Salaaaaaam ya asdiqaa'! I have had many requests for FB updates regarding my trip so far in the land of Sand and Sun. As promised, I present here a journal of sorts starting with this post on my adventures.
3/27 -- I arrived in Jordan a half hour past my scheduled time due to the snow I left back in StL. Upon entering Queen Alia Int'l Airport in the capital city of Amman, I was instantly the ignorant American tourist. I spotted the "Visa" counter and made a beeline, hoping Shadi would be there to meet me. No dice. As it turns out their security is just as paranoid as our own and he was not allowed past the gate into Immigration. An official looking man approached me and attempted to converse entirely in Arabic, which of course left me to stand there like an idiot, a derp on my face. Using hand signals we managed to communicate that I needed to meet someone, and he called dear Shadi for me on his own mobile (in the Arab world, cell phones are called mobiles only, and not pronounced mo-bull, but mo-BILE) Upon receiving my first Visa to a foreign country in my passport (juwazz as-safr) and being approached by an awkward man inquiring as to my visit purpose, I claimed my one checked bag, which btw was 10x easier to do than at any american airport I have experienced. Shadi was there with his parents to meet me at the gate. Alot taller than I originally suspected. His mom, who insisted I call her just that, handed me the flowers Shadi had procured for me (all white ones, roses, callalily, daylily, and mums!!)
At this point it is important to note that the vision in my head about what Jordan looked like turned out to be EXACTLY as I had imagined. Whatever you imagine an Arab country to appear like, you are right. Immediately upon landing I spotted squat little palm trees, sand, goats, and a smattering of adobe buildings. Leaving the airport I spotted the same as we took the main highway around Amman to the 'interstate" that led to the Jordanian 'burbs. To complete my cliche vision, a carafe of tea (chai) was in the backseat, along with a few small tea glasses (finjaan a-chaiyy) The drive felt like I was peering in on some Hollywood film set. It is a fact that all the Jordanian towns I have seen so far including the capital appear to be in a constant state of construction. Things are either being repaved, rebuilt, repainted, or erected completely new. That plain white adobe construct we all think exists in the middle east? The mud huts, as Dad refers to them? Totally what they are. ALL buildings. The sun was setting as we drove, so it was not until the next day that my journey into stereotypical architecture began. Shadi's father Hassan suggested dinner, so we stopped at the historic town of Al-Jerash for a meal. This restaurant was enormous, and at 7:30pm on a Sunday night, absolutely deserted, save for the employees and some loiterers. I spotted fresh bread (khobis) being baked in giant clay oven, and a semi-outdoor version of Natural Bridge's "Sahara" was our dining destination.
Dinner to an Arab family is like Thanksgiving to an American one. At home we order each an entree, and maybe share an appetizer. In a Jordanian eatery, immediately we are brought out fresh bread, water, hummus, tabouli, arabic salad (mokubilat), and 2 other as yet unidentified arabic pre-meal eats. I had Shadi order for me as I was uneducated in the typical entree on the menu (it was entirely in Arabic anyway). Soda was not on my list of beverage preferences merely because I had decided that if I were to immerse myself in the culture I would stray from familiar things. Arabic lemonade instead was ordered which btw was the MOST fabulous lemonade I have ever had (fresh lemon juice and pulp go into the mix that includes very little sugar and a fairly large amount of mint) Dinner was a giant platter of meat including chicken (djaj) kabob, lamb (shugaff), and various roasted veggies. Eating with a fork was an option but I opted out. Hands and bread, oh yea oh yea. During the course of the meal I was subjected to an apparently common phenomenon: the power in the entire establishment cut out at least 3 times. Everyone laughed the first, and the last 2 merely continued eating in the dark until power was restored. Unfortunately I was too tired from the 16-hour trip to eat too much, and almost passed out in the booth. We decided it wise to continue to Ar-Ramtha. Driving in the dark to Shadi's hometown was reminiscent of home (the lack of lighting on the roads amongst the enormous hills surrounding us caused Hassan to swear profusely in arabic in the manner I am used to seeing Dad do :D ) Before passing out on Shadi's shoulder (which by the by in the only way he would touch me at first), I noticed that the road from Jerash to farther north was dotted on either side by shabbily erected flower nurseries like the flower district of New York. This was the sight for at least 5 miles. Beyond that every mile or so were fruit stands, mountains of clay pots and mini -roman columns, and what appeared to be hastily erected tents acting as off-road convenience stores. Pepsi machines ABOUND. Coke is easily apprehended here in Jordan, but Pepsi (bebsi :D ) is the beverage of choice.
Shadi attempted to rouse me as we arrived in Ramtha (it is a 1-hr trip between the capital and the St-Charles size town) but I was having none of it. I did not come to until we reached his house. A standard arabic household in Ar-Ramtha consists of an adobe constructed wall that completely blocks the view from the street. One entry gate for the vehicle and one entry gate for the walled compound. Each gate at each house is unique, like the front doors in old American towns. The garden was too dark to see at first. Shoes off at the door, and my introduction to a Jordanian home began.
The first room we reach is the living room and from here I discover that hallways are not for everyone. There are no hallways. Each door leads to merely another room. The living room on the right side had a door that led to a fantastic sitting room (pictures soon), and a door there led to the outdoor patio and garden. From the left of the living room, a door to Shadi and brother Thamer's room and a door leading to a small indoor cul-de-sac. A door to the parents' master bedroom, a door to the kitchen (lets see uh m-u-t-t-PHLEGM!!) and the most curious rooms in the Arabic home. One door appeared to lead to the bathroom. Upon entering however I noticed one VERY important item missing: the toilet. As I voice my confusion and indignation, Shadi shows me a door next to it. OH CRAP. As it turns out my worst fears are realized as the "toilet" is a water closet in every sense of the word. A porcelain hole in the ground. A hose on the wall. That is all. Gulp. I will not elaborate on how I learned to utilize this facility, I will only note that it is AWKWARD. His family finds this hilarious. After unpacking, we cooled down and stayed that way (these adobe buildings absorb the temperature around them, and as it was late night the temperature was in the low 40's, so the house was also this way. Indoor heating at this home is N/A, as is AC. Heating is a large bunson burner like object and a gas-operated radiator in the kitchen). His mother Aicha communicated with me in broken english, russian, and arabic and also hand-signals to offer me tea and see her elaborate garden. I was thrilled to note the wildness of it as compared to a standard american version of a yard. 2 large trees turned out to be lemon trees with the largest lemons I have EVER seen in my life (some of the smallest being grapefruit-sized) Nearly every compound I have seen so far in 3 days either has lemon trees, orange trees, or both) A form of Hibiscus grows wild here. Sleeping was not an option just yet. Little brother Thamer went down the street to sleep at his aunt (khalty; mother's side sister)Fatimah's house and I was given the boys' room entirely to myself as Shadi was to take the couch like a gentleman. We did not sleep. Instead on my laptop we watched Anna and the King (1999) and attempted idle chatter. We slept around 2am after making ishaa prayer together.
3/28 -- For some insane reason I awoke only 3 hours later around 5:30. The insanity was caused by a rooster across the street that would not shut up for nearly a half hour. Following the rooster was two different muezzins calling the athan from two masjids on either end of the road. It sounded like a confused beehive. Shadi would not rouse so I spent a good hour praying Fajr, learning the water closet routine, and reading until I knew Shadi would wake and feel guilty for missing fajr. Pranking seemed the best form of rousing a sleeping arab, so I took the tassels from my hijab and dangled it over his nose until he smacked his own face and awoke. I dearly regretted not finding shaving cream in time for this classic troll. Soon everyone woke, and Aicha prepared a standard Arabic breakfast consisting of hummus, foul moudames, bread, lebn, falafel and tea. I can eat falafel for breakfast, lunch, dinner, elevensies, supper, snack, or as a bag of trail mix. In short, I <3 FALAFEL. While eating, we watched arabic television and both Al-Arabiya and Al-Jazeera, which here in the Middle East is the equivalent of Fox News and Al-Arabiya is CNN, with the same ratings and viewer ratios. Hear that, Mom? :D We left shortly after to take a taxi to Amman. Taxis and buses are the largest form of public transportation in Jordan, and not merely for short trips. The taxi we shared with two other men took us the hour from Ar-Ramtha to Amman. The drive was spectacular. Firstly, the Jordanian interstate is like the Autobahn; speed limit is similar to our own, however no one obeys it, despite cops stationed every few miles on the road. The taxi was at 85 when I converted in my head from Km to Mph. There are NO such thing as lanes. Maybe a semblance of painted lines, but lanes seem to be merely a suggestion as cars frequently made their own paths like pushing a bunch of balls down a hill. The view was amazing. Still is. Hills the size of small mountains envelope us on either side of the road; some towns at their base, some structures at the very top. Olive orchards and terra-cotta roofed adobe mansions here and there reminiscent of Italian Villas. Beautiful. Clear blue sky, bright sun, and 55 degrees. We stopped at a large, busy bus station and caught a 2nd taxi to take us to the American Embassy. Documents needed to be procured from there. The part of town our embassy is located in what compares to West County in StL. Indeed it is even referred to as West Amman. Western stores, eateries, and large well-endowed homes everywhere. Simple land starts at 1 million JD (jordanian dinar). Entering the embassy together turned out to be somewhat of a challenge until I decided to tell the security officer that Shadi was my fiance (you don't say boyfriend in Jordan, oh no) and upon my tossing out the word 'habibi' he let him through. From here I began to notice what would continue to irk me. The Arab men treated me the same as the ones I was accustomed to (curious and polite detachment) however it was the opposite with the Arab women. So far I have encountered only stares and outright piercing evil glares, the magnitude of which could liquefy Los Angeles. I can only attribute this to something I am familiar with at home; interracial couples experience negativity from more women of the men's ethnicity than do the men. I took it in stride and merely grinned a sardonic american grin. Inside the embassy (which looked appropriately like a palace; AMERICA, F*** Yea!!) I was introduced to the jealous glare by one Kuwaiti young woman who displayed the fashion plate attire of Gulf women and wore the signature hijab style I have come to note among "fashionable" Jordanian girls as well; a false or stuffed bun in the back that hidden under a hijab supposedly gives the image of mass quantities of hair but to a westerner only makes you look like an alien from a Sigourney Weaver/James Cameron epic. I see this everywhere, and I hate it. We head deeper into the city to deliver work papers for Hassan to the Saudi Consulate only to be turned away because their hours are only 8-11. What is this, I think, a bank on Sunday? Lazy Saudis :P We snack and hit the road again to return to Ar-Ramtha via taxi for lunch at home. We have Kofta (which for you Mom and Dad is for all intents purposes exactly like meatloaf) with the usual hummus, lebn, and bread. And of course, CHAI. SOOO much chai. We head to the local large city of Irbid, which is nearly the equivalent of Chicago. (Arabic cities are 3x the size of our large ones) Shadi's mother Aicha attempts to encourage me to choose clothing starting with Jordanian Jilbabs however I am having none of it as I feel uncomfortable having a family hosting me buy me expensive things and it turns out I feel jilbabs are merely long peacoats and I don't relish wearing them; abaya shopping is to commence on a later date. We are visited by the first of a dozen family members of the Khazaleh clan who want to sneak a peek at me starting with Aunt Fatimah. We pray, I nap, etc. Dinner is skipped in favor of light snacks and tea later that evening, and Thamer and I chase the local calico cat in search of her newest kittens. From the roof of their house (all Arabic homes have roof access; in the good weather some sleep there under a tent-like feel, or dine there, or generally socialize) I see people in the neighborhood past the walls of the structures, others on roofs, and out to the borders beyond. Ar-Ramtha is a border town shared with Syria (Jordan borders Syria, Israel, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia --as well as The West Bank Palestinian territory) and so the border and the other side of the Al-Khazaleh tribe land is very very close. Before the splitting into separate states by the origination of the Sykes-Picot Agreement WW1, Shadi's family tribe in Ar-Ramtha (indeed the entire city) was one territory with the Syrian city of Dura. The ethnicities and languages and traditions are all the same. This worried me at first as I watched Al-Arabiyya that morning as they showed unrest in Dura and the people's cry for help to the citizens it once called brothers. Shadi assured me this type of unrest would not reach Ar-Ramtha. This night we chatted more freely, flirted more freely, and prayed together once more. I attempted a shower, however hot water was absent. Shadi had previously shown me how Jordanians get their hot water supply (a large solar panel on the roof heated a substantial water tank connected to it.) However, as it was late night, and new water had to be filled, the heat did not last. Needless to say I had the fastest shower of my life. Sleep was slightly earlier as we would wake again around fajr the next morning. 3/28 -- We wake early and have a hasty breakfast as more errands need to be run in order for us to legally "date" in the Jordanian custom. His uncle, Khaly Mohammad accompanies us to Irbid to meet a judge in the Sha'ria Court and we get thoroughly lost in the city searching for a service to translate my passport as the court only takes arabic documents. GREAT. When we do find a place (after many hostile stares from passing Arabic women and sleazy looks by even sleazier men despite my being 90% covered) it is something out of a Roald Dahl novel. The office is papered with arabic instructions, homages to Palestine; a radio blasts sounds from a government sponsored station (It is important to note as this juncture that Jordan has a distinct 'cult of personality' political atmosphere. They are a Monarchy, ruled by King Abdullah, son of former king and husband to american Queen Noor King Hussein, and his famous wife Queen Rania. Pictures of them in every theme are plastered over walls and buildings on every street in all towns. This has gotten rather annoying to me as we do not have that air back home) This office however so far has been my favorite part of the last 3 days. As we enter over the music from the government station I hear high-pitched whistles. The translator (mterjm) shows me to a sunlit room with around 10 cages of birds. Shadi translates to me that bird raising is his hobby and he sells some of them after they hatch and are able to fly. Feathers and hay all over the place. Further into the office a balcony with more birds and 3 turtles (sulhaffa)!! The balcony shows the street below. A magic-eye poster of an alchemist befuddles Shadi as he cannot see its image. We leave with success to return to the Sharia court, thence to Amman for lunch and a quick errand to the Interior Ministry. Lunch is authentic shwarma I am still tasting. :D We head home for prayer, a nap, more socializing with relatives, and to sit here and share this information. Hope it isn't one of the TL;DR moments :D Will update again soon, perhaps with pics. LOVE YOU ALL!!
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