Middle Eastern Fairy Tale (Alternate Title: Barbara's Guide to Wedding Etiquette in the Middle East)

7 September 2011

Arjan- Amman Jordan

8:00 PM

Greetings,  

            Last night I had the opportunity to go with my host family to a wedding for one of their cousins. He was marring a woman from Saudi Arabia, so most of the people there were Saudi. Hiba’s family, were the only Jordanian’s, and I was the only American (obviously). 

            The wedding started with a procession of cars that followed one another to collect the bride from her parent’s house. There was shouting, honking, and celebratory gunfire. I tried to capture the excitement for you in a video, but it was too dark to be any good.

            While we waited I watched all the Saudi women (friends and relatives of the bride) pile into car’s. In Saudi Arabia women wear more than just the Hijab and long sleeves that Hiba and her mom wear. They wear long black dresses and veils that cover everything but their eyes, much like this:

Note: I do not know these women. Well, maybe I do- how would I know? 

            When we got to the wedding hall we split up- women in one room and men upstairs in another to have coffee. After only a few minutes the bride and groom came in. They cut the cake, and had an exchange of rings. The bride was not dressed in black, but she did have a white cape and hood covering her head and body. None of it was quiet like a ceremony at home, all was rowdy- even the demurely dressed Saudi women. I think the official ceremony had taken place earlier and that this was more of a reception, but I can’t be sure. I rather unashamedly stood on a chair so I had a good view of what was going on. (Barbara’s Foreign Wedding Etiquette Rule 1: At some point you realize that you can’t really attract MORE attention than you already do. That point is when you are a 20-year-old Episcopalian of Scots Irish descent and are dressed like a secretary in a room full of women dressed like beekeepers. )

            The bride and groom danced (surrounded by their sisters) and then he left to go have coffee with the other men. As soon as he was out of the room a total transformation occurred. Black crepe, veils, and sashes went flying, and I watched agape as the dark eyed women I’d seen carrying their children into the hall revealed their party clothes. Imagine a cross between junior prom, Miss America, and Jersey shore. Dresses were brightly colored and revealing. Hair was teased high and lacquered into place. Makeup was painted on, and there was the most glitter than I have seen since the time I tried to make snow-scapes with my Sunday School students.

            All the women piled onto the dance floor. Hiba had given me a short lesson on Arabic dancing the night before, and so we went along too. (Barbara’s Foreign Wedding Etiquette Rule #2: The only time Rule 1 is not true is when you are a 20-year-old Episcopalian of Scots Irish descent and are dressed like a secretary in a room full of women dressed in prom and party dresses-and you dance like a spaz). Due to a handicap I have had since birth, I’m not very good at using my body the way the rest of party was (note: That handicap is that I am white and thus have no rhythm) so I stepped back to watch the craziness unfold.

            After awhile an announcement was made on the PA system which Hiba informed me was a note that the groom and his family were coming. Immediately the dance floor was cleared of everyone but his sisters and there was another flurry of black as the women re-robed themselves. They were all sitting down and fully covered by the time the groom and his male relatives entered. The family members took turns greeting the couple and giving them money, and then it was over.

            It was hands down one of the strangest experiences I’ve ever had. It led me to some very interesting thoughts about gender in the Middle East which I’ll rant about tomorrow when I’m capable of forming a coherent thought. I wanted to take pictures of the wedding, but it would be incredibly culturally insensitive for me to put pictures of the women without their coverings on- a little like posting locker room pictures, so you’ll have to settle of these few pictures of me and Hiba in the wedding hall.

This is where the bride and groom sit. I felt a tad awkward there. 

 The picture is off center because my nine year old host brother took it. He likes cameras, but has yet to master the art. 

That’s all for now, look for another thrilling screed tomorrow.

B 

Lets Look at this Differently

5 September 2011

Arjan- Amman Jordan

9:10pm

Today started with me forgetting my wallet and having to bum money for a cab, smashing my second cup of tea this week, and pouring my replacement cup of tea into my iPhone. Happy Labor Day America.

This brings me to an important turning point. I have not been happy here, I’ve actually been seriously wishing I’d gone to Vienna with Cris and James. I’ve been lonely and homesick. Why is this? I’ve studied and dreamed of going to the Middle East for as long as I can remember.  I have a great opportunity for learning and exploring and culture here, and I’ve hated all of it. I’ve felt out of place at my homestay and miserable at school.

So this is my new plan. I call it, “Campaign Happy Travels.” I’m going to make a point  of actually going out and doing things in the city. Now that I’m more comfortable taking cabs I can go and actually do things outside my house and the school.

As with most things, I decided to start at home. I’ve been uncomfortable at my homestay, so I flee to my room to study and read by myself. Tonight I brought my things out to the couch in the living room to study with my eldest host brother.

He helped me with my Arabic homework and we are currently engrossed in American Wrestling, something that, apparently, Jordanians LOVE. And I’ll have to admit, it is better than sitting alone in my room, even though I can’t understand the Arabic dubbing (you don’t have to listen to hard to WWE) and he and I can only speak in his very limited English or my even more limited Arabic.

Tomorrow I’m going to the wedding of a niece of my host father. I’ve never been to a Muslim wedding before and am looking forward to it, but I have nothing to wear. And I don’t mean that in the girly “Oh I have nothing to wear that I haven’t worn before and what if someone else wears the same thing because it’s been off the rack for 6 months.” I mean unless linen pants and plaid shirts are the dress code, I’m going to have to borrow something from Hiba (Jordanian women are unendingly fashionable, I’m so out of my depth).

Next time there will be pictures, I promise!

Best,

B 

Its one of those good news-bad news situations

4 September 2011

Abdoun, Amman Jordan

SIT Campus

3:15 pm

Marhaba,

Look at me using new words. I know approximately five words in Arabic, but that is five more than I knew yesterday.

The good news is everything is not as doom and gloom as my last blog post would lead one to believe. I went on a picnic with my host family (pictures as soon as I can steal them from Hiba’s camera) and yesterday Alexandra and I met up with some people on Rainbow Street (PS: Check out this article from the NYT featuring the very same place). Rainbow Street is pretty western. There are a lot of really American places- and it is frequented by American students such as ourselves, but it is also a place that has recently become a hang out for Jordanian hipsters (if the idea of young Jordanian hipsters is hard to wrap your head around, don’t worry, I feel the same way.)

We went to a place called the Turtle Green Café. It is an American style café with American style prices (and by that I mean I paid 2.75 JD for tea- almost 4.00 USD), but we were homesick and ready for something Western. I definitely don’t want to spend all my time in American places, but it was nice to meet up with the other SIT students, drink a cup of tea and debrief on our first weekend with our host families. It almost felt like being back home with my friends, which was therapeutic in a way. These pictures are pretty boring, but they show how American Turtle Green is. It’s a pretty cool place- the type I would frequent if it were in San Diego.

I was super creepy taking this picture. At least I remembered to turn the flash off. 

So hip (but not really). 

Now for the bad news: today was the first day of school. I may have mentioned previously that I hate school- always have and always will. Turns out some things never change.  On the first day of school you still read syllabi and  talk about “class expectations” just as you have for the past 13 years.  I was in a bad mood by lunch at which point we walked to a “great café that is really close and cheap!” by which I mean it was a 45 minute walk and my meal cost 10.00 JD (14.24 USD). Seriously? That is like my budget for the whole week of meals. Tomorrow I’m bringing food from home or hitting up a sketchy falafel stand and spending no more than 2.00 JD on lunch.

A few boring details: I’m taking four classes here: Modern Standard Arabic (written), Spoken Arabic (Jordanian Colloquial Arabic), Field Study Seminar (Ask me how excited I am to sit through ANOTHER research methods class), and Thematic Seminar. I’m excited about spoken Arabic and the thematic class, the rest sound terrible.

It all ends with a huge research paper, which I’ll rant about later.  

My Dad always told me not to decide I hate my new grade on the first day of school. Clearly that lesson didn’t sink in.

Alexandra, Noah, and I are going to work on a paper for a few hours and then take a break at another café (recommended by the NYT) but if it is expensive so help me I will get a cab and go home and go to bed. I’m that kind of cranky.  I’ll say again what I’ve been saying all week: Should have gone to Vienna. Oh well, I’m here so I better make the best of it. 

All the best, 

B

First Weekend (Alternate Title: Barbara Realizes that Culture Shock is a Real Thing)

2 September 2011

Arjan, Amman Jordan

12:45pm

(Note: This is 2 days late. Get over it)

Greetings,

When Kim told me that I was going to freak out the first week I told her she was being silly. I was wrong, she was right.

The past 36 hours have been miserable. Here is pretty much how all of my thoughts go, “Oh boy. I flew thousands of miles and spent tens of thousands of dollars and now I’m here and I don’t know why. I don’t speak this language and I don’t know what you’re saying. Why are you shouting? Am I in the way? This was a mistake. I wasn’t cut out for this. I should be at home in San Diego watching Keeping up with the Kardashians and petting a cat.” I moved in with my host family and they are really wonderful and kind, but this is not my house and they are not my family, no matter what SIT says.  Last night I was crying and my Host Mother came in and said “Ohh! You are the first girl we have that cries!” Great. Now I feel awesome about myself.  I told her I miss my aunts and my mom. She says, “I will be your aunt and your mom!” I appreciate the sentiment, but that is just not true. I have a mom. I have aunts. I have a house and a school and friends.  None of those things are here right now.

I always judged people who can’t understand other cultures, who think that something that is American is automatically better, but right now, I get it. This is probably one of those blog posts that I’ll look back on and say “Good Lord, what was I thinking?”, but its how I feel right now. I have no picture to go with this post (Sorry Andra), so I’ll put it in list form so you can avoid all that irritating reading.

1.     Gender Roles. I feel myself wanting to burn my bra when I’m here. Women and men don’t get to be friends. It is forbidden. Any relationships have to be in secret. I also am already tired of getting openly stared at, leered at, cat called, and “accidentally” touched in the street. The worst part is it gets worse if you shout back. I pride myself on my sharp tongue and ability to shut jerks up, but apparently that only works in America. I don’t think that 1960’s style free love and sexual liberation is the way to go, but you cannot convince me that a place where women have to cover their bodies because they might turn someone on is better, despite America’s staggering teenage pregnancy rate.

2.     Plumbing. Jordanian plumbing is not like America plumbing. I’m no princess, but there are some things that should just work. There was an incident today that would NOT happen in a San Diego bathroom, and in my elitist American opinion it should never happen ever. I will have nightmares. And how and why would one bidet? They are super common here, but I’m incredibly intimidated/vaguely grossed out by them.

3.     Language. Why does everyone shout all the time?

4.     Collectivism. This is probably one of the things that I’ll look back on later and think is beautiful, but at the moment I think the lack of individualism is sad. In Jordan people are around each other all the time. You don’t spend any time alone. Just while I was sitting working on Arabic today there were three separate visitors who just dropped in. I can count on one had the number of times someone has visited Tivoli street unannounced.  There is no “pull yourself up by your bootstraps and take care of yourself” attitude here. Children live with their parents until they are married and do everything with them.

I know that things are going to be ok, and that I will feel a lot better once school starts, but maybe I should have actually read that study abroad handbook they gave me at PLNU instead of just taking the quiz repeatedly until I got as passing score (Sorry again Andra). This is all part of adjusting. I’ve done hard things before and I’ll do them again. I’m here for an experience outside my comfort zone. I’ll just breathe into the change and fully experience the highs, and lows.

All the best, 

B 

Amman Day One (Alternate Title: Better Late than Never)

30 August  2011

The Imperial Palace Hotel

Amman, Jordan

9:13pm

Greetings,

Traveling went without a hickup, and I just finished my first day in Amman.  The city is absolutely beautiful. It is built on a series of hills and most of the buildings are flats built into the sides of the hills. Here is a basic run down of the day.

Got in about 8:00 last night and chose not to go out on the town with my classmates, despite the fact that it is the beginning of 3eed (The 3 is there on purpose. It is an American transliteration of an Arabic letter. It makes the same sound as A, but a little harder) the celebration of the end of Ramadan. The festivities were glorious I’m sure. I’d been up for 36 hours and chose to go to bed, figuring it would be the best way to get on Amman time. (Also there is that little problem where I hate fun).

This morning I had breakfast with some of my classmates (thankfully the hotel provides American coffee- I think it will take me a while to get used to the instant coffee people drink here). My classmates and I hit it off right away. Everyone is pretty nerdy, much like myself. We talk about politics and current events. It's lovely.

This is the house across from our school. It is pretty typical of the houses in Abdoun

After breakfast we went to the school, which is held in a villa in a suburb of Amman called Abdoun. Abdoun in the richest part of Amman, and the houses are really nice. It is also a block away from the British Embassy and two blocks away from the US embassy. There is a kitchen there for us to use and a beautiful patio and porches. We were issued local and after a few months with my iPhone having this phone is like going back to the dark ages (First World problems).

 We also watched a short video about Amman. We'll get more information when orientation starts tomorrow, but because half the group is still stranded by Hurricane Irene they held off on that for a while.

After the morning getting used to the school we went on a walking tour of Amman. We started on Rainbow Street, a main through fair in the town, about 5 minutes from Abdoun. Because today is 3eed the city is pretty empty. 3eed is like the Islamic version of Christmas. Everyone spends it with his or her family, eating and visiting. It was kind of nice, because we got to tour the city when it wasn't packed and there was relatively little traffic. 

We had lunch at a little restaurant (the only one open on Rainbow street) and ate on the street. I can't remember the name of our meal, but it was a flat bread wrapped around grilled peppers, chicken, yogurt sauce, and onions. 

Empty Rainbow street. Ignore the shot of my classmates in the foreground

After lunch we walked downtown, through an open-air market (pretty closed because of the holiday- but I bet its really something when it is not) and down to the Roman amphitheater. I climbed all the way to the top, which was great, going down was a little more sketchy. The amphitheater is 2000 years old and costs 1 JD to get in. That is 75 cents to see something that was build before Christ was born! And you can climb right to the top. Can you imagine if something like that was in America? The pictures don't do it justice, it is way way steeper than it looks. 

A view of the oldest part of Amman. You can see the citadel on the hill behind the city

 King Hussein Mosque. Most things here are named Hussein or Abdullah

 Downtown Amman

While we were at the top of the theater we heard the afternoon call to prayer. It was beautiful and haunting and very cool. Probably my favorite part of the day. I don't know if I'll ever get tired of hearing it- its one of those "Wow. This really IS the Middle East" moments, but give me four months and then ask me. 

The way up

 The way down 

 You can see the other side of the Citadel on the hill. 

5 Things You Should Know About Amman (AKA “If you skip all of Barbara’s boring rambling in the beginning read this part and look at the pictures”) (Also Titled “Things Barbara Should Have Known but Learned Today)

1.   Amman is the Arab renaming of the ancient city of Philadelphia (The one St John writes to in the book of Revelation). Some one told me that it was named after Ptolomey conquered the city and married his sister (thus the “Brotherly Love” but I have no idea if that it true.

2.    Amman was originally built on seven hills, just like Rome, but it now covers 21 hills due to urban sprawl.

3.    Most people in Amman don’t drink the water. There are a lot of issues surrounding water in the region (which I hope to explore further this semester) but one of the issues is that it makes people sick- even the locals. At dinner tonight we had water in little cups sealed with foil. Almost everyone buys bottled water for their house.

4.   )The city streets are laid out on circles, like DC, but less confusing. All the circles have names, but every one calls them “First Circle, Second Circle…” and so on. There are eight main ones and several smaller ones.

5.    Recently there has been a movement to gentrify and simultaneously preserve the oldest parts of the city. The Jamal Amman Residents Association (JARA) has taken the lead on this project. I’m not entirely sure what this entails, but I’m for it.