The Orphaned Toilets of Jordan, The Arab Spring, & Homeward Bound

Since January Shadi and I have been trying our best to quicken our journey back to America. Our original plan was to return this summer, prepare for our wedding, marry, and then return to Jordan to continue my education. Well, the best laid plans of mice and men... In 2011 I found I lost my scholarship as my graduating GPA was merely .2 under the requirement for awarding due to my mere B- in my final math class. Mathematics has always found a way to screw me since the 5th grade. So we began looking for a job that would tide me over until summer 2012; all jobs offered me in Amman paid too little to be worth the public transportation cost or even the effort of the job at all. One job even offered me the position, then after a week trial denied me said position because I wasn't a "hijabi" (one who conforms to Allah's edict that Muslim women must cover their body and hair) We lived in a ramshackle apartment in Abu Nuseir, celebrating Xmas not with my family but with a fake tree via Safeway Jubaiha and homemade ornament-making while watching my favorite Xmas movies.
However, in mid January my mother and father-in law, concerned that our staying in Jordan in the condition we were in would not aid our plan to come home, they offered to pay our way back to the US and volunteered extra funds to live on while I found a job. We began visitor visa processes immediately, hoping to get home by March and attend family events, plan our wedding, make a little money, and return to Jordan after the wedding to begin Immigration work. In Feb we were denied due to Shadi's salary intake and my American citizenship being cause to illegally skip out on a visitor visa and illegally immigrate to the States. We tried again. Another denial. As of now it has been 3 weeks since we received our second denial and are now working towards Immigration processing. Unfortunately we cannot even begin until I have been a Jordan resident for a year, which doesn't occur until August 12, 2012. We kept all of this under the rug (with the exception of a few people since Shadi has a problem with inner monologue- he doesn't have it) because we didn't want to announce it and get the hopes up of all our relatives and friends. It was hard enough on the both of us.

Anyway, after the shock of a second denial we decided the very next day (after cooling our heels and our hearts in Midtown Amman, one of our favorite places) that we would leave the apartment we despised and start working on living and doing what we wanted while in Jordan, instead of trying to escape. My friend Jessica, another revert who married into Jordan, told me that I had to learn to love Jordan first before I was allowed to leave it. I've taken her advice to heart. Irbid, the town closest to Ramtha and one Shadi and I hold much affection for, is now our target living space. Its proximity to Shadi's family, the fact that it houses 3 of my American expat friends and is near to another, and  our general liking for it all go into the choice to move there. We apartment hunt seriously starting next week, although we probably won't move in until May. I already have a job prospect teaching conversational English at the Institute of a family friend who helps Jordanians immigrate to Australia. I meet my first student inshallah next week as well, as our first attempt was squandered by the copious amounts of rain 2 days ago. Since we are not leaving anytime soon, we have also decided to keep our 3 cats Hawkeye, Thakia and Yasmeen until we are halfway through Immigration processing. Firdaus will stay in Ramtha with Momma Aicha as she is a favorite among the family there and enjoys and prefers being an only "child".
It was Firdaus's attack on Yasmeen, one of our 5 month old kittens, that led us to discover the baby's other illnesses last month. Firdaus is a jealous female cat who daily attacks our other animals, another reason our decision to leave her with her Grandma was such an easy one. In one attack, she cut the eye of Yasmeen, and after 3 days of no improvement we took her back to Dr. Ala'a who pronounced that her eye would have to be removed soon. :( Ontop of which she was affected by food poisoning as was her sister Thakia after taking a taste of my shisha tobacco, which turns out to be toxic for cats. The 3 days of stomach upset damaged her teeth and like her brother Hawkeye, gave her gingivitis so bad it needed 10 days of medication and 3 days of fasting. After several weeks, her condition is improved, but the gingivitis caused ANOTHER infection; the drainage from her teeth inflamed her lymph node to ginormous proportions, and 2 days ago it ruptured, freaking me the hell out. She is with the doctor until the weekend so that he may treat, clean, and observe her to make sure the infection ended there. As for Thakia, she rebounded days after her poisoning and is her usual nutty self.

Hawkeye we had originally given, along with his brother Trapper, to a nice cat-loving Circassian woman named Sally when we applied for the visa the first time. After 2 weeks we were informed he had escaped during her move and was lost in 7th Circle Amman in midwinter. The day we learned this we were visiting my expat friends group of Aubrey, Atheena, and Sherri at Sherri's place in Irbid. Atheena, a Californian woman married to a Jordanian with 2 young boys, brought with her a 2 week old gravely injured kitten she'd rescued in her house hours after birth when it was discovered the sickly mother was eating her 4 kittens. Amel, here meaning "hope" in Arabic, barely escaped but with deep and infected bites. We volunteered to take her with us to Amman to see the Vet and ascertain her chances of survival. After examination by Dr. Noor we went to 7th Circle Safeway and Cosmo to find replacement kitten milk when we realized we were near where Hawkeye had been lost. After a few minutes of calling his name, he came bounding up to us, dirty, starving, and bleeding. We took the babies home, quarantined Hawkeye in the kitchen with food and cleaning, and fed the kitten the new milk.
She would die a week later, hours after seeing the doctor for the second time after he declared her chances of survival to be the weakest. We buried her in our front yard. She would be the 2nd kitten I'd tried to save and lost; 3rd if you counted Manar who died of calicivirus. When Atheena had given Amel to us (shadi named her), we all believed it was destiny that we meet so that we might save her. After she passed, and some long thinking as it was hard to get back to sleep after her death, I determined that fate was still a player; Amel died in the wee hours of the morning, when Atheena and her family would be asleep. She would have died in pain and alone. If the boys had found her, either dying or dead, it might have been traumatic to them. Amel came to us so that she might have a safe and comfortable place, and to be comforted when she passed. I believe this; without this I might not have had the strength to continue my rescue efforts. Hawkeye it was discovered had a bad puncture wound on his chin, fungus on his ears, and gingivitis so extreme it tore his gums. After weeks of medicine and care, he is bigger, clean, and healthy once more although he still needs his pills for his teeth now and again.

MY teeth, however, are not in their best shape. A month ago I experienced a pain in my molars so deep I had to practice imagination techniques they teach people who donate bone marrow in hospitals (the extraction is so painful that patients need several ways of staying conscious). Every day since then has been a new adventure in pain, some only minutes, some lasting hours. The worst was 4 days ago in Amman, and after much evidence gathering I have come to conclude that A: my abscess has returned and my 25 year molar is impacting another tooth, and B:the elevation change from Ramtha to Abu Nuseir only makes the pain worse. Our pharmacist in Amman, who thought I was Russian, prescribed Lincodar (a Lincomycin product), and it has done nothing except cause a fainting reaction when I smoked argeelah merely 15 minutes. Inshallah I will see a dentist soon, although I am terrified due to that common American paranoia regarding visiting "3rd-World" country medical offices. I've heard horror stories; I pray Shadi takes me to the J.U.S.T hospital as their dentists are trained in Iowa and the U.K. (Is that ethnocentric? I think so)

We are nearly through moving back to Ramtha temporarily while we search in neighboring Irbid; only a few things remain I have painstakingly packed in newspaper, like this:

 

 

 

Only a lot neater as I am a packing perfectionist.

We do not own a car, so have been relying in "Service", cheap taxis between towns, to get us and our stuff to Ramtha. I must say I am a champion at fitting things into a suitcase that might not have fit without me :D Mom is scared to let me drive in Amman so she won't allow me to take the family car to retrieve the rest of our things; we wait on Cousin Hamoode this time although its cheering that she's allowing me to drive us to Huwwara tomorrow. I'll have her convinced that I'm the family driver soon, oh yes! Last week us and Aunt Turkia's family picnicked in Huwwara as they do every friday until summer. Tasty fried chicken, tea, snacks and fruit were on the menu. We prayed in the grass, made a fire, and wildflower hunted on my insistence. Jordan, in the spring, is AMAZING. Just as I found when I came here the first time, exactly 1 year ago. This is only some of what is saturating the landscape here:

With these and a few others, I made a stunning wildflower bouquet :D Huwwara is a vast expanse of field and farmland located on the Syrian border between Ramtha and Irbid Highway. The Alkhazaaleh land touches the very border fence, as does the land of every other tribe in Ramtha. This has been their land since before the split by the Allies, and they consider Duraa in neighboring Syria to be a brother town, full of relatives. To many arabs, there is no such thing as a Syrian or Jordanian when it comes to close quarters like this. Shadi attempted to take me to the border road where Syria begins to show me where the fence marks the beginning of landmines that still exist there, but Border Patrol waved us back. Not like I was interested in being too close, anywho. After returning to the fire for tea and snacks, the Border Patrol made us evacuate as firing had begun in Duraa, the town not 3 miles from the border. I mused that they must have long bullets if they were that worried about firing 3 miles away. Here the "Arab Spring" has 2 meanings.
Shadi told me that in summer the fields get barren and dry and cause wildfires. A relative had accidentally ignited one when ashes from his cigarette caught the brush and sent a wall of flame across the border, setting off the landmines. He was arrested and hilarity ensued when he had to convince them he had not meant to start an international incident :D Mom let me drive 1/8 of the way home; then I made her drive a few minutes. She really ought to learn. Half of the female population in Jordan still doesn't know how to drive.

That night my argeelah caused me to nearly faint due to its reaction to my antibiotics, which was not a warning on the instructions. I have shisha fasted 5 days now to avoid a recurrence. We had our first thunderstorm 2 days ago when I'd lost hope of ever seeing a real one in Jordan. Power outage, loud crashes and hail made me a very happy woman.

As you may have noticed, so far I have only discussed two things mentioned in this blog title. Here I relate to you the reason behind the first name. Since coming here I have noticed many things I consider to be out of place; garbage not in garbage cans all OVER the country, lavender paint on houses, random donkeys, building material nowhere near construction, a couch in the middle of a field, and lastly, toilets. Now granted I have only seen 4 so far, but even one is enough to make you wonder at the motives of people. In Amman, nearest to my former apartment, I counted 3; there is one in a ditch in Ramtha. Most of these toilets are not whole, and merely laying alone in plain sight. With the Arab obsession regarding bathroom etiquette and cleanliness, I wonder as to what they imagined a toilet, meant for said use, should be doing on the side of the road. Pictures to come. Other things we don't see much of unless its winter and we need it, is trashcan fires. All over Jordan I've seen large dumpsters belching smoke after someone tosses in their cigarette or something and the flame ignites the whole mess of it, spreading an odor I hope never to encounter again. My eyes still water at the thought of it.

To make posting shorter, I have started a board on Pinterest, the craze that is sweeping the nation of females, to highlight things I would otherwise spend countless posts on. Start an account, its easy, and check it out at my board: All About Jordan: A PhotoBlog

Okay, so I know I haven’t updated this blog in quite a few months; my last attempt was that disastrous videoblog upload that due to the internet speed here in Jordan had to be ghetto-posted and then YouTube removes the sound because of “copyright” laws. I’ve been preoccupied doing the part of living abroad that most people don’t like to read about, and I certainly didn’t enjoy the thought of writing about it. In the movies we are shown one of 2 scenarios for characters’ stories overseas: One, tragedy, hardship, dangers and etc, and the other being one of adventure and learning (trying new food, learning a new language, etc) Rarely do you see what its actually like. I have. However, since I have spent quite enough time in the experiencing of it, reliving the entire experience day by day through writing is just not on my list of to-do’s, so an abridged version will have to suffice. Tough. We moved into a small 2-bedroom apartment in Abu Nusayr a couple hundred feet from the Jubaiha Amusement Park in mid-October, nearly 2 weeks after our wedding in Irbid. We brought with us every wedding gift and second-hand kitchen utensil Shadi’s mother could spare, as well as 3 cats (2 of which had not been part of the original boarding party) I had seen the place a few days before in the worst state imaginable and did not start the first day with great hopes, even after Aunt Fatimah, Cousin Rusia and myself detail cleaned the place the day before. We arrived there already in a state of depression as the abandoned 3 week old kitten we’d been caring for had died during the night while relatives and neighbors had come to see us, Shadi’s brothers, and his mother off to our respective destinations (The boys to Russia, Mom to Medina, and us of course to Amman) Over the next few weeks we purchased groceries, discovered our “new” sheets from Ramtha were dyeing us both orange, found out with an emergency visit to the vet that Firdaus had caught a worm while being trapped at the neighbor’s house the same day Radar passed away, met our landlord and his family and learned we weren’t the only mixed-ethnicity married couple around, and many other things. The worst of it was the unexpected challenge that was thrown at us when Shadi’s law firm suffered the financial loss of a partner in the firm and his boss was either unable or unwilling to pay him his full monthly salary on time. We lived frequently on 20 dinar a week, subsisting on a soup and bread diet and whatever food our relatives sent home with us after weekend visits to Ramtha. Meanwhile we searched for a job for me, mostly teaching positions in Jordanian schools or nurseries. No such luck. The first job, found for me by a friend I’d made at masjid in the States, Haya Jaber, was offered to me until the Principle discovered I was a non-hijabi and that her 10 minute speech regarding my Islamic duty was not about to sway me into becoming one changed her mind. The next, one I was offered at a wonderful school in Swefieh (the richest neighborhood beside Abdoun) I had to turn down on my own because the offered salary, 300 dinar, was insufficient when monthly travel and meal expenses were calculated. The final interview I was given a mere 2 weeks ago, just before Xmas, and I await word from them. It’s a new school, only 2-years old, located not a mile and some odd from our apartment. A temporary position, it would pay just as scantily as the school in Swefieh, but with transportation and food expenses very low it would be worth having. We also took in 2 more cats, 2 month old kittens that had been born in 2 separate litters outside our apartment building to the location’s Queen cat Magdalene and her sister. Some weeks before one of Magdalene’s 4 kittens,Manal, had disappeared and was presumed dead around the time we discovered the existence of their cousins, 2 I named Yasmeen and Omar. Magdalene would adopt her neice and nephew as her mangy sister was unable due to her health to care for them. After returning from a weekend in Ramtha I noticed the healthiest kitten, Manar, looking weak and listless, so I captured 3 of the remaining 4 kittens and hurried to Dr. Alaa, the vet in downtown Amman. He diagnosed all 3 of the girls with a common kitten killer in Jordan, calicivirus, and Manar’s had reached her liver. He treated Yasmeen and Thakia with antibiotics and bid me leave Manar with him. She would die in the night and the vet tech would call me in the morning to tell me and also inform me they would bury her as well. With the weather gradually getting more and more cold, and the kittens afflicted, we couldn’t leave them outside to suffer Manar and Manal’s fate, so we took them in as well, raising our cat count to 5. We tried to capture little Omar several times as well, but after his viscious bites on us and our landlord we deemed it prudent that he stay with his adoptive mother awhile longer while I tried to socialize him. He too disappeared a few days before Xmas and we haven’t seen him since. This, sadly, is a common tale here in Jordan, as cats are one of the least looked after animals next to squirrels and turtles. I have seen more suffering cats and abuse of them than anything else here. Its very hard to see it and know you cannot do much more beyond what you are already trying. Magdalene’s older daughters, Amna and Kauthar, also live here and we take care of them as best we can. A stray dog we have named Pete also comes by some days and we feed him what we have. I have volunteered to help Dr. Alaa in his campaign to spay and neuter the feral cats of Amman in attempt to stem the number of suffering kittens and will begin my capture of both males and females when the weather warms up in February, right about mating season. It’s the least I can do. We’ve done very little else since the financial crisis hit us, and near to Xmas I was beginning to think it would pass me by uncelebrated and unnoticed. Thanksgiving had been saved by our American friend Sherri Odat who had invited us to share with her and her family that November 25th in Irbid. I met Sherri on an expatriate website called Expat-Blog.com, and Shadi and I had spent time with her and her family in October previously. We have since spent another day with them since Thanksgiving, but tragedy struck their family back in the States and she and her children have returned for the Xmas holiday to Pennsylvania until the health of her mother improves. We hope to see them again soon. We would have gladly spent Xmas with them, but after their departure, and one more payday passed unrealized, I began to feel like it would be the Year Without A Christmas for me. But 3 days before the 24th Shadi came home from work having been given the rest of his salary for November and surprised me by announcing we would take a taxi to the local Safeway that night and purchase a tree and accuturements for a modest Xmas celebration. Finding decorations was somewhat difficult, as was the tree as ours turned out to be the last in the store and the store display. No box. By my American sense of proper service I managed to guilt the staff into locating a proper box and setting us on our way to search out décor. Cheap lights from China and material to make decorations were procured from an “Everything” store and we spent the night creating a modest tree, fishing the kittens out of it, and serving Shadi his first cup of hot chocolate. We got stuck timewise in Ramtha Xmas eve, so we spent the night talking to my mother and father back in Missouri and watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964) and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas (1966). I insisted for us to return home Xmas day to spend time alone, and we said our goodbyes to his Mom and brother once again as they were headed to Medina a second time to spend the vacation with my father- in law. Christmas day was cleaning the house of the mess the cats had made in our absence, procuring them food, fixing the damaged tree, and watching another Christmas favorite, Muppet Christmas Carol (1995) with Michael Cane. New Year’s weekend and eve was spent again in Ramtha with Khalty Fatimah, some fabulous kebsa, visiting cousin Iman and her newborn son Ali, as well as having New Year’s eve dinner with Khalt (Uncle) Ahmed and his family. That night Shadi and I argued about the possible “haramness” (yes that arablish) of the celebration of the New Year and its traditions like the toast and the kiss. In the end I got my way of course, and we toasted with a citrus flavored Mirinda and a kiss while watching last year’s ball drop in NY on YouTube. We returned home New Year’s day to find the cats out of food and being fed magloobeh and mortadilla (baloney meat) by our landlord, not to mention a litterbox warzone and upset stomaches. After an emergency litter and food purchase and clean up we headed back down to Midtown, our favorite place in Amman, to visit the Roman Ampitheater and castle near Jabbal Amman. As usual a camera crisis occurred and we were left with 4 photos to take there. We had our first sugar cane juice (disgusting) and dinner at the famed Hashem restaurant. After some wandering we returned home to finish cleaning, watch an incompletely downloaded The Santa Claus and Muppet Treasure Island and munch on treats from Ramtha. Today we finally got our package from Customs (held due to the 2 containers of Ibuprofen inside for nearly 2 weeks) that Mom had sent us some weeks previously. We got everything we had asked for, as well as some Twizzlers Mom included for unknown reasons we immediately devoured. Thanks Mom  The past 5 months has been at times confusing, difficult, testing and occasionally wonderful. I have been sick every other week since arriving in August, which has only exacerbated our condition. Visiting the emergency room 2 weeks before Christmas was an eye-opener as I discovered the state of a “government-sponsored” clinic. Shadi had to hold me in place as a male tech gave me a shot in the a$$. Not cool. The extreme cold in our apartment due to lack of central heating has left myself, Shadi and the cats exposed to illness and easy injury. The space heater, called here a “Soba”, is fueled by a propane tank we now replace every 2-3 weeks and can only be run while we are awake or present in the home. We have to switch the tank between the soba and the oven (“foren”) , which makes for annoying nights in cooking and freezing, or not cooking and sitting in front of the heater. With the lack of certain food items and tools, and the availability of certain others, I have expanded my recipe list and cooking knowledge. When I return to the US I bring with me a few more dishes to prepare. Funny how adversity can pave the way for unexpected learning. What’s that phrase? “Necessity is the mother of invention.” Since the troubles have started my cooking has improved, I have been forced to become even more creative, and my OCD has gotten worse in some areas and easier in others. While living in Abu Nusayr we have befriended quite a few people. We didn’t expect to make any new friends, especially being past the age most people do so. The youngest son and caretaker of our landlord, Mohammad, is one of our closest. We eagerly anticipate the arrival of his wife and daughter from Brazil. He cares for our pets while we are away and does so gladly as he is a great cat lover. He has more than once provided us food, had his sister take us to the ER, and done above what an American landlord would consider his job. His situation is as bad as ours, but I think together we all 3 deal with it more tolerably than we would alone. We enjoy the company of Shadi’s cousin Eyad, Uncle Ahmed’s eldest son, and his wife Hanadi and daughter Yasmeen who behaves like an old arab woman and once asked me if my spare tire of 10lbs was my baby. The owner of the local general store, Abu Bilal, has befriended us and I spend many hours there with his wife, daughter, son and grandchildren. I have experienced new food with his wife’s cooking. We will be sad to be leaving them all behind in Jordan. Some people we have met however we will not lament being rid of. The Saudi tenants of this building, for one. Recently some male students from Aqaba have taken the apartment that was once ours, and brought with them two beautiful and well cared for cats. Upon arrival they put them outside and have not taken them in since. A beautiful female that resembles Firdaus might become mine fairly shortly as she suffers outside in the cold, eating out of trash bins. The cabbies I mostly cannot stand as they up-charge me every time I ride alone (white people are common targets for that) and some even dare to hit on me. Right now we sit at a net cafe, filling out important apps and talking to Mom. Thanks for the candy, Ma!!

How often do you get 2 twin eggs?

Right hand corner of the ampitheater

Lots of foreign tourists. Check the Japanese fellow

Fun climb

Like nosebleed seats at the football game

This would be a painful fall

Shadi falls for a Roman statue ;)

Little Ali, only 1 month old, born to Eman, our cousin.

The City On The "Hill"

This past weekend was my 26th (shhhh) birthday. Islamically there is no precedent for celebrating the anniversary of one's birth, so many if not most people in the Middle East don't necessarily celebrate them after a person has reached maturity. However Western Culture has a large effect on Jordan and my family here being still rather cosmo for conservatives decided it was in my best interest to keep to my traditions. They attempted to surprise me with a cake, however my husband isn't the best liar and is usually none too subtle. I tested my theory by attempting to enter the kitchen and was called back hastily by aforementioned partner.

The cake tasted like packing foam, but its the thought that counts :)

Btw, do I look 26? Don't answer that. Shadi had promised me that he would do something special for my birthday since it was our first as a couple. So, the next day we took pubic transport to the city of Umm Qais to see the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Gadara. Our bus driver was a bit lazy and dropped us off on the wrong side of the hill instead of the entrance, so from there we hiked past abandoned and sacked roman tombs filled with donkey doo and food remnants. Im slightly appalled at the state of this historic site as residents seem to be using it as a midnight party hideout and the tourism board just up the hill completely ignores it. The only consideration I noticed was the choppy bricking up of one entrance within the tombs, presumably the one that belongs to the roman buried within it. Once we get to the hilltop we are lost as it seems to be deserted. We wander downhill through an abandoned Ottoman village. A veritable ghost town and one I should have been taking proper pictures of I think, but Shadi was convinced it was a recent area that was cleared out by the tourism board. (Ottoman Umm Qais) Once we got the entrance however we realized we'd made a complete circle but I wasn't upset; that Ottoman village was purdy cool. While waiting to purchase tickets we met a Mormon family from BYU who were studying abroad at a school in Irbid. They had their baby son with them and some humanitarian volunteers as well. Shadi and I helped them with their arabic questions and also discovered to our delight that residents and their spouses have free fare (explains the lack of respect for the area).

Road to the former temple of the Gods & a Byzantine Church

Warrior #1 at the amphitheater :D

Business district

My habibi

From the "hillside" the Palestinian Golan Heights and Lake Tiberius or Sea of Galilee

Along the way there were lizards of every variety scuttling along the ruins and, naturally, I attempted to catch one. No dice. At the entrance though we had found roadkill of a different kind; a yellow  European chameleon. While researching for this post, I discovered to my delight this website and organization within Jordan The Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature. Click there to see the flora and fauna of my new home :)  After an hour we were starving so we climbed the hill to the Umm Qais Resthouse, a well-placed restaurant that overlooked both the city and the valley below with the border of Jordan and Palestine just beneath our seats and Lake Tiberius in view, some 2 miles away and 700 feet below sea-level, the 2nd lowest lake on earth following the Dead Sea.

For those of you who are uneducated in the Biblical histories, this lake is the scene for many of the miracles that Prophet Jesus performed, including walking on water, healing the possessed man from Gadara

And He (Jesus) asked him (the man), "What is thy name?" And he answered, saying, "My name is Legion: for we are many." -Gospel of Mark 5:9, Luke 8:30 & Matthew 8:28-34.

recruiting 4 of his "Apostles" fishing in the sea


                 ¹⁷ Then Jesus said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you become fishers of men.”   
                                                                                                                 -Gospel of Mark 1:17


and his famous Sermon on the Mount was also reputed to be along the hillside overlooking the lake. Such events are also corroborated in the Qur'an. So, needless to say this was a very cool place to be having a birthday meal. Afterwards we discover the bill at 13 dinar is nearly doubled
due to an unmentioned taxation and now we know how they make their money on such a cheap menu. Food was good though, so hard to complain. We give our table to a Jordanian woman and her mother who just returned from living in Denver and say goodbye to our Mormon friends to head off to Irbid. We stopped by the Museum of Archaeology and Antiquities to see the recovered artifacts from Gadara along the way. The building itself, Beit Rousan, was the former home of the Ottoman Governor before the fall of the Empire and the subsequent abandoning of the town.

These babies are the great (50x) grandfruit of Roman pomegranates. Tasty, too.

The courtyard of the Ottoman Beit Rousan with Roman artifacts.

Ceres, the patron Goddess of Gadara.

After catching a bus back to Irbid, we arrange to meet an expat-lady named Sherri I met on a website for people living abroad Expat Blog: Jordan in her new apartment. She and her husband Ayman lived in the US for 15 years until moving here last spring. They have a pair of fraternal twins (Hanna and Zain) and a 6 year old girl named Layla. We only intended a short visit, but liked them so much we ended up staying 3 hours including dinner! We hope to see them again soon. Upon getting home we spoke to my parents via Skype, giving them the scoop on the day, my birthday the night before, and of meeting a supercool relative of Shadi's that past Tuesday, a man named Ahmed who'd married an American woman and lived in the States with her for 44 years until she passed 2 years ago. He's 78, remarried, and is now the father of 2 toddler girls. The Arab Charlie Chaplin. He once managed a restaurant inside the Watergate Hotel and his first day was when the scandal broke. He also knows Bob Dole pretty well, too. Yesterday was an engagement party for my cousin, another Ahmed, which was another different experience. I finally saw what the girls at the salon were getting all dolled up for. In Jordan, the women's party for engagement parties involves the bride dressed up in a barbie-doll type ball gown and her hair and makeup done up nearly resembling a drag queen while the guests sing and clap to folk songs. Candy was also thrown at me an everyone else in attendance.

Yes, its this bad, only without pink hair and Hello Kitty.

Salazen Grum

I know its been about a week since my last post, but its been a VERY long busy week for me. 2 days before my wedding, I spent nearly every waking hour either shopping with my Momma Aicha in Irbid, or in the car watching my family hand-deliver wedding invitations. This post will not be about the actual wedding day because I don't have any pictures or video yet, and I feel I cannot do the event justice without them. This particular post will be in regards to the night before and all 3 days of my honeymoon in Irbid, as well as the past 2 days. Will this satisfy you for the time being, Genny Lindner? ;)

2 days before the wedding Aicha, Ashraf, myself and my "cousin" Hamoode went to Irbid to buy the last of the required wedding attire. We still had not gotten anything for Momma Aicha to wear, nor a suit for the groom yet. Shadi had gone earlier to Amman to pick up his paycheck and speak to an apartment broker. He would be incredibly late that day getting to us in Irbid. We must have been to 6 shoe stores and a clothing retailer (from which Momma Aicha would purchase my Eid clothes, a cute shirt w/belt and a new hijab at a booth down the street) before I found shoes that would match my gown. Apparently, ivory or off-white is not a color found in Jordanian shoes, according to one shop owner. It is at this shop where I notice the multiple birdcages hanging from the ceiling. From here on I would notice them in every shoe store and menswear dept. When I would inquire to Shadi about it later, he would tell me that the store owners keep them for the ambiance. Huh. (btw as I write this I am jamming to Freddie Mercury; thanks Google Doodle!) Once Shadi got there it was nearly maghreb and the last day of Ramadan so we only had time to stop by one store as we were all too starving to go further and had missed 3 prayers by this time. The store we went to check for a suit was a typical menswear store, complete with pop culture t-shirts in the window displaying incredible acts of Engrish and lack of cultural awareness, such as this beauty:

Right... and wrong, on oh so many levels.

Momma Aicha and I found funnier engrish at the women's pajamas section of a store, but didn't have a camera at the time. The suits were in the back, and clearly not tuxedos and also clearly too big (despite being "made in america" oooh) were not suitable and so we booked it to the car to make it back to Ramtha by sundown. We broke our fast with water in the car since the athan sounded before we arrived, and was given kebob and kusa by Mariam and Turkia. That night we got roped into driving around Ramtha to deliver the rest of the invites. While driving through "downtown" Ramtha, all the power went out. Now if this happened in the states there would be screaming, pinching from strangers, groping, and the conceiving of blackout children. Here, since this happens around once a week anyway, the reaction was cheering in the streets. By the time we got to an obscure aunt's house to complete our delivery, our car broke down in front of it, which happened to be right beside Grandpa's house. A cadre of children who'd been watching the FCB game crowded around us to help push the car to a cousin waiting down the street. I watched him hotwire our car while the aforementioned obscure Aunt gifted us with a giant bowl of fresh figs. All of the children were Shadi's cousins. ALL OF THEM. It is here I will try to explain the family dynamic that baffles me and will continue to do so as I live and breathe. Shadi's parents are first cousins. Their parents were brothers. This makes Babba Hassan's father in law also his Uncle, and Momma Aicha's father in law HER Uncle. These would be Shadi's grandfathers, but also thanks to this his Great Uncle's as well. His 1st cousins are also now his 2nd cousins. The children of those relatives are his 2nd and 3rd cousins respectively. They all share the same great-grandfather. Lost yet? I will never know how our children will be related to whom. I guess this is why its so acceptable to marry cousins around here; you never know if they are actually related to you.

We get home and are exhausted, so as we sit at the table snacking and watching television KSA announces Eid and the next day becomes the day before the wedding. Good thing our reservations at the Union Hall and Hotel فندق held up. Shadi returns with his father from Ramtha proper having found a suit and I am aghast as it is a shiny silvery blue. I tell him he looks like a used car salesman, which he does. For the first time in a month we nearly all sleep in instead of getting up at 3 to eat suhoor, and have a nice breakfast of leftover goodies. The next day is chaos as relative upon relative would arrive for congratulations and prep. I would skiddadle after a quick nap to Khalto Fatimah's house for Faiza to complete my wedding henna on both arms and my left leg. It tickled :) My new friend and cousin-in law Aia came to translate to the henna artist and chill for awhile, but would leave after I was complete. Fatimah and I would watch Monk until Shadi arrived to help clean me off and take me home to prepare for the party that would begin after sundown. Around 20 people were already hanging around in the garden when I got there, covered in a sticky paste of lemon, sugar, and olive oil that would preserve and bring out the color of the henna design. I was not to shower till the next day, hours before my salon appointment.  By ishaa the party was in full swing, with around 40 women and their children stuffed into the patio/parking garage singing and clapping along to Hamoode and his arabic woodwind instrument (sort of like a buzzy flute; its that sound you always hear in arabic music) and an Aunt and Momma Aicha on the classic arabic drum. The men, numbering around 20 or so were in another part of the house until it came time for Shadi's henna treatment, which consisted of dyeing a single finger on his right hand and wrapping it in gauze and a 50 dinar note.

Hamoode plays his "flute" while the ladies sing folk songs

Large pile of mud is actually large pile of Henna

Habibi cleans off henna from my face

:)

The night was long and insane, ending with several attempts by relatives to make Shadi and I dance, Momma Aicha a madwoman on the drum, and Babba Hassan displaying his dancing "talent". After nearly falling asleep on Shadi, I would be allowed to retire as my salon appointment was very early the next morning. Best Eid I ever had. :)

The next day of course was the wedding and the wedding night, but as I mentioned previously I do not possess any photos or video of that day as of yet, so onto the wedding night and beyond. Naturally I cannot go into detail for a fair few parts of the evening ;) just rest assured a good time was had by all. Since our hotel (Plaza Irbid, the nicest one in town although that's still not comparable to "nice" in Amman) was prime location, center of the city and near just about everything by walk or a real short cab ride, we were in great shape. Although we wanted to spend our first dinner as husband and wife in a really nice place, for some odd reason we were both craving pizza like mad. To my delight, a Papa Johns was 1 minute from our hotel. Eager to have Shadi try American-style food, I steered him there though he didn't protest. The location was quiet and we were only 2 of maybe 8 patrons total. The interior looked like an Ikea catalogue. Menus were in english and arabic. Although the breadsticks let me down, we ordered a Halal Hawaiian pizza (smoked turkey replaced the ham but a learned taste bud couldn't have told the difference) and we were in Heaven (Jannat-al Firdaus).

Oh hells yea

Enjoying his first slice of Heaven (Hawaiian)

Afterwards we were too tired to do much wandering, so we headed back to our hotel to enjoy its amenities and make up our missed prayers. The next day we took a quick cab back to Ramtha for the traditional family breakfast the morning after the wedding night which consisted of tasty treats and همام (pigeon). It was today we found out why our wedding party was a lot smaller than we'd feared; around noon of the wedding day a relative in Amman had died. Half of the family went to comfort the surviving relatives instead, missing the wedding as some had feared that attending a party was in ill-taste when in mourning. Shadi attended the burial that afternoon, and after maghrib we returned to Irbid for dinner at another pizza location, that of Pizza Hut. I have to say I was incredibly disappointed, and so was Shadi. The pizza wasn't half of what it is in the States, unlike PJ's, and both the waiter and manager tried to pull a few fast ones on us regarding the menu items and the bill. Luckily for Shadi's wallet I picked up on the finkery, but we still left annoyed. That night we would walk down the main Uni street in Irbid, picking up some gifts for my family, and quite a few for me including a new ring, some hijab, a few shirts, and some Nina Ricci perfume that would have been 80 bucks in the US, came out to 45JD.

I would also discover my favorite shisha, Al Fakher Watermelon, at 5JD (7.50US) at a hookah store, which is nearly 1/3 of what I paid in the States for it. Again, a JD goes a whole lot further. We returned to our suite to snack and watch M*A*S*H, as well as other engagements. I am pleased to report how much Shadi enjoys my favorite show, and now he suggests it whenever we have downtime. The next day we caught a cab to Ajloun Castle.

This huge fortress was built by Izz al-Din Usama, a commander and nephew of Salah ad-Din al-Ayyubi (Saladin), in AD 1184-1185. Check these links :)

This town is the largest Christian community in Jordan, the tribes of Haddad and Rabadi. According to Shadi the communities here are big fans of Nordic beers :) Ajloun is also home to one of Jordan's oldest mosque's, dating back 600 years. For your viewing pleasure;

On a clear day, you can see all the way into Israel/Palestine

Entrance to main tower

Shadi at the drawbridge

Its only dangerous cuz I'M there ;)

Right guard tower

I discover to my chagrin that my mother in law was right about my white skirt; its too short. The wind blows and you can see Philly, so we waddle on the stairs to hide my underthings down to a lower turret to enjoy some Mirinda and a bag of Bugles. There are many foreign أجنبي tourists here, and while I am the only American, I am hardly the only "white" woman in attendance. After our tour we snag some fresh tea on the main stairs and sit next to a Christian priest with the largest, blingiest cross accessory ever. Shadi's phone battery had died earlier so we missed out on better pictures. He and the Priest attempted to swap phone batteries as he had a similar model but no dice; his was this much smaller. After finishing our tea, we start to head out and Shadi gets a wild hair and decides we should walk the 2 miles to town, steep hill the entire way. I am reminded of every old American male's whining about having to walk to school in 5 feet of snow uphill both ways as we inch our way down. Luckily a federal gold prospector on his way to his assignment in Wadi Rum picked us up and to my extreme gratitude drove us all the way back to Irbid for around 8JD. When we got back to our suite, we discovered this:

The hotel housekeeper had used what we'd left out to trick out our room.

Including using our new clean towels

We almost didn't want to remove it :)

The next day was check out and we returned home to a large lunch prepared by cousins and aunts, another tradition. That night we had endless guests come to both congratulate us and say goodbye to Rakan, Ashraf and Babba Hassan as the first two were returning to Uni in Russia (med school students) and Babba was going to Medina, KSA to teach. Yesterday the boys left, and we hung around mourning their loss. Today Shadi returned to work, and Thamer to school, so Momma Aicha and I were left to entertain up to 20 female relatives from Dhuhr to Maghrib.

Always Room For Jello At The Hatter's Tea Party

Its only been 2 1/2 weeks, and the days are starting to bleed together. Everything I relate to you in this post has no real chronological order since I cannot recall said order.

Babba Hassan took charge of ordering, assigning, and delivering the wedding invitations. Everything in Jordan, it seems, is done at the last minute. For instance, the wedding is in 5 days and invites are still being hand-delivered to homes. Apparently mail takes forever here. I will post a picture of the invites soon; Shadi's cell camera is all we have at the moment and it takes crappy pictures. There was a little tiff regarding the wording of the invites when I finally saw them: I, the Bride, am not mentioned AT ALL. As I come to understand it, the groom's family issues invites and the wording is similar to a US invite as such: "Mr. Hassan Mahmoud Khazaaleh invites you to the wedding of his son, Shadi, at this date and time blah blah to the daughter of bla bla Elena..." except, since no one knows my father here, my mention gets the boot. Maybe its petty, but I feel kind of like the anonymous or inconsequential bride (despite the fact that I KNOW everyone invited will come to this wedding especially; all the arabs I know love scandal or intrigue) Anyway, I don't know who is invited other than random family members I have met or, as was the case of last night, a girl I'd been running into at masjid every other night and her family. She remarks to me in her broken english that I am to be married in 7 days and that she is attending the wedding. She also inquires about my "foustan"/dress, and upon hearing its from the states and not from Jordan a worried look crosses her face. Understanding of course she believes, like all the rest here, that American apparel is all inappropriate and scandalous, I assure her that my dress is just fine.

We had to return to Irbid a few days ago to register my presence in Jordan and to begin the process of applying for citizenship. A nice taxi driver who worked in NY for 7 years was our chaperone across town for the first half of the day. The police station and registration office, it turns out, is all the way out in East Jesus. Thank Allah for an air-conditioned cab. Along the way we discover that the city morgue has the best view in town; perched atop a scaling hill it peers down into a large valley that when green I'm sure is beautiful. At the police station I am cheered to see at least 6 hijabi female cops busy at work, none looking like women you want to mess with. The registration/application process is long, drawn-out and complicated, making me feel right at home of course. Hello, Bureaucracy! As we wait we come across another Jordanian man registering his Ukrainian wife and she and I size each other up accordingly. This reminds me, of course, of a story Shadi had told me earlier this week about his family. Apparently 25 years ago, his cousin Sami married a Ukrainian woman and brought her here. Some years later however, he would die of some illness, leaving behind his wife and 2 children. As it turns out, his brother would marry the widow in turn. In Islam it is allowed and sometimes encouraged to marry the widows of your brothers or cousins, etc as a way to keep the women in the family. It also dates back to the time of the Prophet where many husbands were killed in battles for Islam, leaving behind many widows or orphans. A revelation n the Qur'an would take care of that. Anyway, they've been married now over 20 years. My hope is that they eventually fell in love, hopeless romantic that I am. Meanwhile, back at the Ranch, we go upstairs, downstairs, back to the cab, copy our Ids, back to the station, and off to where my entire hand, left and right, are printed with the stickiest ink ever. A german woman also seeking citizenship helps us locate a sink which is apparently located in the police station barbershop. No camera, but a barber shop. Oh, Jordan. Naturally everyone in the building follows my movements like paparazzi as my type of personality and behavior is clearly not something seen in this country. When finished, we are informed i have a 3-month temporary grant to return Nov 8 to complete more paperwork and pay more money. Lovely.

All we have left to do is make a payment to the فندق/ hotel and are once again forced to prove our marital status. With his minimal english a manager deigns to tell me its just country policy after I bristle at the request, and Shadi remarks that he thinks it should be that way. I won't get into the reasons I disagree. It is only 2pm by the time our normal errands are over, and since neither of us are eager to go home, we make a trip to the Safeway again to fetch more koolaid  (oh yea!). Once inside however we also end up with M&M's and Oreo Cookies, as well as tweezers and Colgate toothpaste (the last 2 my desire for western hygiene products). Firstly I note that soda can and soda bottle shapes are of course different here, as well as sizes. This cracks me up:

16-32oz representative in liters, respectively. Too lazy to convert.

And then it gets even better:

Hijabi flakes! Way to stay current.

And of course, the piece du resistance:

Introducing Hijabi Barbie!

Abaya included! ZOMG!

Of course as we leave I am in a fey fit of humor and that carries us, heat or no, all the way back home where Momma Aicha soundly reprimands Shadi for spending money he shouldn't have (me not knowing he was broke till payday) and kisses me for taking her side (as someone who is famously terrible with money management, I felt it necessary to avoid  happening here with my husband).



That night, on our nightly walk, I express a desire to hunt down the elusive Ferris Wheel we'd spotted at a distance. Once we arrived we found it functional in a mini carnival that took permanent residency here. We got tickets, and discovered that the man operating the rickety looking machine had actually shared a taxi with us back in April when he remarked to Shadi "now she will take lots of pictures like she did of you when you were sleeping" referring to the video I snuck of him while he snoozed in the cab last Spring. I guess its easy to remember such an event, both "white" people and tourist photos being an oddity in Ramtha. Its on the ride, a thing Shadi has never been on, that I once again lament he camera and only manage to get these shots:

The view of Southern Ramtha at the top of the wheel.

With the low buildings, can be spotted over a mile away.

On the way back we stop at his cousin Aia's house, one of the few relations who speak English. Its a beautiful house with an even more fabulous evening view than the Ferris Wheel. I am seated with the women and the young baby Zaid. Aia's mom serves me several snack courses starting with tea, water, candy, fruit, and qatayef. I can feel myself getting fatter and when I remark so I am greeted with uproarious laughter by the girls. This family, in stark contrast to Shadi's, is populated of 5 girls and 1 boy. The eldest girl, I am glad to learn, is a 29 year old OBGYN who only now has had her first child, little Zaid, and only recently married as opposed to Shadi's soon to marry 15 yr old cousin. The other girls are in Uni or have graduated, like Aia who will go on to be a nurse and cherishes a wish to work at KAUH (King Abdullah University Hospital) Most of them speak fair english. The baby is adorable, and keeps wandering on his knees outside to the patio where the men are chilling. At the end of the evening they serve us a jello mold remarkably similar to this:

I remark to Shadi the american idiom: There's always room for jello.

His Uncle offers to drive us home, and that night we rest, pray, rest some more, nearly miss fajr, and I get sick again from trouble digesting the food here. Almost everything is fried, and contrary to foreign belief, American dinners do not mostly consist of McDonalds or KFC.