I haven’t said much about my family.  My report will hopefully be more honest and even accurate than it would be if written during my first week here.  Things have changed since the end of Ramadan.  Since I only lived in the house for a few days before the start of Ramadan, I was easily tricked into the belief that this is how things always work.  Every evening and night during Ramadan was the same.  I would mosey home from the university between 3:00 and 6:00.  Either sleep/read/study in my room or attempt to enjoy whatever was on TV in the living room with the family.  Either way, I was definitely in the living room by 6:15 to catch the changing of the channel to the televised call to prayer, while simultaneously hearing the call to prayer projected from Mosques nearby.  After the initial prayer song was complete, we would each eat three dates and drink a glass of water.  Then we would eat some delicious mixture of vegetables, rice, chicken, tomato-cucumber salad, and hummus.  After letting the meal sit for 20 minutes or so, we would all drink a small cup of Turkish coffee.  Three hours after that, on the dot it seemed, we would eat these delicious small pancake like things filled with cheese then baked in the oven with a homemade sugar syrup poured on top.  This was coupled with a glass of tea- made strong and taken sweet.  All delicious.  There was a schedule, a definite sense of family… comfortable consistency.

I’m still trying to figure out the non-Ramadan food schedule.  People seem to eat lunch around 3:00 or 4:00 or really whenever they get home… not together and then dinner, well doesn’t exist and if it does, its sort of on your own or consists of popcorn and these annoying little seeds, which are impossible to eat.  (of course that is coming from a person who has never been able to get the damn sunflower seed out of the shell, whatever, people eat them for the salt anyways, right?)  So yes, I sort of miss the Ramadan food schedule, except for the part where you don’t get to eat for the rest of the day.

Family though.  During Ramadan I felt like I had a really good relationship with my host father.  He speaks the best english in the family, hence it is easier to talk with him.  Most nights I would sit on the porch with he and Amal, my host mother, and we would enjoy (or at least I enjoyed) watching the changing form of the moon and the light breeze that would glide about the porch.  I would always have my small vocab notebook and every 10 minutes or so would be writing down a new word.  Now, I feel as if I have offended him or something has happened that I don’t know about because we haven’t really spoken nor have I seen him much since the end of Ramadan.  Also, no one sits on the front porch anymore.  It is hard for me to gauge a sense of what my father is like outside of the house.  In the house, Amal is in charge, but… I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.  Example: all of Amal’s sisters are also hosting CIEE students.  Most the students see each other quite often because the families get together regularly.  Outside of school, I have only seen two of the families once since I’ve been here.  From what I’ve learned from the other students, they were told by their host parents that my father doesn’t like to leave the house much, or like it when my host mother leaves the house much.  To add to that, anytime we have visited family, other than his, he has never come.  So I don’t know.  There is also, I’ve accepted it as comical, a little secret activity that always happens whenever he goes out for the evening…. Amal, Dina (sister:16), and Rawan (sister, 20) get the hookah out.  The first time it happened was soo confusing.  Khalid (brother:24) always smokes with them too, but Yahya (father) kept coming back, or they thought he was about to come back, so the girls would run to their rooms and my mother would pretend to work in the kitchen and Khalid would be sitting *comfortably alone on the couch smoking by himself.  Then he would leave again and the girls would emerge from the shadows and fight Khalid for a drag.  I’m still fascinated by the changes in the house when he leaves for the evening.

With all of that said, I have become much closer to my host mother.  I think we are both slowly understanding each other.  I am very different from Dina and Rawan… and I guess some of the other CIEE students that her sisters have.  Because this will mostly likely be the only time I’m in this country, I want to live it up.  Check off each page of Lonely Planet.  I do believe I am very respectful, much more than when I lived with my actual parents (but hey, age grows wisdom…. or something).  I have also done a fair amount of things that have caused my jeans to be covered in mud or my face to be red and sweaty so I’ve gotten a few shocked looks from Amal… her clamping her face and exclaiming “Gena!”  But now I think there is an extra smile when I come back looking like that from playing outside or running.  I played soccer with Hamza (brother 12) the other night with two cousins, also around 12.  It has been a long time since I’ve played, and I didn’t want to be shown up on the court, so I really got into it…. and it payed off!!!  I was pretty impressed with myself.  Hamza even told Amal that I won… she told me that the next day.  Somehow though my jeans were the only ones that ended up covered in mud, from the way the boys looked, they could have been sitting in an operation room playing Arabic scrabble.  Amal is very kind and quiet, but she has a really great smile and soft eyes… not tired eyes, just gentle.

I also feel pretty close to Khalid.  More than anyone else he has made an effort to help me learn Arabic.  He has got to be the nicest guy I have ever met, seen, or heard about.  Initially this sort of freaked me out on the “you’ve got to be kidding me….”  But family is different here.  If a 24 year old guy in the US was still living with his parents, watching television with them every night and occastionally doing the dishes (and of course also rarely going out, never touching alcohol and of course never the opposite sex) one would wonder whats wrong.  But that here, is the best of men.  He definitly seemed to inheret Amal’s disposition.  Very easy going, not quick to anger, gentle, wonderful smile.  All around really good guy.  I would like to know more whats going on in his head, even little things like knowing when he’s bored, or if he ever is.  But, sadly the language barrier is currently too great between us.  Here as custom, whenever you enter a room, even if you have been in the house for hours, someone always asks “keif hallak,” which just means “how are you.”  And the proper response is always “good” or “as God wants me…” or whatever else positive and seemingly superficial.  This has continued to bug me, because I’m not always “good” or “just as God wants me..”  Sometimes I feel downright lousy.  I remember trying to express that to him one night and it just got really confusing.  Oh well.  I think we will start going to this coffee house nearby together, so that should help with things.

My sisters, Dina and Rawan, another story.  They are very nice and all, but frankly I think they could take me or leave me, I’m of no great consequence.  Rawan also seems quite lazy and caught up with her appearance, but really that seems to be how a lot of women are trained (by culture) to be.  I like Dina though, shes really sweet.  But again, huge language barrier and the attempts I have made at breaking it were not reciprocated.

Hamza… ohh Hamza.  Great kid.  We are the most alike by far.  He is loud and talks back to his parents and likes to get dirty and play with his friends.  He eats too much sometimes and then gets really moody and has to have some quiet time by himself.  He is really funny and obviously enjoys being the leader.  He really speaks no english, so I have greatly enjoyed our choppy attempts at feeble communication.  Luckily, the only necessary communication with a 12 year old can mostly be expressed in hand motions.  I plan on playing more sports with him soon.  We can put each other on a work out regiment.

So thats the family in a nut shell.

Besides family life, regular life is going fairly well.  Arabic finally proved itself today to be the incredibly difficult language that people have always said it was.  Since I’m in level one, everything has been fairly basic so far… but we just started dipping into the more intricate grammer rules and now real studying will actually be necessary.  My Arab Women Writers class is still fantastic.  The professor is unbelievable and incredibly supportive of us individually in class.  Her insights and thoughts on issues are fascinating.  Shes amazing.  The stories we are currently reading are also beautiful yet horrifying at the same time.  My Water Politics class has become a joke.  The way professors hold themselves in class has so much to do with how students will react or behave.  He never really set himself up as the authority or someone demanding of respect, so consequentally, some people talk during the entire class, very few people actually do the readings, and no one really pays attention.  But there isn’t much to pay attention to.  Every class increasingly becomes a reflection time for him to nostalgically talk about when he lived, studied, and worked in the US.  He has told us multiple times his two greatest mistakes in life: 1. getting married and having kids (which he has 4… all boys… oh and of course his wife doesn’t know that he severly regrets being married) and 2. moving back to the Middle East.  I’ve tried to appreciate and understand where he is coming from when he goes on his long tangents comparing our two cultures, but frankly I’m annoyed.  It is supposed to be a class.  My time as an undergrad is quickly running out, and I desparately care and want/need to learn more about these issues.  I feel like we do have a good relationship outside of class.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, there is this Eco-Cities conference coming up in less than a week (it starts this coming Saturday) at the Dead Sea.  My prof has been incredibly helpful in figuring out a way for me to go.  They want US$150, which is impossible, so from discussions and other contacts and such, he has helped me figure out a way to… go for free!!  I emailed my CV to him which he forwarded on.  People were ‘impressed,’ I guess…. and I was asked if I would like to join the Friends of Environment Society (www.foe.org).  From there, I will get to go with them as a member and possibly volunteer.  Yah!  And somehow along the way the Senior Advisor of the Ministry of Environment, Raouf Dabbas, is in my phone.  Talking with a friend today in a similar situation with another organization, we have both found ourselves in seemingly very ‘important’ positions or relationships, but really we have no idea what the hell is going on.  So, I’m consequently really looking forward to this weekend and actually hope to make business cards in order to play the game ‘right.’

The weather has been getting really beautiful here lately.  I even get to bring or wear a light sweater occastionally.  Last night I went to this fantastic art talk at Darat al Funun (where some pictures in the album were taken).  Really incredible.  I feel always so far removed from art, or maybe not removed from art, but art in the more formal setting.  My friend Luke, who I have both area studies classes with, does amazing sketches of old men and distraught people in class everyday that are quite inspiring.  Anyways, a new exhibition just started and the artist gave a talk on her work, her inspiration, and her hopeful meaning in each piece.  Of course the setting also helped.  The talk was held outside in the lower levels of Darat al Funun in the ruins of the ancient Byzantine Church.  The moon was also very crisp in the sky.  So really, she could have been saying anything, because sitting in a comfortable folding chairs between ancient beautiful columns, holding a glass of free hot tea in the light of the moon, and hearing the occastional and beautiful call to prayer in the near distance was enough to throw anyone (I’d imagine) into an emotionally ecstatic state.  She does mostly installation pieces on varying themes.  I won’t get into it, since really it makes no difference.  Conclusion: I do easily forget that there is a whole other form of expressing anger/frustration/love/inserthumanemotion to an idea, or political or social situation.  Artistic expression is soo different and brings out soo many other meanings than the form of response I feel I am more comfortably and consistently around.  We definitely hope to become regulars at this place.  I wish I could bring some of you along.

In other ‘artistic’ news, I recently charged my ipod.  I haven’t charged it in a good five months at least, so I was afraid it might not even work.  It did and I have been enjoying a new game of sorts on my bus ride to and from school.  I have to take two separate buses to get to school, which in total take about 40-45 minutes to transport me to the university.  Its a fairly significant chunk of time.  It has been so long since I have listened to my own music.  I feel like I’m rediscovering a dusty part of myself.  It is interesting to listen to Simon and Garfunkel, or frankly any band… name one… and stare at the khaki stretch of box buildings and strung up clothes lines.  Trying to swap soundtracks.  Its strange though, I do feel weirdly powerful and at peace when I walk down the streets with my headphones… its like no one can touch me or I’m just an observer to it all.  Perhaps its like Coca-Cola (which whenever I drink it my eyes water because the whatever in it is soo strong), I’m having an initial ridiculous reaction since its been personally withheld for so long.

With that, I think I’ve been keeping David Gray and a list of possessive pronouns waiting long enough.

The trek back to the camp brought me back to planet earth… exhaustion from the day finally sunk in and the envitable low rocketed through me as is the case when the high reaches the stars.  All day people kept making comments in regards to the fact that what we were doing had been done for centuries.. that we were part of history.  But of course, that is an exciting thought in the moment, the prospect of giving up this laptop and adjusting to a long term tent-dwelling lifestyle is not an exciting fleeting thought… its a whole shift of understanding and mentality, which ought not be thought about at 3:00 in the morning.  So we finally made it back and I crashed.  The morning was beautiful.  Before being loaded five by five in the back of old Toyota pickups and dangerously drug across the desert to the main highway on our way to Aqaba and the Red Sea, I took in one last look at the rising sun on the desert expanse.  The sky was so big and strangely colored, it was difficult to even determine if the sun had risen.  The sun splinterred the sky as it rose and different colors exploded over the our campsite.  I left my camera in the tent and told myself and told myself I would keep that one all to myself.

After a grueling three hour truck ride with an upset bladder and angery sand filled eyes and contacts, we finally made it to our second destination, the Aqaba Yacht Club.  Should I say Spring Break!!!!  No really, the program ‘rented’ or whatever two big boats, I don’t know if they were yachts, I don’t know what qualifies as one, nor do I see myself in any position in life actually learning or needing to learn the distinction between different boat forms.  Both were thumping with some popular American techno beats and ready for a party.  Everyone excitedly jumped into their bathing suits and danced about waiting to get the go ahead to jump in the water.  Honestly, Aqaba this time, was a little too Spring Breakish for me.  I wouldn’t deny that I am perhaps too ‘elitist’ or whatever to allow myself to enjoy that sort of thing too much… unreal boat techno time on the Red Sea.  After an hour of swimming around with snorkeling goggles (which were of course in large supply on the boat), I more comfortably settled into my own little world in my journal and did some healthy and inquisitive thought into the weekend and my overall time here so far.  A very good friend here knew what I was doing and joined me in my anti-spring break rest and we spent the rest of the afternoon discussing Quakerism, the early Church, and photography.  Even with my possibly boring, to some, conversations, I still managed to get some new good tan lines.

After our little boat trip, some tasty almonds and an ice cream bar, we all loaded back into the buses and drove to our campsite near Petra.  Everyone quickly ate and headed to bed to prepare for our early morning rise.  Petra was recently added as one of the 7? 8? Wonders of the World so it is always incredibly crowded.  In order to beat that, it is imperative to get there as early as possible so all of your pictures don’t include confused high heeled Europeans (of which I saw many).  The weather was perfect and we were able to take a leisurely time with our tour guide through the long entry passage, past the money-shot (see Indian Jones), and into the city center.  The city really was unreal.  It has been constantly inhabited for thousands of years.  Unfortunately, or fortunately, I still can’t get my head around it, the Jordanian Government forced all of the residents out of Petra in the 80s into a town that they built for them near by.  The new town came equipped with technology, American fast food, and schools.  Some were happy, some were not.  But, the gvt did make them a deal… the only people who are allowed to sell anything inside Petra are the original inhabitants or the children/children’s children of the original inhabitants.  Because of this, education and drop out rates are becoming a serious issue in the region.  Adults strongly encourage/force many of their children, I saw kids as young as five years old, to leave/quit school early to go and sell useless stuff and donkey rides to tourists.  I tried really hard not to focus on this though as it could have honestly easily ruined my day.  Getting caught up in the hard, strange, unfortunate social issues in the region would have done no good as there was not a thing I could have done about it, other than not buy anything from the kids… which I didn’t.

But yeah, Petra: spectacular.  If you’re ever in Jordan….  Really though, it was aweing to see an entire city that was carved out of rock. I guess at one time there were over 30,000 people living there.  Check out the pictures… any of them that look like man-made caves or incredible colors in rock are of Petra.  Towards the end of our time, I wandered off with one of my friends and we climbed up into an old tomb above the city to watch the people and excitement below.  We began to hear this amazing and eerie flute sound and sure enough a local man came walking along with a homemade flute.  He climbed up into the tomb with us and we chatted for awhile.  He is Bedouin and we learned that he still lives in Petra, right above the tomb we were hanging out in.  What was funny was that right before he came, we had just been chatting about whether or not people still live in Petra secretly.  Well, our new friend does, with his wife, seven sons, and one daughter.  Just as Omar did, he spoke all about how he was taking the day off and people put their hopes and concerns too much on money… he said it is better to have very little.  We actually exchanged phone numbers and whenever we are back in Petra, he said he wanted us to call so we could stay with him, drink tea, and play some music.  I don’t quite know how to fill out a travel request form for the program with that sort of information though… it would be a ‘true’ adventure, though.

Then back to Amman.

Yesterday, I went on my second trip with the program.  This was a day trip with 17 other people to Wadi Hasa.  The region was fascinating.  Like every other part of Jordan I have seen so far it was mostly desert but had a distinctly different more-earthy/soil feel to it.  Sure enough as we continued to drive, occastionally there would be an incredible patch of green, mostly tomatoes, growing out of the tan brown dusty earth.  I’m fascinated by agriculture here and am still trying to figure out how I can learn more about it.  Anyways, the trip was a six hour water hike.  Like every other trip, it too was incredible.  The first thing we did after getting out of the vans and putting on our knee pads was hurl ourselves down this ‘rock slide’ into 9ft deep water.  The day was full of lots of running and jumping from slippery wet rocks into an unknown depth of water and swimming under water and rocks to get to an open passage or dry land.  At one point as we continued to move upstream the water became incredibly warm.  Natural hot springs!!!!!  Yeah!!!!  All throughout the day I kept telling myself to memorize what I was doing and seeing as this was one of ‘those’ experiences.  I obviously didn’t take my camera (a few people supidly did and of course broke them… thats an expensive mistake), but I think I did a good job freezing it in my mind.  I also got to hold all sorts of little local creatures… mostly crabs, but still exciting.  Our tour guide also happened to be the most attractive face I have seen yet on this whole trip… so that was a bonus.  I’m happily sore today.

Eid starts tomorrow night, the five day celebration at the end of Ramadan.  I had planned with a few other friends to go to Damascus but because of the recent car bombing we are no longer allowed to go… nor are we allowed to go to Egypt.  Violence is becoming much more personal all the time it seems.  I have honestly felt so distant or unaffected in a way by the War in Iraq.  I mean that to say that I definitely have my very strong opinions about it, but in terms of knowing a large number of people directly and closely that have been involved in it, my connection is week.  I guess I have also felt a sense of whatever I do in opposition to it doesn’t matter b/c the government doesn’t hear me… that feeling of powerlessness is lethal.  But here, I’m feeling that powerlessness in a different way… living with an entire culture of people who’s fate has always been decided by someone else, and generally a Western Power.  At home, it is easy to react to car bombings and explosions in other countries that only kill pedestrians as ‘well, thats far away and doesn’t directly affect me.’  Being here, it adds to the feeling of powerlessness.  I feel like my reaction has been equally undramatic or even uncaring, but more in the sense of ‘what can I do to make the bomb not go off in my backyard.’  Television I have come to believe serves as a very good coping mechanism here.  Perhaps I would see it as something else if I could understand a single word of what is said.  Its too late to get into to long winded of a political and social analysis.

Anyways, for Eid, I will be staying in Jordan and enjoying some of the ancient cities in the North.  If our developing plans can properally unfold, we will hopefully spend one night in a treehouse in the Aljoun Nature Reserve… surrounded by fields of olives trees, strawberries, and pistachios.  Hell yes it sounds cool!  So those are the adventures to date.  More are on their way.  I’m trying to keep my head and judgements about me so I can enjoy them more fully without turning everything into an environmental or social justice issue.  That is getting harder all the time.

I do, I’m frustrated.  Here, I can’t easily, even if I wanted to (which honestly, I really don’t care), build friendships with males (or females for that matter).  Everything is soo physical, but definingly physical in terms of women.  Because of Islam, you can guess what a girl might be like in regards to her boundaries or devotion to her faith.  You might be able to guess.  Men, there is no telling.  They all sport the same style.  In comparison to the hijab, there is no special shoe, vest, or string tie that certain men are expected to wear to portray a certain belief or lifestyle to the world of viewers.  This frustrates me.  I think it is a funny thought though to move the whole thing past religion and create special belts, gloves, bracelets, shoe tassels, etc. that are understood in common to represent things like piano playing, compassionate, or excellent pancake maker.  In the end, we could all wear the collection that fits us, our personality, talents, and expertise.  Then when we meet each other everything that we are is displayed on the outside in a code that is societally understood.  We wouldn’t even need to talk.  We could just all bask together in our heavy demonstrations of our self, yet societally defined, definition.  Right.

I don’t mean disrespect to Islam.  Don’t judge, I’m forming I thoughts.  I seriously doubt that yours are fully formed.  We talked in class about the purpose of the hijab, which is of course the center of every gender and women’s rights discussions here and in the US in respect to the Middle East.  My professor said that it can be viewed as an incredibly freeing thing for the women.  It allows them to go to places they would otherwise not be able to or not be comfortable.  It demands immediate respect.  A man is in serious err if he approaches or even talks to a covered woman whom he has no connection to or relation with.  However, I’m confused, because if it truly is something that in one way provides the coupling of protection and independence, it seems that it can only do such because not all women are covered.  I grant I may be completely wrong for thinking this, but perhaps my host cousin is protected and freed by her hijab because I am not covered… I exist on the street as an American object that can be visually consumned by the hungry eyes of sexually disastisfied males.  I raised this point in class asking what the response would be to that in balance of unwanted attention.  Her response, which she did not personally believe, was that it was of my own choosing to not adorn the thing that would show greater respect for myself while demanding it of others.  I am of course completely respected for not, but at the same time, there is definitely the sentiment of me and any other woman like me being the other, the outsider…. which of course I am and would never assume otherwise.

I think I’ve been further mentally confused because I just read this book called the Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne… one of my friends has it here and I have heard great reviews of it by my lovely sister.  The book is an incredible argument for why and how christianity ought to get itself back to its roots… of community and caring for others, especially the ‘least among us.’  He makes lots of bold statements condemning safe suburban lifestyles while showing that in community, any change is possible.  At the same time, he physically represents what most churches in the US would be scared of, skinny, crazy glasses, ‘unprofessional’ hair, and home-made clothing… I don’t remember about piercings and tatoos  (lets just assume them to add to this).  Anyways, it kept coming back to it doesn’t matter what you look like, you are loved and ought to love one another.  So my confusion comes from what to do with this radical approach to living from an ordinary ‘radical’ in a place of high physical expectations and sacred social norms.  Its not as if the US doesn’t have high physical/appearance expectations… I think that rather it is easier to find your niche or something, maybe at least for girls that is.

I think I should stop writing about this now though as I’m feeling more confused and unfocused all the time.  I am really excited though, to come home and look around and see what I think.  If America is supposed to be this sick haven of sexualized everything, why do I feel more personally safe there.  Of course I have my many suspiscions for why, but this is not a class assignment or analysis on human security, so for now I’ll keep it to myself.

Living in a homestay makes this class mostly irrelevant as my family attempts to teach me at least ten new words a day. I’m actually beginning to form very choppy and grammatically incorrect sentences, where whoever is sitting around the table must cock their head to one side, raise an eyebrow and while smiling out of appreciation for me even trying, ask “again?” Our progress as a class is coming along splendidly and we are over half way through the alphabet. This means that I can almost sound out every third word on a page. Less intense, but much more interesting, I am also taking two area studies classes, a fancy way of saying non-arabic classes. They are both being taught by local Professors, but I have come to the conclusion that my two are an exception to the rule.

Every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday afternoon I have the Environment and the Politics of Water with Prof Ahmad Jamrah.  Like many professors here, his MA and PhD was done in the US.  He said on the first day that he has the US to thank for everything good in his life right now.  However, unlike most people who say that (whom, I honestly immediately tune-out, as I don’t like being told how ‘perfect’ my country is), he said it with a coupled discussion of the positive and negative things he observed while living there for eight years.  Needless to say, the class is amazing.  For starters, there seems to be no more perfect place to talk about water crisis’s than in a country that has no water.  Here is a possibly (we’ll see how fired up I get) brief summary on what I’ve learned so far.  Jordan has two aquifers, one of the shared border with Saudi Arabia (Disi Aquifer), and the other on the shared border with Syria (Yarmouk Aquifer).  Because only a third of the Disi Aquifer is in Jordan, and also because it is 400km away from Amman, where the majority of the country’s population resides, and because Amman is 850m above sea level, it would cost approximately $3 to pump one cubic meter of water from the Disi to Amman.  There is currently a pipe that pumps some water through the desert, but (I found this sadly very funny) the Bedouins that live in the desert between the Saudi Arabia border and Amman actually just shoot the pipe whenever they need water, even though every few however many meters there is a tap.  Now thats something straight out of a movie.  As a consequence, a pipe full of holes is quite ineffective in transporting any sort of liquid a long distance and uphill.  Yarmouk Aquifer is fortunately much closer, however Jordan build a landfill right on top of it.  And as I was not surprised to find out, the liner of the landfill recently broke, meaning the many and varied toxins from all of the tons of garbage is slowly but surely seeping into the valuable water supply of Jordan and Syria.  The Syrians aren’t too happy.  Ohh also, the flow of water is to Syria, great I know.  This fact makes this water practically useless.  There is a plan though, a terrible plan.  With the support of the Turkish government, Jordan hopes to pump water from the Red Sea to the Dead Sea.  ‘Important people’ have figured that the flow of the water from one sea to another will generate a substantial amount of electricity.  The plan then is to use that electricity to power the desalination plants.  However, even if this project were approved and quickly completed, it would only supply Jordan with ‘local’ water until 2025.  I’m in too pessimistic of a mood to even discuss the obvious terrible consequences that pumping salty water from one ecosystem to an even salty ecosystem will have.  I just read a paper on it, and as you can surely imagine, its irreversibly grim.

Another important fact to consider, Jordan’s population is increasing 3% per year.  That is really high.  Also, the country is ‘developing.’  Meaning every day construction workers are building new five star hotels for all the rich white people that are either moving here or visiting for the weekend.  Unfortunately, they have been wanting to maintain their lifestyle… meaning long hot showers.  Because of this and the other actors in the burgeoning population, in this summer alone, water use increased in Amman by 23%.  The influx of people and more western ideals has also caused an increase in prices… across the board.  Even though I find the country incredibly cheap to live in, minimum wage has not gone up, meaning I keep that feeling to myself and attempt to view it as the expensive place that it is quickly becoming.

I could continue to lay down the depressing facts, but there are other things I have to say and I think you all get the point.  The situation sucks.  And sucks is the polite word for it.  Our professor will be taking us to some of the landfills in the area (and for your information, there are 21 landfills in Jordan and all of them are on arable land, just like all the cities… meaning the cause of all the pollution.  However, as you can tell from any wikipedia site or a map, Jordan is mostly desert.  In this case 1+1=4.386 I guess).  I also am planning on attending this incredible sounding conference at the Dead Sea in mid October.  If you are interested, check out the website at www.eco-cities.net.  It will be about all things sustainability-urban planning/development related.  I’m incredibly excited.

My other course, which meets Monday and Wednesday afternoons is called Arab Women Writers.  It is taught by Dr. Rula Quawas, also American educated.  She was described to me by our program director as an “angry christian feminist anti-islamist.”  In real life, she is not even close to as militant as that description can be taken, but today in class to give us a heads up on who she is, she fed us.  Remember, its Ramadan and no one eats, drinks, or smokes.  Even though I’m not fasting, I still find myself glaring when I see someone lite up in a car.  But, after a few brief introductions at the start of class she said that she knows its Ramadan, but to start the semester off correctly, we must all ‘break bread’ together.  Because she didn’t want to bring bread to campus, she brought a tray of dates (as if that was any easier) and we all sat around chatting about the plight of women in the region and munching on delicious dates.  At one awkward moment, a stranger (most likely a fasting stranger) walked into the room and caught us all red-handed.  I had a pit stuck to my finger and my mouth was visibly full and chomping.  He sort of made an awkward grunt and quickly walked out.  Anyways, from her description we will be reading incredible novels and short stories.  I’m really excited because it has been awhile since I read fiction, and its been ummm oh yeah, never that I read fiction from and about this region.  Also, without even mediocre Arabic  skills it is proving nearly impossible to actually tap into the ‘hidden’ world of local people, beyond my family.  But even then, theres a small barrier.  Thats for a different post though.  Another interesting thing about the class is that 30% of my grade will be based on a short story… that I must write, but from the prospective of a local, meaning I must put my American confident progressive minded female self aside and climb into the skin of another (currently) imaginary individual whom I’m sure will prove to not be sooo different from my own sense of identity, especially if I will be creating him/her.  I’m excited to write this though.  The last time I wrote fiction was, I think, junior high.  Since then life has seemed to be mostly non-fiction.

Everyday between Arabic and my area studies classes, I get to go to my unbelievable internship (I am bragging a bit on this point, I’m incredibly happy about it).  I contacted and was ‘hired’ by the Regional Human Security Centre.  You can check out their website at www.rhsc.org.  RHSC is basically a small think tank that does a lot of research and organization around four key issues.  My work will be specifically focused on forced migration in the region, and within that the Iraqi population in Jordan.  Jordan has a population of only six million people, but since the war started, over one million Iraqis have entered the country.  Many of them are unaccounted for and only assumed to be here because they exist on travel or vacation visas, not residency visas.  Its a huge problem, but Jordan has an amazing history of being a safe and open haven for refugees.  I’m currently doing research for this woman on how forced migration changes ones’ notions of identity.  Within that we will be creating questionaires to do some field work.  I will just be working on the questionairre creation as my Arabic skills and position combined are not quite high enough to allow me to go out in the ‘field.’  But, starting this week, I am also getting to help organize the third of an incredible series of meetings on Jordanian-Iraqi Reconciliation.    The meetings are for local government officials, reps from the local ngos like UNICEF, CARE, Save the Children… etc, and RHSC partners.  So yeah, really cool.  Its weird, but I really feel at home there.  I guess is just feels good to actually really be doing something… something that I can see an outlet for action in.  I’ve also gotten pretty tired of the ol’ stamp the microfiche or “insert mindless thankless task here job” jobs.  Tine, the woman I am working directly under is also the sort that inspires you to do your best.

So yeah, I’m feeling more focused now academically or I guess intellectually than I ever have.  I think its finally because everything I’m studying I’m engaged with and I see the incredible and immediate worth and value it has at this very moment and every moment to come.  More generally, I also feel like I’ve settled in…. to a constant state of being pissed off about how seemingly the majority of things function here (which thats not to say that that is too awfully different than I was at home, I was pretty pissed of there too, America has its definite problems).

In other random news, I am going with the entire group this weekend to Petra, Wadi Rum, and Aqaba.  It should be, from all past reports, unbelievable.  Speaking of travel, I also added more pictures to the album, mostly from this weekends adventures around Amman.  I really like some of them and would enjoy hearing commentary.

http://picasaweb.google.com/gena.leneigh/Jordan#

I will add more photos to this album as I take them.

I’m not an amazing swimmer nor have I been to the beach that many times, so I wasn’t sure how long initially I would want to be in the water. It turns out that SALT water makes swimming and ‘treading (if it can even be called that in this setting when so little effort is needed… I really just had to flutter my arms a bit, no leg movement required to stay afloat)’ incredibly easy. Unlike California’s cold central coast waters, which have provided me my main beach experiences, the Red Sea was the perfect temperature. It crushed all our whinny weather talk.

We all floated around for a few hours and then took a break to eat more dates and nuts. Towards the end, a skinny Arab man came up to us (he had previously approached us and gave Drew, one of my friends on the trip, a pair of snorkeling goggles and said ‘here, have fun.’ This was not the first time that someone approached us and just lent us some of their equipment to use and enjoy. I can’t think of a time that that sort of thing- strangerbeingincrediblyfriendlyandgenerouswithhisstuffwithnostringsattached- has ever happened in the states to me, even in a non-beach setting.) and took mine and Drews hands and led us farther south along the beach until we were no longer in the public free swim area, but in the snorkeling zone. Perhaps I should give more background. I did have ONE other interaction with him that day. He was attempting to teach his two young (like 3 and 5) sons to swim or at least give them an appreciation for the Sea. To do so, he would just dangle them over the dock, kicking, crying, and screaming until he would finally drop them in the water. Mind you, they did have the arm floaty things, which if I remember correctly from my childhood, aren’t completely effective in keeping a kid up (I obviously never drowned, but I do remember forcing my arms under water with the air things on). So, I was swimming around and then I heard a “Hey!” from above accompanied by a series of sputtering screams, cries, and hiccups and then a 3 year old boy splashed down into the water a few feet away from me. No problem, don’t worry… I will totally keep your screaming kid under control even though I’m a strange girl and he has no idea what I’m saying. Anyways, that was my one other interaction.

Back to the snorkeling zone…. We slowly waded into the water until we couldn’t touch and he handed both of us snorkeling goggles and pointed ahead. For the first 10 minutes I wasn’t holding the tube correctly in my mouth, so water continued to rush into my nose and mouth whenever I would plunge down into the water. After he was finally able to motion and demonstrate the proper technique, I spend the next 20 minutes suffering from a leaky mask… my technique had improved by my mask had small holes in it allowing water to still seep in. Nearly the whole time we were in the water, he was holding my hand and dragging me around to show me the reason we were there…. coral reefs. (the enjoyment paragraph will be next… I need to get all the scary panicky stuff out of the way). Finally I couldn’t take it. I wasn’t getting enough air, my throat was starting to burn from the salt, and I kept accidentally putting my feet down into the water instead of keeping them up parallel with the surface (whenever I needed to empty my mask of water) and I guess threatening my own life by nearly stepping on or skimming over incredibly poisonous sea creatures. However, because Kansas does not have any natural coral reefs that I know of, my knowledge of sea life is incredibly limited. If we did in fact learn about the poisonous small water dwelling monsters and one of my old teachers is reading this, I’m sorry. Anyways, we finally switched masks around and from there on our time was beautiful and oxygen rich.

So yeah, coral reefs. ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!!!!! Honestly, I think I have seen enough videos or pictures of them to not ruin the experience, but dampen it. There was much less color than some pictures I have seen but the variety of fish and coral and whatever else all of it was, was amazing!! I would love to get my hands on a book of local sea life so when I get to go back to Aqaba in a few weekends with the whole CIEE group, I will be able to identify species. In total, we spent about an hour and a half swimming around with our eyes wide and heart racing.

The swim back in was incredibly stressful. Most of the areas we were in, the reefs were right below the surface and extended deep down to the ocean floor. It was easy to avoid swimming directly over the reefs farther out in the water by swimming around or diving below and between the reefs, but there is only one way back in. Given the amount of time we were in the water, we had gotten ourselves pretty far south from where we started. As the water got shallower, the reefs got closer to the surface, and the closer I got to the reefs. We slowly made our way back in with only a few scratches (of which I’m still very proud of).

Walking back along the beach he told us how much he loves all people… Jordanian, Iraqi, American, French, Israeli, man, woman, boy, girl, mr., madaam…. He said, while holding his flippers, that many people will come up to us and say “here, for you” but that they want money. He asked why this is. These (in reference to his flippers and his broader gift to us of the entire afternoon) are “mine to give… what do I do with money?”

When we finally returned to our friends, he refused to let us find a taxi and loaded us up in the back of his truck. It is this sort of thing that will never stop surprising me. Whenever I am out and about in the city, I have trained myself to never make eye contact, with anyone. If anyone speaks to me (generally in Arabic or in choppy English) I am trained to ignore them, as nearly all remarks and comments are not genuine or respectful. And then we met a person who challenged all of these public norms.

He dropped us off at our hotel and we headed to a tasty Syrian restaurant. After our incredible and filling meal, we called Omar (as instructed) and he met us downtown for coffee. While we were all walking, he turned on the surreal again… stopping to point at a tree and asking what it needs. Drew’s response: water. Right, he said, water. What do we need, he asked. (honestly, I felt like I needed water most of the day, too). We need each other he said, while putting his hand on his chest and the chests of my male friends. He said, “this is how we grow… like that tree.”

We ended up finding a small cafe near the harbor right on the Sea. Right across the water from our table were the bright lights of an Israeli town. It was honestly a little too, “wow, this is one of those ridiculous never to happen again study-abroad moments.” Sitting with this incredible and loving man on the Red Sea staring at Israel across the water, and talking about the importance of people loving each other. He showed us pictures of his wife and children including pictures of his five year old daughter who recently died. After that we all took pictures together.

I don’t really know what to do with it all, how I’m supposed to change my behavior in the streets to be more trusting or friendly, when the majority of the time, it might get me into trouble. My professor for my Environment and the Politics of Water class (which is absolutely amazing… I will talk more about it later) told us an interesting observation of one of his American friends who moved here to Jordan. She said that she like everyone is soo surprised and overjoyed by the incredible “Jordanian hospitality” that she has and continues to receive. However, she observed that that hospitality only exists in the home or out-of-the-norm coffee houses and shops. Otherwise around the city, the people are rude, the traffic is crazy, the gender inequalities are sometimes even too much to bare. I would agree with this observation. But, family is much much more important here than at home. In every apartment and house there exists a world of close relationships and shared meals that you don’t see on the streets.  I think that is why I prefer walking in the residential parts of the city, where you here laughter instead of screeching tires and car horns.

Yesterday was very exciting.  Me and the 67 other students in my program waited in our anxious sweat and full of anticipation for our homestay families to arrive.  While sitting in a chair, heart racing, palms sticky, a Muslim woman rushed up to me and said “Gena?!”  I then received the classic warm hello, one on the left cheek, two on the right.  Turns out, she came up to the wrong “Gena.”  After finding this out, she confusedly shook my hand and parted.  I thought about taking a quick shower since the identity mishap caused me to perspire through my entire outfit, but only a few minutes later Amal, Dina, and Khalid walked through the door.

My family is incredibly quiet.  We had an entire day of housing orientation.  The director could have done it in 1 hour, but she felt the need to reiterate everything… and then repeat her reiteration.  What I learned though is that the way nearly every Jordanian family spends time together is by sitting and watching television (not so unlike the US, unfortunately).  They made it clear to us that we must take part in this even though we may not understand at all what is happening in the show.  So we got home, I said my maHarabas (hellos) and sat down to a feast of…. I’ve forgotten the arabi word, but it means ‘upside-down.’  Very good: chicken, rice, spices/herbs, and yogurt with cucumber/tomato/cabbage salad and pita.  It became very clear within the first few minutes of dinner that if I don’t learn LOTS of Arabic fast, it will be one quiet semester.  After dinner, we headed over to Amals sister’s house.  She has three sisters in Amman and they are all hosting students from my program.  Her sister has three kids and two other guests besides the two students, Kyle and Josh (unmistakably American), that she is hosting… so needless to say, the house was full.  Her sister and her sister’s children are all fluent in English so there was plenty to talk about and say, while learning new Arabic words every few minutes.  Unfortunately, most of the evenings conversation, for me, were consumed by ‘discussions’ of Monty Python, Michael Jackson, and great 80s pop.  Of course, this was all happening with the sounds of “Bewitched” in the background and the occasional commercial for the obnoxious movie “Bubble Boy.”  This keeps coming up again and again… the Middle Eastern way of life (as if there is one) feeling constantly threatened by the liberal orgasmic chaos of the west while simultaneously LOVING American film and music.  I tried to explain to my new cousin that I really have never listened to much Michael Jackson (I left out the fact that he has always terrified me, from the time I was 9 and saw Kayla Smith imitate the scary  Jackson-pelvic-thrust-dance… till now, when his face is falling off) and that more broadly, I know nothing whatsoever about 80s pop.  However, this did not stop him from charging forward and asking me if I had heard “insert any and all Michael Jackson songs or 80s pop bands here” for at least 40 minutes.  My answer of course was always a confident “no, sorry.”

After escaping the boring spikes of American pop culture, I had a wonderful conversation with his younger (24/25) year old brother who works in a back office at a big bank.  He reflected on the difficulty of maintaining his hobbies while having to work long hours.  He was very sincere and inquisitive on my thoughts on different issues, whereas given our topic of conversation he could have come off whiny.   His English was also very beautiful.  Most of the English teachers here are British, so he had a Jordanian-British English accent.  After not being able to communicate much of anything before/during/after dinner, I felt energetic and outgoing.  It felt good to laugh.

We finally headed back home around 11:00.

Today was a different story.  I woke up around 9:00 and went out to the living room to join the family in social time… meaning I watched part of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, part of The Bubble Boy, and part of the PowderPuff girls.  AHHHH!!!!!!  I politely snuck back to my room and pretended to rearrange my few belongings.  After an hour or so, I returned to the living room to join and endure more terrible American-Arabic dubbed television.  Again, I returned to my room.  Luckily, I am able to pick up a wireless signal from somewhere in the neighborhood.  While sitting on my bed with my laptop hot on my knee I realized I was having a brand new emotion: homesickness.  (I know your reading this mom and dad… happy??)

Today I felt like I had no personality.  I spent all day holding my english-arabic dictionary and small notebook.  I did learn an incredible amount of words today, but nothing in comparison to what is needed to actually communicate.  This is what I wanted though.  No regrets.  Its just a strange pairing of emotions to on one hand, miss home sooo much, and hate most American television and film… when these two things rule so much of “regular” life across the US.  I just need school to start, a schedule, busy work, a hiking trip.  It feels good to miss home and I’m quickly learning new ways to express myself and get out extra energy.  Hamza and his obsession with soccer should also help.

Soon, I will explain in more detail my new family.  They really are wonderful.  I had an interesting conversation with Yahya tonight about water.  I’ll try to write about it later.

For now, it is very late and I should already be asleep.

Hell: Jordan has no oil and no water. Water comes from Syria and oil comes from Saudi Arabia. Once a week huge tankers drive into the city and deliver water to every house and business. So, if water doesn’t come until Monday, but you run out on Friday, too bad. Also, the water is *undrinkable, meaning at least 90% of the Jordanian population doesn’t drink it. Everything is thirsty.

Also, no one in the city really walks and NOONE in the city bikes. Any grown individual seen on a bike will be thought of as mentally cracked by the locals. However, after being in the traffic, I can understand why. Every week there are 10 casualties because of traffic accidents… and the majority of that number is pedestrians. Its like NYC traffic without the stop lights and unofficial lanes (meaning they are even more unofficial).

Beautiful: Because of the incredibly dry and hot climate, everything is the same color… cream. Everything being the earth, buildings, and sky. Amman has a population of 2 million with very few buildings, residential or commercial, over 4 stories. Consequently, the city is massive… and incredibly hilly. Everywhere you look, cream boxes appear to be stacked on top of each other. Its somehow incredibly beautiful. From above, it looks both temporary and ancient, like the whole thing will be taken down tomorrow, but has been here for thousands of years.

The people are beautiful.  They are all distant from me, though. I can say hello, and who I am and where I am going, and then ‘thanks,’ but past that, there is no chance for a serious heart to heart or even a discernable 10 second conversation. I’m refraining myself from having any regrets about not studying Arabic before deciding to come, but attempting to ‘experience’ the culture seems almost whimsical and fleeting when I can’t currently understand what I am seeing in the local dialect. Of course, the same could be said for countless situations at home. But, they are beautiful. They, the people that I don’t understand yet. The faceless people who will be picking me up tomorrow evening to bring me to my new home for the next four months.

I’m frustrated beyond words by every and all gender issue I see everyday (and could see every second if I looked for it). However, I can’t tell how many of these issues I see are just acceptable gender relations versus serious gender inequalities. We had a very long safety briefing yesterday, or thats to say that the women had a safety briefing yesterday and the men were told (my summary) that as long as they tried to keep a low profile and use their judgment, they’d be fine. Sexual harassment is a huge problem, though its not nearly as bad as in some of the neighboring countries. Jordan prides itself as being socially and politically between Saudi Arabia and Lebanon. This means that sexual harassment exists, but is not so great as to actually turn into sexual assault… very often. Summary: I am not yet (nor want to become) comfortable with the constant prying eyes and confident cat calls whenever I walk in public.

I feel like I’ve been whining or complaining or misrepresenting my time here so far. Its wonderful. Its amazing. I’ve already seen ridiculous and amazing things: the Roman Theater (built between 169 and 177 AD) and the Dead Sea Scrolls (plus other incredible and interesting artifacts in the National Archaeological Museum which was about the size of my (Wayne and Barbara Akers’) house, meaning not the size of a ‘proper’ museum… also, all of the many and varied pieces were stuffed into a whole bunch of dingy display cases. This however, finally seems to be the right setting for them. In most museums, I’m always bored by the ‘ancient artifact’ section. I think the reason has been because they are always in spotless glass cases centered in pearly white, dimly lit rooms with all the proper back/forward/side lighting to give it the right ancient effect. It might have also added some charm in the museum that everything was in Arabic and what was in English seemed to be either hand written and/or misspelled. Also, there was a large sign in the doorway that said “No explanations given,” meaning I guess if you know about the piece, congratulations, if not, find out about it yourself because we’re not helping.

So yeah, its good. I’ve already been through a lot of non-recyclable water bottles so far, which bothers me, but at least its not like I currently have another option. I’m feeling old and trapped in freshman orientation. A lot of people in the group are frankly too rich and toooo confident in their abilities of getting around in the Middle East. But, this will all change tomorrow. My homestay family, which I still have zero information about will be picking me up at the hotel tomorrow evening. I then have all weekend to hang out and get to know them. Also in exciting news, Ramadan is coming up very soon. No one is sure when yet, the date hasn’t been officially set, but it will be sometime this coming week. Officially (and I really am not joking about this), if any Jordanian is caught eating, drinking (even water), or smoking they will be taken to jail and will not be released until 3 days after Ramadan ends. And remember, Ramadan is a month long. For non-Jordanians, the guilty pays a hefty fine. So much for the ol’ freedom of religion. Whatever, I’m excited to see how a city of 2 million behaves for a month without water or food in a hot climate. I’ll try to watch from the sidelines and stay out of the street.

I would love to hear an update (feel free to email me at gena.leneigh@gmail.com) from any and all people who are reading this.

I have other pictures that I tried to upload, but it is taking wayyyy to long and I don’t have the patience.