Rainy Bliss

Amman, Jordan

From A Rainy Day In

I love rainy weekends. Not just because Jordan so badly needs the rain. I love the sound of the rain. I love being snuggled up in my bed listening to it out the window. Despite the cold, I've got my window cracked open so I can hear it better.

I like the rain as an excuse to sleep in, relax, catch up on my blogging, my emails, my job apps, my reading, my PBS Frontline and Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me! episodes, my cross-stitching, my scrapbooking, my creative writing. It gives me an excuse to not get dressed, not leave the house, not speak to anyone but my roommates, without feeling too terribly like a hermit.

I think it's time I revived Introvert Days. It was something I discovered the first time I was in Jordan, and that got me through grad school. Once a week, I would stay home, in my pajamas, and do things purely for myself, by myself. It took a long time to convince my neighbors in the village that this was a good thing. Arabs are generally terrified to be alone, and so they assumed that I was, too, and it took me a long time to convince them not to send their daughters over to my house to keep me company on Friday afternoons. But it was a necessary psychological defense.

These days, with Bell Amman growing by leaps and bounds, I think I need that refuge again. We've got full schedules, and most of our part-time teachers teaching full schedules, too. When I go to Aqaba to teach this intensive course, it's hard to say just what we're going to do to cover my classes. All of this is a good thing. It means that we might start to turn a profit sometime soon. In some ways, though, it makes work more stressful than ever, and regular Introvert Days more necessary.

Plus, check out the cool photos I got of an impressive thunder and hail storm:

From A Rainy Day In

Meanwhile, my roommates Ryan and Melanie had a very different idea of how to spend their rainy day:

From A Rainy Day In

Taxi Drama

Amman, Jordan

I have, as my mother pointed out, been having a rash of blog-worthy taxi encounters recently. This is pretty unusual for me these days in Jordan. When I was here as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I must've had a more American accent or look, because people would immediately pick me out as a foreigner, and I had a lot of both interesting and uncomfortable encounters with taxi drivers. Now, though they may still think I look like a foreigner, the moment I speak Arabic with my heavy Bedouin accent, I guess people assume I must be Jordanian, or at least married to one. For taxi drivers, I think this means they don't speak to me anymore because they're afraid of what my family might do to them if they do.

Before I left with the Peace Corps, my mother said to me, "In Jordan, people will never mistake you for a native like they did in Switzerland." And maybe, at first glance, that's true. But it's more than a family joke that Jordan is the Switzerland of the Peace Corps, or the Switzerland of the Middle East. Just as the Swiss don't seem to believe that Swiss German can be learned as a second language, it also doesn't seem to occur to most Jordanians that I might have learned Bedouin dialect as a second language. Most foreigners only speak fuS7a, what you might call Al-Jazeera Arabic, which isn't anyone's native language.) They're so confused, they just treat me like an Arab.

Most of the time. Then occasionally I get taxi drivers like this morning. I get in the cab and tell him where I want to go. He starts to drive away, and then says, "Five dinar, right?" It rarely costs me more than JD 1.75.
"No!" I say in outrage. "By the meter, or you can let me out right here!"
"But you'll give me a half dinar tip, right?" Though not quite illegal, tipping is strongly discouraged by the Jordanian government. Still, I earn a very lucrative salary by Jordanian standards, and while it's just enough to cover my student loans back home, the Returned Peace Corps Volunteer in me feels guilty, and I usually tip generously. Unless taxi drivers try to rip me off, in which case I hardly feel that a penny extra is warranted! So I say, "Of course not! I come and go this route every day by the meter!"
And then, inevitably, the guy's got no clue where he's going, but when I give him directions, he either sneers at me in the rearview or tells me I'm wrong....

How Cool Are Their Parents?

Especially the Parents of the Girls....


Amman, Jordan

I went to this really cool show sponsored by the American Embassy for African American History Month, featuring a hip hop crew from Houston, TX, called HaviKoro, and this really awesome group from Jordan called 962 Street. (962 is the telephone country code for Jordan.) There was this great combination of popping, beat-boxing, break-dancing, and choreographed studio hip hop.

I think we're so distracted by Hollywood billionaire rappers and the images of the inner city you find in HBO's The Wire that we often forget that hip hop culture started as a social justice movement, a pop culture parallel to Martin Luther King, Jr., the Black Panthers and the Nation of Islam calling for an equal say in their government. Here in the Arab world, though, I think hip hop culture is exactly that.

Still, with all the imagery around us that links hip hop culture to violence, vandalism, crime, drugs and misogyny, how cool are these kids' parents that they not only let them participate in these hip hop classes and events, but that they were right there in the audience cheering their kids on? I mean, most of these kids were under 16, and one couldn't have been older than 8. Most of the choreographed studio pieces were quite sexual in tone, too, as is often the case in hip hop dance, and in this Arab culture, you would think that kind of thing would be very taboo. It was a very cool event.

And How Cool Is The Job Of Cultural Attache?

First of all, let me say that the Cultural Attache at the American Embassy here in Amman speaks incredibly good Arabic! And what a cool job he has, that he gets paid to go out and explore these fun things that are happening in Jordanian youth culture, and then put them on stage at the King Hussein Cultural Center for all of us to enjoy!

Daughter Number Six

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

From Baby Milak

I went to my friend Wijdan's house in the village for the weekend, because she had a baby (#7) just before my disasterous trip to DC, and I brought back some baby clothes. Now, see if you can follow along: Wijdan's brother-in-law's mother-in-law was visiting for the weekend. Got that? I'd never met her before, so introductions were in order. Wijdan did the honors: "This is Maryah. She used to live in Mshairfeh. She's my sixth daughter!"
Just to be contrary, I asked, "Sixth daughter? Or first?" I am older than all her children, after all....

From Baby Milak

Her new baby's name is Milak. It means angel, but thus far she's proven herself to be somewhat less than angelic. After I'd been there a few hours, Wijdan said to me, "Taqwa was such a quiet baby. She was so easy!" I remember. I met Taqwa when she was less than a month old, too. I couldn't help but wonder if it was because, while Taqwa was a surprise baby, she was a pleasant surprise. Milak, I suspect, is an apology baby, and on an already tight family budget, hard to support.

From Baby Milak

Taqwa was also very unhappy about being usurped as the baby of the family. I've never seen her so withdrawn and uncommunicative, and she was frequently trying to squeeze herself into Mama's lap beside or even underneath the new baby. It reminded me of the line in Berenstein Bears about how Mama's lap was getting smaller and smaller.... It will be fun to watch Taqwa grow into her big sister role.

Airport Vignettes

Vicissitudes of Check-In

I can't keep track of all the regulations for luggage - how many bags you can take without paying extra, how heavy they can be, what your carry-on can weigh - so every time I walk up to check-in, I start to worry what it's going to cost me (to date, despite many overweight bags, just one luggage fee of $200 for my first bag for a domestic US flight). At the Air France counter, the man next to me was getting nailed for every extra half kilo by the woman at the counter. (I couldn't help wondering if it was because he looked Middle Eastern.) The ticket agent checking my passport kept looking over and saying, "Is that a regulation?" to which she would snap, "Yes, it's a regulation! And this is a full flight, so we have to be really strict!" So I was pretty worried, because I was pretty sure that my bag was overweight. But when I loaded it on the scale, my ticket agent (a very cute young man) didn't even turn on the scale, and didn't even blink when he hauled it off again on his side. Check-in is so arbitrary!

"Random" Check

I felt so bad on my way through security for the poor young man, about 19, in a big ghetto sweatshirt and über-baggy jeans, with a big "Arab-fro" (you know, like a "Jew-fro" - see picture - except darker!) who got pulled aside at least 4 times for extra inspections. Extra check on his passport, then patted down even though he didn't set off the alarm, including having a TSA man put his hands all through the guy's hair, and then making him take everything out of his carry-on for inspection. And as I walked away, I saw him putting back into his bag an enormous manual on passing your FAA certification....

I mean, I understand the importance of the job TSA does. I both admire and pity them for it. They have to rely on racial profiling, even though they deny it. El Al is right when they say it's the only way to be effective. But, honestly, if you were a terrorist, would you put on such an distinctively rebellious look? Wouldn't you want to look inconspicuous, in bootleg jeans and a T-shirt with an unremarkable hairstyle? This kid, Arab though he clearly was, didn't look like a terrorist. Quite the opposite. He looked like a teenager rebelling against his conservative parents by embracing Western culture. He also looked used to this. Like all my Arab-American friends, I'm sure he gets pulled aside for "random" inspections every time he flies....

Jordanians Abroad

I seemed to run into them everywhere I went. At the airport, I found myself sitting next to an older couple, the woman wearing hijab. When the ground crew gave instructions for boarding, it was with a very thick French accent, and the woman started asking her husband in Arabic what was going on. He didn't know, so I jumped in and explained. "Are you Arab?" she asked, very confused.
"No, I'm American."
"Where did you learn your Arabic?"
"Oh, I've been living in Jordan."
"Really? We're Iraqi, but we've been living in Jordan for 22 years."
In the end, I got an invitation to dinner at their house with "some real Iraqi food"!

Just a Bit More Bad Luck

Dulles International Airport, Washington, DC, USA

From My White Wintery Hell

I spent all morning hoping my flight might be cancelled and might be able to stay until Tuesday, crash Karla's Valentine's Day, and take the CASA exam on Tuesday morning.

When it became clear that my flight would really leave, I spent all afternoon trying to figure out how to get to Dulles. The Metro wasn't running. Even if it had been, the Metro bus to Dulles wasn't running. Neither was the Washington Flyer nor the Airport Shuttle. I could get a cab from Alexandria, but if I took the bus to Ballston I could save almost $15. Rachel and her friend said they'd seen the bus to Ballston, so that was the plan.

From My White Wintery Hell

I dragged my suitcase, carry-on and backpack full of books for my supervisor's PhD over the snow to the main road. At 6pm it looked pretty much like it looked at noon:

From My White Wintery Hell

But the longer I stood in the dark and the slush on the corner, waiting for a bus that might not come, contemplating the prospect of schlepping all my luggage on and off the bus.... I started to feel like $15 maybe wasn't so much money after all. I called a taxi.

When the taxi arrived, he was playing Arabic music. He loaded in my bags and as soon as we were off, he flipped the dial for the radio. "Oh, I liked the Arabic music!" I said. "It reminds me of ... home."
He gave me an odd look and said, with an unmistakably Arab accent, "Where are you from?"
"Well, I'm from Pennsylvania, but right now I live in Jordan. That's where I'm going, actually."
"Really?" he says. "I'm from Jordan!" And an intensely homesick Jordanian, too. So we chatted about home, until his car started making funny noises. He pulled over onto the shoulder of I395 and called his brother to take me the airport (such an Arab!). When his brother was busy, he called his friend, but he couldn't come either. That was when I started to notice the cab filling up with really foul rubber-smelling smoke. "Look," says my driver, "I'll take you down to the Pentagon Metro station and get you another cab. I'm not even going to charge you for this ride." He was very sweet, poor guy, and found a cab from his own company down at the Metro and handed me and my bags over.

My second cab driver was from Eritrea, a country about which I know very little except that there's apparently a significant Eritrean community in Amman (many of them cousins of a Peace Corps friend, in fact). I learned all kinds of things. I had no idea that Eritrea was a mainly Christian country, for example, and that there's a lot of Italian mixed into the local languages, left over from the colonial era.

And though it cost me a fortune, I made it to the airport in just the perfect amount of time to check in, get through security, and arrive at the gate a mere 10 minutes before boarding.

Here we go again....

Alexandria, Virginia, USA

From My White Wintery Hell

Stuck indoors for yet another day.

Today it's not so much the snow accumulation, which is only a couple inches here, but the wind. Half the Metro is shut down again, and Georgetown University is closed, which means my Arabic exam is cancelled again.

Karla still thinks she's going to make it in tomorrow morning to see me, but I'm skeptical that many flights will even be coming in and out on Thursday night when it's my turn to fly away. As of now, however, Air France claims that the flight is still on and is refusing to let me change my return date.

It's all "wait and see" at this point, and "hope I'm not still here to ruin Valentine's Day for my hosts"!

From My White Wintery Hell

Lunch With Megan

Washington, DC, USA

I don't know why I thought that the Career Conference for Returned Peace Corps Volunteers would go on even though the federal government was closed for snow that wasn't even scheduled to arrive till late afternoon. I guess I thought RPCVs were prepared for adverse conditions, but I guess we all go soft when we get back Stateside. Of course the conference was cancelled ... though we weren't notified until 15 minutes after it was supposed to start.

I guess I knew before I even got out of bed in the morning that it was just wishful thinking, and desperation to get out and do something before we got snowed in again! Since I had come into the city, though, I did meet up with Megan for lunch. She was the first of my roommates in the apartment in Amman, and it was good to see her, even if she was not real encouraging about the prospects of finding a job through the government's Websites. As I suspected, there are lots of work-arounds to bypass the Websites, and that's how most people actually get jobs in the government. Still, with my new book on federal resumes, which Bob and I are poring over in great detail while we're snowed in, I'm ever-hopeful!

Snowpocalypse DC

This about sums up how the District feels today.

Alexandria, Virginia, USA

It's just as well that I didn't try to get to my sister's in Baltimore yesterday, because we would definitely have been stuck in her tiny studio apartment for the weekend. The state of Maryland's in a State of Emergency, which means that driving on the roads in strongly discouraged, so there's no way we would have gone to Pennsylvania this morning.

It is unfortunately, though, that I wasn't able to get in touch with Candice yesterday morning, because it would have been nice to be snowed in with her, Sparky, and a supply of Tension Tamer tea. It seems that God does not approve of our friendship. First swine flu, now the blizzard of the century.... Something out there doesn't want Candice and I to see each other!

Instead, I've spent the last 24 hours reminiscing about the last "Storm of the Century," when I was in my last semester at Goucher College. Martin O'Malley was Mayor of Baltimore at the time, and not Governor of Maryland. Also, I had snow pants, a Stimpson Cafeteria tray, and hills to sled down. Not to mention that Jason and friends went wading through the snow to the liquor store (only business open in Towson, and well worth it!) to fuel our evenings shut in. Actually, as I remember it, Sma and I spent most of the time in my dorm room sipping hot chocolate with Bailey's.... Ah, those were the days!

If only I could've made it to the snowball fight on Dupont Circle with Josh and Jenn. Facebook has given fun a whole new definition!

From My White Wintery Hell

Cancelled!

Alexandria, Virginia, USA

Welcome back to the mid-Atlantic states! Snow in the forecast, and the city is panicking! I was planning on leaving home at 10am just to be sure I got to my 1:30pm CASA Arabic exam in Georgetown. When it still wasn't snowing at 10:00, though, I decided to stay till 11. I was checking my email every few minutes, because my Peace Corps friend Vanessa at Georgetown said the university would probably close and cancel the exam today. Meanwhile, I was hoping they wouldn't cancel, because I'm only in Washington, DC, for so long, and I was worried about whether I'd be here for the make-up exam. Sure enough, just before 11am, they cancelled the exam.

So then the next question became, do I try to make it up to Baltimore to my sister's? We were planning on going up to Pennsylvania tomorrow morning to visit my cousin Gwen and her family, and I was really looking forward to seeing all of them. But if we weren't going to make it to Pennsylvania, we'd be stuck in my sister's studio apartment, which I hear is smaller than a postage stamp.... Elizabeth emailed to say, Don't come.

Then I tried to get in touch with Candice to see if I could spend the weekend with her in Glen Burnie, since she was in quarantine at Bethesda Naval Hospital with swine flu last time I was in the area. I couldn't get in touch with her, though, so I'm here in Alexandria, Virginia, for the weekend. Bob and Rachel swear they don't mind the imposition, but I do feel like I'm in danger of overstaying my welcome!

BBC's Most Famous Woman In Afghanistan

Georgetown, District of Columbia, USA

This evening I met Naureen at Georgetown Law to see a film about an amazing woman I've heard speak several times on NPR, Malalai Joya. If you have a chance to see the Danish film Enemies of Happiness, I highly recommend it. There are amazing people doing incredible things in Afghanistan, and Malalai Joya is one of those heroes.

On the American side, I am also following two friends, Emily and Arnoux, who are blogging their experiences in Afghanistan.

One Down, One To Go

College Park, Maryland, USA

I took the Arabic exam for the Flagship Fellowship today. Without divulging too much, I have a good feeling about it. And I'm so happy that they were able to arrange for me to take it today instead of tomorrow. The arrangement was originally made so that I and another student who were taking both the Flagship and CASA exams, scheduled for the same day on opposite sides of DC, would be able to make it to both. But now it looks like we may be facing cancellations of one or both exams tomorrow anyway, due to weather!

Ma'in Reunion ... with Sushi!

Washington, DC, USA

From My White Wintery Hell

Today I met up with Naureen and Jennifer at Cafe Asia for sushi happy hour for a mini Ma'in reunion. Jennifer was our LCF (Language and Cultural Trainer) in our training village of Ma'in during Peace Corps Pre-Service Training. It was great to catch up on the Peace Corps friends we're still in touch with, and on each other's lives. (As I've said before, I'm terrible at keeping in touch!) Then we headed out for frozen yogurt near Dupont Circle. It was another great dinner date. I would so love to be living in DC with all these fun, fascinating people!

From My White Wintery Hell

I also realized that I might have the perfect job for Jennifer in Amman. I seem to be getting quite good at this, finding jobs for other people. I found Heba her job at UNHCR, I got Andy an offer at the Modern American School. Now, if only I could just find a job for myself, too! Maybe I should try my own business: finding jobs for other people!

Job Search Fatigue Already

Alexandria, Virginia, USA

After my rejected requests for informational interviews, requests which I was already uncomfortable making, I decided to stay at Bob's today and work on more Internet applications. I just wish I had a better idea of how to make my application stand out.

I understand that applying through these databases is a more efficient way for employers of eliminating unqualified applicants and easing the workload on HR personnel. I understand that the sheer volume of applications in the digital age makes it necessary, and even desirable, to use these online forms to simplify the process.

My frustration is that, with my work experience and educational background, those forms make me look ineligible when, in fact, there are many things I can do that aren't reflected in those applications. My hope in the informational interviews was to get some of that on the table before they saw my resume. But all I could get was, Apply through our Website.

Yeah. Thanks. I've been doing that for almost 2 years now....

Catching Up With Kitty

Washington, DC, USA

I'm terrible at keeping in touch. I'm not sure I've communicated with Kitty since she got back from Yemen in August. Fortunately, my friends are forgiving, and willing to go out to dinner with me when I'm in town.

It was really great to see Kitty. I caught her up on what everyone is doing back in Jordan. She says hello to all our mutual friends from Tareef Cycling Club, Ryan and Heba, and Philip, wherever he is these days. She told me a little about Yemen, which she seemed to really enjoy.

She also had great things to say about her graduate program at JHU SAIS. I took a moment to pass on my latest advice for grad school (considering how much I wish I'd done so myself when I had the chance): "Do as many internships as you can manage, while you've got student loans covering your expenses!" It turns out that she started a completely unexpected internship at ABC TV just today.

In fact, we had so much fun catching up that we stayed at Nando's Peri Peri (delicious food! I recommend it!) until we were almost the only people left, and I almost missed the last bus from the Metro back to Bob's house in Alexandria. By the time I did get home, everyone else was already in bed.