Travels and triangulations.

Fifth Week in Jordan!

“Okay, cool story Sarah, I get that you’re having fun learning Arabic and being around all this history and blah blah blah. What I really want to know about is your daily life!” Thanks for the suggestion, no one! (This blog isn’t capitalist; it doesn’t follow the laws of demand!)

This is where I go to school:

Pretty close behind us is the German Embassy. Hello, German Embassy! I have never actually seen the German Embassy, because it at least attempts to blend in — much like Otto von Bismarck’s quiet attempts to increase Germany’s power before WWI. The American Embassy, however, takes a different approach, and does not attempt to blend in —  much like Hitler’s not-so-quiet attempts to increase Germany’s power before WWII:

(Message from the American Embassy: You’re next, Czechoslovakia.)

In the morning, I have my two Arabic classes: Modern Standard Arabic (no, this is not what the Quran is written in — that is Classical Arabic) and Jordanian Dialect Arabic. The book we use is called “Al-Kitaab,” which literally translates to “The Book.” With a title as grandiose as that, it must teach you everything you need to know about living in an Arabic-speaking country… right? (SPOILER ALERT: it doesn’t.)

(Thanks, Al-Kitaab! “Blood” is definitely a more important everyday word than “foot,” “finger,” or “ear.” Since when did the target audience of Arabic classes switch to vampires and Quentin Tarantino? Also, Windows 95 called and wants its Paint program back.)

Mmm and now for FOOD! A short walk from my program is Abdoun Circle, where you can buy a falafel or shawarma sandwich for about a dollar. And my host mom cooks amazing Middle Eastern food — tonight we had rice and pieces of lamb wrapped in grape leaves, and she also makes really good English cucumbers stuffed with rice and pieces of lamb (and of course, pita bread at every meal). Starting to see a pattern? The most traditional Jordanian dish is mansaf, which is lamb cooked in yogurt-like sauce and placed on a bed of bread and rice. YUM.

(In Arabic, there are two types of meat: chicken, or “dijaj”; and lamb, or “lehem.” But “lehem” literally translates to “meat” — so you basically only have the option of chicken or meat. It’s like the reverse of that line in My Big Fat Greek Wedding: “What do you mean he don’t eat no meat? That’s okay, I make lamb.”)

There is also a major water shortage in Jordan, so every family gets a set amount of water per week. Because you have to start heating the water about two hours before you take a shower, you also have to always plan ahead. One day a week, however, the government gives households all the water they want — this day is also known as Laundry Day! Hurray for clean clothes.

(This is an ancient Roman water fountain, or nymphaeum, in Jerash. This entire thing was filled with water. So basically, if you’re wondering why they have a water shortage, look no further. Thanks, Romans!)

But speaking of water… let’s take a moment to admire this artifact from the ancient Roman city of Jerash. “It’s just a circle,” you say. Not quite, my friends… THIS IS AN ANCIENT ROMAN MANHOLE COVER, leading into the UNDERGROUND SEWERS. Think about that for a second. Not only were the Romans smart enough to devise an underground sewage system… they thought ahead and developed periodic passageways for men to go down and fix it if it was broken. However much I insult them, when it comes to technology… those Romans, man.

(“Roman”? More like, “Whoa, Man!”)

Now we get to the sounds of Jordan. Imagine you are in another country, biding your time in a restaurant or at your house, and you hear the familiar jingle of an ice cream truck! You instinctively get up and run outside… and you are confronted with a truck full of propane canisters. Yumm gas. Propane trucks and their lesser known counterparts — angry fruit trucks with loudspeakers — constantly go around the city, dispensing their products and alerting the neighbors as they go.

(“I love the smell of propane in the morning.”)

Finally, minarets around the city sound the call to prayer five times a day, which is really calming. At night, all of the minarets are lit with green lights, so when you look out over the hills of Amman there are green lights dotting the landscape. Because my house is in an old part of Amman, there are a lot of mosques (and churches) in the area and so we hear all the calls to prayer: one between dawn and sunrise; one between the true noon the afternoon prayer; one in the afternoon; one between sunset and dusk; and one between dusk and dawn.

(The minaret at King Hussein Mosque, lit up for the night. As a side note, I guess I was lazy with my picture taking this week, because all the pictures in this post are courtesy of Google Image searches except for the ones at Jerash.)

Tune in next week for the inevitable “Sarah has her annual existential crisis about turning another year older,” aka my birthday.

Fourth Week in Jordan!

A lot of people here know very limited English, and, much like us learning Arabic, want to practice it at any opportunity. Unfortunately, this usually manifests itself in “shabab” (young men, usually without much to do) making comments to random women on the street. But for some reason the only English phrase most shabab have picked up is, “Welcome!” So even though it can still be pretty annoying just because it happens so often, it’s a much happier pick-up line than just, “Hello!” or “Hey!” Most taxi drivers also usually say, “Welcome to Jordan!” at some point during the ride, most often when we’re getting out… even after solely talking to them in Arabic for the entire ride up to that point.

(“Welcome”: the only word in “Shabab 101: Learning English” textbooks.)

Speaking of taxi drivers and learning English, by far my favorite experience has been getting into a taxi and having a giant head of lettuce shoved in my face. In Arabic, the taxi driver insisted we eat some, so after trying to say no, my housemate and I each took a giant leaf. Then, the driver asked what its name was in English. I responded, “Al-khas? ‘Lettuce.’” The man then repeated it, and chuckled. For the rest of the ride, while he wasn’t talking about how great Manchester United was (I had told him we were from England), he would randomly interject with, “Lettuce!” and then chuckle to himself.

(“Lettuce” catch up on our Arabic skills before it becomes too much of a “khas”-sle.)

Beyond Abdoun Circle, which is right by our class building, it’s hard to just “wander” around Amman. Amman is pretty spread out, and because there are many cafes that are just for men, it’s hard for me to just stroll into a cafe in most parts of the city. I have gone to a few interesting cafes around Amman with my language partner, but I haven’t really found any on my own. I’m sure when I get more comfortable with people on my program and meet more people outside the program I can go exploring more, but in the beginning, it’s unfortunately pretty easy to just fall into the trap of meeting other people on the program and just going to cafes on Rainbow St. While Rainbow St. is less touristy than, say, Paris Circle, it’s still pretty much mostly for foreigners. How can you tell? This, my friends, is a traditional Mexican-Moroccan restaurant on Rainbow Street:

(Look at those Americans! Just acting like tourists. I am disgusted.)

To gain kind of a perspective on how much Amman is spread out, here are some pictures from the citadel, which is on top of one of the Jabals (mountains). From the citadel, to your left:

Those mountains in the way distance on the horizon line? All covered in houses… AND ALL AMMAN.

Right in front of you:

STILL ALL AMMAN.

To your immediate right:

STILL ALL AMMAN.

To your far right:

And the absurd thing? See those buildings framed by the courtyard things, to the far right? That’s by where I live, to the north of third circle (where that hotel that looks like the Titanic’s smokestack is, to the left). And those two buildings in the center, in the far distance? That’s where my “Traditional Islamic Art Class” is located, right by sixth circle. And there are still two more circles beyond the sixth circle until you reach the western edge of Amman. And none of these pictures even show the northern parts of Amman — from my house, to get to Rainbow Street, I have to walk south: down hill #1, up hill #2, down hill #2, and up hill #3. The citadel is on hill #2 in that equation, facing hill #3. If that made sense to you, congratulations, you can officially understand spatial directions better than Apple Maps.

(Pictured: Not what the world looks like. Where did you get your cartography skills, Apple — medieval Europe?)

But wait, there’s more! Because I’m feeling particularly good about myself today, here is a gratuitous picture of me on Rainbow Street, AT NO EXTRA COST:

(How you can tell I’ve had too much Turkish Coffee that day. Also: as a fun fact, this cafe is also known in certain circles as one of the few local gay hangouts.)

Second/Third Week in Jordan!

It’s hard to believe I’ve only been here for three weeks. These past two weeks — beyond meeting with my language partner, starting classes, and exploring the city with friends — I made it to a particularly historical and beautiful place, Umm Qais. But first: a few observations.

Number One: My dad, who has been really into roundabouts (or traffic circles) since reading the book Traffic, would be really proud of the Jordanian urban planners. There are roundabouts EVERYWHERE. In fact, a person’s location can basically be determined by which circle they are at on the main street in Amman, Zahran Street. There are eight circles on Zahran Street. And that’s just one street!

Number Two: Amman is also known as the City of Seven Hills (or something like that). Anyway, there’s good reason for this nickname:

This is one of the shorter flights of stairs we have to take to walk from our place to Rainbow Street, an area that’s pretty touristy but which has a lot of coffee shops. Now, for what you’ve all been waiting for… UMM QAIS!

Here is a map of Jordan:

If you notice, Umm Qais is way up north, almost at the Syrian border. We took public buses from Amman to Irbid, and then from Irbid to Umm Qais. We were lucky to have some people on the trip who are basically fluent in Arabic, so they were able to negotiate everything — and so the bus rides were actually very pleasant! When we made it to Umm Qais, also known as Gadara historically, we had some Turkish coffee, and then set off towards the ruins! 

(Hurray!)

First we came to the remnants of an Ottoman town from the 19th century. Unfortunately, stone is not the best defense against earthquakes (thank you, every single California Science Museum ever), so after some particularly rough earthquakes, not all the houses are looking too hot. Oh well, we’ll come back to the museum at the end. Our next stop is the view:

“Oh that’s a beautiful view! What could it be?” you wonder naively. Well, my loyal readers, what you are looking at is PALESTINE/ISRAEL/SYRIA. That’s right, you’re staring into ANOTHER COUNTRY. “Big deal,” you say. “I can see Canada from my house.” YEAH, BUT WAS JESUS EVER IN CANADA? EH?

(Pictured: Not Jesus.)

Jesus was, however, at Umm Qais! When Jesus arrived, there were some men in the village who were possessed by demons. So Jesus, getting kind of tired of having to solve everyone’s problems, sighed and transferred the demons into the villagers’ swine. He then cleverly had them drown themselves in the river, ridding the town of the evil spirits that had been plaguing them and returning their lives to normal! But like any good guy who kills a village’s entire supply of livestock to rid them of demons, he was not appreciated. In fact, the villagers got kind of upset that they had no more meat, and begged him to leave before he destroyed any more of their food. As Kate’s guidebook wrote, “This just goes to show that even Jesus couldn’t please everybody.” A classic Biblical moral. But while we didn’t see any swine there (THANKS, JESUS), we did find… JESUS’ FOOTPRINT!

(The Umm Qais version of “Footprints,” which never quite caught on for some reason: “The entire history of Umm Qais was laid out on the ground. ‘But there is only one footprint. Why, in our time of need, did you abandon us, Jesus?’ the village asked. ‘I didn’t abandon you then,’ said Jesus. “That was the foot I used to steady myself as I directed your swine to drown themselves in the river.’” )

The thing about historical places in Jordan is that you can just go anywhere. Yani, it’s not as if ruins are in short supply over in Jordan, especially Roman ruins, so they’re just free for the climbing and exploring! We are a bunch of modern-day Ibn Batutas. And there are so many ruins, and so little regulation, and just so much open land, that there is no motivation for the ruins to be consolidated or cleaned up or anything. They are just there, symbolizing the convergence of time and history and nature.

(Ruins! Ruins everywhere!)

And speaking of ruins, here’s some idiot tourist ruining a very historical artifact:

(Honestly, the nerve of some people!)

Finally, after a few hours of exploring, we got to the museum… BUT THE ROMANS HAD GOTTEN THERE FIRST! How could we tell? If there’s one thing the Romans and the French have in common, it’s that they really like beheading things.

(Although, to the Romans’ credit, they mostly just beheaded Greek statues, then replaced them with their own heads, thus ruining the preservation of art and history at the same time. Thanks, Romans!)

Thus ends the tale of Sarah at Umm Qais. In other news, it hailed today. And I’m not talking about people hailing my presence, because that happens so often it’s not worth mentioning in a blog post. I’m talking about big chunks of ice that were hard and cold. And before all you people in colder climates go boo-hooing me, keep in mind that there are NO DRAINAGE SYSTEMS HERE and you have to constantly stand outside trying to hail taxis. So that kind of literally put a damper on things. BUT JORDAN’S AWESOME. Stay tuned.

First Week in Jordan!

First of all, I am 11 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time (PST) and 8 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time (EST). Why am I informing you of this? Because most things you read online will have the time wrong here. Jordan decided not to go on daylight savings time at the last second. (Haha, get it? Second as in a measurement of time? Nevermind.)

Okay now that that’s out of the way… I AM IN JORDAN! For those loyal readers actually reading my entries, in a cruel twist of fate, I ended up at the same expensive sandwich place in the Charles de Gaulle Airport, and the cashier yelled at me in French for not understanding how the credit card machine worked. I felt like Buster/Franklin in Arrested Development. (Link contains cursing and is really only funny in the context of the show.) I also watched Asterix and Obelix: God Save Britannia (based on a French comic, I found out!) on the plane, which I really just appreciated because it was all about the French hating on the English — they portrayed them as caring only about propriety and how to properly behave according to your role in society and unable to express emotions and affection. So basically me? Woops. Let’s just say, it was a good plane movie. I also watched a documentary on the Ig Nobel awards, which are awarded to seemingly silly science research that makes you think.

Yes, this is exactly as chaotically awesome and hilarious as it looks. The little girl is screaming at the guy because his acceptance speech has gone on too long, a tradition I learned about from the documentary. And the guy in the white is probably an actual Nobel Prize winner — a few of them come to the Ig Nobel Awards a lot. Still not sure what the guy/girl/ze in silver does though.

Anyway, beyond that… JORDAN! Unfortunately there’s been a lot of panicking going on in terms of having to make friends and all that jazz. (TO FUTURE STUDY ABROAD STUDENTS: NO MATTER WHAT PEOPLE TELL YOU, IT IS OVERWHELMING AND EMOTIONALLY EXHAUSTING THE FIRST WEEK(S) DO NOT WORRY.) HOWEVER. There has also been a TON of amazing-ness as well!

I’m living in Jabal al-Hussein, which is an older area with a lot of immigrants and churches and mosques. It’s also very close to the site of the most recent protests against the government, at Duar al-Dahlia (the Circle of the Interior Ministry). To give you a perspective of how spread out Amman is, here is a picture from on top of the Citadel:

There are Seven Hills that make up Amman. Seven Hills. That make up one city. And all of them are covered in buildings like this. Oh and what was up with that Citadel I just mentioned? Well, let me show you:

This, my friends, is the Temple of Hercules. It has been built upon from the early pre-Greco-Roman phase, to the Greeks, to the Romans, to the Umayyads, to the Abbasids, to today. Pretty awesome, eh? But watch out: you don’t want Hercules to catch you! RUN AWAY!

Luckily he seems to be taking his time. Maybe Hercules was actually a troll and got caught in the daylight? You have to HAND it to him, he’s still pretty formidable. (My requisite pun. You’re welcome.) Anyway. Then there’s the Roman Amphitheater, which is also huge and awesome:

This is looking down from the top. Those are a lot of very tall steps without handrails. Basically, it’s a good thing America doesn’t have ruins, because we would not be allowed to climb all over them. And let’s be honest: IT IS SO MUCH FUN TO CLIMB ALL OVER RUINS.

In addition to this being a demonstration of Sarah’s incompetence in flipping photos on this computer, this is the fantastic Maggie. What is Maggie pointing to? A ROMAN TELEPHONE, THAT’S WHAT! If someone stands on the COMPLETE OPPOSITE END of the amphitheater and talks into a specific stone (which the Jordanian security guard was nice enough to point out to us), the person listening at the stone at the COMPLETE OPPOSITE END can hear the other person PERFECTLY. Let me repeat: PERFECTLY. The voice, the tone, everything! And it’s loud and clear, too! So I see you taking credit for the telephone, Alexander Graham Bell. Get out of here: the Romans did it first!

“Oh, what’s that? Is that Arabic?” NO. Get out of here and sit in the corner with Alexander Graham Bell. That is an ANCIENT LANGUAGE. What ancient language? TOO ANCIENT TO HAVE A CAPTION BY IT. I’m pretty sure it’s Roman, but I may be wrong. 

So that’s where I’m at right now. Hurray! Try not to miss me too much.

Landed Safe in al-Urdun!

More later.

The Serious Dedication Bit.

Our post today will be covering very little ground (after all, I still haven’t left Southern California yet! ha, ha, ha, ha!), but barring poorly-done travel jokes, I have some important characters to introduce before I leave.

First of all, this is my cat. Her name is Cassie. Cassie is very fluffy and is interested in everything. Since I’ve been back, she’s been almost constantly by my side, and she’s put me to sleep every night. She’s an emotional cat, and the hard thing about pets is that you can’t say goodbye to them — you just leave. But I think she understands now that I will always come back. Unfortunately, Cassie is also dealing with a cancerous tumor and is growing old. But she’s still been a loyal friend, especially since I’ve been back, and I just want her to be appreciated for the wonderful cat she is.

This is Gandalf the Grey. Gandalf was given to me by my fantastic friend Rami, and Gandalf is going to be my travel companion on my trip! According to Rami, this Gandalf has two meanings:
1. Gandalf and the Hobbit/Lord of the Rings are awesome;
2. He is “looking for someone to share in an adventure” :)
I’m thinking of maybe doing an Amelie-like thing and having him pose at all the great spots in Jordan? I think he’ll appreciate that. We’ll see where the winds take us, Gandalf!

And finally, I would like to thank:

• My parents for supporting me when I need it most, even when I tell them I want to study abroad in the Middle East;
• My family and friends for always being there for me through the happy, the sad, and (quite often) the anxious;
• The incredible help, support, and guidance I’ve received from people who I am just starting to know;
• And my professors, especially Marko Dumancic (for his wise mentorship!) and Zeinab Abul-Magd (for making the study of Middle Eastern History not just an interest for me, but a passion).

I will now return you to your regular programming of travel commentary; history and pop culture jokes; and insults against the French.

Oh, the Gall of It: The Charles de Gaulle Airport.

I don’t leave until Friday (tomorrow, for you East Coasters!), but in the meantime, I decided I would reward you loyal followers with this: a preview entry! When I fly to Jordan, I will be changing planes in Paris, France, at the Charles de Gaulle Airport (CDG). That got me thinking about the last time I went to CDG, when I was a just wee sophomore in high school… *cue harp flashback music*

Here, we have the Charles de Gaulle Airport:

After a long and eventful week travelling in Europe with my classmates and my AP European History teacher, we arrived at the CDG Airport the first week of February, 2008. Here’s cute little Sarah, excited to see snow because she doesn’t know she’ll be living in Ohio in three years:

The first thing that happened was that I walked through the metal detector at security and set it off. Of course. So I took out the tin of Altoids from my pocket and gave it to the security guard, who instead of running it through the x-ray machine, promptly confiscated it. So there went my good breath for the remaining flight.

(Apparently a large security threat to France. Probably still upset about all those “wars” with the British.)

So I finally made it into the actual airport part, and was ready to get some delicious food for my flight over. PSYCH! I could only afford a cold, measly pasta salad. That was the power of the Euro back in the day: rendering American high school students hungry in Parisian airports. Meanwhile, my AP Euro teacher continued his impression of Louis XIV in the airport, which consisted of him going, “Dress me! Dress me!” in a high-pitched voice. For context, this is Louis XIV:

Look at that dapper fellow! People who wanted to ask favors of him had to line up and dress him in his various clothing pieces — the closer the clothes were to skin, the closer the people were to getting favors. Knowing Europe’s long obsession with phallic jokes, one can deduce what the luckiest citizen of France got to put on the king:

(Fun fact: Hilary Swank’s “Million Dollar Baby” Oscar dress was directly inspired by this look. Very coy, Louis XIV!)

As a side note, Louis XIV should not to be confused with Louis XVI, who had a slightly different fashion sense. By which I mean a headless one:

(“I was just trying to help him with his wig, when this guillotine came out of nowhere! I don’t know what happened, I swear! We should really do something about this rogue guillotine problem, they’re a public menace! …Oh, you guys are cool with it? Thanks for being so understanding. You know, this ‘Reign of Terror’ thing sounds like a great idea!”)

It was also right after finals for the first semester, so being the overachiever I was, my friends and I paid money — that’s right, we paid actual Euros — to access the internet and check our grades. So that we could find out how we did a full ten hours before we would be able to access the internet for free at our homes. (SPOILER ALERT!: we all passed.) 

In the end, I finally ended up making it home. Of course, I was sick as could be after spending a week in close quarters with a ton of high school students, so as I was watching the movie Atonement on the plane, I finally had to turn it off as bits of blown-off head didn’t help my nausea. Then I arrived home and discovered that the person I had been supporting for the 2008 Democratic Presidential Candidate, John Edwards, had dropped out of the race. In retrospect, it was probably for the best.

(You know you’re doing a bad job hiding your extramarital affair when the National Enquirer breaks the story.)

HAPPY 2013!

Soon you will be getting updates from… 

JORDAN!

No, not that Jordan. THIS JORDAN:

More to come later.