I turned around and said (in Arabic) “Do you work for the Government?” When he answered yes, I told him that what he said was not respectful, and that he shouldn’t talk like that to women. Surprised, he nodded and said he was s
orry in Arabic. If anything, I totally impressed Gwen. Bara'a and Mohammed are two really nice guys who are part of the language exchange who we meet with a few times a week. The goal is that they speak English and we speak Arabic. But it ends up being all English because they are better at English than we are with Arabic, so it is easier this way.
Bara’a and Mohammed took me to the deaf association the other day. They walked on either side of me, speaking in Arabic when if was possible for me, and in English when our conversations got more complex. They are respectful and I am happy that I have met them.
Gwen is wonderful for me. She inspires me and makes my time here more fun. I wish she could stay longer than just 5 weeks!
Ramadan in Yemen means: no one eats or drinks from sunup to sundown, people try to be on their best behavior, and all the stores are closed until around 7pm, but opened until 3am. Everyone roams the streets all night. The children sing and dance in the streets all day and night. I am really glad I got to experience Ramadan in Yemen!
Gwen, Simone and I do Yoga everyday for an hour just before the sun goes down. We find it to be very meditative to do yoga after not eating or drinking all day. You can totally focus on your body and feel your muscles and blood rushing when fasting. Then, when we are finished around 6pm, we have Iftar, the meal breaking the fast, dinner, but really the first meal of the day.
I got my blood tested for HIV for my residence visa. It was the best doctor ever, I have never had blood drawn so easily and painlessly. Mom, this can put you at ease, doctors are really good here!
Everyone has been teasing me by telling me that I could start my own winery for the amount of time I am going to be staying in Yemen. It makes me a little nervous about how long I will be here.
I am getting sad about everyone leaving especially Gwen.
There is an odd dynamic between Americans and Europeans here, especially the Italians, they really don’t like us American girls.
One British girl said, "I really didn't like Americans before I came to Yemen, but now that I have gotten to know a lot of them, I really enjoy you all!"
Thank God for Skype and e-mail, and blogs!
getting more comfortable in Sana'a, Yemen
I started a new and harder class today, Mark came to Yemen yesterday, still haven't found my bags, but things are mumtaaz (A-OK)! I am learning my way around the old city, my Arabic is really picking up, and I love my new teachers and classmates. I will actually finish this book I have been carrying around for 2 years! My teacher speaks clearly and is very patient; my classmates have bad accents, but are assiduous and smile a lot.
Mark is here! I was nervous to see him after doing a miserable long distance relationship attempt for the last 3 months, but everything went back to perfect as soon as we could see the other's smile. As I stood in the baggage claim room I could see him through the glass at the airport as he was standing in a mile long immigration line, so we signed in Yemeni Sign Language cute little messages to each other. We took the long dabaab or bus ride back to YLC, speaking Arabic most of the way. It is very fun to show him off here to all my friends because his Arabic excels ours. He is sweet and asks many courteous questions to all my friends and makes everyone he is around feel important. I am glad he is in Yemen now, I am very lucky to have him.
Last night I went to a wedding party (for women only) where we danced, chewed qat, attempted conversation over screechingly loud music, and watched four brides walk down the isle, caked in make-up, and without a single smile. I think it must be a cultural thing that the brides don't smile, but I don't know for sure. I think I remember someone saying that in her culture the brides usually cry as a sign of sorrow for leaving her family, and that it would seem disrespectful to her mother if she were happy about leaving with a husband.
The wedding party was hot as usual, but very fun; this also gave Mark an opportunity to visit our friend Tim. Mark and I are invited to Tim's tomorrow for lunch, sheesha, qat, and the Simpsons. I am really looking forward to it! I must go study now so that I can play tomorrow!
Mark is here! I was nervous to see him after doing a miserable long distance relationship attempt for the last 3 months, but everything went back to perfect as soon as we could see the other's smile. As I stood in the baggage claim room I could see him through the glass at the airport as he was standing in a mile long immigration line, so we signed in Yemeni Sign Language cute little messages to each other. We took the long dabaab or bus ride back to YLC, speaking Arabic most of the way. It is very fun to show him off here to all my friends because his Arabic excels ours. He is sweet and asks many courteous questions to all my friends and makes everyone he is around feel important. I am glad he is in Yemen now, I am very lucky to have him.
Last night I went to a wedding party (for women only) where we danced, chewed qat, attempted conversation over screechingly loud music, and watched four brides walk down the isle, caked in make-up, and without a single smile. I think it must be a cultural thing that the brides don't smile, but I don't know for sure. I think I remember someone saying that in her culture the brides usually cry as a sign of sorrow for leaving her family, and that it would seem disrespectful to her mother if she were happy about leaving with a husband.
The wedding party was hot as usual, but very fun; this also gave Mark an opportunity to visit our friend Tim. Mark and I are invited to Tim's tomorrow for lunch, sheesha, qat, and the Simpsons. I am really looking forward to it! I must go study now so that I can play tomorrow!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
First week of Arabic classes
Due to my less than marvelous score on the Arabic placement test, I was put in a beginners Arabic class (give me a break, I haven't formally studied Arabic in over a year). This class started at the beginning of the first Arabic book, when I should be at the end of the first Arabic book. After a few days being the star pupil (for the first time in my life), I decided it was time to move up a level. I am sad to leave my lovely teachers, but it isn't fair to the rest of the students that the teacher goes faster for me, because I already understand everything in that part of the book. Tomorrow I will start in new class that will be very challenging for me. I am nervous... so what do I do instead of study... blog!
My homework a couple days ago was to talk to some women about their clothing and learn the names for each article of their traditional garb. I went to a park close by and sat down on a bench. Within maybe six minutes I was surrounded by women and children stroking my hair, reading through my notebook, asking me a million questions a minute, and smiling beneath their veils.
A .75 liter bottle of clean water costs 30 Riyals. This is very expensive in this country, considering one should drink about 4 or 5 of these a day to keep hydrated. Because I lived in Yemen last year I know about the refillable jugs. These jugs of clean water are 5 liters, and cost only 30 riyals. So, I spend 4 times less money because I buy the huge jug then return the jug so that it can get refilled.
We had a party two days ago at the guest house where a female student played the Oud and sang a traditional Yemeni song. It was beautiful, and I told her I really wanted to learn. She gave me the info, so when Mark leaves in two weeks or so, I am going to start classes.
I have been trying really hard to refrain from taking naps during the day so that I can fall asleep around 10 and wake up around 6. This has not been working for me. Last night I couldn't fall asleep until midnight, and then I was WIDE awake at 2AM. Unfortunately none of you were on g-chat or skype! I finally forced myself to go back to sleep for 30 minutes or so with earplugs jammed in my ears and the eye mask on. THEN, the next night I easily fell asleep around 10PM because I was exhausted.... and did not wake up until 9:30AM. The problem with that is breakfast is at 7am, and I have my first class from 8-10, and my second class from 10-12. I rushed into class explaining in Arabic that my head is on an America clock, and my body is on a Yemen clock. The only response was: "We missed you, this happens to all of our American students, no problem."
Yesterday evening I hiked to the roof of the YLC building with Gwen. Gwen is my girl who only speaks Arabic with me. We both got to the top of the 7 story high building panting for breath, but all we could gasp was, "WOW" (a ubiquitous expression, so it counts for Arabic). The view is breath-taking, if you have any remaining after the climb up the stairs. Sometimes Gwen and I sit in silence because it can be difficult to create small talk in a new language, but this time we stood up there for about 10 minutes in silence just staring at the city's buildings that have stood there for hundreds of years, and the mountains surrounding them who have been there for even longer.
I am always tired, but I think it is just the jet-lag. Gwen and I went on a long walk today with one of the helpers from our guest house. He is Yemeni and his name is Basheer. He was probably the most popular guy in Sana'a today, walking around with two girls. Mark is coming tomorrow, so I wanted to get the foods to make a pasta salad that we used to eat in Aden all the time. The three of us walked all over to get my ingredients. After getting everything I needed, we stumbled home, exhausted. That night I went to the airport to get my suitcase that the airlines lost.... but of course it took 4 hours of haggling, and I still couldn't find it. I will just go tomorrow when Mark comes into the Sana'a airport and look again.
My homework a couple days ago was to talk to some women about their clothing and learn the names for each article of their traditional garb. I went to a park close by and sat down on a bench. Within maybe six minutes I was surrounded by women and children stroking my hair, reading through my notebook, asking me a million questions a minute, and smiling beneath their veils.
A .75 liter bottle of clean water costs 30 Riyals. This is very expensive in this country, considering one should drink about 4 or 5 of these a day to keep hydrated. Because I lived in Yemen last year I know about the refillable jugs. These jugs of clean water are 5 liters, and cost only 30 riyals. So, I spend 4 times less money because I buy the huge jug then return the jug so that it can get refilled.
We had a party two days ago at the guest house where a female student played the Oud and sang a traditional Yemeni song. It was beautiful, and I told her I really wanted to learn. She gave me the info, so when Mark leaves in two weeks or so, I am going to start classes.
I have been trying really hard to refrain from taking naps during the day so that I can fall asleep around 10 and wake up around 6. This has not been working for me. Last night I couldn't fall asleep until midnight, and then I was WIDE awake at 2AM. Unfortunately none of you were on g-chat or skype! I finally forced myself to go back to sleep for 30 minutes or so with earplugs jammed in my ears and the eye mask on. THEN, the next night I easily fell asleep around 10PM because I was exhausted.... and did not wake up until 9:30AM. The problem with that is breakfast is at 7am, and I have my first class from 8-10, and my second class from 10-12. I rushed into class explaining in Arabic that my head is on an America clock, and my body is on a Yemen clock. The only response was: "We missed you, this happens to all of our American students, no problem."
Yesterday evening I hiked to the roof of the YLC building with Gwen. Gwen is my girl who only speaks Arabic with me. We both got to the top of the 7 story high building panting for breath, but all we could gasp was, "WOW" (a ubiquitous expression, so it counts for Arabic). The view is breath-taking, if you have any remaining after the climb up the stairs. Sometimes Gwen and I sit in silence because it can be difficult to create small talk in a new language, but this time we stood up there for about 10 minutes in silence just staring at the city's buildings that have stood there for hundreds of years, and the mountains surrounding them who have been there for even longer.
I am always tired, but I think it is just the jet-lag. Gwen and I went on a long walk today with one of the helpers from our guest house. He is Yemeni and his name is Basheer. He was probably the most popular guy in Sana'a today, walking around with two girls. Mark is coming tomorrow, so I wanted to get the foods to make a pasta salad that we used to eat in Aden all the time. The three of us walked all over to get my ingredients. After getting everything I needed, we stumbled home, exhausted. That night I went to the airport to get my suitcase that the airlines lost.... but of course it took 4 hours of haggling, and I still couldn't find it. I will just go tomorrow when Mark comes into the Sana'a airport and look again.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
first day in Yemen
I graduated from The City College of New York at the end of May; then I spent two weeks saying goodbye to friends in the City; sunbathed in Mexico for a week with my brother; went to "old people's Disney world" in Branson, MO with my dad's family; swam, jet-skied, water skied, and inner tubed with my mom's family in Arkansas; drove with my sister across the South for a week; and then spent the last 2 months in Kansas enjoying Family, studying for and taking the GRE, camping with my siblings, visiting my best friend in Michigan, and getting ready to move to Yemen for 13 months.
Ever second was exactly as it was supposed to be, I feel like I had enough time to do everything adequately, without being rushed. That emollient transition will surely help me adjust to a prodigious lifestyle change in Yemen. On Friday morning Jamie drove me to the MI airport to give me my last little supportive hug/push. From MI to NY I sat next to a world renown documentary maker who showed me pertinent techniques on my new video camera and inspired me to do quality work that could affect millions by way of education. He works for the UN and has traveled more than most doing what he loves. During our lovely chat, my bags were being lost by Northwest Airlines.
Saying a rough goodbye to my mom over the phone in the JFK airport ended in, "I am just going to pretend that you are staying in New York, that will be easier for me," and, "Whatever it takes mom, but I am going to have some pretty outrageous stories for you that will contain an ancient sand setting, not skyscrapers." I boarded my (three hour delayed) flight to Frankfurt.
Rushing through the maze of the Frankfurt airport, I serendipitously bumped into Gwendolyn, a girl who would study with me at The Yemen Language Center (YLC). We started off the flight (the plane was held half an hour for us) excitedly introducing ourselves... until we remembered the reason we were both on this flight... then we instilled the "Arabic only" rule.
We both smiled, slowed down the conversation, and transformed from quick high pitched American girlie talk, to slow-motioned arms flailing into the confines of our airplane seats trying to convey the difficult sentence structure of: "We are together, and have been together for over two and a half years, but we weren't for a while when he left in May- that is when things got hard- then we are going to see each other next week, for a week, then things will be hard at first, but then they will surely get better, then they will be great, then I might get nervous again because things are going to be so good, and I am just so lucky." Big nods from Gwen means: I think I understand, but I really don't want you to repeat all that, so I am just going to keep nodding.
Because of the time difference, we were really trying to stay awake so that when we arrived in Yemen we would be tired, fall asleep, and not have jet lag. When we got to the airport we were joined by about 15 other students who would be studying at the same center. There were groups of Germans, Italians, and Spanish students all speaking their mother languages. Gwen and I did a pretty good job of keeping our rule in tact and responded to everyone's broken English with Arabic.
Half of the students live at the guest house, and the other half live at the language center. I am lucky that I get to be in the room next to Gwen at the guest house. We each have our own rooms while many of the other girls have shared accommodations. The guest house has stone walls and floors which keep the rooms surprisingly cool during the unbearably hot days, a computer lab, a roof-top sitting area, and a lovely well kept garden. My room is white with 6 small stained glass windows, eccentric stone carvings in the walls, shelves, an chiffonier, a large desk, wireless internet, a twin sized bed, and plenty of room on the floor for me to do my Yoga DVDs.
That night I was so excited I, of course, could not sleep. So I began quickly and quietly unpacking my one suitcase. The entire time I am clanking books onto shelves, pens into metal drawers, hangers onto bars, and clothes onto shelves, I am whispering, "Jess, stop being so obsessive, go to sleep, you can unpack when the sun is up, you are probably keeping everyone awake, and they won't say anything because they are just too nice cause it is the first day. Go to sleep, relax!" So I put the earplugs in and the eyecover around my head, both of which are from my luxurious delta flight. In the morning I apologized in Arabic to Gwen for keeping her up. She laughed and said that she had done the exact same thing. I looked around at her guilty face and room of organized shelves of shampoos and lotions.
We arrived at the Center at 7AM, just as the schedule strictly demanded; we were the only ones there. I made small talk with one of the sweeping ladies peeping from behind her veil at the new bunch of pale, confused, jet lagged barrel of monkeys. When the doors opened to the kitchen, we each cautiously took a roll and a cup of tea, not accustomed to the order or direction we were supposed to go in. We sat around one table, all of us trying to squeeze into the barrel metaphor to avoid cliques. From my seat I looked in the kitchen to see if some fruit might have been placed on the table for us, but instead I looked at the box in which the extra bread was in, and snuggled between loaves, sinking deeper and more comfortable looking, was a scrappy patchy black and white cat scratching her ear.
After breakfast we broke up into groups to tour the neighborhood. We all got our pictures taken for our IDs, exchanged money, pretended to understand where we were in the tangled old city, and started sweating. It is hot in Yemen, especially if you are lost, ebullient, or with a large group of pretty girls wandering through vendors, beggars, narrow streets, playing children, scurrying women, and careless motorcycles at noon. The good part of this trip was meeting Hannah, a Yemeni-American who grew up in California and wants to study at YLC to improve her Arabic. She and I spoke Arabic towards the back of our awkward cluster of Arabic language students for over an hour.
On our way back, the cluster detoured to a dreary museum I had visited with Mark a year before. But this time when we walled through the grey stoned castle-like archway, the walls were colorful with familiar paintings. Then I remembered where I had seen the paintings: the Yemeni American Association's website, where I used to work, there is a link to: www.nizar-art.com . As I turned around to speak to the artist, I saw a dear friend of mine from when I taught English in Aden, 8 hours south of Sana'a. We kissed and hugged and exchanged information. It seems my experience in Yemen has thus far been nothing short of fortuitous.
Tomorrow is the first day of classes, I hope to be in touch with a good Welsh-English friend of mine and Mark's, and Mark is coming to visit me in 4 days. I have great things to look forward to, plus I forced myself to type until 7PM so I can now go to sleep... jet lag hurts!
Ever second was exactly as it was supposed to be, I feel like I had enough time to do everything adequately, without being rushed. That emollient transition will surely help me adjust to a prodigious lifestyle change in Yemen. On Friday morning Jamie drove me to the MI airport to give me my last little supportive hug/push. From MI to NY I sat next to a world renown documentary maker who showed me pertinent techniques on my new video camera and inspired me to do quality work that could affect millions by way of education. He works for the UN and has traveled more than most doing what he loves. During our lovely chat, my bags were being lost by Northwest Airlines.
Saying a rough goodbye to my mom over the phone in the JFK airport ended in, "I am just going to pretend that you are staying in New York, that will be easier for me," and, "Whatever it takes mom, but I am going to have some pretty outrageous stories for you that will contain an ancient sand setting, not skyscrapers." I boarded my (three hour delayed) flight to Frankfurt.
Rushing through the maze of the Frankfurt airport, I serendipitously bumped into Gwendolyn, a girl who would study with me at The Yemen Language Center (YLC). We started off the flight (the plane was held half an hour for us) excitedly introducing ourselves... until we remembered the reason we were both on this flight... then we instilled the "Arabic only" rule.
We both smiled, slowed down the conversation, and transformed from quick high pitched American girlie talk, to slow-motioned arms flailing into the confines of our airplane seats trying to convey the difficult sentence structure of: "We are together, and have been together for over two and a half years, but we weren't for a while when he left in May- that is when things got hard- then we are going to see each other next week, for a week, then things will be hard at first, but then they will surely get better, then they will be great, then I might get nervous again because things are going to be so good, and I am just so lucky." Big nods from Gwen means: I think I understand, but I really don't want you to repeat all that, so I am just going to keep nodding.
Because of the time difference, we were really trying to stay awake so that when we arrived in Yemen we would be tired, fall asleep, and not have jet lag. When we got to the airport we were joined by about 15 other students who would be studying at the same center. There were groups of Germans, Italians, and Spanish students all speaking their mother languages. Gwen and I did a pretty good job of keeping our rule in tact and responded to everyone's broken English with Arabic.
Half of the students live at the guest house, and the other half live at the language center. I am lucky that I get to be in the room next to Gwen at the guest house. We each have our own rooms while many of the other girls have shared accommodations. The guest house has stone walls and floors which keep the rooms surprisingly cool during the unbearably hot days, a computer lab, a roof-top sitting area, and a lovely well kept garden. My room is white with 6 small stained glass windows, eccentric stone carvings in the walls, shelves, an chiffonier, a large desk, wireless internet, a twin sized bed, and plenty of room on the floor for me to do my Yoga DVDs.
That night I was so excited I, of course, could not sleep. So I began quickly and quietly unpacking my one suitcase. The entire time I am clanking books onto shelves, pens into metal drawers, hangers onto bars, and clothes onto shelves, I am whispering, "Jess, stop being so obsessive, go to sleep, you can unpack when the sun is up, you are probably keeping everyone awake, and they won't say anything because they are just too nice cause it is the first day. Go to sleep, relax!" So I put the earplugs in and the eyecover around my head, both of which are from my luxurious delta flight. In the morning I apologized in Arabic to Gwen for keeping her up. She laughed and said that she had done the exact same thing. I looked around at her guilty face and room of organized shelves of shampoos and lotions.
We arrived at the Center at 7AM, just as the schedule strictly demanded; we were the only ones there. I made small talk with one of the sweeping ladies peeping from behind her veil at the new bunch of pale, confused, jet lagged barrel of monkeys. When the doors opened to the kitchen, we each cautiously took a roll and a cup of tea, not accustomed to the order or direction we were supposed to go in. We sat around one table, all of us trying to squeeze into the barrel metaphor to avoid cliques. From my seat I looked in the kitchen to see if some fruit might have been placed on the table for us, but instead I looked at the box in which the extra bread was in, and snuggled between loaves, sinking deeper and more comfortable looking, was a scrappy patchy black and white cat scratching her ear.
After breakfast we broke up into groups to tour the neighborhood. We all got our pictures taken for our IDs, exchanged money, pretended to understand where we were in the tangled old city, and started sweating. It is hot in Yemen, especially if you are lost, ebullient, or with a large group of pretty girls wandering through vendors, beggars, narrow streets, playing children, scurrying women, and careless motorcycles at noon. The good part of this trip was meeting Hannah, a Yemeni-American who grew up in California and wants to study at YLC to improve her Arabic. She and I spoke Arabic towards the back of our awkward cluster of Arabic language students for over an hour.
On our way back, the cluster detoured to a dreary museum I had visited with Mark a year before. But this time when we walled through the grey stoned castle-like archway, the walls were colorful with familiar paintings. Then I remembered where I had seen the paintings: the Yemeni American Association's website, where I used to work, there is a link to: www.nizar-art.com . As I turned around to speak to the artist, I saw a dear friend of mine from when I taught English in Aden, 8 hours south of Sana'a. We kissed and hugged and exchanged information. It seems my experience in Yemen has thus far been nothing short of fortuitous.
Tomorrow is the first day of classes, I hope to be in touch with a good Welsh-English friend of mine and Mark's, and Mark is coming to visit me in 4 days. I have great things to look forward to, plus I forced myself to type until 7PM so I can now go to sleep... jet lag hurts!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Less than a month until I go to Yemen!
I am anxious for my trip to Yemen. There are pages of unchecked to-do lists, but I am going to post some pictures I took last year.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Two months before departure to Yemen!
I have been awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to travel to Yemen in order to research the deaf community. I am very excited about this opportunity, and will try to keep an accurate account of my experiences while I am there so that people like you can keep up with me.
I start my language classes in Sana'a (Yemen's capital) August 19th. Check in on me after that date and live vicariously through this blogsite for the next year! I would love to get your feedback and am honored to share my adventures with you!
I start my language classes in Sana'a (Yemen's capital) August 19th. Check in on me after that date and live vicariously through this blogsite for the next year! I would love to get your feedback and am honored to share my adventures with you!
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