New Plan

I have a plan for the next 2 months! Can you believe it?? Me! who never has a plan for more than a couple weeks in advance! I’m still recovering from the shock…

So I found out about a week ago that George is staying in the States until the end of August. And I’m LOVING Beirut, my Arabic classes are going well and I’m making friends. So…I’ve decided to stay here for 2 months instead of the originally scheduled one. Huzzah!

Only hiccup being that Stephen is leaving at the end of the month, also to go back to the states. So there goes my free lodging…And so, I began looking for an apartment.

Apartment hunting in Beirut in the summer is…interesting. There are a couple of websites I found that have apartment listings, but most are looking for long-term tenants, not summer vacationers. And there are almost no hostels. The one that I did find, in Gemmaze (neighborhood near Martyr Square), was pretty run down.

A map of Beirut with the different neighborhoods and the beaches labeled - Gemmaze is just off the map to the right. There are better maps I'm sure, but this is one of the only ones I could find online just now with the areas clearly labeled.

So…I kept looking. Turns out there’s a Craig’s List Beirut – who knew?? Well, not many people, because there’s almost nothing posted, but I did manage to turn up one post for an apartment in Hamra, near AUB (the American University of Beirut), which is actually close to where I’m living now. A few phone calls later, and I set up an appointment to visit the place.

It’s fantastic – a kind of Auberge Libanese. There are 5 people living there now, and with me, it’ll be 6. They’re all students and they rent out 2 of the rooms in the summer to travelers. Some Lebanese American guys, a Turkish girl and I think the other girl is Lebanese. Anyway, it seems perfect so I rented the room! Yay! No more hunting!! A huge relief, because walking from neighborhood to neighborhood in hot, humid Beirut, is a great way to get to know the city, yes, but it’s exhausting and I melt in the heat. At 3pm, the city feels empty – turns out that’s because I’m the only one stupid enough to walk around at 3pm in full sun…oops. My bad.

Anyway, I’m psyched about the apartment!! I move in on July 27th and I’ll stay until August 24th. Then it’s back to Amman or Ramallah, or wherever this new job takes me!

Coffee Coffee Coffee

When I’m not in class or at the apartment, I’m usually at cafés here in Beirut, studying and working. Cousin Stephen introduced me to this great place, right around the corner from the apartment called Café Younes, and it’s quickly becoming my regular spot.

The coffee is delicious and an iced latte or a frozen lemonade with mint on a hot summer day is all I need to keep me happy! The café was started in 1935 by a man named Amin Younes, who had been living in abroad in Brazil, working on coffee plantations. When Younes came back to Beirut, he opened the café and hired the now legendary, then 16-year old, Abou Anwar, to roast the coffee beans. Apparently Younes and Anwar’s coffee roaster was the first in downtown Beirut. Awesome. Plus, they mixed beans imported from Brazil, Yemen and Ethiopia to create a unique blend, which they then used to make traditional Arabic coffee.

Outside seating at Cafe Younes

The original café was destroyed in 1975, during the Lebanese Civil War. But Younes rebuilt. And now, the café has expanded to four locations around Beirut, with a whole variety of custom coffee blends, Abou Anwar is still in charge of roasting, and Amin Younes, the grandson of the founder, Amin Younes, now runs the business. There’s free wireless and a huge mix of people – the place is only open until 11pm, but it’s packed until then. I love it!!

Coffee culture here in Lebanon, and throughout the Arab world for that matter, is huge. Apparently, it’s even said that a Lebanese who doesn’t love coffee, isn’t really Lebanese. So I guess that means that, at least in this respect, I’m definitely Lebanese!

An Arabic Coffee Pot

To make traditional Arabic coffee, you take finely ground coffee beans and boil them for a while in special coffeepots – either a dallah or an ibrik. It’s then served in small, espresso-sized cups. Mmmm boy! Very strong, very thick, very good. When you’ve finished your coffee there are always coffee grounds left sitting on the bottom of your cup. Growing up, some of my aunts used to read my fortune, by examining the patterns made by the remaining coffee grounds – “…hmmm…i see you, thin, not like you are now…and with a husband. So, habibti, lose weight and you’ll get married!” oh, the memories…

Oh little town of Bethlehem…

Today was our last day in Palestine (tear!). But a very good last day, so no worries. This morning we all drove up to Bethlehem together – me, Stephen, Jad, Shadee, George and Mariam. Transport to and from Bethlehem is pretty restricted given that the wall is built around the city’s northern edge and cuts through some of the neighborhoods. So, surprise surprise, another checkpoint to enter in, and then finally, we were in the little town of Bethlehem! Mariam had some work to do, so the rest of us set off exploring the city.

Downtown Bethlehem

Old Gate: Qoos Az-Zarara

It’s a beautiful place – cobblestone streets, busy markets, and SO much history. With all the turquoise and light blue painted doors, it reminded me a bit of Greece. Our first visit was to the Church of the Nativity, built over the spot where, according to Christian tradition, Jesus was born. On our way there, we walked under an arch, labeled the ‘Old Gate: Qoos Az-Zarara,’ which is apparently the Qoos (arch) through which Mary and Joseph entered Bethlehem, before Mary gave birth to Jesus.

Stephen, George, Shadee, and Jad in front of the Church of the Nativity

Helena!

Just like the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the Church of the Nativity was built in the early 300s CE, under orders from Helena, Emperor Constantine’s mom, when she discovered that Jesus had been born on the site. This original church burned, and the modern church dates from the mid-500s CE, when it was rebuilt by Emperor Justinian I. Don’t you love my nerdy history lessons?? Indulge me, pretend you do.

Interior of the Church of the Nativity

Inside the church, and down a flight of stairs, is the Grotto of the Nativity, a cave beneath the church and over the site where Jesus was born. Near the altar that mark’s Jesus’ birth spot is another altar which apparently marks the spot where Mary lay Jesus in the manger. Cool beans.

Cousins! in Bethlehem

After visiting the church, we walked around Bethlehem some more with a stop for souvenirs and some ice cold water. Okay, random tangent – a lot of the signs here in Palestine, and also in Jordan for that matter, are written in Arabic and also in English. The thing is Arabic is written phonetically – you write words exactly as they sound – unlike English. So, translations are sometimes full of cute mistakes…

Who 'da Ho, dug? You 'da Ho, dug.

Around 3pm, it was time to go so we said goodbye to George and Mariam, and Stephen, Jad, Shadee and I took a cab from Bethlehem to the Israeli border with Jordan. It was 115 degrees Fahrenheit/46 degrees Celsius!!!!! I felt like an egg sizzling in a pan. It was insane. Waiting waiting waiting, the car was searched, questions were asked, visas were bought, more questions were asked, more waiting and finally we were through. Significantly easier getting out of Israel than into Israel.

Goats and Donkey crossing on our cab ride through Jordan

From the final checkpoint, we took a bus to the Jordanian checkpoint, and from there we took a cab back to George and Mariam’s house in Subehi where we showered off a days worth of sweat and dirt, had dinner with Mariam’s mother and then packed for our trip to Beirut tomorrow, before passing out in our beds.

View from the cab, driving through Jordan

Twenty-Fo’a, Shut the Do’a

Two Four! oh yeah. I

Although the real celebration will be tomorrow when Stephen gets back with Jad and Shadee, today is my official birthday – woohoo! George and I were supposed to drive into Amman today, but those plans were cancelled at the last minute so I spent my 24th in Ramallah! How nuts is that?? George and Mariam got me beautiful orange roses, a CD called ‘Lullabies from the Axis of Evil’, and a book of selected poems by Mahmoud Darwish, translated into English, entitled ‘Unfortunately , it was Paradise’.  Perfect birthday gifts!

Lullabies from the Axis of Evil CD Cover

I was psyched about the book, because I’ve been wanting to read Darwish’s poetry, and the CD just cracked me up. It’s a compilation of lullabies from all of the countries Bush labeled as enemies of the U.S., part of the modern day ‘axis of evil’.  Aside from the awesome and hilarious title, the idea behind the CD was cool – to show how similar the lullabies mothers sing to their children are, all over the world – to highlight the humanity and the similarities between peoples that have often been reduced, in references by the U.S. government, to simply ‘the enemy’.

After presents we went out to a little place where we had a breakfast mezze (selection of appetizers – sort of like lots of tapas) of olives, hummus, cucumbers, tomatoes, lebneh (strained yogurt – it becomes thick, like a spreadable cheese), tabbouleh, foul (pronounced ‘fool’, it’s made of brown fava beans, partially or completely mashed, which are slow-cooked and served with olive oil, chopped parsley, onion, garlic and lemon juice), pita bread, and fried eggplant. Sooo good!

After breakfast George and Mariam dropped me at Pronto where I sipped on ice cold lemonade blended with mint and ice – my new favorite drink – and FINISHED editing the ‘Cultural Routes in Palestine’ UNESCO report! Oh yeah. Such a good feeling. My first assignment completed and submitted, George came over to the cafe and started prepping me on my new projects. The rest of the afternoon was spent working with George, editing down his and Mariam’s latest film for Al-Jazeera to a 3-minute short, to be submitted to a Gaza film festival. I’m working with film!! Okay, granted I’m not wielding the camera, directing the shots or scripting witty dialogue, but I’m at least playing some part! You have to start somewhere, right??

Now, we’re all back at the apartment resting up for awhile, and in about a half an hour, George and I are going out to the bar ‘Blue’ for a little birthday cocktail. Good day!

al-Quds

I just spent the day in al-Quds (aka Jerusalem)! You know, the holy city for Muslims, Christians and Jews, one of the oldest cities in the world (dates from 4th century BCE), the city where Jesus was crucified, the city the Crusades were fought over…no big deal.

No, in all seriousness – what the what?!? Too good to be true!

George, Mariam, Stephen and I woke up early this morning, had eggs with zaatar, pita bread and olives for breakfast and then piled into the car. The drive to Jerusalem took us somewhere between 30-45 minutes + a passport check at the Jerusalem checkpoint and we were in! As we drove into the city, George was pointing out the distinctions between East Jerusalem, which is Palestinian and West Jerusalem, which is Israeli – it’s bizarre to see the similarities and contrasts of these peoples living side by side. Our first stop, was at the top of the Mount of Olives for an insane view over all of the city.

Me on the Mount of Olives, overlooking al-Quds

Suleman the Magnificent and his sweet hat

Hadrian

After our scenic detour we made our way down to the Damascus Gate, one of the main entrances into the old city. A gate has stood at that spot since at least the 2nd century A.D., constructed by the Romans, under the rule of Hadrian. However, the gate that stands there today, was built in the mid-1500s by the Ottomans, under the rule of Suleman the Magnificent. Sweet!

Uncle George and I in front of the Suleman the Magnificent's Damascus Gate

When you enter through the gate, you’re right in the middle of the souk (market) that runs through the center of the old city. All of a sudden, you’re bombarded with thousands of different colors and smells, fabrics and foods, jewelry and carvings – it’s amazing!! I can’t do it justice with descriptions so I’ll just post some photos

Inside the souk in the old city

Zaatar Mountain! Spices for sale in the souk

Nuts and candies for sale in the souk

In the end, we couldn’t resist the allure of the intoxicating smells wafting from the sweet shops, and made a stop in the souk for some hot knafe, which is probably my all time favorite Lebanese pastry. Oh and get this, apparently, a couple days ago, a Palestinian guy set the Guinness Record for making the world’s largest knafe. This man is my HERO.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Bellies stuffed and huge smiles plastered on our faces we wound our way out of the souk and over to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. So, if you didn’t know, a sepulchre is “a small room or monument, cut in rock or built of stone, in which a dead person is laid or buried.” So the Church took its name from Jesus’ sepulchre, which lies inside the church. Yup. That’s right. This is where Jesus was buried. Insanity.

The church was built in the early-300s CE, under the rule of the Roman emperor Constantine I – you know – the first Christian Roman Emperor, the guy who changed Byzantium to Constantinople. Constantine’s mom, Helena, was one of those people who always needed a project – kind of like my Mom. So, Constantine gave her the task of going through the Holy Land (which was then all part of his empire), digging up all the Christian relics, and building churches on the sites of her finds to promote them.

Now, before the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was constructed, there was a temple to Venus standing on the site. Helena was not a fan of Greco-Roman paganism, so she had Venus’s Jerusalem temple demolished. I’m not saying that Venus cursed her for it, but Helena did get divorced and was never remarried so…who knows? Maybe it’s just me, but I’d say, when in doubt, don’t do anything to piss off the goddess of love.

Anyway, after Helena had it demolished, she decided to excavate under the ruins of the former temple. According to legend, during these excavations three crosses were uncovered. Helena thought that one of the crosses might be the ‘True Cross’ that Christ was crucified on, so to test her theory she supposedly let a sick woman touch all three crosses. After touching the third cross the woman was healed, Helena decided that meant the cross was the ‘True Cross’ (meaning that this must have been the site of Jesus’ crucifixion) and she ordered the construction of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre on the spot. The church also contains the ‘Angel’s Stone’, a piece of the stone that sealed Jesus’ tomb, and his sepulchre itself which was discovered during the construction of the Church.

I’ve never been a particularly religious person, by I do have to say that it’s incredibly moving to see people from all over the world coming to this church. They believe so completely in the power of the church and the relics inside – everyone’s crying, lighting candles, kissing the stone that Jesus was laid upon after he was taken off the cross. And they’ve been doing this for centuries now! Big example – Crusaders used to visit this church and they would carve small crosses into one of the church walls – sort of a ‘I was here’ mark. The wall is covered with hundreds of crosses now. It’s amazing!

Touching the stone that Helena claimed Jesus was laid upon after being crucified

One kind of funny tidbit about the church – sometime in the early-mid 1800s, someone was washing the church windows or repairing part of the exterior, and placed a wooden ladder on the facade of the church. The guy forgot his ladder, years passed and no one ever moved it. And now the ladder, which is still there, has come to be called ‘The immovable ladder.’ Tourists take photos of it. And just like that this guy’s forgotten ladder has become a part of this church. Can’t help but smile at that

The Immovable Ladder

After visiting the church, we were walking around the city when we bumped into an old friend of George’s, Albert. When George was around my age, he was working as a photojournalist in Palestine, met Albert and ended up renting a room from him during his stay. The two have been friends ever since. When we ran into Albert, he was sitting outside with some of his friends, smoking their narghiles and drinking tea. We sat down and joined them.

Tea and argyles with Albert and his buds in al-Quds

Albert’s stories were all in Arabic, but I hear he’s a crack up. And honestly, this dude talks more than I do. It was impressive.

Ramallah

First full day in Ramallah! Okay, so for those of you who don’t know, Ramallah (which basically translates to ‘mountain of God’) is a city in the West Bank, populated by around 27,000 people.

Today, we all had to work. George and Mariam were editing at the studio, Stephen was writing in the apartment, and I headed into the city to do my work. I love working at cafes and in other public spaces – makes the whole experience so much more pleasant, and when you do need a break, there’s quality people watching at your fingertips.

Today, I spent most of the afternoon at a cafe called Pronto. Right now I’m editing a grant proposal for UNESCO. The document is 90 pages long, and it’s taking a loooong time to edit BUT the project proposal is fascinating. It’s all about promoting tourism in Palestine by creating paths that trail through the country, stopping at all the important religious, cultural and historical sites. An added bonus for me – the proposal includes details on each of the sites that the proposed routes will connect, meaning I’m learning a ton about Palestine in the process.

Downtown Ramallah

Fresh squeezed lemonade and manaaish (bread with zaatar), a comfortable chair, interesting work, great people watching, and a sunny afternoon in Ramallah. Who could ask for anything more??

Mahmoud Darwish

I came back to the apartment around 5pm and we all went out for a walk around the neighborhood that took us over to the grave of Mahmoud Darwish. Darwish is one of, if not the most famous Palestinian poet of the modern age, playing a critical role in the development of ‘poetry of resistance.’ I didn’t know who he was and when I asked, the reaction was exactly the same as when I asked my friends in Spain who Raul (the famous footballer for Real Madrid) was. This guy is a BIG deal. Ooops. Played the ignorant American card and promised to look for an English translation of his poetry – another on a long list of books I’ve promised to read while I’m here.

There were two guards on duty by his tomb, just sitting on the ground having tea. They recited some of Darweesh’s poetry for us, but it was in Arabic so I didn’t understand. Ah! Can’t wait to go to Beirut next month and start taking classes!! Stephen translated bits of the conversation for me.

Cousin Stephen in front of Mahmoud Darwish's grave

Okay, side-note. It’s hilarious when my family translates Arabic for me. I don’t understand anything that’s being said to me, but they seem to assume that I’m understanding everything except for a few very specific details, so they’ll just translate a word or two, or tell me who a person is that was mentioned in the conversation. It’s hilarious. Basically, I hear: alkdsjflkasjdflkjaslkdfjaksj asjdlkfjaslkfjklasjdf and eventually someone turns to me and whispers, “That means ‘green.’ Oh, and Lena is Mariam’s cousin.” So the only thing I take away from the 30 minute conversation is that at some point in the middle of all the aksfjklasjdflajsfkldjalskjfdakl, something that may or may not be significant is or was green, and Mariam has a cousin named Lena. I have found it’s better to just smile and nod along with the conversation, pretending I understand and hoping against hope that no one asks me any questions.

After a lot of curious questioning later, I did find out that the guards speaking to us were both refugees from a village that’s now part of Israel.  One had been in jail from the age of 15-20 for trying to cross the border to visit his family, who he hadn’t and still hasn’t seen in years. Here, people’s stories are so intense – I can’t imagine living out your whole life through war and under occupation. It’s horrible. I don’t know how they don’t walk around fuming mad all the time, but everyone I’ve met so far has been so wonderful – nice, happy, open. It’s remarkable. They always want to share their stories and it can be a bit overwhelming. I’ve discovered that I’m more emotional than Uncle George – he takes in the stories calmly, asking intelligent questions while I find myself crying, enraged, and/or frustrated.

After that, we just walked around a bit before heading home for some fresh cherries (my stomach has finally adjusted to the local fruit. So relieved!) and chatting.

*Random fact about Ramallah – the Mayor since 2005 is Janet Michael, the first woman to hold that position. Maabruk (Congratulations) Janet!

Mayor of Ramallah - Janet Michael

Viva Palestine!

We’re in Palestine!! This is so amazing!!! We’re chilling in Ramallah in George and Mariam’s apartment. Cousin Stephen is here with us as well – he came in from Beirut this morning to conduct research for books he’s writing - one on Arab photography and the other on Islamophobia*. Meanwhile, George and Mariam will be meeting with their editor who’s going to help them finish up their latest film for Al Jazeera.

Getting here was definitely an adventure. What should be a 1 1/2 hour drive, becomes a 6+ hour ordeal thanks to what feel like dozens of checkpoints.

I’ll begin at the beginning. After we got Stephen from the airport, we drove to the Jordanian border with Israel.  Checkpoint #1, Jordanian military guys checked our passports. They actually know George and Mariam because they cross the border so much for work. They were friendly, and basically just let us drive right through.

Drive for 15 minutes or so and…Jordanian checkpoint #2! Everyone out of the car, all the bags through a scanner, inside to get visas. Not too long of a wait, but it’s over 100 degrees outside, so it feels a bit longer. Everyone piles back in the car.

Drive for a few minutes and now Israeli checkpoint #1! Pull into a parking spot while Israeli military people ask LOTS of questions. That takes about 30-45 minutes.

Drive for about 2 minutes and now Israeli checkpoint #2! This time out of the car for more questions. Who is your father? Who is your grandfather? (Lucky for me my father and paternal grandfather have Irish last names, so I was asked fewer questions than I would have if I’d had to give the Lebanese surnames of Saddic and Azar from Mom’s side) Next up was a list of every Arab country, and a string of questioning centered around whether or not I’ve been to any of these countries and why I was there? And then she asked all the questions again. I have no idea why. I just answered dutifully. But she didn’t stamp my passport. So I can still travel to Lebanon – score! This whole process took about 30-45 minutes per person. There were 4 of us.

Next up….you guessed it – Israeli checkpoint #3! Now you take everything out of the car again, scan it and wait in a small room with your bags while they search your car and hold your passports. That took about an hour. Very hot, sticky and smelly. The car was cleared, yay! Now we wait in line to get insurance or a permit or something, so that we could legally drive the car in Israel.

And finally, we’re out! We made it through!!

Crossing into Israel, you’d have no idea there was a water shortage in the region – sprinklers are watering large fields, massive orchards of palm trees (which, admittedly don’t need much water). It really was beautiful. Then you drive into the Palestinian territories, and the water shortage is quite apparent. Parched earth abounds. But that’s another story for another time.

What’s ridiculous is passing by signs that read Jericho, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, etc. !!! These are cities I always read about in history books, and now I’m actually here!!

Graffiti on the Palestinian side of the wall

We drove past the apartheid wall and into Ramallah around 7pm. This city is amazing. Gritty and pulsing with energy, it’s a far cry from calm, clean-cut Amman.  I love it! We were all starving so we went out for dinner at this fun place in the city center. The place was full and bustling, red table cloths, Fairuz playing on the stereo, and a dinner of grilled chicken with sumac, hummus and pita bread for dinner. HEAVEN!

View from George and Mariam's apartment in Ramallah

After dinner, it was back to the apartment for bed. What a day, huh?? I’m going to sleep in Palestine!

*Stephen has since published his book Islamophobia: The Ideological Campaign Against Muslims if you want to check it out.

Biking – Jordanian Style

Mariam’s cousin, Saleem, and his girlfriend, Noor, invited me, George, Areej (a close friend of George and Mariam from Gaza) and Mariam to go biking down by the Dead Sea. I’ve never been to the Dead Sea and it’s been way too long since I’ve been biking so I signed up. George decided to come too and Mariam and Areej said they’d drive down and meet us for dinner later.

Noor and Saleem

Everyone kept saying it would be easy, but when I was in Madrid, my friends said they would take me for an ‘easy’ bike ride around the city – 6 ½ hours of uphill biking later, soaked in sweat with massive bruises on my bum, feeling pathetically out of shape, I had sworn to exercise more and never trust anyone who said that a bike ride was ‘easy’. Then I’d gone home and eaten 2 kebabs and downed one of those huge Mahou cervezas. Mmmm boy! Much more enjoyable than the bike ride.

But anyway, back to the Dead Sea. It sounded too interesting to pass up, so I put on my sneakers and hoped for the best.

Following the bus down to the Dead Sea

Everyone was driving down in a bus, but Mariam and Areej were craving air conditioning, so we followed behind in the car. The drive was pretty barren – all desert, although we did pass by a series of ‘Baptism Site Grocery Stores.’ Cracked me up. We drove for about an hour and as we got further and further below sea level, it just got progressively hotter and hotter. We went in the evening so that it would be cooler, but it was still close to 100 degrees when we arrived at 8pm.

Jesus' Baptism Site Grocery Store...#3

We got on our bikes and I realized pretty quickly that ‘easy’ was actually an understatement. You know, it’s funny. Growing up, when I would come home and say that I didn’t particularly like sports, Mom would just sort of say casually, ‘That’s normal, no one in our family is good at sports. Don’t worry about it. Just have fun and worry about your homework instead.’ And so during tennis practice I’d hide behind the baseball diamond instead of running laps, and bring Oreos as snacks to practice, all guilt free. I played basketball for a year and the one time I actually got hold of the ball in a game – a total fluke – I shot and scored two points for the other team. I am not what you would ever call a ‘star’ athlete.

Uncle George - Cyclist Extraordinaire!

Just to give you an idea how easy this bike ride was, and how bad everyone else was – George and I were the star athletes of the group. It was hilarious. I don’t know if it’s an Arab thing, a Jordanian thing, or what, but it was brilliant! It was like biking with a large group of Mom’s family. The entire route was completely flat, save for two small hills. EVERYONE walked up the hills and when I tried to bike up, they all made faces – biking up a 3-foot hill was showing off. Not one to show off, I gave in and walked the remaining two steps. At the top of the second hill, one guy actually collapsed and had to be splashed repeatedly with water, two girls fell…while they were walking their bikes – it was great.

The trip itself was really scenic too – so beautiful. We went through orchards of olive trees, bananas, and corn, and past Bedouin tents. We had to break for shepherds crossing the street with their goats and sheep.

Me, on one of our many breaks

We took frequent breaks and biking through banana fields we stopped to pick some fruit and have a snack. The whole trip ended at a restaurant by the sea, the bikes were loaded back on the bus and we all went in for dinner. Now that’s my kind of exercise.

Too many cherries…

Zaatar

I woke up around 10:30 am after a semi-restless night – hoorah for jet lag, huh? George and I had eggs with zattar (a spice made of dried thyme, oregano, toasted sesame seeds, salt and cumin), shankleesh (a wonderfully strong cheese), pita bread, fresh cherries and Arabic coffee for breakfast. It was delicious and I was starving so I wolfed it all down pretty quickly.

Shankleesh

Mariam’s mother came in a bit later and I sat out on the porch and talked to her while she smoked her Gauloises cigarettes – a habit she unashamedly admits hasn’t killed her yet and if it does, whatever, it makes her happy. She’s German so she speaks English with a slight accent, but she’s completely fluent and having been married to a Palestinian man for so many years, she speaks Arabic as well. Definitely an interesting character.

Problem is, while I was talking to her, I started to feel a little queasy. Finally, after about an hour and a half, I had to excuse myself and bolted down to my bathroom where stayed for over an hour….

Damn those cherries. They were so perfect, so juicy, and just bursting with flavor and I fell for it. What a moron.

After that uncomfortable episode, I felt a little better, took some pepto bismal and munched on pretzels for the rest of the afternoon. Lots of lying on the couch clutching my stomach. Eventually, the medicine or the pretzels or lack of fresh fruit in my stomach helped, and I started to feel a little better. Will be sticking to a bland diet for the next few days…

Aunt Mariam

Around 4:30pm, I went downstairs to see Mariam (George’s wife) who had just gotten home from running errands in Amman all morning. We chatted and she introduced me to her ELEVEN cats. Having this many cats around, as much as I like cats, can be a little creepy. Most aren’t that friendly, but there are two brand new baby kittens and I am determined to train them to like snuggles before I leave.

Max and Morris - The two new kittens

Kousa

The lazy day rolled by, and before I knew it George and I were eating grape leaves and kousa (stuffed zucchini) with yogurt for dinner. After our delicious feast, we headed upstairs to watch Al-Jazeera English, which included a piece that George and Mariam had made about a Lebanese cartoonist who recently made a clay-mation film about daily life in Beirut. I loved it! Snacked on tabouli (resisted cherries) while chatting with George and Mariam before heading down to my room for bed.

Marhaba from Jordan – the Arizona suburbs of the Middle East

Yesterday, I woke up in London . Spent the morning walking around Camden with Joost and then headed to the airport for Part 2 of my trip to Jordan. Wah! So exciting!

I had read that given that Jordan is a conservative Muslim country I should cover up and always keep my hair pulled back, if not covered. Keeping that in mind, I packed my suitcase full of baggy clothing – linen pants and loose fitting long-sleeved shirts. I may have gone too far…but I figure, better to be overdressed than offensively under-dressed.

At the airport, not wanting to stand out once I got to the Royal Jordanian gate, I buttoned my shirt all the way up to the collar. It’s a great shirt – shit colored, but for some bizarre reason it looks flattering. Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised to find a whole mix of people waiting at my departure gate. Next to me there was a woman who was completely covered with her young daughter who was wearing pink shorts and a white short sleeve top. At what age do Muslims who choose to wear the veil start covering up?? I’ll make it a goal to figure this out.

Across from me there was a girl who looked about my age wearing jeans and a sparkly low cut top. Next to her, a girl with a long-sleeved but very short dress and a facial piercing. Needless to say, I was glad I didn’t stand out in my outfit, but began worrying if I had packed too conservatively…

Getting on the plane, in front of me and behind me were these huge American and British guys with buzz cuts and tattooed arms. George later told me that they were military men off to Iraq. Creepy. Wonder what they were all thinking. The male flight attendant say ‘Hello’ to each of them and then gave me an ‘Ahlan, As-Salam Alaykum’. I look Arab! I blend in! Maybe it seems silly, but I was psyched.

Watched movies until the plane touched down in Amman just after midnight. I’m in Jordan!! Woot. So happy!!

Outside the Airport in Amman

Walking off the plane I saw pictures of who I assumed were King Abdullah II and Prime Minister Nader al-Dahabi hung on the walls of the airport – I’m still not too familiar with their faces. However, I found out later from Uncle George that the photos were actually of King Abdullah II and his father King Hussein. Turns out that although they technically have a constitutional monarchy here in Jordan, it doesn’t function like the constitutional monarchies in the UK and Spain (with the prime minister holding all the power and the king or queen acting primarily as a figurehead). Here, the roles are flipped with the king holding all the power and the prime minister acting as more of a figurehead. Interesting…

King Abdullah II

King Hussein

Prime Minister Nader al-Dahabi

My Jordanian Visa

I converted my remaining $15 American money into 10JD (Jordanian Dinar), I bought a visa and made my way through customs and baggage claim to meet Uncle George who was patiently waiting on the other side. Bizarre to think it’s been almost 2 years since I saw him last! Big hugs and then we hopped in the car to drive back to his home, just outside the small village of Subeihi, about 40 minutes from Amman.

Given that it was about 1am, it was dark, but I strained my eyes on the car ride through Amman and the neighboring village of Salt to try to see what I could. Initially, the signs were in Arabic and English, but after about 15 minutes, they were only in Arabic. I have no idea how George drives around here without being able to read Arabic.

The buildings all looked like those block houses that were popular back in the 70s. Square and rectangle shaped with those small square windows – all white with flat roofs. I guess with no rain in the middle of the desert you don’t really need a slanted roof for the rain to run off…

I was so psyched to be there and as George told me about the film projects we’d be editing I got more and more excited about working with film again. The rest of the drive, we talked about Jordan and random news – Susan Boyle’s post ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ breakdown, and the freaky and super-sad recent Air France plane crash over the Atlantic.

It’s so bizarre and cool to be here!! On the drive in there were signs to Saudi Arabia, we drove by the Iraqi border and saw Palestine off in the distance. From all the history that I’ve read, it seems like for the majority of Jordan’s history it was this place that people crossed through to get to other places. Because of that, the country absorbed a lot of different cultural influences, although it took a long time to develop itself.

Uncle George

George describes Jordan as the ‘Arizona Suburbs of the Middle East’. Arizona, because it really is just a big desert that for a very long time had very few people actually settling within its borders. Suburbs, because it’s so calm – nothing big ever really happens hear, it’s very peaceful, the people are relatively carefree.

He also explained how, in recent years, Amman and other parts of Jordan have rapidly developed with a huge influx of multi-national corporations. But the result is what he finds to be a very westernized country, that he wishes was spotted with more locally run shops as opposed to McDonald’s and Arby’s. I haven’t been into Amman yet, but I’ll let you know my impression once I see it for myself.

We arrived at the gates of George and Mariam’s house around 2am and George walked me down to the guest room. This place is beautiful!! In the kitchen there was food waiting for us so we chatted for an hour or so over Kibbeh, grape leaves, yogurt and fresh cherries from Damascus. To quote my Italian teacher, Christina ‘vedo la madonna!’

My room in Amman

After our late-night snack, I had a glass of wine to help me sleep and George gave me some books on Jordan, a Jordanian newspaper published in English and a Jordanian magazine, also written in English, with Tina Fey on the cover and stories of destruction in Gaza, cultural attractions in Amman and the latest trends in eye-makeup. I loved it.

And now, I’m exhausted. It’s 3:30am, I can hear the chanting of the call to prayer from the mosque in Subeihi, and I’m going to try to get some sleep.