A weekend...of biblical proportions

Enjoying the view of the Jordan Valley from Qal'at ar-Rabadh


Umm Qais, or Gadara


The Sea of Galilee and the Golan Heights


The remains of the church in the Basilica Terrace of Umm Qais


Surprise! I’m behind again! Let’s see, last weekend…I actually took Friday off to do nothing, which was very relaxing. I’ve been waking up for class at 8:00am five days a week and traveling every day of the weekend since I got here, so sleeping in for the first time felt great! Since no one else was around, I gave the apartment a through clean, went to the nearby grocery store and bakery, and got a head start on my reading for my Women and Leadership class.

Saturday, however, was a typical full day trip around Jordan. I took a taxi with Carla, Corey, and Sarah to visit Ajloun, a town near Jerash that is home to an imposing castle built by one of Saladin’s generals, and the Roman village of Umm Qais in the far north of Jordan.

Our taxi driver for this trip, Adel, was one-in-a-million. Some of the girls found him by chance the day before when they were hailing a taxi to take them to the bus station, but he offered to take them to their destinations (Madaba and then the Dead Sea) for a bargain, so they ditched their plan and took him up on the offer. He was such a wonderful driver that we called him up and asked if he would be interested in driving us to North Jordan, another part of the country which is harder to get to via public transportation. He accepted, and was right on time picking us up at the hotel.

Some of you may have heard (bad news travels fast, after all), that the name “Isabella” isn’t considered a beautiful name in the Middle East. Why, you ask? Because it sounds just like “zbaleh,” the Arabic word for “trash,” or “garbage.” I learned this the hard way, when my Arabic professor, thinking one of the girls in my class had said “I want to walk behind the garbage” when she meant to say “I want to walk behind Isabella,” pointed to the overflowing trash can in our classroom and assured her that no one wants to walk behind “zbaleh.” That explains the weird looks I get when I tell many Jordanians my name—sadly, even when I say “IZ-a-BELL-ah,” I still get skeptical looks and I’m asked to say it one more time.

When Adel heard my name, he said he wouldn’t call me Isabella since it’s not a nice name in arabi. He gave me an Arabic name—Marrah, which means “happiness,” apparently, and is also the name of one of his daughters—and addressed me by Marrah for our trip. I’ve never been a fan of “French names” for French class or “Spanish names” for Spanish class, but this name—Marrah—is special. Certainly better then “Zbaleh,” at any rate.

Anyways, moving on…we arrived in Ajloun right as it was starting to warm up. We were able to see Qal’at ar-Rabadah, the castle on the hill, from far away. We were able to bargain with the guards (with the help of Carla’s blonde hair and smile!) to get a rock-bottom student discount ticket. We had a lot of fun exploring the castle, which was complete with a small museum with a collection of old coins and pottery from the area. Qal’at ar-Rabadah was built by one of Saladin’s generals, his nephew Azz-ad-Din Usama, who built the castle/fortress on top of the ruins of a Christian monastery that used to occupy the same place on the hill overlooking the valley. The view from the top of the castle is incredible: North Jordan is comparatively much greener then the rest of the country (not particularly difficult, since Jordan is mostly desert anyways), and the landscape, with Ajloun in the hills below and farmland that stretches out to Syria, fades into a murky blur on the horizon.

We piled back into the taxi to drive to Umm Qais, which is about as far north in Jordan as you can get. We drove through Irbid, another large city in Jordan and home to Yarmouk University, one of the best schools in the country and the Arab world. Yarmouk is also home to one of UNC’s Arabic language-intensive summer program, the other being in Morocco. Though I’ve had my differences with my study abroad, I am glad that I didn’t go to a language institute for the summer—I want to practice my Arabic, of course, but I’m also glad that I’m able to travel on my weekends and not be constantly bogged down with homework.

Umm Qais, or Gardara, was one of the great cities of the Decapolis, which holds religious significance for Christians (Gardara is the place where Jesus cast out the Devil from two demons into a herd of pigs). It also provides a beautiful vantage point for Palestinians living in Jordan to look over to their homeland from afar.

Umm Qais is very startling because the ruins are made of black basalt and white limestone. The West Theatre, for instance, is made entirely of black basalt, where the Basilica Terrace, which contains the remains of a church built on top of a row of shops, is both basalt and limestone, and the main street through the city is mostly the white limestone. There is also an excellent viewing platform from where you can clearly see to the Sea of Galilee and the Golan Heights. I feel like I say this about every place I visit, but the view was just so incredible to take in! We spent about two hours total there, and left just as the larger tour groups began to arrive.

The drive back to Amman didn’t take as long as we expected—we only stopped once, for a juice break. I almost forgot to mention what made Adel an over-the-top taxi driver: in addition to being friendly and accommodating, he stopped not once, not twice, but three times during our trip to buy us food and drinks. Here again is that famous Arab hospitality, but Adel took it to a new level. He didn’t ask for it, but we gave him a big tip for all his kindness, and if we need any more chartered taxis, he’s first on our list of people to call!

Sadly, transportation for this weekend’s travels is still a little up in the air. Tomorrow (Thursday, July 24) we are going to Karak, a town halfway between Amman and Aqaba, as a study abroad group, and from there, I am breaking away with two friends, Maria and Rachel, to spend the weekend in Petra! Getting there might be an adventure itself, but it’ll be worth it to see one of the new wonders of the world. Wish us luck!

Wrapping up Last Weekend (7/11-12): Adventures along the Dead Sea Highway

Wadi Mujib


Homemade mud packs at the Dead Sea


Visiting the Jordan River, the Baptism Site, right across from the Israeli/Palestinian border





Friday’s excursions were to Wadi Mujib, the Dead Sea, and Bethany Beyond-the-Jordan. I’m pleased to report that they went smoothly—no drama at the bus depot like Dana! There is no public transportation out to the Dead Sea and surrounding area so I arranged for a taxi through Shaher, our wonderful hotel manager.

The taxi (actually a van) arrived promptly at 9:30am, and even though most of us were still tired from the previous night’s concert (Algeria Night at Jerash), we all made it downstairs on time and soon we were on our way. It’s incredible how close everything is in Jordan, even more so along the Dead Sea highway. It only took us an hour to get to Wadi Mujib Nature Reserve, our first stop of the day.

Guide books like to call Wadi Mujib the “Grand Canyon of Jordan,” and though I’ve never been to the real Grand Canyon, I can vouch for Wadi Mujib’s grandness—it’s breathtaking. For 9.5 JD (the student rate! Our UJ ID cards are finally coming in handy!) We hiked the Siq trail, a 2km hike through the canyon to the Wadi Mujib Waterfall. You can’t anything with you since you hike through water the whole time; so sadly, I have no pictures of us actually hiking through the canyon. I can, however, describe the trek as best I can. The Siq Trail is one of the few unguided trails in the reserve; most require that you hire a guide to navigate the way. We hiked through the siq in ankle-to-chest-deep water, climbing over small waterfalls and using ropes installed by reserve staff until we reached the 20-metere high Wadi Mujib Waterfall. We forced behind the waterfall, where we could barely see through the wall of water. After swimming back out, we watched some ambitious hikers and their guide rappel down the waterfall.

I’m glad we did Wadi Mujib first, because as we hiked out we saw larger packs of tourists making their way in. I call these visitors tourists, not hikers, because none of them looked prepared for the trail ahead: men and women wearing jeans and flip-flops, taking smoke breaks while hiking through the wild are tourists, and insensitive ones at that. Jordan’s nature reserves are great because they have no rules (in the United States we would have had to sign pages of waivers to do the Siq trail hike), but I do wish there were some way of enforcing, at the very least, a non-smoking rule in the parks.

Next up was the Dead Sea. I’d read in my trusty Rough Guide to Jordan that we should go to Amman Beach, where we could pay a few JDs for showers and bathrooms, not to mention a tad bit more privacy then the public strip, which I’d read can be uncomfortable for Western women.

After a bit of finagling, we found a beach for 3JD (thanks again, UJ student ID!), and after parking our belongings under an umbrella and applying a thick layer of sunscreen, we headed for the water. The Dead Sea is the warmest, murkiest, and most oily-feeling water I have ever swum in. It’s also the saltiest (6X more saline then the world’s next saltiest body of water), but that really should have gone without saying. Floating there was such a peculiar feeling. You start by walking out slowly because the sea floor is very warm and unsettlingly mushy, and then all of a sudden, your legs lift without warning and you’re floating! Try and put your feet down, you only end up on your back on the top of the water. Lonely Planet was right when they said that “drowning would be quite a feat [in the Dead Sea].” Not that anyone in their right mind would want to put their head in this water—I dipped a finger in to taste it, and let me tell you, it was absolutely disgusting.

It turns out that the squishy part of the sea floor is the mud used for spa treatments. We saw several locals on the beach who had painted themselves black with the mud from head to toe, and decided to give it a try. I don’t know if it really worked wonders for my skin or no, but it was fun nonetheless.

We got most of the salt out in the beach’s showers, and then we were off to Bethany Beyond-the-Jordan, which is about 15 minutes north of Amman beach. Bethany Beyond-the-Jordan is the place where John the Baptist lived and was most likely to have baptized Jesus Christ there. The site had been closed off for years as a military zone, but after the 1994 peace agreement between Israel and Jordan, the land was opened up and soon afterwards numerous historical and religious sites were discovered. You still have to go with a guide and obtain a special permission form to visit from the visitor’s center, as the baptism site is very close to the Israeli border.

A quick aside: I’ve found it difficult to label the land to the west of Jordan. It is recognized as the state of Israel by most countries of the world, but for so many Arabs, Jordanians, and especially Palestinian refugees, that land will always be Palestine. I definitely do not know enough about the conflict to pass judgment, and passing judgment is not my job. But in terms of describing the aforementioned territory, I will refer to it as both: Israel/ Palestine.

Back to Bethany: Most of Jordan is desert, and the heat is usually a dry heat. Not so in Bethany: at about 350m below sea level, the air is hot, muggy, and unbelievably heavy. I was happy to dip my feet in the Jordan River when we arrived at the Baptism site—apparently people can baptize their children here, so the river is not off-limits. This was also the place where we were only a few yards away from Israel/Palestine. I can’t believe how close we were to the border: you look across the river, only a few feet wide, and there is an Israeli flag blowing in the wind. We didn’t linger long because of the heat—the entire tour of Bethany Beyond-the-Jordan took less then an hour.

Saturday (I told you it was a full weekend!) I went on the University of Jordan school trip to Mt. Nebo and Madaba. The trip was organized through the Language Center, which provides free transportation to the trip sites. “Organized,” however is a term I use loosely to describe the trip—in all honesty, we would have been much better going on our own via public transport. Just like in middle and high school, we were shuffled through Mt. Nebo, the place where Moses stood and saw the Promised Land—rather quickly, and though this wasn’t the school’s fault, the church at Mt. Nebo was under construction and the bulldozers and accompanying noise destroyed the “tangible holiness” the place is known for.

The visit to the Christian town of Madaba wasn’t much better. Though the mosaics were beautiful, again, I would have liked it if we’d had more time to really explore the city. Instead, we were herded through the Archaeological Park to a nondescript restaurant and then to St. George’s church, which houses the oldest map in the world. I suppose the map was impressive, but I can’t say for sure—I accidentally went in to the church without paying the entry fee (somehow I missed the ticket booth) so I only got a quick look before I was asked to go back out and buy a ticket. Thanks, but no thanks.

After visiting the church, we were herded back to the bus and got back to Amman in the mid afternoon. Though I’m glad I went to Madaba and Mt. Nebo, I’ll be planning the rest of my trips my way, budgeting my time so I can see what I want to see. Still, I’m glad I was able to visit so many important sites because I’m trying to experience as much of Jordan as I can in the time I have left. Two weeks left—where the time has gone, I couldn’t tell you, but it’s been well spent!

1, 2, 3! Vive L'Algerie!

The past couple of days have been unbelievable—most of it in a good way. As usual, I will omit the details about my school week to skip to the “good stuff,” i.e. what I did this past weekend.

Thursday evening was “Algeria Night” at the Jordan Festival, an event I’ve been looking forward to since my arrival in Amman. The Jordan Festival (which used to be called the Jerash Festival) takes place in the ancient Roman ruins of Jerash, a city about an hour north of Amman. It’s an incredible idea—concert and performance-goers watch the various entertainers in the same theatre as the Romans did years ago. This alone should be enough to encourage any visitor to go to at least one show during the summer festival.

As some of you may know, I’ve loved Arabic music of different kinds (traditional, classical, contemporary, you name it) from my first listen. Rai, however, is the genre of Arabic music that really piqued my academic interest in addition to personal enjoyment. Words can’t describe how thrilled I was to discover that not one, but TWO of my favorite artists—Khaled and Faudel, two of the biggest names in rai music—would be performing on the same stage during my stay in Jordan!

The drive to Jerash (via a shuttle bus from Amman) was beautiful—the road winds around hills dotted with trees and smaller towns. Once we got to the ruins, we had to go through several security checks, where our bags were thoroughly searched and we were patted up and down. As one might expect in a predominately Muslim country, men and women went through separate lines and women were searched in tents. The Jordanian army was out in full force, with soldiers stationed all over the hills and ruins. According to one of the ushers, this is the standard level of security at concerts.

We had a bit of time to see the ruins before the concert started, so we took a stroll through the Oval Plaza and down the colonnaded streets. Several little boys offered themselves as tour guides. They were like little walking, talking guide books, and showed us the “moving column” trick, old statues of deer and lions, and the musical columns—for a tip, of course.

We then made our way to the South Theatre, where we made ourselves as comfortable as possible—sadly, no one thought to bring blankets or pillows to sit on. The show was slated to start at 7:30 but began 45 minutes late—the only other concert I’ve been to where I had to wait that long was Kanye West’s (big surprise there)—but the second the music started, there was no question this concert would be worth the delay.

Cheb Khaled, the “King of Rai,” was the first to perform. The moment he walked onstage, audience went crazy and several Algerian flags emerged. One audience member threw a flag onstage, and Khaled wore it on his shoulders as a cape, to everyone’s delight. His performance was PHENOMENAL. The energy in the theatre was amazing—everyone was up on their feet, singing along and dancing with all their hearts.
Biyouna, a female rai singer whose music I’m wasn’t familiar with, was next. Her music was really a mix of different genres: many of the songs had strong Latin and Caribbean influences, and one, about her former French lover, some bonhomme named “Cristophe,” was complete with accordion swells and other Francophone touches. Though her voice wasn’t my favorite, and the blue lights that blinded the audience every 5 seconds made Carla and I don our shades even though it was 10PM, it was still a great performance.

Biyouna was followed by Faudel, the “petit prince de rai,” or, as Carla dubbed him, the “Arab Justin Timberlake.” He, to, had a great performance energy “Tellement n’brick” is one of my all-time favorite rai songs, and seeing it live was nothing short of incredible. He is a much younger singer then his fellow performers, but held is own, working the audience to a fever pitch.

Faudel’s performance was a memorable one for another, unexpected reason: early in his set, the ushers monitoring our section decided to join in our dancing! Talking to them later, we found out that they all were all University of Jordan students who work part time for an ushering/modeling company. Yes, a modeling company…I’m thinking that explains why so many of the guys on UJ’s campus are as stylish as the girls!

We caught the shuttle bus back to Amman and got back around 1:00AM, and went to bed immediately, as Friday would be a very full day. You can look forward to another long entry about the rest of the weekend’s adventures coming soon!

What are the tears of the night?

Note: the Internet at Al-Amera has been slow all evening, so there are no pictures with this post (though I'll try to get some more up soon). Consider this your warning, as there's a long entry below!

What a weekend! Our trip to Dana Nature Reserve was (once again) unlike any trip I’ve ever taken. Six of us (me, Rakhee, Maria, Jamie, Dan, and Cory) opted to take public transportation since last weekend’s excursion to Aqaba and Wadi Rum ended up being pretty expensive. The girls had made reservations at the Dana Tower Hotel with a very helpful man named Hamzeh who told us that we could take a bus straight to Dana village if we asked around (most buses go to Tafila, a larger city nearby, and you have to hire another minibus or taxi to get to the village). Hamzeh told us he knew of at least one driver who he described as “fat, a fat man, like a bodyguard,” who could take us straight to Dana, though if we asked around, we could find others headed in the same direction. After deliberating amongst ourselves and with the bus drivers, we found a bus for 3JD—a real steal. However, right as we were about to leave, the fat bodyguard bus driver showed up, furious. Apparently our hotel had told him that there would be Americans waiting to get to Dana, and he was determined to have our business. He jumped into our bus and yelled at us to get off, saying he would charge us 2.50 JD. When our bus driver tried to start driving, he pushed his way to the front, wrenched the gear shift from the driver’s hand, and stopped the bus while delivering a punch. We stopped immediately, and all the men on the bus got off to settle the dispute in the parking lot.

Fortunately, a police car was nearby and the officers escorted both drivers to the local precinct nearby. A UJ student our bus who spoke English noted our worry and informed us with a laugh that such incidents happen more often then you think. Still, I didn’t know whether to be flattered or terrified that our patronage is in such high demand.

The dispute was settled inside the precinct, and soon we were on our way via the King’s Highway, a long, twisting road that runs roughly parallel to Israel through Jordan’s countryside and desert. Goats and camels were the only traffic we saw for many miles. After a couple hours, we started going through small towns, where we would let a few passengers off at a time. Finally, we were the only passengers left on the bus, and the driver invited us to sit up near him.

We were in a village only a few miles from Dana, when all of a sudden our drivers seemed to know everyone we passed by. We ended up making a couple stops, to pick up a man the driver called “donkey,” presumably because of his short stature, and to chat with another friend of the driver. It turns out that our driver’s friend, who was clad in blood-spattered boots and brandished a large knife as he waved hello to us was a butcher. Good to know that the exclamations of “gill cheap” (“kill sheep” with a heavy rural accent) followed by a slashing motion and garbage can overflowing with intestines and horns in the front yard were nothing to worry about.

Nonetheless, we were somewhat relieved to be let off at the crossroads to Dana village. Our driver had tried to convince us that it would be 5JD each to get from the crossroads to Dana village, but we spoke with Hashem before being let off and he arranged for a van to take us to the village, free for patrons of the Tower hotel.

Driving into Dana felt as if we were going back in time. The village is comprised of several small one-story stone huts, almost all of which have been abandoned and are in various states of disrepair. We later found out that only two families live in Dana, everyone else has moved out to larger villages nearby. Our hotel, which “towers” (hence its name) over the other buildings at a whopping two stories, was a dilapidated maze of stone staircases and verandas. The interior and rooms were decorated from wall to wall with an eclectic mix of carpets, knickknacks, and on many of the walls, graffiti by past hotel guests. To top it off, the rooms all had names—we were staying in the “Sunset Royal Suite,” near the “Honeymoon suite” and right below the “Crazy Camel” and “Chinese” rooms. The staff at the hotel was very friendly, and served us tea out on the balcony as we figured out our plans for the afternoon.

We decided to take an afternoon hike to the local spring. Though Wadi Dana is not as “lush” as the guide books described it, it’s definitely as breathtaking as they promised. The hills leading down to the valley are dotted with more trees then you’ll see anywhere else, with tall cedars and abandoned vineyards and orchards. Rakhee and Dan found some green grapes which were a welcome snack on the hike, though almost all of them were sour!

We went headed back to our hotel and relaxed until dinner, a buffet meal of (surprise!) local Arab cuisine with the other hotel guests. It was an interesting mix of people: an older French couple, two young French women who teach French in a small village near Karak, two middle-aged Italian women, and an Israeli Jew who had already traveled to India and Egypt, among others.

After dinner we spent some time talking to the hotel manager, Nabil about hiking in the morning and transportation back to Amman. He arranged everything through a few phone calls, and then we sat out under the stars and talked. It turns out that Nabil has had a very interesting life: he visited North Carolina and several other states in the U.S. in his youth for military training. He used to be in the Jordanian military, but was part of the Special Forces and also became a Ranger while visiting the U.S. He was glad to hear we were Arabic students, and like so many other people we have met thus far, encouraged us to have a good experience in Jordan and promote cultural understanding between the East and the West.

But the part of our conversation that I will remember best is the part I’m sure I can’t do justice: learning back with his kheffiyah around his shoulders and cigarette in hand, Nabil told us that you can spend your life out in the desert, but you will never fully understand the night. He asked us: What are the tears of the night? What is the music of the night? What is the perfume of the night? What is the crazy of the night? One of the Italian ladies figured out these riddles: falling stars are the tears, wind is the music, but the rest had us stumped. Perhaps it was the night air, the mint tea, and the cool, quiet desert setting that made the riddles seem worldly and mysterious, but they also made me think back to a letter I received from Kathleen, my godmother, shortly before I left for Jordan, and made me appreciate my travels in a different light. Despite the adjustments I and others have had to make for this trip, it is still a one-of-a kind experience that I’ll never have again.

We went to bed on the early side since everyone had early hikes planned for the next day. Rakhee and I hiked part of the way into Wadi Dana, the huge valley below Dana village the next morning. It was a very steep hike back up—we ended up leaving the path and scrambling up the desert rocks, dodging goat droppings and minor sand slides to make our way, huffing and puffing into the village shortly before our bus came to take us to Tafila.

We arrived at the Tafila bus station around noon, and started asking around for busses to Amman. To our surprise, the bus drivers already knew we were coming—they’d caught wind of our bus debacle the day before and when they saw the six of us, laughingly asked “mushkillah? Mushkillah?” (This roughly means “trouble” or “problem”). Word travels fast in these parts. We told them “mish mushkillah” (“no problems”) and squished into the back of a minibus which departed only a few minutes after our arrival to the station.

All in all, it was a full and fulfilling weekend, not to mention easier on the money belt then Wadi Rum and Aqaba. The entire weekend ended up costing us about 21 JD each—not bad at all, considering we also learned how to use public transport to get around Jordan and picked up a few secrets of the desert and the night along the way. I can’t believe that I only have three weekends left to travel—there’s still so much I want to see before I go! However, I have to lay down the Rough Guide to Jordan in favor of my women’s studies reading for tomorrow. Time to explore Jordan through a gendered, theoretical perspective!

Two Weeks In!

Looking back, I realized I hadn't posted any pictures of Amman! Here's a typical view of the hills from downtown.

The beach at Aqaba

Volunteering at Ruwwad (photo: Mark Laichena)


First, to finish last weekend’s trip: Aqaba is Jordan’s only port city, situated on the Red Sea. We took taxis from Wadi Rum to Barracuda Beach, where you can see Israel, Egypt, and Saudi Arabia from the shore. Since Aqaba is a resort and vacation town, prices were raised accordingly. This did not stop many of us (me included) from snorkeling off the shore around the Red Sea’s coral reefs. Although the sun was quite hot (Aqaba is in the southernmost part of Jordan), the water was surprisingly cold on the far side of the reefs. Still, it was well worth the plunge!


We spent the rest of the day at the beach and hanging out poolside at the Barracuda beach complex. We then headed back to the city, where (after some confusion) we took the public bus back to Amman. We arrived around midnight and took taxis back to Al-Amera before crashing for the night.


And now, the past week or so in review. This is the first year that the “Women and Leadership in the Arab World” study abroad program has been, and now that the dust is settling, the month ahead will hopefully run smoothly. At first, the Arabic aamiyah (dialect) class was fairly unstructured, and for I worried that we might not end up learning or really practicing any useful Arabic for our stay in Jordan! Others in class felt the same way, and we expressed our frustration to Nadia. Fortunately, she was receptive to our comments, and she has been sitting in on our class and working with our professor to mold the class to our needs. Additionally, I gave Nadia a list of the things I want to accomplish in Arabic this summer session (mainly vocal and situational dialogues that would be helpful when interacting with restaurateurs, taxi drivers, etc.), which she passed on to our Arabic teacher. I’m happy to report that we’ll begin working from my list on Monday. I’m both relieved and excited about this—at first I was worried I was being pushy, but I want to get as much as I can out of this study abroad program, and if the only way to do that is by creating a syllabus of your own, well, so be it.


Our women’s studies class is also started picking up steam. Last week we spent most of our time discussing the political, economic, and social history of Jordan in regards to women and women’s rights. This week we analyzed two books by Arab feminist authors and attended a lecture by one of these authors, Ms. Leila Al-Atrash. Ms. Al-Atrash’s talk was very interesting, and I was impressed by her frank attitude and steadfast conviction about her work and women’s issues. We have many other lectures and visits planned for the next four weeks, and I hope they will be as enriching as our first with Ms. Al-Atrash.


Best of all, I have figured out a plan for my volunteer work this summer! I will spend one or two days a week volunteering with the Jordanian National Commission for Women (JNCW), reviewing policies and proposals, aiding in research, and learning how an umbrella NGO works at the administrative level. Almost all of my prior volunteering has been more direct, and I am looking forward to learning about all the behind the scenes work and the steps it takes to create a functioning organization. I am also attending a series of workshops at Bait al-Bawadi, an NGO in Jordan that has ties to many community service projects in Jordan. The workshops are focusing on how to write successful proposals and creating workable projects to solve problems in a given community or area.


My final (and favorite) volunteer experience this past week was with Ruwwad, an organization in East Amman where Mark has volunteered for the past 8 weeks. I visited with Mark on Wednesday, where I ended up reading, drawing, and practicing English and Arabic with local children in the library, and then visited the preschool for playtime before leaving. The staff at Ruwwad was very welcoming and to my delight, encouraged me to come back soon. I was thrilled that the children, especially the young girls, were very enthusiastic and affectionate learning and playing with me. Here is a chance for me to put my prior volunteer experience (with Pacers and the like) to good use! I plan on volunteering there a couple afternoons a week around JNCW and Bait al-Bawadi, and I’m looking forward to the next session already.


Tomorrow I am headed to Dana Nature reserve with a small group of friends from my program (no big group this time). We will be hiking Friday and Saturday through the reserve as well as visiting the area—it should be another great weekend!

Adapt, Accept, Adjust // Wadi Rum

Before jumping into my trip to the south of Jordan, I’d like to begin by reflecting on my continuing adaptation, acceptance, and adjustment to Amman and the overlapping Arab, Middle Eastern, and Muslim worlds wherein Jordan lies. I’ve been exposed to a lot in a short amount of time, and writing about the some of the adjustments (a couple at a time) makes the adaptation and acceptance process a bit easier.


My adjustment to living in Amman has been new and exciting, but also much more challenging then I initially expected. Everywhere we go, people stop and stare. Whether it’s walking through campus, waiting for the bus, making a purchase in a store, or minding your own business, there’s also someone looking you up and down, watching your every move as you go by. This behavior isn’t limited to one particular group of people, either—men, women, and children of all ages will look you up and down as you go by (though usually it’s only the men who have something additional to add: often it’s just “Welcome to Jordan!” followed by a stream of Arabic, though I’ve also heard whistles, murmurs of “very nice” and once, applause when I went running on campus). I used to wonder what it would be like to be wildly popular, but it’s almost amusing how people find us so interesting or attractive in the same four or five shirts and baggy pants when most of the local young women are very stylishly dressed—very covered, many wear jeans tighter then anything I personally own, and expensive brand-name clothing, complete with heels and a matching hijab. Who knew?


Many people also assume that since we are Americans, we are 1) loaded and 2) gullible. The concept of receiving change doesn’t seem to exist in much of Amman. Breaking a five and even a one JD bill here is a source of great exasperation to many taxi drivers and restaurant owners. People will tell you they just don’t have any change, which is hard to believe when you peek around the register and there’s a till full of coins and smaller bills.


However, I must emphasize that despite the no-change and staring incidents, there are so many good people in Jordan who are overwhelmingly friendly and generous. I’ve been offered samples at almost every bakery and coffee shop I’ve visited, and shopkeepers are often happy to give you a discount to thank you for coming. This is not to say that people have to give me free stuff, otherwise they're rubberneckers, but the fabled Arab hospitality is alive and well. My professor taught me how to make Turkish coffee, and I’ve been practicing with coffee from a local shop. I’m hoping to buy my own Turkish coffee set before I leave so I can make it at home in the States, and yes, I’ve bought some tea here as well  .


Now, the trip to South Jordan: Carla, a grad student who is traveling with our program but taking different classes at UJ, took the initiative to plan a trip to Wadi Rum and Aqaba this past weekend. Everyone in the Women’s Studies program, plus two of Carla’s friends from her fusha (classical Arabic) class ended up going together. This made the transportation portion of the trip difficult at times, but for the sights we saw, the hassles at bus depots and with taxi drivers made the delays worth it.


Wadi Rum is a desert in the south of Jordan, popularized through the history’s famous and somewhat romanticized T.E. Lawrence (“Lawrence of Arabia”) during the early 20th century and the later film “Lawrence of Arabia” with Peter O’Toole and Omar Sharif. It is also one of the most beautiful and amazing natural sights I have ever seen. We had been on the road for a couple hours on Thursday when we rounded a bend and came upon Rum. The vast expanses red sands, towering natural rock formations, and clear blue skies were picture perfect—I only hope my amateur photography skills did the landscape some justice so you can see the beauty of the desert yourself!



We met our Bedouin hosts at the gate to the protected area of Wadi Rum, and took 4WD Jeeps for an afternoon/sunset tour of the desert to get to our campsite for the evening. The drivers brought us to several great stops in the desert where we took pictures and climbed formations that would be without a doubt off-limits in the U.S. We watched the sun set on a sand dune, bathing the desert in a light that turned the entire area shades of red, pink, and orange. We then went to our camp, which consisted of 4 or 5 large tents and a rough outhouse facility. We were served tea in the main tent where the Bedouin played music on tribal drums and instruments and danced. They invited us to join in—obviously taking a break from true Bedouin cultural norms, but fun nonetheless. Dinner was—in a word—overabundant. I can’t begin to name the different overflowing dishes we had, but everyone ate their fill and, once stuffed, was ready for bed.



Since it was a nice night, we were given the option to sleep outside under the stars. There was some flat rock near the tents, so we dragged our mattresses and blankets and hunkered down for the night. The desert at night is just as beautiful as during the day—there is no light from cities or other sources for miles, so the night sky is bright and beautiful, with thousands of stars. The moon wasn’t out when we went to sleep at about 10:30, but it woke me up during the night as a bright blurry orb directly overhead. I woke up at 5:25 am, and the sun was already rising. The desert at sunrise is (you guessed it!) gorgeous as well. We had a brief breakfast shortly after 6:00 am and then went in to Rum village for camel rides.


I can’t think of any activity that compares to riding a camel. We all had a shock the first time we mounted. You mount a camel while it is sitting—easy enough. However, it gets up two legs at a time, so you are lurched backwards and then forwards while rising several feet in the air! Getting off a camel, in my opinion, is much scarier---you lurch forward and feel like you’re about to fall off, and then you drop backwards as the camel lowers its back legs to the sitting position. The Bedouin laughed good-naturedly at our surprise as they took us around, although some of the littler children leading the camels (nothing makes you realize you’ve had a sheltered childhood until a 4 or 5-year old boy leads you on a camel) had trouble containing their giggles.


After the camels, we called for taxis to take us to Aqaba, Jordan’s only port city, which is about an hour away from Wadi Rum. I don’t mean to sound like a sap, but I kept turning around to get one last glimpse (and then one last-last glimpse) of the desert. It’s someplace that I think I’d like to explore more thoroughly one day, and I can’t wait to explore other parts of Jordan’s natural landscape.


I think I will update about Aqaba and other adaptations, etc. in the next post. Thanks for reading this far!

First Days in Jordan

I hope I’m not falling behind already! The first night I woke up at approximately 3:36 am when I heard the adhan (“call to prayer”) over the early morning traffic (Amman, or at least its traffic, never sleeps). We met as a group for breakfast at a nearby restaurant where we had a breakfast of the local staples (hummus, falafel, pita, foul, etc.) and tea. I should mention that the way Arabs drink tea is quite different from home: they brew it very strongly, add lots—and I mean lots—of sugar, and serve it in tiny glass cups.


After breakfast, we headed over to the university where we met the director of the Women’s Studies Center at the U of J. We took a bus to downtown Amman, where we walked around the busy shops and markets before heading to West Amman, where the wealthier Jordanians and ex-pats live. In Jordan, you can tell when you’re in a wealthy neighborhood by the number of embassies or consulates on the block, and soldiers guarding them.


That night, we met up with the one and only Mark Laichena, who has spent the past six weeks interning at an NGO in Amman. We took him to meet Nadia and ended up spending the night in what we’ll write off as a lively debate about the college admission process.


The next day, Sunday, was the first day of the Arabic work and school week. It was also the first day of summer school for the University of Jordan, so the campus was bustling with students registering for classes. The school also holds graduation over several days during the summer, for the separate schools of nursing, pharmacy, arts, etc., so there was graduation traffic as well, preparing for the evenings’ commencement. We were given a tour of the university by two women from the Women’s Studies apartment.


The University of Jordan is the most prestigious university in Jordan, and probably one of the most beautiful as well. It’s a closed campus, and all the roads inside are lined with trees that provide some welcome shade once things start to heat up. It’s funny because looking out our window of the hotel you can see nothing but green, but there’s probably more vegetation on campus then there is in the rest of Amman!
We met our professor for the dialect class at the Language Center, and then had a brief orientation to learn about the resources available to us on campus. We were then given the rest of the afternoon to explore the city on our own, preferably in smaller groups so we wouldn’t stand out as much.


Mark had offered to show us around downtown and where he lived, so we called him up and agreed to meet at the King Hussein Mosque, which is at the bottom of Jebel Amman (“jebel,” by the way, means “hill” or “mountain” in Arabic). We ambitiously decided to take a bus to the downtown—what better way to immerse your self in the city then by taking a bus into the thick of it all? The thing is, there is no system for buses in Jordan: they slow down, a guy jumps out and shouts the name of their destination, and you jump in. Fortunately, we were able to ask several people for help and made it to Jebel Amman with no problem.


We met Mark in front of the mosque, where we asked a man to take our picture. We then went to a juice station (named “Palestine Juice”) where our photographer and his friend came up to us. At first we thought they were asking for the time, but then we realized they were asking if we had the time to go back to their house. While most people are friendly and most invitations come from a good place, we declined. We then walked to the Roman amphitheatre, which unfortunately was closed for the evening, so we climbed up the hill to see the city in the sunset. We could see the ruins of the Citadel at the top of one of the hills, and children flying kites, many of which are decorated to look like the Palestinian flag. The Jordanian and Palestinian flags are very similar, and everywhere, along with pictures of Jordan’s royal family.


Mark took us to an art gallery that was featuring and exhibit to commemorate 60 years since the “Catastrophe,” (i.e. the creation of Israel) by Palestinian and Jordanian artists. Jordan is the only country in the Middle East that grants Palestinian refugees citizenship, and their presence is felt throughout the city. The exhibition was at the city hall, where we were fortunate enough to meet one of the artists who contributed to the show. His name is Mohammed Sabah and although he is a Palestinian-Jordanian, he currently lives in Virginia and is visiting Amman for the show! He was very warm and friendly, and showed us more of his work as well of pictures of his family and famous people he has met over the years (including Jordanian royalty and Yasser Arafat!). He invited us to meet his family and have dinner with them, and gave us his contact information. We’re going to try and take him up on his offer sometime this week.


After the exhibit, Mark took us to see his apartment. It was quite a trek—I’d prefer not to remember how many stairs we climbed to get to the place. It was definitely worth the climb though—Mark pretty far up, so you can look down on the downtown area, so from the roof you see a wall of buildings lit up all over the hills for the most breathtaking view of the city.


We walked back taking Rainbow Road, which takes you through a trendier part of Amman. We took a taxi back to our place and promptly crashed for the evening.
This turned out to be a much longer entry then I anticipated! I will post again about my first days of school (and hopefully some pictures if our internet behaves!) soon.