Ancient to modern, falafel to baklava

More ruins! Last Saturday... Friday? It's hard to recall at this point. Saturday. I'm almost certain it was Saturday. Yes, definitely. Okay. Tayyib. (Similar to okay.) Now that we've got that straight, last Saturday I went to some Roman ruins in the city center. Maps and tourist guides call them "the Citadel" and "the Roman amphitheater," but of course, no Jordanians understand those words. Why? I have no idea. It sent us on a small adventure later - but I'll begin before that.

Kelly and Lauren and I made plans to spend our Saturday:

1. Eating falafel and hummusy goodness.

2. Eating sugar-soaked sweetsy goodness.

3. Running around ruins and taking photos.

Which meant we made plans to go to:

1. Hashem.

2. Habibah.

3. The Citadel and the Roman amphitheater. (I still don't know the Arabic words.)

We met up at Hashem for lunch - see the Jerash post for my salivating review. Not knowing exactly how far away we were from the ruins, and not knowing how to get there anyway, we got a taxi. The driver, as already mentioned, had no idea where we wanted to. So he just started driving. Great plan. Stopped in traffic on a winding two-lane street, he rolled down the window and called out to a random pedestrian nearby, asking if the man spoke English. Oh. This was going to be fun. The man did, and gave the driver directions to... something. We're not sure. We arrived at said something, and noted that we were in a valley and not, as the word "citadel" might lead you to think, on a big hill. Hmm. Two options: 1. continue speaking in broken second-semester Arabic with the cab driver and likely becoming further confused, or 2. get out of the cab and find our own way around. The second, obviously. Unfortunately, the cab driver took us for hapless American tourists (what else could we be?) and tried to charge us 2 JDs for our cab ride. The meter said 350 fils. Overcharging by a factor of six? Ugh. We gave him a few coins and walked out, wondering where we were. Answer: somewhere. Although the entrance gate really didn't look like much, it turns out that the cab driver had managed to successfully get us to the Roman amphitheater. Hooray! After getting tickets, we headed in. There was a little museum off to the side, and we explored that pre-ruins.

An elaborate sheep costume... disco?

Caption: A crane facing a plant.

Label: Gadget.

She's super excited about that water on her head.

Please note that if you try this with the camel that's in the closet outside the Batcave, you're likely to punch a hole in its shoulder.

Not that there's a hole there or anything. Just saying.

After leaving the museum, we went out to the amphitheater itself. It was big. Real big.

Don't look down.

A view from the top. If you look and see the tall columns on top of the hill in the background, well, that's where we're headed next.

From the amphitheater, we spied out a long, skinny staircase on the opposite hill that looked like it might maybe lead us up to the Citadel. Hopefully. Back at the gate, talking to the guys who sold us the tickets, we found that we were correct. The directions were something like this: go out the gate, turn right, go down the road a little bit, cross it, go up the long staircase toward the picture of King Abdullah, turn right, head up another staircase, turn left, and follow the road up to the ruins. Spot-on correct. Way easier, cheaper, and more interesting than taking a silly taxi.

A view from the hillside opposite the amphitheater, on our way up to the Citadel. Note the empty lot in front - we think they're planning on expanding.

In a church! Or at least that's what the plaque said it was.

Please tell me that someone else starts humming "Arabian Nights" when they see this silhouette. I was standing inside the Umayyad Palace when I took this picture.

World's second- or third-largest flagpole. We were probably about one and a half kilometers or so away from it at this point. Yeah.

This is it. Amman.

Side note, the green area in the middle of the photo is the royal palace grounds.

Rocks!

What we saw from on top of the amphitheater.

The Citadel itself was really interesting - for the ruins, sure, but for me, the best part was the view. Walking around the ruins, you could get a fully panoramic view of the whole city surrounding you. Beautiful.

There were the ruins of the ancient amphitheater to the south; East Amman, the old city with tiny houses and tinier streets, to the east; Raghadan Palace, home to the Hashemite royal family, to the north; and skyscrapers growing up and raising the skyline to the west.

Ancient history to the modern future, in 360 degrees.

And so after climbing back down the hill from the Citadel, we wandered over to Habibah, the delectable and delightful dessert place that I had been told about so many times. We didn't go to the main location - not sure exactly where that is - but to a smaller one around the corner from Hashem. Let me just say this: I apologize to anybody who ate my attempts at baklava for the Arabic project last fall, and I'll make it up to you by learning to make baklava as wonderfully as Habibah does.

We purchased our sugary delights, went back to Lauren and Kelly's apartment to devour them, and all was good. After those, and some spearmint tea (so good), I went back home to work on the week's reading. Speaking of which... I've got to go put the study in study abroad.

Mind on my money and my money on my mind

For those Facebookers out there, you may have noticed the two new photo albums that popped up the other night. I went out last Saturday to some ruins that are in downtown Amman, and I would love to write about it, but I'm on a public computer at TAGKS and consequently don't have the photos with me. And what would a post about ruins be without photographs of said ruins?

(Side note, in case I've forgotten to mention this: TAGKS is the off-campus study center that's one floor above the CIEE program office in Khalifeh Plaza. It's a hangout for all the American students and the nerdier Jordanian ones. Because, seriously, if you're going to walk a quarter of a mile away from campus just to study, you're probably a nerd. This building also houses a Subway, a Gloria Jean's coffee shop, a Western Union, an Ahli Bank location, and a Curves. Good stuff. I was in Gloria Jean's before this, but the Celine Dion was getting to be a bit much, and I was afraid that "Total Eclipse of the Heart" might be next. Oh, Bonnie Tyler...)

When purchasing my cappuccino at Gloria Jean's, I pulled out a twenty, thinking to myself, "Great! This place does good morning business. They probably have enough change to handle a twenty. And I don't have to feel that bad about it because my purchase is over 2 JDs!" A lot of thought just for getting change, right? Wrong. Breaking bills is serious business here.

In fact, a lot of things about money have taken some adjusting. I thought it might be interesting, for those international-money-collectors out there, to hear about the Jordanian currency. It's the dinar, which is abbreviated JD (like $), and a lot of the time, hip people call them "jay dees" instead of dinars. I'm hip. (And with it?) The dinar is divided into 100 piastres, which are also called qirsh. I don't know why they have two words for the same thing. Usually I just call them piastres. Each piastre is made up of ten fils - meaning that one dinar is a thousand fils. Most taxi meters are in fils, and some other establishments (the UJ cafeteria, for instance) print receipts in JDdinars.fils format instead of JDdinars.piastres (like $dollars.cents). After breaking that twenty at the coffee shop, I have one of every coin and bill, excluding the 25-piastre coin.


Coins.

There are four main coins that I've seen in use here. Reportedly there are 1 piastre or 1 dinar coins, but I've never seen one. The coins I have seen are (to use American parlance) nickel, dime, quarter, and half-dollar. In fact, we Americans usually call them that just out of convenience. They have real names, which we haven't really bothered to learn. If you ask the price for something (a bag of Dorito's at the university convenience store, for example), the price will just be given to you as a number - hamza thalatheen. Piastres is implied.

The nickel is the smallest, which is probably a little bit bigger in size than our nickel. The ten-piastre piece is slightly larger radius than the five, maybe about the size of American quarters, and is thicker. Both look silvery. The quarter here is heptagonal and bronzy, and that's the one that I don't have on me. The half-dinar is also heptagonal, and a little larger than an American quarter. It has a silvery center circle with a bronzy ring around it.

The faces on the coins... vary. You know how we have Lincoln and FDR and Jefferson and all those? Jordanian coins have the reigning king on them. So, current coins have King Abdullah II, while older ones have King Hussein. I haven't seen any Talal or Abdullah I coins. Right now I have six Abdullah fives, two Hussein fives, two Abdullah tens, one Hussein ten, and one Hussein half-dinar.


Bills.

Unlike the coins, the bills have fixed faces. Interestingly, the bills are all different sizes and colors. Way more exciting than American currency. One side of the bill has the face and the Arabic numeral, and the other side has some other picture and the English numberal. Yes, what we call "Arabic numerals" are called "English numerals" here, because the Arabic numerals are, surprisingly, not the same. Talk about a misnomer. One and nine are the same, five looks like a zero, six looks like a seven, zero looks like a decimal point, and the use a comma instead of a decimal. Fun stuff.

The one-dinar bill is the smallest (in value and in size). It's green, with a picture of Sharif Hussein bin Ali (Arab King). Direct translation of the caption under the picture. He was the father of King Abdullah I, and if you want me to go into a detailed history of the formation of Jordan, then I can, thanks to JAIC. Let's just say that although he was never the king of Jordan, he's an important figure in its history. The reverse side of the bill has an image of the Arab Revolt, a key event in the decline of the Ottoman Empire and the rise of Arab nationalism that Sharif Hussein initiated. More than you wanted to know, I'm sure.

The five is slightly larger (in value and in size), red, and features King Abdullah bin Hussein. Bin means "son of." The other side has a drawing of Ma'an Palace. Ma'an was the first city that (future) King Abdullah arrived at when he traveled to Transjordan in the early twentieth century to establish a kingdom in the British mandate. Long story.

The ten is larger still - do you see a pattern? It's blue, with an image of King Talal bin Abdullah. Next guy down the line. Because of mental health problems, he had to abdicate his throne after just over a year of rule, and that was when King Hussein took the throne. The reverse is an image of the first parliament, which I would give you a historical story about, but we're only three weeks into that class.

The twenty is greenish bluish and features King Hussein bin Talal. The famous one. I mean the really famous one. His fourth wife was Queen Noor, the famous one. His second wife was named Alia, and she died in a helicopter crash. The Queen Alia International Airport is named after her. The current king, Abdullah II, is his oldest son, who happens to be from King Hussein's second marriage. Before you get any weird ideas about polygamy, King Hussein was never married to more than one woman at a time. Interestingly, King Abdullah's mother was British, full British. The royal family doesn't look as "Arab" as you might expect. But back to the bill. The opposite side has an image of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem.

And finally, the fifty. It has a picture of King Abdullah (bin Hussein), but interestingly doesn't have a caption saying who he is. I guess, because he's the current king, we're just supposed to know. After all, his picture is everywhere. I mean everywhere. It seems like you can't enter a room without seeing a photograph of King Abdullah, or King Hussein, or the whole royal family, or all of the above. They're so well-loved here. This bill is vaguely lavenderish and has a picture of Raghadan Palace on the back. That's the current palace, located in downtown Amman.


"Sarah," you say, "why in the world do you have a fifty on you? Isn't that, like, seventy dollars?" Yes. Well. We receive our monthly CIEE travel stipend in the form of fifties. Gross. It's so hard to break bills here. (I think that'll be the next paragraph.) I carry one just in case I need lots of extra cash and hopefully can find a place to break it. Earlier this week, I went to an ATM, thinking that some simple twenties would be easier to use than the fifty. American ATMs only do denominations of twenty, right? Right. Assuming that, I just withdrew a hundred - service fees are a pain, so it's best to withdraw a lot at once - and assumed that I would receive five twenties. Well, I got two of them. Plus two fives. (Wonderful! Fives are so easy to use!) Plus a fifty. What? Seriously? I want anything BUT a fifty. Sigh.

Ones are the best. Oh, I could probably operate almost entirely in ones here. Because things are usually cheap here. (I think that'll be the next paragraph.) But because things are so cheap, it's hard to find a place that has enough change on hand to break a big bill. Subway didn't even have enough to give me change on a five for a half-dinar cookie. I pulled out all my coins, adding up to forty piastres, and I got a ten-piastre discount on the cookie. Cool, but annoying - I needed to break that five to get home. The cab ride from the university to my house is almost exactly one dinar, and cabbies aren't reliable to have good change. Finding change requires a lot of little extraneous purchases, most of which are bad for my health. Need to break a five or a ten while around campus to get a cab fare? Go to the convenience store and buy a bag of chips, a chocolate milk box, or a candy bar. Breaking fifties is an art form that actually requires much planning. I broke one to buy admission tickets at Jerash. I broke another at the bookstore across the street from the unviersity - even though I was buying less than five JDs worth of stuff. I hate doing that. It feels especially weird to pay with a twenty at the UJ cafeteria, where I've never gotten more than 1.5JDs of food. But it's a great place for change because they do business in small amounts, and so much of it. Seriously, art form. All that thinking at the Gloria Jean's counter wasn't abnormal.

It's a hidden blessing, really, that bills are so hard to break, because that difficulty stems from how low the prices are. Trying to figure out what my cappuccino cost in American dollars, I made a list of some of the things I bought in Jordan and converted them all over.

Regular cappuccino: $3.29
Subway cookie: $0.70
Small falafel sandwich: $0.42
Small shwarma sandwich: $0.70
One scoop of Gerard's ice cream: about $1.40 Guys, this stuff is tastier than Coldstone. Flavors like Ferrero Roche, Tiramisu, and Nutella. Heaven.
Cafeteria meal: $1.26 This particular meal included three pitas, a bowl of hummus, a bowl of some questionable vegetable thing that I split with a friend, a piece of cake, and a bottle of Aquafina.
Eightish pieces of baklava from Habibah, a dessert place so good that I can't describe it: $1.40
Trip to Jerash, if you take the bus both ways and get the student/resident ticket price: $2.94
Meal at Hashem's, which includes pita, falafel, hummus, bean mixture thing, red sauce thing, green sauce thing, and sweetened hot tea with mint leaves on the side: $1.40

Before mentioning the last two, I should note the strictness of Jordan's copyright laws. I don't think they exist.
15 DVDs: $14.00
All my textbooks: $30.80 These books are all photocopied things - Richmonders, think of Wythken and Uptown Color. About 2 inches thick for AA, 10JD. About three inches thick for JAIC, 10JD. Roughly half an inch thick, supplementary textbook for standard Arabic, 2JD.

These prices are all amazing, but that's because I'm buying Jordanian things. Not that I want American things very much - I walk past a McDonald's and a Burger King at least twice a day and never get the urge to go in. Shwarma and falafel are just that good. I've heard prices at American chains here are higher than in the US, and portions are smaller. Rumor has it that a Subway footlong runs about 7JDs, which is about $10. American cravings bite the wallet. Let's go over that forty-cent falafel sandwich that I had Tuesday: pita wrap filled with falafel, hummus, vegetables, some kind of hot sauce, and French fries. And shwarma? Meat roasted on a spit (do an image search; I can't describe it) in a pita wrap, with onions, some other kind of vegetable, and some kind of sauce that makes me so happy I forget about other food entirely. For seventy cents.

I have three one-dinar bills right now, which makes me incredibly happy. Enough for cab fare home and a cheap lunch or some snacks at the convenience store - but I would probably use a five there, because it's always good to stock up on ones. Smart. Got my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

Rings: planet-saving and marriage-making

To enlighten you about earth, fire, wind, water, and heart:

Captain Planet, he's our hero!

Gonna take pollution down to zero!

He's our powers magnified,

And he's fighting on the planet's side!

We're the Planeteers! You can be one, too!

'Cause saving our planet is the thing to do!

Looting and polluting is not the way;

Here's what Captain Planet has to say:

"The power is yours!"

Oh, yeah - throwing it back to the nineties there.

Moving on:

I'm going to skip the "I'm a bum for not writing" speech and just go ahead and write.


Last night I got to do something fantastic - I attended an Arabic wedding! Besides that, it was a Muslim wedding, which makes it just that much more interesting. But let me back up a few weeks - I went to an Arabic engagement party. (Different couple.) An Arabic wedding is different from an American wedding, but an Arabic engagement party is... well, because we don't really have those in America, it's completely different.

As I understand it - and some of this information may be slightly inaccurate, and I'm really really sorry about that - after the engagement, the couple is technically married. Religiously speaking. They walk up the aisle, sit together on a raised platform at the front of the room, and sign a contract in front of a religious authority. And that's it. Sort of. The couple won't move in together or consummate the marriage until after the wedding ceremony. Some engagements are as long as two or three years. In very traditional relationships, this engagement period is actually much like what we would consider dating. Only after they're engaged are they allowed to go out together, to be alone together, things like that. The woman can take her hijab (headscarf) off in front of the man. The only knowledge I have of these things is secondhand. But about the parties, on the other hand - those I know about.

Both the engagement party and the wedding that I went to were gender-segregated. Interestingly, at the engagement party, they had a live feed running from a camera in the male room - but of course there was no camera showing the female room to them. Inappropriate. The groom spent time in there, before he and the bride (well, groom-to-be and bride-to-be) came into the female room (I'm trying to avoid saying ladies' room - it's a ballroom, not a bathroom) and walked down the aisle. This is where they signed the paper, and then they exchanged rings. It's not like an American engagement, where the girl gets a diamond and the man gets... well, nothing. Why is it that Western men don't have engagement rings? Oh, that crazy thing we call culture. Anyway, they place the rings on the right-hand ring finger. Yes, right. We'll get to that later. And everybody's happy!

Besides the rings, the groom has to buy a lot of gold jewelry for his bride, and there's a small ceremony of him putting it on her at the engagement. Imagine trying to put earrings into someone else's ear. Yes, funny. The groom's mother had to help him out. After that we had cake - engagement cake. Rasha told me that that's a little bit abnormal, so I'll skip it for now and take care of that with the wedding itself. Once the groom left, dancing began. The bride(-to-be) dances in the middle of a ring of women clapping or dancing, or everyone just kind of generally moves to the music, or whatever however, and it's fun. They tried to teach me how to dance, with a very questionable amount of success.

And on to the wedding itself. I'm not entirely sure what the men do during the wedding, but when Rasha and I arrived, they were outside the building with a band playing traditional Arabic music. There was a lot of noise, lots of blanks being fired into the air, you know, the usual. The bride and groom were standing on a platform at the front of the crowd next to one another. The groom wore a suit, and the bride wore... something. It was like a white tent, something to cover up the wedding dress underneath. It had long, wide sleeves (think angels here) and a white hood (try not to think KKK). The hood was pulled down so that the men wouldn't see her. It would be proper for her to take off the overcoat only once inside the building with no men in sight. I'm not sure if she wore gloves, but if she didn't (and I don't think she did), then her hands were the only part visible. We didn't stay outside long, and we didn't look much - we were just trying to find a way to dodge around the crowd and get into the building.

To preface all of this, an Arabic wedding is mostly like an American reception. We didn't sit in chairs and listen to a set of vows or a miniature sermon. It was a banquet hall with round tables all around the room, and yes, like America, there was a groom's side and a bride's side. (We were with the bride.) I should put in a word about dress code: surprising. Because it's a women-only gathering, the rules are quite different from those for everyday life. Women can, quite literally let their hair down, by taking off the hijab or removing the veil. Besides that, they can wear dresses that are open at the top, with shoulders and whatnot. The big rule, though: no knees. No knees. Seriously, no knees. I don't know the historical/religious/cultural reasoning behind why knees are so very private, but they are. (This, by the way, makes shopping for clothes to wear to a wedding very difficult.) It was strange to see some of the people I know without their headscarves on; my initial reaction, word for word, was "You have hair?!"

So, there was the hurry and hustle of everybody arriving and getting comfortable. Then they announced that the bride and groom were about to enter, and there was the bustling to re-cover before the groom came in. This next part was the most ceremonial. I'll do a compare/contrast thing with American traditions:

The dress: The bride wore white. Just like the weddings you've been to, with a veil and everything.

Giving the bride away: Same here. But the groom's father comes, too, and both of the fathers walk away, leaving their children together.

Exchanging rings: Part two. The bride puts her hands together, fingertips touching fingertips, tent-like, and the groom slides the ring from the right hand to the left one. And the same thing the other way around. So yes, both the husband and wife have rings on the left ring finger in the end, but only one ring for each.

The cake: The same, but better. The bride and groom cut the cake together, just like in an American wedding. They hold the little cake server between them, and delicately slice in... oh, wait, I forgot to mention - they use a sword instead.

The toast: The thing where the couple's arms end up in a pretzel and they're both drinking champagne? Well, sort of. Except without the pretzel and without the champagne. Because it was a Muslim wedding, and alcohol is forbidden in Islam, they drank orange soda. Insert a Kenan and Kel joke if you want to. And they had straws - each held up a glass with a straw in it and the other drank. I don't know if all of this is strictly traditional, but I think it's cool either way.

After the groom leaves, then there's a general uncovering and lots of fun dancing. See above, but more of it. There were definitely some other less-than-100% traditional moments. Take the now-ubiquitous baby photo slideshows, for example. After a while, the friend-type guests leave, and only family members remain for - well, I'm not really sure what. I saw a car covered in beautiful flower arrangements outside, so I assume that the wedding ends with a driving-away moment. A very classy one, tin-can-free.

In short, the cake was good, the dancing was fun, seeing friends was wonderful. But more than that, I got to see two wonderfully happy people who were thrilled to be getting married. It's inappropriate to describe what any woman was wearing at the wedding, but I can say this: the bride was beautiful, as if she glowed. Congratulations, Salsabeel and Belal!

AA, JAIC, CC, CC, CC, TFC

Classes, activities, organizations, things:

1. America and the Arabs

I can't remember if I posted my decision on here or not, but I chose to take America and the Arabs - sorry, Environment and Politics of Water and Contemporary Islamic Thought. So far, I think that's been a good choice. The rumors about the water class have apparently been true, at least from what I heard about their first day of class. They went over the concept of "air." Next will be earth, followed by fire, wind, water, and heart! (Ten points if you understand the reference.)

This class is taught by Dr. Zubi Zubi - for real, that's his actual name. I was apprehensive about his teaching the class, because what I found online made him out to be a professor from the Faculty of Business who had taught about ten business-related classes and one foreign policy course. Oh, but no, maybe that's the wrong Dr. Zubi Zubi... nope, right one. As it turns out, he studied business because he got a good tawjihi score (the end-of-high-school placement test that pretty much determines your career) and was able to enter into business. Good scores enable you to study medicine, engineering, business, etc. All the things that actually get donations and funding at VCU. Hmph. Personal grudge. Anyway, his decision to go into business wasn't one of personal interest - he's always been fascinated by foreign relations and grew up in a very politically-minded family.

The class is reading intensive. In fact, that's almost all there is. Grading in Jordanian classes is different from the US. We have a 10% participation grade, just to make sure we attend class. Ten percent on a 2-4 page response/opinion paper and accompanying presentation. Thirty percent on the midterm exam, and 50% on the final exam. That's it. Read well, take good notes, learn as much as you can and hope hope hope that test day is a good day for you.

As far as the material goes, we haven't really gotten into it yet. We've gone over the structure of Arab societies, and we'll take a look at the formation of independent states in the Middle East post-WWII. After that, we can get into the real meat of Arab-American relations. The class is chronological, so we'll be doing a decade or so each week, moving up into the present day by the end of the semester.

Unlike what the program orientation prepared us for, Dr. Zubi encourages class discussion. He does not want to stand at the front and lecture for eighty minutes twice a week. He also encourages dissenting opinions, and acknowledges that his opinion is not law. He wants us to argue, to participate, to be involved. How wonderful!

He's also planning to bring in outside speakers to the class. He'll definitely be able to get some UJ students to come in and talk with us, and he's also confirmed the participation of the former Jordanian ambassador in Tel Aviv. So cool. Dr. Zubi, in going over the class rules, said that we're not allowed to tape his lectures. Reasoning? If the things that he said in class were to get out as being publicly related to his name, he would be in trouble. Excellent. I can't wait to find out what all these controversial things are.

Summary: things look really promising now, we'll check back in a few weeks and see. I'm excited.

2. Jordan and the Arab-Israeli Conflict

I had apprehensions here, too. Same as before, in fact. This class, although listed as being taught by TBA in room TBA for a long time, was finally assigned to Dr. Zubi, in the same room as America and the Arabs. That means three hours in the same room with the same professor on two similar subjects. I worry about overlap between the two classes - our reading for the first night was the same for both classes - but they should diverge quite a bit as we get into the material. Even now, they're quite different.

Let me elaborate further on my fears regarding Dr. Zubi's being in the business field. I took a class called The Arab World at VCU last spring. It was taught by Patricia Cummins, a French professor. She was awful. I mean beyond awful. She, too, cultivated a personal interest in the subject, except hers was accompanied by a serious lack of knowledge and a horrible approach to teaching. And she looked like Beaker from the Muppets. On the other side of this, I took Human Rights in Literature with (surprise!) another VCU French professor. She, too, had a deep interest in the course material, even though it wasn't her particular specialty at the university. She executed the course quite well - it was meaningful and rewarding. I'm incredibly grateful that Dr. Zubi turned out to be more like Professor Overvold than Professor Cummins.

But back to class (let's call it JAIC). A lot of the things I wrote about America and the Arabs (let's say AA) (not Alcoholics Anonymous) hold true for this class, too. The grading scale, for one, is exactly the same. Ditto for the speakers that he plans on inviting in. For one or both classes, we're going to take a field trip to the Political Museum, which he says is an incredibly interesting experience. So far we've just gone over the basic facts about Jordan and the history of its formation, beginning in the late Ottoman Empire. King Abdullah I pretty much waltzed into Transjordan and told the British that he was going to go ahead and have a country there. Kthx, bye. What a cool dude. Moving on.

3. Calligraphy Club.

CIEE offers four clubs a week - Calligraphy, Ten Forms (which is apparently some kind of grammatical structure that I haven't even come close to touching yet), Conversation, and Culture. This is the first week of clubbing, and today was the first Calligraphy Club meeting.

For anyone who's gone through Alif Baa with the DVD (okay, just Thomas, then), it's just like watching the guy write out all the letters. We learned alif and baa and taa today, and learned how to write baabaa - baa + alif + baa + alif. By the end of the semester, we should be doing fancy things - like the demonstrations of different styles of calligraphy at the end of Unit 10.

Club attendance is factored into our Arabic participation grades - we're expected to attend one a week. Calligraphy is a cumulative thing, so long-term participation is required. Other clubs are on a week-by-week, come-if-you-want basis. Calligraphy should fulfill my club requirement. Cool. So I don't need to do anything else. But...

4. Conversation Club

Conversation club just sounds so fun. It met right after Calligraphy today, and a good number of us from Calligraphy decided to go over there. We discussed Arab dating conventions, engagement, and marriage. The coolest part was probably Salsabeel's opinions and her presence there - she's getting married in just a week! The conversation topics change each week, so I may or may not go all the time. I'm really glad that I came today, and not only because of the chocolate-cream filled long john. Free donuts for club participation!

5. Culture Club

This one's not until Tuesday, but I think I'll be going to it, too. This week's topic: traditional Arabic dance. I can't wait until we get to a week where the subject is food. Yum.

6. Ten Forms Club

Just kidding. Bump that, I'm not going to club where I can't even understand the name.

I really should get to work instead of writing this. To give you an idea of the reading load, I have to read 102 pages for JAIC by tomorrow - but a paltry 55 for AA! Then I have to write a conversation/paragraph in colloquial Jordanian using the food vocabulary we learned last Wednesday, based on pictures that we drew in class. My picture? El Rodeo. Regular combo, two chicken enchiladas with rice and beans. Plus chips and salsa, and a sweet tea. Mmm. Shay ma' sukar. Nectar out of heaven.

Jerash, a play in three acts

Setting: Jerash! The twelfth of February, 2010. A sunny day.

Jerash is (for those of you who didn't already know and/or didn't already check it out on Wikipedia) a city of ancient ruins about three quarters of an hour north of Amman. Greco-Roman era, to be specific. It's said to be Jordan's Pompeii, which is kind of a misnomer, considering the fact that it was never buried by a volcanic eruption. It's just very extensive and incredibly well-preserved. Oh, and some of it is fake. I think it's just the parts at the very entrance that have been "renovated." I'd like to believe that the rest is completely authentic. But back to the play.

Prologue: Thursday afternoon

After Thursday's Arabic class, friends and I talked about weekend plans. Caitlin starts talking about Jerash and invites me. Meet at the bus station at 8:30 to grab a bus up to Jerash. Confusion ensues with Rasha regarding travel forms and bureaucratic whatnots (she had just finished entering data for Jerash travelers, most of whom had been involved in paperwork fusses); confusion is resolved when I clarify that it's a day trip, not an overnight. No travel forms required. Alarm set, and sleep.

Act I: Taxis

Alarm refuses to go off. A very responsible host sister (thanks, Alia!) wakes up in time, realizes that I'm not up, and wakes me up. Saved. They made me a sandwich. And another sandwich. Aand put them in my bag. Aaand put in two snack cakes. Aaaand a bag of chips. (I will have to buy an extra plane ticket for the journey home, and they're going to have to roll me onto the plane. I'm so well-fed here.) I hurried out to the main road and tried to hail a taxi. Let me explain Fridays here: they're empty. If you see weekday rush hour, or weekday non-rush hour, or traffic on any day other than Friday, you won't believe what Fridays look like. Every taxi that went by already had a passenger - I think I counted about a dozen before finally getting an empty one. Partway there, I get a call from Caitlin. A bus filled up (you have to understand, the buses here don't have schedules) and left around 8:00, so they went to another station and were going to try to get a cab from there.

I got out of my cab near the original station, and got another one going to the new place. We went for about a block before realizing that the cabbie and I had no way of understanding each other. I got out, looked around, probably seemed like the most touristy tourist ever, lost in the big city. There were four policemen/soldiers standing near a gate behind me, and after my initial reaction to walk away as quickly as I could, I remembered CIEE's "the police are your friends" speech. So I walked up to them. They couldn't exactly figure out where I was supposed to be going, then two more officers came up, and we still weren't having very much success. I called my friends back, got them to repeat the name of the place to me, syllable by syllable, and hailed a new taxi with a minimal amount of hope. Even with my botched-up Arabic, it didn't seem like we were going to be able to figure it out. And as I opened the cab's door to get out and go talk to the officers again, one walked up to the taxi. Magically, somehow, he finally understood what I meant and was able to communicate it to the taxi driver. Miraculous!

I got to station #2, and found the others: Caitlin, Lauren, Emma, Nico, and Kinsey. We got two taxis, pulled a deal of 13JD per taxi, and started our journey out to Jerash.

Act II: Ruins

We got there, bought our tickets and entered. After finding the people who had caught the 8:00 bus, we all decided to wait for the 10:45 show in the circus. (Roman circus, not Ringling.) Although we craftily climbed a wall to get a view of the circus, and nobody stopped us from sitting there, they did eventually make us leave to go buy tickets for the show and sit in the real stands. Retaining the integrity of the ruins, whatever. But getting those extra dinars? That's what it's all about. Anyway, we watched the show, and it was GREAT. A combination of serious enjoyment and the completely farcical sort that comes from seeing full-grown men in historical costumes running around with wooden swords. It reminded me of Colonial Williamsburg in that way.

They demonstrated how Roman soldiers fought (above). We also saw gladiator matches, and got to decide if they lived or died. And there was a chariot race at the end. Hooray! After sufficiently enjoying the absolute touristiest part of the day, we went on to the ruins themselves.

Well, sort of. We walked through the ruins for a few minutes, but then we found big fields of weedy flowers. And then we found big stone holes in the ground. And then we climbed out and sat on the edges of the big stone holes. Yes, we came all the way across the world and paid to get into a tourist spot just to sit in flowers. Worth it.

After that, we really did come to the ruins. These are ruins, hidden behind a flower.

Ruins up front and the city behind. Jerash is also the name of the modern-day city right next door to ancient Jerash. It's a little strange to turn around and realize that you're right next to a normal city. Lightpoles and cars and signage everywhere.

Ruins. Self-explanatory, I guess. The coolest thing about Jerash is the level of freedom that tourists have, incredibly far beyond anything you'd get at an American attraction. We could climb on anything we wanted to. We could walk up hills, walk off of paths, come to the edge of something or other and realize that the only way down was to hop down some rocks and end up wading through tall grass. There were no carefully marked pathways lined by ropes and dotted with careful signs about not taking flowers and not feeding the wildlife. It was just a playground of immense stone ruins.

This is me in a giant birdbath thing! Hooray! We shared a miniature picnic (remember all that food my family gave me?) at the top of the highest hill around Jerash - it was a pretty cool view. But even after that, we were hungry. And thirsty. And just about ready to go. End scene.

Act III: Taxi?

We tried to get directions to the Green River (Wadi Akhdar) restaurant, which had gotten good reviews from someone's host dad, but no luck. We did, however, get a few offers for rides back to Amman. There were a number of potential options available, including various types of taxis and buses. We were pretty much hassled by these taxi drivers on the way out of Jerash, trying to give us rides back to Amman. First of all, their prices were ridiculous. Then they tried to tell us that buses didn't run on Fridays. Then we realized that one of the "taxis" was just hitching a ride in some guy's green sedan for a dozen or so JD. No, no, no. We got directions to the restaurant and started walking. For the first block or so, the would-be taxi drivers followed us, continuing to try to get a deal. A few blocks after that, we heard shouts of "Amman! Amman!" coming from a bus. Salvation! Extortionate taxis? No, thank you. I'll take my less-than-a-JD bus ride.

We got off at the same station where we got the taxi earlier in the morning, and then proceeded to take another taxi downtown to Hashem's. Ohhhhhh, Hashem's. There is little more satisfying than being tired and hungry, sitting right down at a table, being given pita and hummus (really good pita and really good hummus) within seconds of resting your feet, getting falafel just a minute or two later, and drinking sweet hot tea with mint leaves in it. If you come visit me in Amman, I will take you to Hashem's. It is amazing. It is one of King Abdullah's favorite eateries. (Think Obama/Ben's Chili Bowl on this one - except with fewer men in imposing black suits.) And it is cheap - 6JD for four people. (Do the math, that's about $2 a person.)

Epilogue: Rest

I'm in sock feet now, sitting on the couch at home. My feet are so so very tired. I'm watching Forrest Gump (some things will never ever change), and I will go to sleep early tonight. And it is good.

Curtains close.

Two weeks away

Without even noticing it, I passed the ten-day mark. Summer before last, I went to Sao Paulo, helped build a building, paint a playground, make kites, et cetera et cetera, and within ten days, we were back. Oh, culture shock and all that whatnot. We came back with a new foreign beverage addiction (guarana!) and cultural experiences (chicken hearts!) and everything was grand. Roughly the same idea with Belize in the two summers before that. Seven days, painting, playing with children, et cetera et cetera. Foreign beverage: soursop juice! Cultural experience: Cipro, anyone?

Fourteen days here. I have not yet found a beverage to brag about once I get home. I have eaten interesting foods, but I have not gotten interesting sicknesses. (Let's hope those two stay the same.) I have not painted playgrounds, constructed buildings, or played with impoverished children. In fact, it doesn't feel like I've been doing a whole lot at all. Until I think about it...

I've:

Gotten a new phone, and memorized its new number.

Learned my way around new currency.

Learned how to direct a taxi. Yameen, yameen, doughree, hun.

Met dozens upon dozens of new people. (New to me, at least.)

Begun four new classes, more on that later.

Eaten all sorts of international - not just Middle Eastern - foods. Homemade ricotta, anyone?

Learned to say Palestine, and never Israel.

Figured out how to turn my new alarm off in my sleep.

Gotten used to always using at least two power adapters for my electronic devices.

Gotten used to hearing the call to prayer.

And much more. It's been quite a full two weeks, really.

I'll write about my new classes and other adventures soon, but for now, let's just catch up on a few things that are overdue.

This is my mailing address, for letters only. If for any reason you want to send a package, I can give you that address, too. Be warned, packages may take weeks or months or never arrive at all.

Sarah Bruce

c/o CIEE

P.O. Box 13434

Amman, 11942, Jordan

It takes roughly a week for letters to get from the US to Jordan.

Let me know what you want to know! I would love to hear - and by "hear," I mean "read" - your questions about Jordan and life and life in Jordan. So far I've just been writing what I find interesting, but I'd also like to know what you're interested in. Ask me things!

And finally, there are some pictures I've been meaning to post.

The Dead Sea.

Me floating in the Dead Sea.

Lots of people floating in the Dead Sea.

Snow! Seriously, just trust me on this one, those little white flecks are really flakes.

My room! (In fact, I'm sitting at the foot of that bed right now.) Home sweet Jordanian home.

Falafel to the rescue

I helped make falafel tonight! My host dad called me into the kitchen as he was preparing it - yes, my host dad cooks - and showed me how to do it. I came in after he had mixed the dough, but I got to form the balls and drop them into the oil and saw him prepare the hummus and baba ghanoush and tasted straight tahini and everything was wonderful. I hadn't cooked anything since before I left the US. The 23rd, in fact, making that chicken/rice/chili thing with Thomas... good times.

You see, I love kitchens. Lost of people love food - me included. Ice cream, fried chicken, chocolate chip cookies, mashed potatoes... these are comfort foods. Especially the cookies. But for me, the kitchen is also a comfort food. Yes, I like to bake cupcakes and brew tea while everyone else is watching football. It makes me feel good.

And yes, I've been known to clean other people's kitchens. It happens when I'm nervous - usually at social gatherings. I wipe down counters, organize the recycling, place things in the dishwasher, take thing sout of the dishwasher, make water soapy, make dishes soapy, make dishes unsoapy, make dishes dry, and on and on. It makes me feel good.

So, When Farah came over tonight... Let me explain. Farah is my peer language tutor (volunteering to spend time with me and pledging to speak no English). She is also Rasha's best friend. She is also energetic like a firecracker, like combustion, like the hot oil after dropping in a ball of falafel dough. And this did not work very well for me. I shrink when faced with newness and energy - I hold firecrackers at arm's length, I step away from the stove when the oil starts popping. It makes me uncomfortable, so I just sort of lie back and chill out.

This is the part where falafel plays the hero. A few minutes after Farah came, I was called into the kitchen. Host dad knew that I wanted to learn how to cook Arabic food, so he showed me the falafel, the hummus, the everything listed above. Most of what I did was watching, but I found it calming nonetheless. I was comfortable again, in the kitchen, around the food. I did not clean up, because I've found that I'm not allowed to (this whole maid business is completely new to me), but just being inside a kitchen with the sight/smell/sound of cooking was good.

The aftermath: falafel came out tasty. Hummus and baba ghanoush were both tasty and beautiful - the preparation is a little like art. And all of us talked and laughed over the meal. By the end, everything was great. Silly dancing and strawberry milk in juice box cartons, good things all around. In some sense, every moment since I walked through security at the RDU airport has been out of my comfort zone. But not matter where I am - where anyone is - there's always some measure of security to curl up in. No matter where you are, something can remind you of home.

So I love falafel, now on more than just a culinary level. Don't take it personally, chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. I'll be baking up a batch of you just as soon as I get home. But falafel has done me a favor tonight.

That white fluff stuff

Here's a quick follow-up on that whole snow day thing. It started falling in the night - I woke up to one serious thunderclap at about 4 in the morning and peeked outside. Glasses off and with a completely unlit view outside the window, the ground definitely looked kind of whitish. Of course that's a really scientific and accurate observation. I got a 7:45 text about class cancellation, and of course then promptly turned off my 8:00 alarm. That was followed by an 8:15 phone call from Ahmed, one of the program employees, making sure that I had gotten the text. Aaaand then I went back to sleep. Glorious.

By the time I woke up again, whatever ground accumulation there may have been was completely gone. But there were flakes! All day was like that - lazy, flakes drifting down off and on. There was enough accumulation to mess with the satellite signal, so I went up with my host sister and maid to brush off the dish. Okay, my sister did the sweeping, and the maid and I just kind of danced around and laughed a lot. The view was wonderful. Although not so much of the fluffy white blanket of Christmas cards, we did see people running around below under umbrellas.

Lots of you (at least those on Facebook) have been marveling at Jordanian snow. Trust me, I was too. My host family tells me that it happens maybe once a year or once every two years. Remember what I said about Amman having roughly the same temperatures as Raleigh? Well, look at Raleigh's - and even more so, Richmond's - recent weather. You guys don't get to have all the abnormal cold-snap fun!

Proof: http://www.jordantimes.com/?news=23739

Cool, no?

This just deserves a post of its own:

I HAVE NO CLASS TODAY. FOR A SNOW DAY.

For serious.

Rememberies

Two posts in two days? It's a veritable frenzy!

I saw something tonight that made me think of Dad. Then I remembered something earlier this week that reminded me of Mom. And so on, and so forth. I decided that I'd like to share those things with you.

Dad: My host dad was driving around the city tonight on a sort of tour, and he asked if I had been over the Abdoun Bridge. I had not. Driving over it was fantastic! The sidelighting that illuminated the roadway kind of obscured the view, but I'm sure that it's amazing - at least the little I could see of it was. It just opened three years ago - check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abdoun_Bridge

Mom: Rasha taught me how to play backgammon the other night. She said that her parents play it every day, and was surprised that I didn't know how. I'm sorry for the time (or times?) that you wanted to teach me and I refused. It's actually fun. I promise I'll play with you when I get back!

Molly Wacek: My family's maid is Indonesian. (Yes, we have a maid - this is straight swanky.) Reminds me of you enough to begin with, but tonight she made some Indonesian noodle dish. Oh. Man. It was so good. Noodles and oiliness and carrots and onions and some other stuff and I don't know all what but it was a great introduction to Indonesian food.

(Oh, and also because of your twin.)

Anyone who lives/lived in Boone: SO MANY of the fast food restaurants here are two-story. And we're not talking some piddly loft up top. I mean two-story playspaces and balconies and nice seating... I haven't been inside one yet, but I can see it all because of the plate-glass fronts on the suave new buildings. The ones that aren't two stories are sprawling behemoths. Sorry, but your Wendy's is no longer impressive.

Whoever brought Church's Chicken to that 8 AM art final freshman year of high school: Even though it was ridiculous to bring chicken that early in the morning, I remember you. Here we have the Church's Chicken logo on a restaurant called Texas Chicken. Perhaps there's a religious reason for the change, but that's a stretch. And even the way that they changed it - why Texas? Seriously? If you want good fried chicken, go east and head into the REAL South.

Anyone at VCU who appreciates Throwback: Pepsi here tastes better; my host dad and sister and I had a discussion on it. I can't read most of the ingredients on the bottle, but I can see the word sugar... meaning not high fructose corn syrup... meaning that all Pepsi here is pretty much Throwback. I have yet to see Mountain Dew, so I can't give a report on that account. They may not have that at all.

Anyone who went to Belize: Remember Mac's? Remember Coke Light and how it was so much better than Coke, Diet Coke, and Coke Zero rolled into one? (I love you, acesulfame K.) I can't remember seeing a single Pepsi in the whole country. Well, take that and rewind it back. I haven't seen Coke since leaving the US, and I really miss it. It's like being at VCU, but I can't just go off campus to get a Coke. At least the Pepsi here is better than the Pepsi at home, even though it's not Coke.

Thomas, Scott Brownlow, other graphic design people: There's a homemade banner near the main gate of campus advertising classes in different technology programs. I'm not sure if these are through the university or private, but the sign cracks me up every time. Among other things, it advertises: photoshope.

Thomas: Every time I see dejaj. Every single time.

Sarah Khaddage: Every time I eat at Lebnani Snack. Which happens to have been the past two days. I hear they make a mean fruit cocktail (already tried the other food - shwarma good, fries not so much), and I mean to try it sometime soon. A nice post-class treat.

Ben White: Every time I see Desperate Housewives. Trying to sound out the Arabic subtitles about cheating husbands and coke-dealing tenants and questions of paternity... fun.

John Deemy: Argileh. Need I say more? Interestingly, if you say "hookah," they have no idea what you're talking about. Say "Hubbly Bubbly," though, and they all understand.

West Grace security: We "have to" show IDs before entering the campus gates. "Have to" means show them a piece of paper that looks like the university ID. And if you're white, you pretty much just walk through. No questions.

Thomas: The disproportionate amount of attention given to pale, blond people here. Some of the kids here could pass for real Arabs - a Lebanese parent, Mexican heritage, even just dark hair - but if you're transparent like us, there's no escaping the stares. Also, Rasha has already confirmed that you look like my brother.

Amy Sailer: Scarves! Thanks again for that Peruvian scarf. All the girls here dress really well. More so the American students, because a lot of the Jordanian girls wear long plain dresses with their hijabs - we're not talking burqa, just a natural cultural choice.

Anyone who went to Brazil: Gas trucks. Do I really need to say much more? Between those and the call(s) to prayer, it's never too hard to wake up in the mornings. Unfortunately, none of them have that perfectly haunting melody...

Gram: Citrus fruits. I've only had one type here at home, and I can't remember its name for the life of me, but it's fantastic. Amazingly easy to peel, and very sweet - but there are lots and lots of seeds. Some of us were having a citrus conversation tonight about our host families' fruit selections. A few mentioned very large, sweet grapefruits - and then someone pulled out the word pomelo! Then someone else started talking about this mix between and tangerine and an orange... and of course, I talked about everyone's favorite citrus fruit. Tangerine + pomelo = tangelo. It really made me want some fresh-squeezed Florida juice.

Kristi Doherty: I got my first pedicure ever yesterday, and with the guidance of some friends, chose bright blue shiny polish. It's surprisingly non-tacky. And the way it worked out, it just made me think of you. Seems like something you'd wear - bold and strong and beautiful.

As a side note to everyone, it cost 3JD. $4.20. For serious.

Peter: I have a friend who said the word "pop" today. Gross.

Thomas: The majority of the American students on this trip have Macs. Last week in our hotel, we all crowded in the one room off the lobby that had a good wireless connection. On couches all across the walls, you could see Mac after Mac after Mac. I do believe the count at one point was ten to three, Mac to PC. Who knew that internationally-minded students were so... Mac-y?

Phyllis: Rasha calls her car Berta and says that she has a problem with sometimes stopping in the road. I love you forever, Phyllis. Forever.

(PS: If I didn't mention you, it's not because I'm not thinking of you. Trust me on that account.)

Mumtastic!

So, classes. We took an Arabic placement test last week, written and oral, with results given last Thursday. Good, fine, I got into the class I think is appropriate for me, and we started our Arabic classes on Sunday. Oh yes, my friends, Sunday. The Islamic holy day is Friday, and their weekend runs Friday-Saturday - one can deduce from this, then, that my school week is Sunday-Thursday. It's going to take a while to get used to. If you're appalled by the thought of having to go to school or work on a Sunday, please note this: American Muslims have to work on Fridays. Majority rules, and this country is 94% Muslim.

Anyway. My first Arabic class was Sunday from 2:00 until 4:50. Nope, not a misprint. I have three straight hours of Arabic on Sundays. And Tuesdays. And Thursdays. On top of that, we have a class on the colloquial Jordanian dialect every Monday and Wednesday from 9:30 - 10:50. Plus a listening section on Wednesdays from 11 to 12. Yes, I'm going to drown in this language. It'll be intense, and difficult, and wonderful, and all of that. But if I'm going to spend (let's do the math here) 170 + 80 + 170 + 80 + 60 +170 minutes each week on Arabic and Arabic alone - folks, that's over twelve hours - it will also be BLAND.

Thankfully, this is not only an Arabic program. It's titled "Language and Culture," and starting next week, it will live up to that name. In addition to all that Arabic, we take two Monday/Wednesday area studies courses. The list has some really great options, and I had a hard time deciding. My top three choices were:

1. Jordan and the Arab-Israeli conflict.

2. Contemporary Arab women writers.

3. Structure of Arab societies.

Bad news bears: they're all offered at 3:30. To make scheduling easier, they put all of the area studies courses into two time slots. This unfortunately left me with a tougher choice to make. I had no strong and deep desire that ranked any one of the 2:00 classes above the others. Please don't think that the problem is with the course material being boring or uninteresting. Quite the opposite: I liked them all equally. The three I was choosing from were:

1. Environment and politics of water.

2. America and the Arabs.

3. Contemporary thought in the Islamic world.

Such cool stuff! I ran a very unofficial poll of Fb friends, and they came up with... no real consensus. I think there was a slight leaning toward America and the Arabs, but it seemed every person had a different opinion on what was most interesting. I chose, drumroll please, America and the Arabs. The water class sounds the most fascinating, but I heard it's a really basic class and doesn't teach anything new. That, combined with the issues I might have transferring it in to VCU, ruled it out. As far as Contemporary Islamic thought goes, the title seems better that the course itself. The description sounds just like VCU's intro to Islam class. Either the people here are selling themselves short in these descriptions, or they're having a lot of fun making titles. I'm not sure. In the end, I decided on America and the Arabs. Not only does it sound like it will transfer in easily, but it offers the opportunity to study with graduate students in UJ's American Studies program.

But that's next week. This one is purely Arabic, getting acclimated to campus and buildings and professors and all that whatnot. My Arabic professor teaches both our fus'ha (formal) and amiyah (colloquial) classes. Even though most classes have different professors for the two, we see Professor Amjad every day of the week. Good thing/bad thing? Good. Aside from his handwriting, he does everything quite clearly. And this guy is hilarious. "Mumtaz" is an Arabic word meaning something like "amazing!" or "fantastic!" He likes to mix the two and say "mumtastic!" for everything good. I laugh every time. He gets so overly excited that it's just infectious.

And so, dear readers and commenters, I would like to get overly excited about you all. I would like to let you know how much it means to me to hear from you. Even life in a noisy Arab household and a giant bustling city gets quiet sometimes. You are all simply amazing, purely fantastic, even mumtastic!