Homesick...

Not sure which country, though. My countdown for coming home is getting less and less. I'm excited, sad, anxious, patient, and other polar feelings. I look back at the "Al-Manar days" where orientation at the beginning of the program was held and it was so long ago, but this semester has gone by so fast. Riding on camels, dining with Bedouins, exploring the pyramids, trekking the deserts, being offered tea at mosques...to say the least. I can't wait to get on that plane bound for home, but I realize the life I made in Amman, Jordan: the route I walk to get to the bus and back, the same people I pass on that route, the call to prayer I hear everywhere a few times a day, the security guards in front of campus who recognize me so they just let me through, saying fun Arabic phrases that really don't make sense in its literal English translation, and yes...taxi drivers that just say something awkward.

I've been going to bed and waking up in the same room and I'll miss the little humble abode I made. My host mom and sister are tight-knit so I fit right in. I'll miss having movie nights with my sister and I'll miss her doing my hair, linking arms downtown, cheering her on at basketball games, and taking crazy pictures together, etc. Yay, for homestays!

Even though I've had it up to my neck with schoolwork and cultural struggles, especially as my time here is ending, I'll miss the little quirks I've seen and developed. Amman is a pretty big city in a country made mostly of desert, so it's seems small and suffocating at times, but most of the people are very hospitable, which is rare to find in America. There's no such thing as personal space here, so it'll be weird going back home where everyone is kept at an arm's length unless you're real good friends with them, but even that takes a while. Social experiment: stand real close to someone and see how they react.

Well, before I keep rambling, I'll include pictures about some of my highlights while I was in Jordan:

Finding internet comes down to a science.

Christmas time!

Celebrating Thanksgiving is always a must.

Gotta love the camel jokes: "Jordanian limousine."

What I hear everyday, 5 times a day.

Shrines

Seeing as much of the country where you're studying abroad in is worth it, even if it means waking up early on the weekend to attend an optional class field trip. Last weekend, our Contemporary Thought in the Islamic World professor took us to about 7 different mosques to see Islamic shrines aka tombs of prophets and their companions. What may have seemed like another boring lecture with the only difference that it would be on a bus this time, turned into adventure in an area of Jordan I didn't know existed.

The first mosque we saw was not too far from Amman. I believe the city was called Salt. I'm not sure if it was because it was the first day of the weekend and everyone was sleeping in, but this city was quiet and peaceful. And the mosque we went to was on a hill that overlooked Jordan's agricultural lands, Israel/Palestine, and the Jordan River. It was like a map was taken out of the Bible and put to life in front of me. The tomb or shrine of Joshua was there.

After that, we were off to another mosque. The mosques we went to were located in picturesque areas in the Valley of Jordan. There were green trees and grass and blooming colorful flowers. You don't realize how much you miss a patch of green grass until you've been in a country that's mostly desert. :) Anyway, we saw the shrine of Jethro. This was Moses' wife, Zipporah, father. Honestly, the only mental image I had of him was from the Prince of Egypt as that jolly cartoon dancing and singing "Through Heaven's Eyes" around a campfire. Yes, my friend and I listened to that song on her iPod back on the bus. So it was quite a site to see a solemn tomb in the middle of a prayer room. Like the first mosque, we got a little tour of the view they had of the Valley of Jordan. It was a great break to see the countryside after living in a densely-populated city for a few months. At this point, it took my breath away even though CA has more-or-less the same scenery...but they don't have random goats grazing in the hills.

Even though both mosques, so far, were beautiful, I assumed that this was what it was going to be like throughout the day--bus, mosque, shrine; bus, mosque, shrine...They all blended together after the fourth stop. But I realized that I learned more than just about mosques and shrines. People--Imams and locals--were a part of this trip.

We arrived at the third mosque during Friday prayer. So we had to wait about 20 minutes. Several of us decided to see the farmer's market across the way. Talk about crazy, especially for tourists who stick out. Assuming that every whistle or word a person says is harassment, my friend and I tried ignoring the little posse of boys following us. Thank goodness, I had my sunglasses on. If you remember, they were my invisible shield in Egypt (earlier blog). HaHa. But they caught up with us and were motioning us to take a picture. I figured what they heck. They're little boys who want pictures and they weren't doing anything to us. Then one older boy took my sunglasses. My invisible shield! I'm like, "Heck no!" But he said, "Don't worry." Yeah right. HaHa. I figured I got them for $2, anyway, across the university so I could always get another. Then as my friend was taking out her camera everyone was crowding around to get in the picture. I thought I would just be in the back to avoid this excited-ness, but the boy with my sunglasses took my arm and put me in front of the group so we could all take a picture. We took a couple then he said thank you and gave back my sunglasses. I didn't know sunglasses I bought in his own country would amuse him. But they turned out to be a fun bunch who sees little diversity and when they do, they get excited by it. We finally made it back to the mosque and when we went in, there were fountains and palm trees. CA? HaHa. this was the most nice mosque we went into where we even sat on over-sized chairs in a VIP room. They treated us very politely...not as an average tourist. They even served us juice. :) It's hard saying goodbye to people who treat you so nicely and are excited to show off their mosque.

The next several mosques we went to were little ones in random areas of the country side. I don't know if this is a good comparison, but their locations were like where a cute cottage would be--green farmlands surrounded by hills. We arrived at the last mosque in the late afternoon and they waited for us all morning. We thought they were upset when we finally arrived since they waited that long, but after being showed the shrine, they asked if we wanted to stay for tea. At this point, the majority of the group just wanted to go home, but I'm glad we stayed. We were huddled in a little office where extra chairs had to be squeezed in. There was awkward silence, but the Imams (caretakers of the mosque) just smiled and were glad to serve us. Once we all started to break the ice, we had to leave since it was getting late.

It was a refreshing experience from being in the city of Amman the past couple consecutive months and not leaving it. The Imams were so helpful and excited to show us their mosque, it was cute. Earlier in the semester, our class visited a mosque that wasn't really welcoming. So this first experience sort of stuck with the view that the rest will be like that. But that wasn't true. Every mosque we visited in Jordan, thus far, on class trips treated every single one of us with respect and attention.

The Turkish Bath Experience

The semester is coming to a close, papers and presentations have been submitted, last-minute trips are planned, and finals are creeping up. A must-have break, especially in the Middle East, is going to a Turkish bath. Because winter is here, the weather is very cold in Jordan. A Turkish bath around this time was perfect. Entering a place so different and warm from the outside was a trip in itself. After changing into a swimsuit and rinsing off in the showers, we were lead to a steam room to exfoliate our skin. The ladies gave us ice-cold cloths to put over our heads and served us slushy-like hibiscus tea to keep us cool from the hot condensation drops that kept falling on us from the ceiling. Afterward, we sat in a spa under a pretty dome ceiling until more ladies called us up to give us a good hard scrub. It was like all the pollution from taxi smog and cigarette smoke from the past couple of months were being scrubbed away. After an exhausting scrub, we were lathered in oil ready for a massage. Right before falling asleep, we were lead to a sauna where we each claimed a bench, lied down, and wished time would stop before heading back out to the city of Amman. But were were refreshed and ready.
This blog isn't as long as my other experiences, probably because my brain was asleep half the time, but if you ever have a chance, a Turkish bath should be on your to-do list. And if you happen to be in Amman, go to Al Pasha. :)

Wadi Hasa

So I was wearing my bathing suit, had my backpack on, life jacket secured, and water shoes ready for the wet hike of Wadi Hasa. But something was wrong with this picture...We were standing in the desert. No water was in sight. From where we were standing, the landscape was just yellow hills of sand. Of course, we had to joke about this. As we were making our way down the hill, greenery began appearing, but it was just little tomato gardens. Then we heard the sound of rushing water. One by one, our guides prepared us to slide down a natural water slide made of rock. It was angled in a way that we couldn't see what it was like when we made it down, but once we did, the beginning of our adventure began. We ended up in a pool surrounded by large rocks. So it was like a big tub. All we could see when we looked up was blue sky. Once everyone slid down, we swam to another pool where the current was calm. There was a big rock that everyone was jumping off. Probably about 20 feet before hitting the water. After having our fix of the wonderful adventure we were about to embark we continued our 5-hour hike of swimming and walking.

We did some more jumping off rocks in a couple places, walked under a little water fall, and floated under rock tunnels. It reminded me of a Disney land ride coming to life. Other places felt like we were in a jungle...I do believe the reference to Vietnam was used a lot since we had to walk chest-deep in water brushing away long leaves from our faces. And trampling on bushes when we were on dry land. No joke, it felt like a jungle in the middle of the desert. Also, there were goats grazing as their Bedouin owners were near by getting a kick out of us. I remember finally reaching an open spot after walking through tall plants with long leaves and a Bedouin was right above me chilling on a rock watching us American students laugh every time we tripped coming out from the plants.

When I heard "water hike" I didn't know that it meant being fully emersed in water most of the time. It's hard to imagine such a place existing in the valley of a desert. It was a 360 degree view of a natural oasis. We took a break sun bathing on a rock while people enjoyed the thrill of jumping off from it into the water. Isolated in the desert in this environment was not all half bad. It was hard coming back to the city of Amman later that night. But the best part before leaving, was hanging out in the hot springs for an hour. The sun was setting and we were getting chilly from the cold water so resting in a natural spa was a perfecting ending to the day.

Obviously, I couldn't take my camera so I found some pictures on google that can show you what Wadi Hasa is like. I hope you can imagine this random oasis running along the valleys between sandy hills in the desert.

Jordan: Jesus and Moses Style

It was a fun day walking in Jesus' and Moses' footsteps in my Biblical Jordan tour with CIEE. We began with Bethany to visit Jesus' baptism site. His exact place is controversial since both Israel and Jordan claim he was baptized on their side of the river, but as long as I touched the same water he did, I'm happy. Our tour guide did give several Bible verses that supported Jordan's claim of having the baptismal site on their side. Unfortunately, the river was more like a little stream. It used to be 60 meters in width, I believe, but it's much more narrow now. I could've swam across to the other side (where Israel was) in less than a minute. But it was still a calm and beautiful place to meditate about what took place there.

After the Jordan River, we made our way to Mount Nebo where we saw the Promised Land through Moses' eyes. The sky was hazy and dusty so we couldn't see that far, but it's still a fantastic site to see the vast deserts of Jordan, Israel, Palestine, the Dead Sea, and the West Bank (to name a few). There was also a structure of a serpent around a stick that represented the story when the Israelites sinned so they were bit by snakes. Then Moses put one on a stick for the people who were bitten to look at and get healed. I don't know about you, but I just learned that this structure is the same as the medical symbol due to its healing story.

After Mount Nebo, we went down to Madaba to visit St. George's church. It was a cute little town much more quiet and less crowded than Amman. Inside the church is the famous floor mosaic of a map of Jordan and it's neighbors. After that short visit, we had a nice Jordanian lunch before visiting the mountain in Mkawir where John the Baptist's head was served on a platter due to King Herod Antipus' promise to his stepdaughter's, Salome's, request after performing a dance. We had a little hike up to the top of this mountain where some columns of the king's palace were still standing. Biblical stories are vivid when you're actually at the sites it took place.

Post Office...or Interrogation Building?

So mom and dad mailed me a package containing a MacBook battery about a month ago. I finally received a notice in my CIEE mailbox this week about this package and that I had to go to the downtown post office. But I had to go quickly so the post office wouldn’t open my package thinking it was a bomb just sitting on their shelves. I was so happy that my Jordanian peer tutor offered to meet me in downtown so she can accompany me to the post office and so we can do some shopping afterwards. Too bad receiving my package took up the majority of our time…enough to blog about it.

When we walked in the Jordan post office, it looked like what a normal post office would. There was a nice long counter with different lines for stamps, letters, etc. So I showed the man my notice and he said that I had to go upstairs. My peer tutor greatly helped with the language barrier. We went upstairs and found a “post office-looking” counter. Again, I showed the man my notice and he said that I had to go to the room at the end of the hall around the corner. So off we went. Again, I handed my notice to a man sitting at a desk. He looked at it, saw my CA driver’s license as identification, and had my package received. It was nice to see the familiar handwriting of my dad’s. I thought I would be on my way, but oh no--this was only the beginning of my post office experience.

There was another man in a uniform sitting across the room smoking his cigarette. He told me to see him with my package and a piece of paper that he gave me, so I’m all like, “Oookay.” I gave him the paper, he looked at it, then asked me to open my package. I’m thinking in my head as I’m opening it, “What the heck, is this a freakin’ interrogation room or post office? I just want my non-dangerous battery.” While I was having difficulty opening my package with a knife, the man just leaned back in his chair and kept puffing his cigarette. I strongly dislike the smell, so this didn’t help the situation with smoke all up in my face. My peer tutor offered to help, so I held the package while she tried opening it. I don’t like sharp objects slicing towards me, either. We finally got it open and he asked me to take out the contents. I took out the battery and he asked me how much it cost. I said, “I don’t know, I didn’t buy it, my parents did.” So I said a random number in Arabic, khamsiin ($50). He showed me the customs paper my dad filled out and said that it cost $130. Then I said, “Ya, that sounds right.” I continued my thoughts of why waste his time asking me how much it cost while he had the amount written on the customs form in front of him. He signed another piece of paper, gave it to me, told me to put the battery back in the box, and place it on the shelf next to him. I had my package, opened it, and now he wanted me to leave it in the room while I get another signature in order to take it home. My peer tutor and her little sister led me to the room I had to get the signature from. Another man in uniform (I’m guessing they were customs) signed it and sent me to another room for another signature…long story short, we went through 10 (maybe I’m exaggerating) different rooms different men to sign different papers. At this point, it definitely did not feel like I was in a post office anymore. We were even sent to go up another floor for another signature. My peer tutor and I had to laugh at how many times we were going to be repeating this process. I even had to fork up a 24 dinar fee since my package was sent through regular mail instead of through FedEx or something. We went back down to the 2^nd floor where I had to pay another 5 dinar, get a piece of paper stamped and signed before going back to the original room where my package was waiting for me. I gave the man sitting at his desk my paper and after some more signing, he gave me the okay to take my package.

What would probably take 10 minutes in America, took close to an hour, here in Jordan along with visiting rooms and asking for signatures that all blurred together. Thank you, parents…I said I didn’t need a new battery, but I guess without you, I wouldn’t have written this blog…

Just one of those Traveler's Days...

What was supposed to be a laid-back day turned out to be a little frustrating. One thing I'm still getting used to is that most of my plans have the opposite outcome. All I had for the day was Arabic in the morning. After chatting with my Jordanian peer tutor for an hour, I ran around the track--my sanctuary. Then I took a nice cold shower ready to go home early to relax before shopping with friends. Since Thursday is the beginning of the weekend, a lot of my friends were off doing their own thing already. I didn't feel like hailing down a taxi by myself so I figured that I should try the bus and figure out the route to take home. In the mornings, I take the #52 bus to the university so the driver told me to look for the same one to take home.

Getting on the bus is difficult. There is no concept of waiting in line here so it's basically first come, first serve with a lot of pushing and shoving involved. I kept telling myself that this is the weekend and I will be home soon to relax. I claimed my seat and took a sigh of relief. "I will be home soon." We were across the street from where I usually wait for the bus in the morning to take to the university. I wasn't in the mood to cross 2 streets crowded with cars so I figured that the bus will turn around up the hill and make it back down on the other side where I can walk through quiet side streets. Because in the mornings as I wait, I see a #52 bus on the other side of the street and a couple minutes later, a #52 bus comes down my street. I assumed wrong about the bus turning up the hill. I learned the hard and long way that #52 buses are several minutes apart from each other on their route so the bus I see across the street and the one that shortly appears down my road are not the same buses.

What was supposed to be a 3o-minute ride, turned out to be 2 hours. We never turned around to go back down my street, but just kept making turns taking me further and further from the place I live. At this point, I was freaking out inside. I got a good dose of Amman that day. Eventually, I was the last one on the bus and there was no way I was going to get off in an area I didn't know existed. Alhamdo lellah that my bus driver was nice and said my situation was not a problem. So I just chilled out in the front seat and talked a little with him about American and Jordan waiting for the bus to fill up.

As extremely annoyed as I was with this turn of events, it's important as a traveler in a foreign country to have a sense of humor and go ahead and be that awkward tourist roaming the streets.

For fun, I'll add some pictures about my daily walking routine to the bus stop:

The street I live on...

Then I make a left on this street...

And another left...

A right on this street...

Straight here...

And this is where I wait for my bus. :)