Update: I finally have my hookah! As I mentioned in a previous post, Shadi and I were at an impasse regarding my wearing of a hijab-like scarf while in Ramtha. We made a deal that if he secured me a hookah and found us a nice hotel for after the wedding, I would concede to at least pretending to cover my hair. Hookah was achieved last night, oddly enough the base resembles my previous baby nearly 100% identically. Naturally I can't wait to try her out.
After a week I have come to understand that the famous slogan "Everything is bigger in Texas" is not mutually exclusive. Jordan is a country of biological contradictions. In the winter, it rains rather than snows. From May to Oct the weather, for a foreigner at least, is damn near unbearable. The air lacks water; the ground lacks water. Everything is dry, including my skin after only 4 days and numerous lotion applications. With a lack of H20 you would think that, consequently, less vegetation, smaller quantities of blooms, and less animal competition for said resources. Wrong. In addition to the thriving cat population here (which survives on the largest natural resource of Jordan, trash, of which I will cover later), living creatures and untamed vegetation abound. Not only are they numerous, but BIGGER. Now to be fair, in my particular home, Momma Aicha waters her massive tangled garden everyday before the sun rises, so of course they grow better. But better does not necessarily equate to bigger. In Jordan, it does. For instance, I've never seen a bigger hibiscus plant. Lemons are the size of footballs at maturation, and even the tomatoes are bigger and redder. But what stumps me most is the size of the insects. Last night I discover, both to my obscure delight and horror the creature whose scum trail I found days earlier on every paved or brick surface.
Its a half hour before suhoor and I'm combing the garden for the grapevine hoping to snag a bunch for a quick sweet snack. As I'm climbing over flower pots and bushes, I step on something awfully squishy. When I look at my shoe, its just a gooey mess. On the ground I see what looks like cat turds and I shudder and attempt to scrape my shoe off on the wall. This is when I notice the turds... are moving. Upon closer inspection I discover their true nature. GIANT slugs the size of British Bangers, I shit you not.
This also explains the scum trail Shadi discovered on my shoe after the previous night's giant fail. As Aicha and I await the men's return from masjid, she shows me around her garden and gives me the arabic names for her plants. I want to show her the place where the apple tree hides, so she walks around but I run to where I thought I'd taken a short cut earlier. Remember I said that she waters her garden before sunrise. I didn't remember this, and as I jump onto what I assumed was dirt my sandal clad feet sink 6 inches into the thickest mud next to river mud and I go flying headfirst into the lemon tree, ostensibly leaving one shoe behind in a backwater version of Cinderella. Momma Aicha helps me hose down my feet and I have to change my clothes. Shadi returns soon after and gets his jollies making fun of me, of course. Btw, you will never look at sausages the same way again :D
Tonight's wanderings to an old Muslim cemetery (مقبرة) I run afoul of a man-toe sized cockroach of which Shadi informs me is only of the medium sized variety. If I find a Brazilian Hissing Cockroach sized one, I'm outta here. We also notice a donkey (حمار) chillin' in the cemetery as if he totally belonged there. We came to the consensus that he could probably hear the dead and that's why he hung around, and left it at that. Muslim cemeteries are both similar and rather different than the traditional western graveyard.
According the Sunnah, muslim grave markers are to be simple, with only a stone and the dirt or sand that covers it. Most of the stones bore the message "انا لله وانا اليه راجعون" which translates to roughly "From God, and to God we all return". The one we encountered was so old that it was hard to tell what was a gravestone and what was merely a rock. We're chased out by someone who thinks we're up to no good, and end up chatting with him and discovering he is a relative. Of course.
Tonight's iftar was a thing of beauty, especially because my husband to be helped to make it. :) Fatayer, a meat pie, is a favorite of mine. Also present is homemade fries (actually made by 13-yr old Thamer), a plate of salted tomatoes (بندورة ) and a soup called (شوربة ماجي) shorabit maggi which turned out to be chicken noodle soup :D Best iftar so far, I think. A good suhoor would include FALAFIL!!
Elena
After a week I have come to understand that the famous slogan "Everything is bigger in Texas" is not mutually exclusive. Jordan is a country of biological contradictions. In the winter, it rains rather than snows. From May to Oct the weather, for a foreigner at least, is damn near unbearable. The air lacks water; the ground lacks water. Everything is dry, including my skin after only 4 days and numerous lotion applications. With a lack of H20 you would think that, consequently, less vegetation, smaller quantities of blooms, and less animal competition for said resources. Wrong. In addition to the thriving cat population here (which survives on the largest natural resource of Jordan, trash, of which I will cover later), living creatures and untamed vegetation abound. Not only are they numerous, but BIGGER. Now to be fair, in my particular home, Momma Aicha waters her massive tangled garden everyday before the sun rises, so of course they grow better. But better does not necessarily equate to bigger. In Jordan, it does. For instance, I've never seen a bigger hibiscus plant. Lemons are the size of footballs at maturation, and even the tomatoes are bigger and redder. But what stumps me most is the size of the insects. Last night I discover, both to my obscure delight and horror the creature whose scum trail I found days earlier on every paved or brick surface.
Its a half hour before suhoor and I'm combing the garden for the grapevine hoping to snag a bunch for a quick sweet snack. As I'm climbing over flower pots and bushes, I step on something awfully squishy. When I look at my shoe, its just a gooey mess. On the ground I see what looks like cat turds and I shudder and attempt to scrape my shoe off on the wall. This is when I notice the turds... are moving. Upon closer inspection I discover their true nature. GIANT slugs the size of British Bangers, I shit you not.
 |
| You will never look at sausage the same way again |
 |
| Even now I shudder |
This also explains the scum trail Shadi discovered on my shoe after the previous night's giant fail. As Aicha and I await the men's return from masjid, she shows me around her garden and gives me the arabic names for her plants. I want to show her the place where the apple tree hides, so she walks around but I run to where I thought I'd taken a short cut earlier. Remember I said that she waters her garden before sunrise. I didn't remember this, and as I jump onto what I assumed was dirt my sandal clad feet sink 6 inches into the thickest mud next to river mud and I go flying headfirst into the lemon tree, ostensibly leaving one shoe behind in a backwater version of Cinderella. Momma Aicha helps me hose down my feet and I have to change my clothes. Shadi returns soon after and gets his jollies making fun of me, of course. Btw, you will never look at sausages the same way again :D
Tonight's wanderings to an old Muslim cemetery (مقبرة) I run afoul of a man-toe sized cockroach of which Shadi informs me is only of the medium sized variety. If I find a Brazilian Hissing Cockroach sized one, I'm outta here. We also notice a donkey (حمار) chillin' in the cemetery as if he totally belonged there. We came to the consensus that he could probably hear the dead and that's why he hung around, and left it at that. Muslim cemeteries are both similar and rather different than the traditional western graveyard.
 |
| This is close to how the one here looks; real pics later |
Tonight's iftar was a thing of beauty, especially because my husband to be helped to make it. :) Fatayer, a meat pie, is a favorite of mine. Also present is homemade fries (actually made by 13-yr old Thamer), a plate of salted tomatoes (بندورة ) and a soup called (شوربة ماجي) shorabit maggi which turned out to be chicken noodle soup :D Best iftar so far, I think. A good suhoor would include FALAFIL!!
Elena
i am loving your blog! keep them coming :) btw, what about the trash, you said you would go back to that later and never did...
ReplyDeleteI will! Its a tangent for a whole new blog post :D
ReplyDelete