imti7anat

Hey everyone, I'm back. This week, I had an exam and was a bit busy reading articles and notes in order to prepare. Therefore, my blog was pushed to the side while I unnecessarily prepared myself for an exam.

This past weekend I went to Wadi Hassa. Yeahhhh!! Starting by sliding down the side of a small waterfall, we hiked through the river, often climbing onto rocks and plunging down below into the murky depths that led us to a delicious hot spring. Most of the trail required walking through reeds, hugging rocks, and guessing the shape and depth of the rock on which you were about to step. It was a great time, and the several hours never got boring!

We returned, and I was starving--not dangerously, but I was very hungry. I asked my friend A7med where the best shawerma in the city was. Where is it?! Chicken or lamb? Both! Best lamb is in the second circle, and best chicken is in Swefieh. I don't live far from Swefieh, where is it biz-zabt?! So I went. I got 4 sandwiches and they were deeeeeeeelicious. I'm talking melting chicken bathing in the most delicious sauce, all cuddled by the softest bread. And four of them! Mmmmm...

This week has gone pretty quickly. It makes me wonder why it's so fast here. In fact, I've been here for nearly two months. My program is over in exactly 57 days. That's the number of Heinz varieties. That's not very long at all. I'm sad about it, even. I've made close friends, some of whom are going to Amrika right after the program, some of whom are staying for the year in il-Urdun. Yes, I'll be traveling back and forth between Israel and Jordan when I get the chance, but it will be a different life.

I love my apartment, my friends' close proximity, our dinners and naps and adventures and conversations. Some of the friends I've made here are now people I consider extremely important to my life. I didn't anticipate such emotion going into this experience, but at the same time of course it happened. I've never dropped myself in the middle of a challenge like this and taken it on so aggressively. It amazes me how infrequently I feel unsafe or uncomfortable about living here. Yes, I get uncomfortable about concealing my identity--which is necessary. However, I look around me and I feel lucky to be living in this beautiful city. I feel lucky to be surrounded by the people that surround me, both Americans and Arabs.

Going to Haifa next semester, I wonder if it will work out so well for me. I shouldn't, but I do wonder. I'm going to miss Jordan, I really fell in love with it. And yes, I love Israel, and I need to be there and bring all of my new experiences with me. I think that what I am observing in myself is a small glimpse of what the Palestinians here feel. They are Palestinians, and they are that before anything else. Of course they dream of returning to Palestine, but Jordan is still so nice. It's not easy, nowhere is, when is life ever easy? But it is nice. It is safe, beautiful, and growing. I don't want to say much more.

--Ibrahim

al jazira

It means "the island"

I live on an island. The island is at my apartment, in my head, and in a few other locations where horticultural life of the island buds instantly and withers just as quickly.

I am not alone on the island, and we frequently invite guests to observe our society. Nearly every minute, I transport to and from the island instantaneously. I will get a flash of moist ocean breeze as a thought crosses my mind. Sometimes, I return to the island to discuss my findings on the environment in Amman. Sometimes, the island is very far away. Most people cannot know what is on the island: who lives there, what happens, what is said.

Without the island, I have no home. I am not welcome.

Because I have the island, everything is possible in Amman.

--Ibrahim

bob roggio for congress

Hello all, how goes it? Shu akhbarkom?

I have just made one of the most important phone calls of the year, and that was to Bob Roggio, Democratic candidate for Representative to the US Congress for the 6th District of Pennsylvania. I saw a link on his name on the sample ballot, so I clicked it. All of the information listed was his phone number and address. So... That's right, I simply called his house and asked him why I should vote for him, right now, as I fill out my absentee ballot this second. It's literally sitting inches from my hand as I type. It's nearly complete, I just want to research some other people who are running, to be a responsible voter. Bob was a very polite man who happened to be running out the door to an event with Howard Dean, a name he dropped three times. Anyway, he insisted that I call him back later and gave me his website, but I told him that I would probably be asleep due to the time difference here in Amman. He thanked me for my interest and I thanked him for his time and wished him luck. Very sweet man, and his website got at least one vote from yours truly! ;-D

I feel the election here. It's getting so close. I'm nervous, and I'm excited. Jordan feels it coming, and everyone's asking about it, talking about it. When they hear I'm from America, they all want to know who I'm voting for. Surprisingly the Jordanian public is undecided on who their choice would be. Many are more accepting of McCain than I would imagine, considering his affiliation to the same party as You-Know-Who--they've made their minds up about him, at least. And a lot of Jordanians think that Sarah Palin is cute... Cute, maybe, but presidential? I'm sure Obama would win Jordan, but either way, they don't vote!

חג שמח to all, have a wonderful Sukkot.

--Ibrahim

leisa munasib

Hello, ya shebab! I have returned with another video. Sarah Silverman, as inappropriate as ever, reaches out to the great US of A and its Jewish voters in what hits close to home for most grandchildren of Jews. Enjoy:



On another note, this weekend was exciting and beautiful! After our Yom Kippur extravaganza, the following evening was a very serious game of Risk. But not too serious for Abe and Jackie--just a hint, this weekend is the weekend of Abe and Jackie owning. We conquered the world despite laughing the entire game while others took it very seriously. So this weekend begins a brand new world of empires: Risko Disco. Changes to the rules? You lose men from your highest country if you are not expressing joy through dance while the Arabic music plays. Got it?

Saturday. We went to Ma8tas! That is like Maghtas, but in English it is usually called Bethany-by-the-Jordan! At this site, Jesus was baptized by John...the Baptist. That's the story I got, at least. So we saw the Jordan river and got really close to Israel.

From Bethany-by-the-Jordan

That close.

Let me describe dinner, now. We walked along the road. This one:

From Bethany-by-the-Jordan

(Although this photo was taken on the way to the site, you get the idea.)

My camera died, so please forgive me that the following contains no photographs. I will do my best to paint a picture for you. I need no photos, as the memory is so rich that I will never forget it.

We followed a sign to a restaurant that took us quite near the Allenby/King Hussein Bridge--yup, to the Palestinian city of Jericho. Decided not to cross a border when a nice farmer informed us that the restaurant was back on the main road and that the one we had heard about was closed. Indefinitely. Oh well. So we had a beautiful spread of fish, hummus, and khobiz while watching the sun set over the hills of Jerusalem. We sipped our local wine and saw as the sun glared off of the Dome of the Rock, watched it sink behind the hills and saw the holy city light up as the amber sky turned to black behind it. It was beautiful and unreal.

A very interesting thing happened in my mind as I watched this magnificent munzar (view). I am okay with Jerusalem being there. I feel fine being in Jordan, with Israel over there, and me here. In fact, I feel wonderful. I know that every moment that I spend here, I am content and learning. My Arabic is improving daily, I am learning about the Palestinian and Jordanian narratives from nearly every person I see, and I am falling deeper and deeper in love with this country. Two things separate me from wishing to spend a great part of my life here and those are a) being openly Jewish is not safe or acceptable, and b) physical contact with women in public is extremely inappropriate. As well as the whole specific gender roles thing. I could not live like that forever. But Jordan is rapidly changing. All I hear is how quickly it has become such a modern place, and what does that mean when the next generation raises their children, and they theirs? What a great place to watch, and I am so glad I have a relationship with Jordan so that I will always get to watch it change for the rest of my life.

I want visitors so that I can share my life with them. Got a potential bite, any other takers? I got wastah, connections. Hit me up.

--Ibrahim

bingo for starbursts!

Mar7abtein. How is everyone? I must say, things here are great. In fact, lately I have been noticing that my life is very nice, perhaps nicer than it has been in recent years. I feel comfortable and at home in my apartment, I enjoy my friends and meet new ones all of the time, I am academically stimulated and motivated, and I am challenged every day in attempting to converse only in Arabic. I really do feel great, and feel as if I have mish mushkila--no problem.

Yom Kippur. It was not so tough. I felt reflective, tired, thirsty, and alone some of the day. I felt kind of short, rude, and cross until I recognized this--thanks to some friends pointing it out--and I forced myself to smile. At one point in the day, Ala' called us and a few of us went to a performance. Now listen carefully. This was a Palestinian and Iraqi nationalist music and poetry event, and it was beautiful. There were two men, one with a black Palestinian kuffiyeh and one with a red Jordanian kuffiyeh, tied together on two corners, waving it, and Rasha explained that "they have them together to show that Jordanians and Palestinians are like brothers." Beautiful. Between performances, massive chants started. Ari and I looked at one another, and I mentioned that I feel that if our identities were exposed, maybe we would not be so welcome or safe... It was intense, and beautiful. Full of love and passion. We had to leave for class, but I am so glad that I was a witness to an event like this because it demonstrated the importance of nationalism in the Middle East that I can only hear about or read about in the states.

Break fast last night was beautiful. We made all kinds of dishes: Ari's broccoli kugel, my spread of bageleh (the supermarket that I went to no longer makes bagels, they told me, and I was pretty sad but it worked out fine) with cream cheese and vegetables, regionally influenced salad (if I call it Israeli, will Lebanon sue me?), bread that looked a lot like challah and had raisins in it, potatoes, spaghetti with garlic and oil (not as ethnic, but quite a hit!), and desserts!! Starring... my Jewish Apple Cake, as well as some local delicacies (so local, they were apple pie, cherry pie, cheese cake, tiramisu, and Nescafe cake). It was great, not going to lie. We all enjoyed the beautiful meal with ethnic influences. Those of us who fasted, all 3, ate quickly and filled up of course. At 3am, however, lunch was eaten. Very nice evening.

Today I was considering going to a football match. Well, it was not just any football match. One team is Palestinian. One team is Jordanian. Both teams are Jordanian, as it is the Jordanian league, but it's more complicated than that. To fill in those who might be a bit behind, a huge portion of the Jordanian population consists of Palestinian refugees. The divisions between the two communities--Palestinian Jordanian and Jordanian Jordanian--exist, though not overtly in most experiences in Amman. However, at football matches? Yeah, apparently it's going to be intense. I wanted to go, but then I heard from a local friend that it wouldn't be a good idea. I remember how I felt at the concert at the University yesterday, and I imagined that with thousands more people with much more to risk and less to lose, riot police everywhere, and me being the Jew in the middle. No, nobody would know I was Jewish, but hey. Let's not play the wildcard this time. Next game, if it's less intense, maybe. But this one? I was advised against it, so I decided to save my adventures for something else. Mom and dad, are you proud of me?

I know I was going to discuss traditional marriage here, but I decided not to. It's different, and I will permit my wife to work. Take care, all, tomorrow another weekly adventure to the Baptism Site.

--Ibrahim

mumtaz

Hey everyone, it's me again. I should be asleep, but I'm kind of wired. Is it wrong that I update my American politics mainly through word of mouth, foreign newspapers, and this?



I hope not. Either way, anyone see Tina Fey do Sarah Palin lately? I thank Anna a ton for sharing me with that, cause wow that was a laugh.

Tomorrow I am taking the placement exam for the Arabic program here. It will not change my level, but it will show them that I am actually at a level higher than the one that I am in, insha'allah. I've been kind of frustrated with being portrayed incorrectly to the language program because I think they find me to be a) a freak and b) pushy. I feel bad being in my class because most of the other students don't want me to be there. I don't get called on because I know the answers.

Okay, I'm sorry for bragging or whatever, but this language is very similar to Hebrew. It's ridiculously similar in grammar and often vocabulary. I almost laugh when I hear words like samiin, which means fat, the Hebrew shamen. In addition, this is the fourth foreign language I have attempted. I have spoken to my professors privately, and they agree that I need something more. So I will most likely be getting private sessions and extra work, although I would rather sit in a more challenging class and have to complete the assignments for both levels; it is impossible for me to move levels officially because registration is closed, therefore I must complete the coursework for Level 2.

But tomorrow is my placement test, which will apparently mean nothing. I shall do my best, and I hope that that proves my ability to go at a faster pace.

Besides the language class frustration, I am getting better at Arabic daily! I speak in Arabic with friends at the university most of the time, rarely going into English. It's hard, but it's so worth it because I'm more and more comfortable with it. My comprehension is increasing a lot as well. Also, I feel great here. I've surrounded myself with the right people, and I feel great about that. I have a nice place, a good routine, I'm working out regularly, and I'm eating a ton----------

I lost 15 pounds since I've been here, and don't worry about me please. I think between Ramadan and the massive change, my body got hit. But Ramadan's over, and I am eating something at almost every waking moment. I am working out well, and I eat at least 3 or 4 meals a day. Double lunches because they're cheap and delicious. Dinner? Supersize me. Don't worry, healthy food as well. Very! The cuisine here is just right.

I made shakshouka last night for Domestic Domonday, and it was a massive success. Yom Kippur starts tomorrow evening, and we've got plans for it. I'm hosting break fast, and until sunset I will be in search of bagels. I love being a Jew in Amman, and I love getting to share that with my friends--Jews and non-Jews alike. Shana tova u'metukah, kul 3am u intum bikhair!!

More to come soon, thoughts on marriage and dating in Jordan.

--Ibrahim

kul 3am u intum bekhair

From 3id al-Fitr - Climbing to il-Fowg

I figured I would start this entry at the peak. This, my friends, is the monument at the peak (fowg) of Jabal Haroun, or the Mount of Aaron, where Aaron the prophet was buried. It was a long journey, over three hours ascent with our guide--forgive us for forgetting his name--and his donkey Simo3. If you can't pronounce that 3, don't worry. Here's Simo3:

From 3id al-Fitr - Climbing to il-Fowg

It was a pretty awesome climb, especially having woken up at 4-something in the morning to catch our first bus to Ma3an, then catch a bus from there to Wadi Musa--which did not exist, by the way. We made plenty of friends along the way, discussing everything from breakdancing to Allah knows what. Our descent was very nice, each of us taking turns riding Simo3, and we crashed at about 9pm after a gigantic and delicious dinner provided by our hotel.

Day 2, 6am, we crawl our sore bodies out to the bus. We ride down to Wadi Rum, the whole way working out the details of our day and a price that is suitable to the group for our voyage to Jabal Umm Adaami--the tallest point in Jordan--and accommodations for the night. No we are not rich, yes we have been to Wadi Rum, and yes we know exactly what we want to do. So we did it.

From 3id al-Fitr - Climbing to il-Fowg

So three of us made it up, the trail nowhere to be found until the way down. We pushed ourselves up, trying to hydrate and stay strong despite our lack of sleep and tough climb from the day before. We literally climbed this mountain, lots of being on all-fours and figuring out the best and safest way to get to the next plateau. At the peak, we enjoyed some of Assad's Arabic music, rusks with peanut butter, and views of all of Wadi Rum and Saudi Arabia, as the mountain is situated right on the Saudi border with Jordan.

Here's what happens when three adventurers hit delirium due to excitement and dehydration:



We watched the sunset from a small rock mountain near our camp and returned to a delicious dinner. Chicken that slides right off the bone and into your stomach, onions that were crisp on the outside and molten on the inside. Yeah, dinner was great. We became pretty close with the guys who worked at the camp, particularly Salim, who played the 3oud. Assad and I learned some songs from him and 3oude, another guy who worked at the camp, and we sang well after dinner until it was time to watch the stars. Along with Stephanie, the three of us followed shooting star after shooting star until it was time to go back to camp and sleep. We lost the camp, though... We see a white figure running towards us. Salim! It's no coincidence that Salim means "safe" because he ran after us to make sure we did not walk all the way back to the village as opposed to the camp, which we simply bypassed. I swear, this man treated us with such loving kindness, mostly expressed through song and the expressions that his eyes made.

The next day, all but the three of us left. We spent the day in Rum Village, getting ourselves invited into house after house, as children from the village kept promising us we could find camel milk in their homes. Most everyone treated us with the most polite hospitality, though unfortunately none had camel milk. We accepted some tea offers, then went to the Guest House where we played some cards to kill time. We made a friend, Mahmoud, with whom we exchanged card tricks, some games, and lots of language. In fact, by this day, my Arabic had progressed so much. I began to feel confident in explaining myself, describing my experiences, asking questions, and even getting to know people in the language. Especially with Assad's persistence in communicating in Arabic with everyone we met, I was able to be pulled up to a new level of understanding and ability that I am extremely proud of.

We returned to our camp in the afternoon, played some more cards with the guys at the camp, met some travelers from all over, and went back to the sunset. We ate dinner, followed by songs. This time, however, we knew the songs, and Salim played the ones he knew that we would follow. The other travelers got a kick out of us, and we felt great, comfortable, at home.

Then, something happened. Assad argues that he could write a thesis about this one experience alone, and I believe it. We had brought materials to make s'mores the night before, but our friends had left. So, the three of us offered s'mores to the entire campsite, not too many people, and our hosts. Excuse me? Something as American as s'mores were brought to a Bedouin campsite in Jordan? The reaction that the French, the Bulgarians, the Australians, and especially the Jordanians had to these sandwiches left some in bewilderment and others in disarray! Salim was amazed at such a creation, but could not eat because he had bad teeth--which we sang about in Arabic after that, while he had a roasted marshmallow on a stick sticking out of the tuning peg of his 3oud. 3oude did not enjoy the s'more so much, but he was pleased to see us try. The foreigners liked them or didn't, but either way, they were pleased to see a positive aspect of American culture. I guess we didn't factor in the effect it would create to bring s'mores to the bedouins, but it was really interesting, for sure.

We went back to the desert to watch the stars, and exhausted from the week, I felt pretty contemplative. In the past few days I had climbed two of the tallest mountains in the country, seen ancient monuments to even more ancient events, gazed into Israel and Saudi Arabia, and began to communicate--really communicate--in a language that before one month had been almost completely foreign to me. On top of that, I had done this with people that I barely knew but had become extremely close with in almost no time at all. It stuns me that such a deep relationship can form instantaneously given the right circumstances and experiences, and we had them. We did Jordan the right way on this break, and I can't be more proud of the improvised success that we found.

Today was the journey back to Amman and civilization. Dirty, covered in sand, and sore, we got back to the village where we, of course, met some Syrians who made us welcome in their cities when we get the chance to visit. Our friend Mu7amad came on the bus with his dad to collect us, and we went back to Petra, where we were to connect buses to Amman. Mu7amad sat with us the whole way, no longer the tourists that tried to bargain him down a few days before, we were now his friends and welcome to visit any time we wanted. We extended our invitations to our places in Amman as well, and the whole ride was filled with story-telling. We got to Wadi Musa (Petra), and went for a little walk with our friend. He took Assad and I (Stephanie resting on the bus) to the fruit market where we met a few uncles--they are all great men, all fat, but soft, we were assured. We got some fresh fruit and ate riman (pomegranates) on the ground of the market, saying hello and kul 3am u inta bekhair (may all year and yourself be in goodness, to translate that literally) to all those that passed, most relatives of sadigna (our friend). And that was it, really. We took the bus back, went to our respective homes, and showered out the sand and dirt that enveloped us from our awesome adventures.

From 3id al-Fitr - Climbing to il-Fowg

Thank you for sharing them with me.

--Ibrahim