The concept of space is an interesting one: Empty. Breathless. Perhaps an inverse of color. Or maybe electrified, crackling energy. Space is a magical thing because it all depends how you decide to fill it.
The adherence to space and the invisible boundaries that we construct is apparent in the development of social norms and cultural customs. How we establish personal space and who we share it with thus reflects not only upon our society, but more discreetly, the way we express our individuality. And in Jordan, individuality is somewhat (surprisingly) an incredibly subtle yet important part of identity.
Generally speaking, the American idea of space is a fairly intimate one. Both men and women engage in a dance of platonic relations that are incredibly physical. We hug! We punch! We wrestle! We cuddle! And it doesn't mean that young people are always sleeping with each other...well, most of the time. We definitely don't have to be married to hold friendship with a member of the opposite sex. We're allowed to hang out without being monitored in most cases. And public opinion can mostly curb the most socially awkward displays of PDA. In regards to establishing our own personal space, we are taught in primary school to respect The Bubble. This bubble cannot and should not be invaded without permission. This Bubble defines our mode of operation over the course of our lives. The Bubble defines personal autonomy. The Bubble means that you can wear whatever you want, act however you like, and people can't feel automatically entitled to a relationship with you if you don't let them in. Even if you like something, you can't necessarily have it. Thus, the dance continues.
In Jordan, the development of space parameters is incredibly different. I was walking to class this morning. Something I saw triggered this whole thought process tonight.
I was watching this woman, dressed in the colorful long trenchcoat-like garments that many women wear in public. The things are pretty shapeless, but less so than the black abayas other women wear on campus. A perfectly matching, colorful hijab was wrapped expertly around her hair in an act of coordination that I doubt I could ever muster.
And, above all else, she was wearing a belt, tightly fitted around her small waist.
Why is this important? Bear with me.
First off, its amazing to me how hyper-aware I've become of wardrobe, what part of me is showing, and analyzing the probability of getting clucked or stared at my random men during my walk across campus. Scarfs are my new safety net. Comparatively, v-neck t-shirts my new foe, pretty much eliminating much of my wardrobe. I have found myself also beginning to judge other people, sometimes complete strangers, for the "scandelous" or questionable nature of their attire, despite the fact that I can find the same things in my own closet.
In addition to this shift of perspective, I've also found myself hyper-sensitive to any physical contact, no matter how insignificant, from anyone. Women in Jordan walk around holding hands or link arms. Men enthusiastically kiss each other on the cheeks, whisper in each other's ears, and lace their fingers together when they walk. And its always same gender-to-gender interactions. Why? It's "haram" (forbidden!) to embrace or touch someone of the opposite gender. Sometimes even casual male-female friendships are only tolerated if there is a serious intent in marriage. Observing this while realizing my own deprivation of physical touch, helps me then understand why the female and male dynamics are so isolated. They're virtually separate spaces within Arab societies.
Defining my own private space has evolved to better fit the customs of the region, although they are by no means up to the standard. But, I realize that I have unintentionally changed my own concept of space to integrate into my surrounding society. This is mind-boggling to me.
I now always take notice of the distance between me and the nearest guy. If anyone moves towards me, it immediately takes my attention. I've noticed the friends I've made here are primarily female, even among the American students. My interactions with guys are relaxed but I have to catch myself from throwing my arms around someone for a hug. A brush of the fingertips into a guys palm when passing the sugar can raise my heart-rate a few beats. I've begun to crave physical contact more than ever before. You know, just rubbing shoulders with someone or getting a good, firm hug.
And that brings me back to the woman with the belt.
Jordanian bubbles are calibrated differently here. People are raised without having any context for physical contact with a member of the opposite gender. The Muslim faith emphasizes modesty in dress so as to not draw undue attention. And yet here was this woman, who with a single accessory, showed off her beautiful hourglass figure, expressing her individuality, and yet remaining distant to the casual observer.
It was a perfect balance.
And so, my bubble continues to shift as I continue to observe everyone around me, and have experiences that are defined incredibly by my gender. I have the feeling its going to keep me guessing for a long time.
coverphoto
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Forever Young
At the beginning of winter/summer break every year, my Papa comes to pick me up from Willamette U and bring me home. These daddy-daughter road trips, driving the Great Skewed Triangle between Willamette U, Bend, and Poulsbo, allow plenty of time for talking. It was on one of these trips, during which I was learning some life lessons the tough way, that one of our heart-to-heart chats revealed some wisdom:
Papa told me, somewhat masked behind his large aviators, with high desert Oregon scruff whooshing by, “You’ll have what seem to be some of the hardest lessons, and also most euphoric moments of your life when you’re young. The older you get, the more mundane your life becomes, the fewer rollercoasters, the longer plateaus… Honey, you may think times are rough now because there’s little stability, but let me tell you, you’ll miss the action later!”
I feel like with all this good attitude oozing out of my pores the past few weeks, it was probably about time for my resolve to get tested. I indeed called upon this moment to make it though one hell of a roller coaster day... a day that included new friends, contentment, a feeling of belonging, but also corresponding stress, tears, mortification, and many curve balls to keep me guessing.
I rolled over to my usual 6:15am alarm, groaning, and getting up to finish the last bit of Arabic homework before stumbling groggily into the kitchen. My backpack was seemingly laden with rocks (aka books), and my favorite purple and silver Brooks running shoes dangled loyally from my bright blue carabeener. Walking out the door today, I knew it was going to be el yom majnoon khteir (very crazy day), and I had mentally psyched myself up for the hospital rounds, taxi rides, thinning wallet and the immense mountain of necessary patience. But I was a woman on a mission! If anything, today was going to be an adventure! I felt good and ready to take it on :)
After a3miaa class with Dr. Muna (in which we got to play arabic charades! SO FUN), I hailed a taxi and left for the Arab Medical Center, near the fifth circle. I picked up my chest x-ray, urine analysis results, and tuberculousis test (thrilling I know), and then stepped out of the hospital to hail another taxi. Next stop: King Hussein Park!
However, the taxi driver that pulled up practically knew no english, and while my arabic conversational skills are improving, I had crossed my fingers that Fate would send me a taxi driver who wouldn't need me scrambling to look up the word "park" in the dictionary, haha! Alas, it was not to be. But no matter! The driver was friendly and we pulled over and asked someone to point us in the right direction, and we arrived without another hitch. WIN.
Now, King Hussein Park is huge, and I began wandering around aimlessly looking for the Marathon Village to register for the Amman 10k race. Seeing what looked like big tents, I walked over and instead met Hanuda, a tall older man with a salt n' peppery 5 o'clock shadow, who's a local pottery artist and professor at the University of Jordan. His shop was open and he invited me in to share some coffee. Considering the social etiquette of Jordan, I've learned to never turn down a kind offer of friendship, no matter how tight the timetable (really, its safe to say that timetables don't exist here). Instead of valuing time as money, Jordanians value time as investment in relationships. For example, in a business context, instead of calling someone and directly/bluntly asking why a delivery hasn't been made on time, the inquirer always first asks about the wellbeing of the recipients family as well as have other degrees of small talk before breaking the issue at hand. And even then the issue is phrased in a way as to allow the person who's made a mistake to save face. (I'll discuss more about the differences in hi- vs. lo-context cultures in a moment...it interestingly enough relates to the political environment of the Middle East as well). In any case, no matter what someone has scheduled for the day, if Jordanians meet a stranger who needs help or direction, the following hour transforms into an amazing Q&A/exchange of life stories. While Westerners who value privacy could perceive such curiosity as rude and nosey, it's the way Jordanians show they care. And as it turns out, Hanuda decided he would even drive me over to registration so that he could save me time anyways.
After registering and getting my my race packet/cool gear, I walked to the circle by City Mall, and caught another taxi...this time back to campus. Least to say, I'm getting a bit worn out on taxi-riding. Sometimes it prevents me from going out on the weekends just because I need a complete break from heartfelt marriage proposals, and the primarily night-time slimeballs. In any case, I ended up sharing a taxi with this other random young guy who looked like a more awkward version of the Prince of Jordan, and the driver would not stop talking about his adorable 2-year old son. :) It was actually pretty fun ride, and I arrived back to campus feeling accomplished and content.
And then the day took a dark turn.
After class, I asked my good friend in my neighborhood to take my workout gear and running shoes with her to drop off at my house so that I wouldn't have to lug them to the evening orchestra concert. Assuming the best, I met her at the concert, and enjoyed drifting off in utter contentment to Chopin and the incredible guest pianist from Poland. A few minutes before intermission, I suddenly bolted upright in my seat, realizing that I had forgotten my x-rays, prescriptions, and medical information in a nondescript brown bag at McDonalds when I ordered a salad for dinner. Literally, my life and a full-day of medical exams and scrambling around Amman was in that bag. With the end of the concert, I turned to the girls telling them that I was leaving, when Erin turned to me and said, "What would you say if I told you that I forgot your stuff in the taxi..."
I froze.
"You're joking right? This is supposed to be funny."
She just looked at me.
And then, I started bawling.
Right there, in the middle of the auditorium, I cried, started laughing, and then cried some more.
The day before the 10k race, the race I've been working my ass off for, my 2-month old, beautiful, supportive shoes, that have been around the world with me, and I've obviously become oddly emotionally attached to...GONE.
Really, it was just the last straw in an incredibly high stress day...high stress couple of weeks I suppose.
And then I again remembered the brown paper bag sitting in McDonalds.
The shoes were gone. I realized I'd have to process and deal with the effects of that later. But at that moment, I had another problem to solve. Within a minute, I got a hold of myself, cleared my head, and got the bit in my teeth. It was business time.
Riding back to McDonalds, I couldn't help but wonder how such a good day could turn so sour, so quickly. However, when I got to McDonald's I was granted a significant reprieve. My nondescript brown Bag of Life had been turned in and held by the manager for the last four hours. Everything was in it. I had it back. I loved Jordan again. If I had to pick between lesser evils, I came out on top. Laying down on my bed tonight, remembering to breathe, I cant help but shift perspective and feel grateful for the outcome, despite some misfortune.
And so, as my father's words come back to me about savoring the roller-coasters of youth, I can only hope that I will be forever young, even if it means dealing with days like today once in a while.
However, the taxi driver that pulled up practically knew no english, and while my arabic conversational skills are improving, I had crossed my fingers that Fate would send me a taxi driver who wouldn't need me scrambling to look up the word "park" in the dictionary, haha! Alas, it was not to be. But no matter! The driver was friendly and we pulled over and asked someone to point us in the right direction, and we arrived without another hitch. WIN.
Now, King Hussein Park is huge, and I began wandering around aimlessly looking for the Marathon Village to register for the Amman 10k race. Seeing what looked like big tents, I walked over and instead met Hanuda, a tall older man with a salt n' peppery 5 o'clock shadow, who's a local pottery artist and professor at the University of Jordan. His shop was open and he invited me in to share some coffee. Considering the social etiquette of Jordan, I've learned to never turn down a kind offer of friendship, no matter how tight the timetable (really, its safe to say that timetables don't exist here). Instead of valuing time as money, Jordanians value time as investment in relationships. For example, in a business context, instead of calling someone and directly/bluntly asking why a delivery hasn't been made on time, the inquirer always first asks about the wellbeing of the recipients family as well as have other degrees of small talk before breaking the issue at hand. And even then the issue is phrased in a way as to allow the person who's made a mistake to save face. (I'll discuss more about the differences in hi- vs. lo-context cultures in a moment...it interestingly enough relates to the political environment of the Middle East as well). In any case, no matter what someone has scheduled for the day, if Jordanians meet a stranger who needs help or direction, the following hour transforms into an amazing Q&A/exchange of life stories. While Westerners who value privacy could perceive such curiosity as rude and nosey, it's the way Jordanians show they care. And as it turns out, Hanuda decided he would even drive me over to registration so that he could save me time anyways.
After registering and getting my my race packet/cool gear, I walked to the circle by City Mall, and caught another taxi...this time back to campus. Least to say, I'm getting a bit worn out on taxi-riding. Sometimes it prevents me from going out on the weekends just because I need a complete break from heartfelt marriage proposals, and the primarily night-time slimeballs. In any case, I ended up sharing a taxi with this other random young guy who looked like a more awkward version of the Prince of Jordan, and the driver would not stop talking about his adorable 2-year old son. :) It was actually pretty fun ride, and I arrived back to campus feeling accomplished and content.
And then the day took a dark turn.
After class, I asked my good friend in my neighborhood to take my workout gear and running shoes with her to drop off at my house so that I wouldn't have to lug them to the evening orchestra concert. Assuming the best, I met her at the concert, and enjoyed drifting off in utter contentment to Chopin and the incredible guest pianist from Poland. A few minutes before intermission, I suddenly bolted upright in my seat, realizing that I had forgotten my x-rays, prescriptions, and medical information in a nondescript brown bag at McDonalds when I ordered a salad for dinner. Literally, my life and a full-day of medical exams and scrambling around Amman was in that bag. With the end of the concert, I turned to the girls telling them that I was leaving, when Erin turned to me and said, "What would you say if I told you that I forgot your stuff in the taxi..."
I froze.
"You're joking right? This is supposed to be funny."
She just looked at me.
And then, I started bawling.
Right there, in the middle of the auditorium, I cried, started laughing, and then cried some more.
The day before the 10k race, the race I've been working my ass off for, my 2-month old, beautiful, supportive shoes, that have been around the world with me, and I've obviously become oddly emotionally attached to...GONE.
Really, it was just the last straw in an incredibly high stress day...high stress couple of weeks I suppose.
And then I again remembered the brown paper bag sitting in McDonalds.
The shoes were gone. I realized I'd have to process and deal with the effects of that later. But at that moment, I had another problem to solve. Within a minute, I got a hold of myself, cleared my head, and got the bit in my teeth. It was business time.
Riding back to McDonalds, I couldn't help but wonder how such a good day could turn so sour, so quickly. However, when I got to McDonald's I was granted a significant reprieve. My nondescript brown Bag of Life had been turned in and held by the manager for the last four hours. Everything was in it. I had it back. I loved Jordan again. If I had to pick between lesser evils, I came out on top. Laying down on my bed tonight, remembering to breathe, I cant help but shift perspective and feel grateful for the outcome, despite some misfortune.
And so, as my father's words come back to me about savoring the roller-coasters of youth, I can only hope that I will be forever young, even if it means dealing with days like today once in a while.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Lets talk.
You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.
Well, at least Gandhi thought so, and I tend to find him wiser than most.
This week's reflection rambles on primarily about what it means to come to the table, to negotiate, discuss, play your hand, compare, and exchange ideas with people that see the world through different lenses. Mainly though, what's important is how such "open-handed" interactions foster a deeper understanding between seemingly irreconcilable viewpoints.
Well, at least Gandhi thought so, and I tend to find him wiser than most.
This week's reflection rambles on primarily about what it means to come to the table, to negotiate, discuss, play your hand, compare, and exchange ideas with people that see the world through different lenses. Mainly though, what's important is how such "open-handed" interactions foster a deeper understanding between seemingly irreconcilable viewpoints.
It comes as a response to the diversity of interactions and engagements I've witnessed, experienced, and thought about over the last few weeks while navigating life in Amman. Simply put, one will not enjoy living abroad if the majority of time is spent fighting what is different...because well, it will be. Get used to a different concept of time. Get used to standing out. Get used to being asked personal questions regarding your salary, relationship status, or if you've gained/lost weight. Savor the hummous as if you haven't been allowed to eat it for 100 years. Enjoy spontaneous tea-time with random new friends. Never wait in line again! Start thinking about how to break that 50 dinar note days ahead of when you'll need taxi money. Relax a little, and unclench that fist! Enjoy being a little more out of control in your life, and learn to accept what you can't change. Easily respond like a local. When in Jordan, do as the Jordanians do!
"Foreigners"...as if people couldn't tell :)
Overall, within an anarchic system in which traditional identities of nation-states are changing due to the fluctuating demographics of its citizens, Gandhi's words come as a timely reminder. People from all parts of the world are living in closer, more intimate conditions. Tensions naturally exist in heterogeneous societies. Thus, pluralism is hardly a comfortable state of existence, but it's something that the United States and most "Western" countries possess an odd amount of pride in maintaining. Despite this however, "Islamophobia" (as the August 2010 Time cover-story established) is running unchecked, not only by leaders within our government, but perhaps more disturbingly, by our own citizenry! As demonstrated by the banning of the hijab in France, the threat to burn Qur'ans out of revenge in Florida, and the recent outrage of some Americans regarding plans to build a mosque near ground zero, the opportunity to develop common ground is lost out of the divisive nature of ideological struggle. Very few people are pausing to reassess their emotional responses and hasty generalizations, deciding instead to swallow what the media gives them - sensational accounts of jihad, terrorists, and women-haters; a minority group of Believers who while cloaking themselves in the words of Islam, ironically fail to embody the pillars of the Islamic faith and instead use it to justify political agendas. It's a travesty that gives peace-loving Believers a bad image in the eyes of the rest of the world.
Also, my thoughts stem from frustration regarding the hatred, fear, racism, and stereotyping found between the lines of any headline around the world. They're easy to buy into if you don't feel like making the effort to ask questions, find out about someone else's way of life, or seek to understand the relative hierarchy of values. Shake those hands, (unless of course its rude to do so in the particular culture in which you find yourself) and re-evaluate your own "common sense" ideas about the world. And do it regularly, or risk personal stagnation and cultural insensitivity to say the least...
Overall, within an anarchic system in which traditional identities of nation-states are changing due to the fluctuating demographics of its citizens, Gandhi's words come as a timely reminder. People from all parts of the world are living in closer, more intimate conditions. Tensions naturally exist in heterogeneous societies. Thus, pluralism is hardly a comfortable state of existence, but it's something that the United States and most "Western" countries possess an odd amount of pride in maintaining. Despite this however, "Islamophobia" (as the August 2010 Time cover-story established) is running unchecked, not only by leaders within our government, but perhaps more disturbingly, by our own citizenry! As demonstrated by the banning of the hijab in France, the threat to burn Qur'ans out of revenge in Florida, and the recent outrage of some Americans regarding plans to build a mosque near ground zero, the opportunity to develop common ground is lost out of the divisive nature of ideological struggle. Very few people are pausing to reassess their emotional responses and hasty generalizations, deciding instead to swallow what the media gives them - sensational accounts of jihad, terrorists, and women-haters; a minority group of Believers who while cloaking themselves in the words of Islam, ironically fail to embody the pillars of the Islamic faith and instead use it to justify political agendas. It's a travesty that gives peace-loving Believers a bad image in the eyes of the rest of the world.
And so the cycle continues.
It's interesting, this week in class, a woman pursuing her Master's came in to talk to my peers and I about our motives for not only studying abroad, but why we chose to study in the "Middle East." First off, I'd like to note that this woman, however unintentionally, qualified Jordan as representing the entire region by this simple statement. That provides a fair amount of insight by itself, and its strange how eerily familiar this sounds...people talk about Africa with this exact same tone. ["You mean Africa is a multi-national continent with an incredible spectrum of cultures and history? surprise!]. In any case, apparently the number of students abroad in Egypt, Morocco, and Jordan has increased by nearly 200% since 2001. Go figure. In any case, while impressive, when the figures are placed in context with the overall growth of students studying abroad in general, participation level continues to hover in the 1-3% range of selected study abroad programs. During the discussion, the more we talked, the more we realized that in coming to Jordan, we all had to disregard the fears, concerns, or assumptions of a friend, family member, or significant mentor. NO, I don't have to wear a burqa to class, and I'm not going to get stoned if I'm caught out of bed past curfew! Excuse me, but Jordan is not Syria, nor Lebanon, nor Egypt. Egypt is not Iraq, or Saudi Arabia, Yemen, or the UAE! And we haven't even touched Israel or Palestine yet...
Let's face it, from the moment we become cognizant of our position in society, we learn to categorize people in order to simplify the incredible intricacies that surround us. What we overlook is how dehumanizing such a methods of conceptualization can be. I easily think back to junior high where jocks, nerds, goths, band kids, preps, hicks, and "natives" coldly demonstrates the average teenager's tenuous grasp on identity. Now, having lived abroad for the last five months, I feel like I've become hyper-aware of the degree to which my categorical lenses and value hierarchies have been constructed in seeing the world. Also, I've seen how people have been taught or have learned how to think about ME. And I'm left to wonder...do people change much from those original ruthless and impressionable years of youth? Or are we just getting better at disguising it out of necessity and political correctness?
Fortunately, in my experience, the significant complexities of not only relationships between nations in the Middle East, but also within the very domestic framework of each nation continues to lure curious students the world over. However, the "Middle East," with the multitude of identities lumped into a single term, generally tempts over-simplification and perpetuates overarching notions for the entire region...
Let's face it, from the moment we become cognizant of our position in society, we learn to categorize people in order to simplify the incredible intricacies that surround us. What we overlook is how dehumanizing such a methods of conceptualization can be. I easily think back to junior high where jocks, nerds, goths, band kids, preps, hicks, and "natives" coldly demonstrates the average teenager's tenuous grasp on identity. Now, having lived abroad for the last five months, I feel like I've become hyper-aware of the degree to which my categorical lenses and value hierarchies have been constructed in seeing the world. Also, I've seen how people have been taught or have learned how to think about ME. And I'm left to wonder...do people change much from those original ruthless and impressionable years of youth? Or are we just getting better at disguising it out of necessity and political correctness?
Fortunately, in my experience, the significant complexities of not only relationships between nations in the Middle East, but also within the very domestic framework of each nation continues to lure curious students the world over. However, the "Middle East," with the multitude of identities lumped into a single term, generally tempts over-simplification and perpetuates overarching notions for the entire region...
Which is why I'm glad to have met many Muslim Jordanians, who practically kill you with kindness, either by stuffing you with home-cooked food, or driving you home to the opposite side of Amman just so you won't have to take another taxi that day.
SO, more than anything, its time to approach the table and start the dialog. Right where you are. Right now. TALK and LISTEN.
I absolutely believe that diplomacy begins with fostering relationships...And THAT makes it possible for even one person to truly change the world.
So what are we waiting for?
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Ana mabsoota (أنا المبسوط)
Sitting in the living room of my host family, and admiring the watery sunshine streaming through the lightly falling raindrops, I feel so incredibly lucky. Its a stormy, cozy Saturday dedicated solely to food, family, and gossip.What could be better? :)
I let myself sleep in today until a luxurious 9am. I rolled back and forth a few times, seeing if I could perhaps squeeze in another hour...but alas, it was not to be done. Instead, I rolled out of bed, opened the door to my bedroom terrace, and took in the cool breeze of a beautiful fall morning. Eventually, Mama Abeer had Commarie (the maid) rouse everyone out of their beds and down into the kitchen for a fresh breakfast of khobz (pita), beit (eggs), lebneh (thick, almost sour cream-like yogurt), olives, zata'a, fool (a bean dip connoction) and shai (tea). Delicious. I then spent the rest of the morning doing lovely mindless things like cleaning my room, organizing my shelves, and downloading new music for my workouts this week.
However, something was shadowing my mind as I puttzed around aimlessly. Tomorrow, I'm attending the wedding of Madj's brother! I'm SO excited to be able to witness a Jordanian/Palestinian wedding, but I spent all yesterday looking for a dress and hadn't found much. Granted, I bought a pretty dark green homecoming-quality dress at the souq juma3 (Friday market) for like 2 JDs ($3.50!), but unfortunately one of those dresses that will only fit perfectly if I refrain from eating the entire day. So, obviously while possible, not an optimal option. Besides, I'm not the kind of girl to make huge sacrifices for beauty, haha. In any case, I somewhat shyly brought up the dilemma with my two host sisters, Baytool and Raya, and immediately they bustled into high sisterly gear, tugging me up the stairs, picking out some of their old dresses, making me try them on, and completely making a fuss. I've never felt so cared for :) We ended up finding two dresses that worked: a floor-length crimson ballroom dress, and a knee-length turquoise dress with beading and a gold sash. Beautiful! Having to pick between two great options is a much better dilemma to encounter. i was relieved. Now when standing next to beautiful Madj in her bright pink prom-like dress, I won't feel so homely, haha. And of course, I'll keep that green dress for another, food-deprived occasion :)
Soon after resolving the dress issue, I was called downstairs by Mama Abeer to help her cook "mensaf," a wonderful Jordanian dish involving lamb, rice, almonds, pine nuts, and a sour yogurt sauce. Besides sayyadiea, mansaf is my favorite dish here. I couldn't wait to watch Mama make it, and maybe learn a little along the way. In our neighborhood, its common knowledge that Mama makes the best mansaf in Jordan. I privately vowed to be the most observant student.
While appearing simple, mansaf is a lot harder to make than it looks, requiring a TON of multitasking in order for it to come out perfectly. While boiling the lamb in a giant pot, mama soaked the rice, and prepared the yogurt sauce. Stirring the contents over a hot stove, I did what I could to keep the sauce from curdling. When it finally came to a boil and the lamb was done cooking, Mama grabbed the huge pot of sauce and poured it effortlessly into the other large pot of lamb, stirring and adding cardamom. Then, it was time to wait. As they say, slow and steady wins the race... The best mansaf is tender and flavorful. Least to say, it's worth being patient.
Various family members began showing up early in the afternoon. Immediately the house transformed into a place of hustle, bustle, and loud conversations going every which way, happily weaving themselves into a fabric of organized chaos. I couldn't stop grinning. Besides, I always get randomly quizzed in Arabic, so if I don't pay attention, I'm caught off guard. On occasions like these, I have to be on my toes, ready to practice and also laugh off mistakes at any moment.
Finally, when all of us settled down to lunch (the mansaf was delicious despite my involvement by the way!), we were suddenly interrupted by a freakish thunderstorm that pounded the windows with icy rain, and transformed the hilly streets into minor river rapids! I couldn't have been more excited! RAIN! I almost didn't believe it! I've missed it so much! Legitimate face soaking, puddle dancing, lighting flashing, ozone smelling rain! I think the family thought I was pretty silly. I excused myself and stepped out the front door into the storm, whooping softly to myself and even carrying out a little happy dance. When I finally came in, I was met with strong 'ahwa arabi (arabic coffee), pomegrante, and chocolate for dessert.
Now the weather's cleared up, the sunshine is back out, and the number of family members present in the living room has grown to 12! Who knows how long they'll be here. Sometimes these weekly gatherings go on till 11pm, when finally after all local gossip is exchanged, food eaten, stories told, prayers made, and soap operas debated, everyone suddenly realizes how tired they are. I usually can't make it past 9pm these days, and while sometimes I feel anti-social, I know just how important sleep is in the quality of my day. Sometimes, mama and baba go to bed hours after I do and leave the house before I get up. Do they even sleep? I might never know ;)
Anyways, that's all for now. Time to go back to being social. Besides, maybe Commarie needs help in the kitchen (that's a subject for another time). Maa salaama!
I let myself sleep in today until a luxurious 9am. I rolled back and forth a few times, seeing if I could perhaps squeeze in another hour...but alas, it was not to be done. Instead, I rolled out of bed, opened the door to my bedroom terrace, and took in the cool breeze of a beautiful fall morning. Eventually, Mama Abeer had Commarie (the maid) rouse everyone out of their beds and down into the kitchen for a fresh breakfast of khobz (pita), beit (eggs), lebneh (thick, almost sour cream-like yogurt), olives, zata'a, fool (a bean dip connoction) and shai (tea). Delicious. I then spent the rest of the morning doing lovely mindless things like cleaning my room, organizing my shelves, and downloading new music for my workouts this week.
However, something was shadowing my mind as I puttzed around aimlessly. Tomorrow, I'm attending the wedding of Madj's brother! I'm SO excited to be able to witness a Jordanian/Palestinian wedding, but I spent all yesterday looking for a dress and hadn't found much. Granted, I bought a pretty dark green homecoming-quality dress at the souq juma3 (Friday market) for like 2 JDs ($3.50!), but unfortunately one of those dresses that will only fit perfectly if I refrain from eating the entire day. So, obviously while possible, not an optimal option. Besides, I'm not the kind of girl to make huge sacrifices for beauty, haha. In any case, I somewhat shyly brought up the dilemma with my two host sisters, Baytool and Raya, and immediately they bustled into high sisterly gear, tugging me up the stairs, picking out some of their old dresses, making me try them on, and completely making a fuss. I've never felt so cared for :) We ended up finding two dresses that worked: a floor-length crimson ballroom dress, and a knee-length turquoise dress with beading and a gold sash. Beautiful! Having to pick between two great options is a much better dilemma to encounter. i was relieved. Now when standing next to beautiful Madj in her bright pink prom-like dress, I won't feel so homely, haha. And of course, I'll keep that green dress for another, food-deprived occasion :)
Soon after resolving the dress issue, I was called downstairs by Mama Abeer to help her cook "mensaf," a wonderful Jordanian dish involving lamb, rice, almonds, pine nuts, and a sour yogurt sauce. Besides sayyadiea, mansaf is my favorite dish here. I couldn't wait to watch Mama make it, and maybe learn a little along the way. In our neighborhood, its common knowledge that Mama makes the best mansaf in Jordan. I privately vowed to be the most observant student.
While appearing simple, mansaf is a lot harder to make than it looks, requiring a TON of multitasking in order for it to come out perfectly. While boiling the lamb in a giant pot, mama soaked the rice, and prepared the yogurt sauce. Stirring the contents over a hot stove, I did what I could to keep the sauce from curdling. When it finally came to a boil and the lamb was done cooking, Mama grabbed the huge pot of sauce and poured it effortlessly into the other large pot of lamb, stirring and adding cardamom. Then, it was time to wait. As they say, slow and steady wins the race... The best mansaf is tender and flavorful. Least to say, it's worth being patient.
Various family members began showing up early in the afternoon. Immediately the house transformed into a place of hustle, bustle, and loud conversations going every which way, happily weaving themselves into a fabric of organized chaos. I couldn't stop grinning. Besides, I always get randomly quizzed in Arabic, so if I don't pay attention, I'm caught off guard. On occasions like these, I have to be on my toes, ready to practice and also laugh off mistakes at any moment.
Finally, when all of us settled down to lunch (the mansaf was delicious despite my involvement by the way!), we were suddenly interrupted by a freakish thunderstorm that pounded the windows with icy rain, and transformed the hilly streets into minor river rapids! I couldn't have been more excited! RAIN! I almost didn't believe it! I've missed it so much! Legitimate face soaking, puddle dancing, lighting flashing, ozone smelling rain! I think the family thought I was pretty silly. I excused myself and stepped out the front door into the storm, whooping softly to myself and even carrying out a little happy dance. When I finally came in, I was met with strong 'ahwa arabi (arabic coffee), pomegrante, and chocolate for dessert.
Now the weather's cleared up, the sunshine is back out, and the number of family members present in the living room has grown to 12! Who knows how long they'll be here. Sometimes these weekly gatherings go on till 11pm, when finally after all local gossip is exchanged, food eaten, stories told, prayers made, and soap operas debated, everyone suddenly realizes how tired they are. I usually can't make it past 9pm these days, and while sometimes I feel anti-social, I know just how important sleep is in the quality of my day. Sometimes, mama and baba go to bed hours after I do and leave the house before I get up. Do they even sleep? I might never know ;)
Anyways, that's all for now. Time to go back to being social. Besides, maybe Commarie needs help in the kitchen (that's a subject for another time). Maa salaama!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Hittin' the Street
One day I decided to take pictures of my route to and from work at the IOM (International Organization of Migration). I go from the University of Jordan campus in northern Amman, and catch a taxi 20 minutes SW past the American embassy, and into Limbo between new development and desert sand. What I see paints an interesting picture of Jordan, reflecting the ancient and modern, traditional and progressive. So many seemingly contradicting realities make Jordan what it is: a diverse and promising nation.
Far off in the distance, developed, urban Amman. Turn left 90 degrees and rocky land, trash, and the occasional sheep meet the horizon.
Yes, those are sheep nibbling through the trash of a developing apartment complex, not far from the palacial Australian embassy
A traditional Bedouin dressed man driving a not-so-traditional form of transportation. Air-conditioned donkey anyone? :)
Prayer beads, evil eyes...and a bobble head dashboard sunflower?
Navigating Amman traffic during rush hour...
Sunset over the nearest hill/buildings in my neighborhood. Classic Amman sight.
Far off in the distance, developed, urban Amman. Turn left 90 degrees and rocky land, trash, and the occasional sheep meet the horizon.
Yes, those are sheep nibbling through the trash of a developing apartment complex, not far from the palacial Australian embassy
A traditional Bedouin dressed man driving a not-so-traditional form of transportation. Air-conditioned donkey anyone? :)
Prayer beads, evil eyes...and a bobble head dashboard sunflower?
Navigating Amman traffic during rush hour...
Sunset over the nearest hill/buildings in my neighborhood. Classic Amman sight.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
"Re-loving"
Sometimes its difficult to learn how to fall in love again with something that's changed. Whether it be your small hometown that bursts into a city, a refuge that becomes a prison, a friendship that drifts into indifference, a lover who you discover was only part-time, or the weather that ruins a delightful picnic, change is uncomfortable and its shocking. Where's the cue? The Kodak moment? The gallant soundtrack? When something changes, humankind stands there alone, confused or in denial, looking back towards the West horizon, waiting for the colors to change, or even the sun to reverse its tracks in the sky. We want to take it back, perhaps cater to the status quo, what we know to be comfortable, or even relive the glory days!
But what we forget is that with change comes new opportunities. Opportunities to right a wrong, to live larger, think bigger, yet also calibrate our dreams to new realities. Instead of glaring into the dusk, waiting for the sun, we must remember to try navigating by the stars!
I've been in Jordan for exactly six weeks today. Least to say there's been a whirlwind of change since the morning I flew in from Zimbabwe and stepped out of the taxi, smack dab into the chaos of downtown Amman. Now that the honeymoon phase is over (and the fact that I've acknowledge that is good), and am learning how to deal with the day-to-day living, I'm in the process of learning to love Jordan for more than the thrills and exciting adventures that characterized my first impressions. Kind of like in a real relationship, right? ;) Seriously! Jordan and I have been on a few exciting first dates, but now it's been long enough now to begin witnessing the multifaceted complexities of the nation's character. You better believe that despite its beloved King and its reputation for being moderate within the Middle East, it still picks its nose when it thinks no one is looking and leaves the toilet seat up when I'm not around. And while it might be easier to just dump Jordan for Syria or Lebanon, I'm too curious as to what Jordan might reveal about itself to quit now! Besides, Jordan has already taught me that even on the days where the world wobbles a bit on its axis, I'm pretty capable in balancing things out... :)
In any case, down to business. So many stories to tell in so little time!
Studying through CIEE's Culture and Language Program is going well. Arabic classes are intense but well worth the pain in my head ("rasee"), haha! I'm enrolled in Beginning I with Dr. Muna, a lively, kind, and delightfully funny professor who, always wrapped in colorful scarves and a cheerful demeanor, threatens to eat us if we don't memorize vocabulary. :) She is probably the best language teacher I've ever had, and is helping me not only learn to read, write and speak Arabic, but stifle the Spanish that keeps pushing my brain around with a baseball bat. My classmates are really cool too, and we're pretty much a big family. Us first year Arabic kids have to stick together! Its an intimidating world out there, full of fast arabezi-speaking taxi drivers, and host-family "discussions" (aka. arguments) that threaten to tear the house down. But of course, we all love the thrill and encourage each other to practice as much as we can. Overall, it couldn't be a better learning environment/atmosphere. This is EXACTLY what I wanted. Now all I need is a little patience with myself and a lot of practice in order to become somewhat competent in speaking comfortably by the end of the semester. Three months and counting...but I will do it (and I have a massive stack of flashcards already to prove it)!
Also, this past weekend, all 135 CIEE students bailed out of class early on Thursday and headed out for an epic weekend adventure! Although it was my second tour, I found it nice to return to Wadi Rum, Aqaba, and Petra, and share it with my amazing new friends. I can't even begin to say how much I enjoy the people I've befriended, and the adventures I now get to share with them. I think my time here will go by quicker than I ever imagined.
But what we forget is that with change comes new opportunities. Opportunities to right a wrong, to live larger, think bigger, yet also calibrate our dreams to new realities. Instead of glaring into the dusk, waiting for the sun, we must remember to try navigating by the stars!
I've been in Jordan for exactly six weeks today. Least to say there's been a whirlwind of change since the morning I flew in from Zimbabwe and stepped out of the taxi, smack dab into the chaos of downtown Amman. Now that the honeymoon phase is over (and the fact that I've acknowledge that is good), and am learning how to deal with the day-to-day living, I'm in the process of learning to love Jordan for more than the thrills and exciting adventures that characterized my first impressions. Kind of like in a real relationship, right? ;) Seriously! Jordan and I have been on a few exciting first dates, but now it's been long enough now to begin witnessing the multifaceted complexities of the nation's character. You better believe that despite its beloved King and its reputation for being moderate within the Middle East, it still picks its nose when it thinks no one is looking and leaves the toilet seat up when I'm not around. And while it might be easier to just dump Jordan for Syria or Lebanon, I'm too curious as to what Jordan might reveal about itself to quit now! Besides, Jordan has already taught me that even on the days where the world wobbles a bit on its axis, I'm pretty capable in balancing things out... :)
In any case, down to business. So many stories to tell in so little time!
Studying through CIEE's Culture and Language Program is going well. Arabic classes are intense but well worth the pain in my head ("rasee"), haha! I'm enrolled in Beginning I with Dr. Muna, a lively, kind, and delightfully funny professor who, always wrapped in colorful scarves and a cheerful demeanor, threatens to eat us if we don't memorize vocabulary. :) She is probably the best language teacher I've ever had, and is helping me not only learn to read, write and speak Arabic, but stifle the Spanish that keeps pushing my brain around with a baseball bat. My classmates are really cool too, and we're pretty much a big family. Us first year Arabic kids have to stick together! Its an intimidating world out there, full of fast arabezi-speaking taxi drivers, and host-family "discussions" (aka. arguments) that threaten to tear the house down. But of course, we all love the thrill and encourage each other to practice as much as we can. Overall, it couldn't be a better learning environment/atmosphere. This is EXACTLY what I wanted. Now all I need is a little patience with myself and a lot of practice in order to become somewhat competent in speaking comfortably by the end of the semester. Three months and counting...but I will do it (and I have a massive stack of flashcards already to prove it)!
Also, this past weekend, all 135 CIEE students bailed out of class early on Thursday and headed out for an epic weekend adventure! Although it was my second tour, I found it nice to return to Wadi Rum, Aqaba, and Petra, and share it with my amazing new friends. I can't even begin to say how much I enjoy the people I've befriended, and the adventures I now get to share with them. I think my time here will go by quicker than I ever imagined.
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