Having my taxi driver tell me, in Arabic, that Gaddafi had just been killed, was exceptionally cool. The Libyan revolution hits a lot closer to home when you live in the Middle East and actively follow the various revolutions in the region. "Wul-lah!!?" I exclaimed as my heart skipped a beat, and I eagerly leaned forward to hear the radio better. I'm not in the thick of it, but still, being in the region at such a crucial time is something I'm so incredibly grateful for. The way I view the world will never be the same after these past few months.

Also, on a totally unrelated note, it was my five year old cousin's birthday today. They put three sparklers, yes actual sparklers, on her Barbie cake. And lit them. As they sang the most out of tune version of Happy Birthday I have ever heard in my life. Note to self: do not ever sing in any language other than English, even if I become fluent.

It's getting harder for me to blog the longer I live in Amman. My life has become so ordinary. To me at least. Just like I wouldn't blog from back in Champaign or Carbondale, I'm starting to feel the same way about Amman. Which is actually a shame, because I'm still having some new and interesting experiences that I'm sure y'all would love to hear about. I also managed to severely dehydrate myself, which made for a very bad past week. Note to all: If one lives in a desert climate and starts working out four times a week, one should increase one's water intake. I did not. I think I came close to needing to be hospitalized. But at least now I know why I've been so tired lately and getting frequent muscle cramps.

So last Saturday, I attended my first Jordanian wedding. Weddings here in Jordan are relatively similar to Christian weddings in the States, except that there is no ceremony. Only a reception, but the bride wears white, the groom wears a tux, and there's a giant, white wedding cake. I've wanted to go to a wedding for a long time, but I wasn't too jazzed about this one, because teta only asked me if I wanted to go a few hours before we left, and I had nothing to wear. I did my best, but I was vastly underdressed. Jordanians like lots of bling, and while I never went to prom, I imagine the dance floor looked pretty similar to a high school prom. Except without boys. Yep, this wedding was segregated. Which was kind of a big deal, enough so that my host dad wouldn't even go. The segregation was interesting to see though - when we first got there, the men were in the same room, but they left shortly after, and then all the outer clothes came off - hijabs, jackets, etc. until the women were only wearing skimpy little dresses. I find it interesting how, out in society, this culture is so conservative, but yet so laid back behind closed doors. You should have seen how some of the women were dancing - and in front of their grandmas' too! Another CIEE student was there, so we were dancing, and let me tell you, I sure felt uncomfortable dancing to Shakira in front of teta . . . that is until she came out and danced with me. My teta rules. Oh, and I took an awesome video of the bride and groom dancing, but I got yelled at about it because the bride had taken her hijab off, so I guess I'll have to refrain from posting it here. Sad face.

Also last Saturday, I started English conversation club at the organization where I work. Volunteers from the center came in, and we just sat in a circle and talked. I was thrilled, because there were some really outspoken and politically minded young women that showed up; they seemed like a lot of fun. Most of the young women I meet here seem to have no interest in anything other than hair and nails and maybe Twilight, so it was really refreshing to talk to these girls. Plus, I've hit a goldmine of information on Jordan. I'm really lucky to work where I do, because most Jordanians don't talk about politics, but the center is very politically involved, so that's all we do talk about. I'm learning so much about the way this country is run - it's fascinating. I'm so incredibly, incredibly lucky to be working at a political organization in the Middle East at a time like this. Jordan isn't obviously in the thick of it, but still I feel like I'm in the middle of history in the making. Going to work, and having all these people around you pushing for change, believing in their cause, trying to make their country a better place to live . . . it's really fucking cool.

This past weekend was our CIEE sponsored trip to Petra and Wadi Rum which I had previously done three months before with the summer program. While I still had a good time, I quickly realized that doing it with a grand total of 32 individuals is much more fun then the 150 that were on the trip this time around. I don't feel like rehashing the details, especially a second time around so we won't go into that. Plus, I enjoy talking about the fam more - my host grandma, or as I've began to call her "teta" (Jordanian for grandma), is so much more interesting.

Some short stories:

On Friday morning I was in my room doing homework. Teta walks in, hands me a pair of new socks, says "for you", and walks out again.

She moves furniture around in the house daily. My room is different every day. Every. Day. Furniture goes in, other furniture goes out. Also, I came home yesterday to find the two twin beds in my room covered in matching comforters with massive tigers on them. I feel like a bad ass. Or a 10 year old boy who likes Ed Hardy and motorcycles.

When I got home from my trip yesterday I went to bed almost immediately. Teta didn't get home until later. Today, when I got home from school I thought she told me that she had prepared a "feast" for me yesterday, but I was sleeping. I felt terrible. Thankfully, she repeated herself later and I realized she had said "fish" not "feast" and it had been sitting in the microwave all afternoon. That made me feel better. I already felt bad about ignoring my family last night; I would have been really embarrassed if they had prepared dinner for me and I slept through it.

ETA: While I was eating my dinner this evening, Teta decided to tell me about how the maid was on her period. And how she felt so sick she thought she was a bird apparently. Great story Teta, keep them coming. Which reminds me - almost as funny as yesterday when she asked me if there were camels in America, and Maher, her son, gave me a fantastic "sorry, she's crazy" look as he told her no, there are no camels in America.

While I pretty much hated Jordanian/Middle Eastern food this summer, my opinion has completely reversed since living in a Jordanian home. While many parts of the homestay are hard for me, eating the food definitely isn't. Things taste much better home cooked. Plus there's definite variety. It's always rice and a lot of times chicken, but still awesome. Especially because this is one of those food cultures where things taste best all mixed together, which is my favorite. Even a simple meal of rice, yogurt, and salad (tomato, cucumber, parsley, olive oil) all mixed together is zakee. Today, Teta made an Egyptian dish (the name escapes me) that was possibly my favorite so far. You start with a bed of rice mixed with lentils and something that I think was caramelized onions. Add plain macaroni. Then hot sauce. Then peppers. Then salad. Top off with homemade baba ghanoush. Mix together. Actually I may be completely bull shitting you. What happened was, I came home at 7pm. Teta got a bunch of tupperware containers out of the fridge and showed me what they were. I know the rice, macaroni, and hot sauce go together, but I'm not sure about the rest. Teta seems to get confused when I ask her things in Arabic. Not sure why; I've been told my Arabic is very clear. So anyway I ended up just dumping a little bit of everything into the bowl. No one else was eating, so I may have appalled her with my love of just mixing everything together. In fact I probably ruined her famous Egyptian dish by doing something else. Whatever, it tasted good to me . . .

The past couple of weeks were pretty hard for me, but I think I've finally returned to my normal state of being. I'm still stressed about when I'm going to find time to do grad school applications, but other than that, things are going pretty well. I have a routine down that includes gym time. I was able to do some bonding over the weekend, so I feel closer to my fellow American classmates. I just bought my plane ticket to Beirut for our week long holiday in November. I'm running a 10k race through Amman in three weeks. I figured out that the internet at my home is fast enough to download streaming video, so I can now watch the new season of my favorite show (will not be named to save face). I just got an extra $100 from CIEE to cover transportation costs to and from my job - what they don't know is that I figured out how to take the bus, which is a mere 42 cents per ride. My host dad, Maher, is making baby shrimp soup this weekend. Etc, etc, etc. I'm just glad I've settled in. I was worried for awhile that I wouldn't and I'd hate this entire semester.

Me, with two of my "cousins"? Or "nieces"? I'm only a few years younger then the moms, but I feel too young myself to be considered as their equals, so I'm having a hard time deciding what to refer to members of my family as . . . Anyway, note the hair - one of the girls (not pictured) has turned me into her own personal doll. She's actually pretty good, especially for a 12 year old, but this is one of her less age appropriate hair-dos.

This past week has been a roller coaster of emotions. One day, I'll feel so upset and uncomfortable and homesick, and the next, feel so lucky to be living my life. Without a doubt, doing this homestay is one of the most difficult things I've ever done, and while I think it's worth it, it's definitely a struggle for me. Thankfully, I joined a gym - it's been my saving grace. Earlier this week I was miserable - definitely at my lowest point since living in Jordan - and then I went for a run, and it all went away. I'm so busy that making time for the gym is a bit difficult, especially when it's a half hour walk from my house, but I feel so much better after that it's well worth it to go, even if it means waking up early and going before class.

And things are getting more comfortable with my family; I'm sure in another month most of the awkwardness will be gone. I think my host mom/sister is possibly one of the coolest people ever. There are so many things I want to ask her about - I can't wait until we're closer. Amaal married into this family, so she lives with her husband, Maher, and her mother-in-law, Shireen, and then pretty much their whole family, since they're always here. I have so much respect for her for a number of reasons, but mostly for submitting to living in someone else's home. Shireen is obviously in charge - it's her family and friends that are always here - never Amaal's. I was actually worried that Amaal never even saw her family, but she told me this week that she goes there every day after work, which made me feel better. Amaal just seems like someone who, born into American culture, would be a total high-powered single woman working some fancy job in a big city. She's fashionable and gorgeous, but also sort of a bad-ass, not to mention an awesome mother. The two kids, Laith (9) and Tala (6), are extremely polite and well-behaved, not to mention raised on a diet completely void of junk food. She's definitely not what I would consider as a typical Arab mother, but then again this is Amman . . . which leads me to my next point . . .

Thursday night, Amaal and I were sitting out on the patio smoking sheesha, and she asked me what my family thought about me coming here. (She speaks perfect English btw; not good for my Arabic.) I explained about how it's hard for a lot of people to understand, because they are so ignorant about the culture here. I know so much about life here so I can't even really imagine what goes on in people's heads - but my idea of American ignorance is that they think all Arabs are Muslims and all Muslims are fundamentalists/terrorists who live in tents and build bombs or some dumb shit like that. I'm not sure. "Yeah, I think they think we ride camels to work," she said. "But really, at least here in Amman, our lives are so similar." I concur. I mean obviously there are slight cultural differences, but this family could easily live in the States. Like that night, also on the patio was her son, Laith, who was wrapped up in a blanket, trying not to fall asleep, because he didn't want to stop playing Angry Birds on his dad's iPhone. Yeah, Amaal is Muslim. Yeah, she wears hijab. But A. it's her choice; she didn't use to. B. it doesn't make her any less modern or intelligent or whatever else someone might think about people that wear hijab.

On Living with a Jordanian Family

First a note on weather in Amman:

June: sunny, highs in the upper 80s
July: sunny, highs in the upper 80s
August: sunny, highs in the upper 80s
September: sunny, highs in the upper 80s

What are clouds?

Where is fall? I keep getting confused about the time of year. It's very disorienting when mid-September is exactly the same as mid-June. The monotony is freaking me out. This is a minor complaint though; I hate cold weather so if fall comes two months later, that's fine by me.

Okay. So it's been one week with the new fam. And what a long week it has been. Staying as a guest in someone else's house is always kind of awkward for the first time, right? Even if you know them pretty well, you still feel a bit uncomfortable about things - like using the bathroom in the middle of the night or getting something out of the fridge. But here, that awkwardness is multiplied by about 100, because not only are they strangers, they live in a completely different country, with a completely different culture, and speak a completely different language. Yeah I've lived in Amman for three months, and yeah, I've studied the culture in classes, so I'm aware of a lot of things. But since I'm also a foreigner, I'm not sure what is expected of me and what isn't. It makes things very confusing. I think it would almost be better if I weren't so aware of the culture; then maybe I wouldn't always be worrying about if I'm being rude or not.

So to say the least, this first week was uncomfortable. Like I'd come home flat out exhausted and just want to go in my room and shut the door, but I'm not sure if that's cool. So I don't. I go and I sit with the family and do nothing besides drink Turkish coffee while everyone babbles around me. And when I say sit with the family, I mean for hours. There are ALWAYS people here, and everyone sits on the patio, smokes sheesha, and chats till about 10 or 11 every night. I've just about fallen asleep sitting out there a few times this week. Also, sometimes we have dinner at 10:30 pm. That threw me for a loop the first time it happened. Sunday, I was dead on my feet and could have gone to bed at 7pm. I was doing homework and my host dad told me that at 9pm he was gonna quiz me; being as polite as I am, of course I said okay. So I struggled to stay awake til 9, but 9 came and passed and he said nothing. At 10, he comes and tells me we're having dinner. I was like "seriously?" This is where I learn that the big meal I eat when I get home is considered lunch . . . So anyway, we eat, and then he insists on a "quiz." He turns on the tv to al-jazeera and makes me read the news scroll at the bottom. It's 10:30. I'm about to pass out I'm so tired. The screen is fuzzy. I can't distinguish how many dots are on any of the letters so I keep mixing them up. It was incredibly painful. And now my host dad probably thinks I can't read Arabic.

Also, this was 9/11, so of course that was what they were talking about, and my host dad says to me, in possibly the saddest voice ever, "by the way, I'm really sorry about that." I wanted to cry. Or give him a hug. Mostly I was mortified. "Oh God," I said. "Why are you apologizing? That had nothing to do with you." Jesus. Does he really think I'm one of those Americans? That see all Arabs or Muslims as Osama bin Laden? I felt so bad that he felt he had to apologize. Here he is this normal guy, a sales manager that works an 8-5 desk job, loves football, and wears converse shoes on the weekends, apologizing for some crazy ass dude who lived in a cave just because he also happens to be Muslim and Arab.

However, I don't want to come off as if I don't like this experience. In fact it's quite the opposite. I appreciate the challenge, and I know it will get easier. Plus, my host family is cool, nice, and laid back. Like last night, I went out for the first time since moving in, and my host dad was soo happy. He was like "oh good, I was worried you didn't have friends." And then he told me I could stay out as late as I wanted. "You have a key right, in case we're asleep?" Uh yeah I have a key. But you guys go to bed at like 3 am. "I'll be back by 11 at the latest," I told him. "No, no, stay out as late as you want," he insisted. "Okay. I'll be back by 11." The thing is, there's only so long I can sit at a cafe and talk before I get bored. What does one do 'till 3 am? I don't have the stamina to sit and chat like they do here, unless I'm drinking . . . which I obviously won't be since I'm living in a Muslim household.

Which, speaking of living in a Muslim household - it's been really interesting to observe the things they do so nonchalantly, but that stick out to me. My favorite is how they pray so openly. Like, we'll all be outside sitting in a circle, and the call to prayer will go off, and my host grandma will just go put on hijab, come back out, sit down, turn her chair to face Mecca and pray right there in the middle of everything as the conversation continues around her. Most of the family will go in the house to pray, but it's not like they close doors or anything. At any time, I'll just walk past someone praying, like on my way to the kitchen. It's very cool. Also, I like observing when the women do and don't wear hijab - it depends on who the guests are. So if someone who isn't family is coming over, I get to watch them put it on, which I also enjoy - especially the more stylish ones, who wear a poof under their hijab to make it look really big.

Wanna play "Goldshit"?

Orientation for the fall program was this week, which means once again I've had to sit and listen to CIEE employees make Amman sound like the Congo or Somalia or some equally dangerous place, where riding a taxi alone at night assures either rape or mugging. After orientation in the summer, I was scared shitless about a good number of things in Amman, and it took me close to a month to realize that most of my fears were unfounded. I realize that it's important to be aware of your surroundings, but that's true in any place in the world; it's not fair how they over emphasize all the crazy things as if they were the norm rather than the exception.

So this semester, instead of living in an apartment, I'll be living with a Jordanian family. Before I left, I was really excited about it, but now after being here and being used to my freedom, the excitement has turned to apprehension.

For reasons such as:

Lack of privacy
Lack of alone time
Eating Jordanian food
Making my bed every day
Rarely showering
Who is washing my underwear
Curfew
Appropriateness of having male friends

The family came and picked me up from the hotel yesterday, so I've now experienced a day here with them. I was provided with a picture and some information beforehand so I thought I had a rough idea of what they looked like. However it must have been a bad pic, because when my name was called at the hotel, I was vastly surprised when the Jordanian Ken and Barbie came and helped me with my stuff. My host parents are in their mid-30s, but could easily be in their 20s. They're hip, they're cool, and they're gorgeous. Both were impeccably dressed; the dad in a well-fitting pin-striped suit, and the mom perfectly matching from her intricately wrapped hijab to her high heels. I'm a snob when it comes to dressing well, so I was happy about their ability to put a working outfit together, but also intimidated. Women dressed like that in Jordan are constantly giving me disdainful looks, and I wasn't surprised when I caught my host mom dog-eyeing my dirty yellow cloth purse that I picked up in a souvenir shop downtown.

They took me home, where I was greeted by a whole slew of my host dad's family members, none of whose names I retained. I sat down awkwardly on the couch. I didn't know what to say. All the women were young and gorgeous. There were children everywhere. I wasn't sure who anyone was. Dinner was served almost immediately. I put too much food on my plate, always a bad idea, since it's expected that you eat everything there. The last few bites were torture on my full to bursting stomach. I still wasn't talking. I think I've gotten quiet here. Everyone is always speaking in Arabic, and I still often can't comprehend even the gist of the conversation, so I've pretty much just stopped talking. I'm completely used to sitting in a room for hours without barely uttering a word nor understanding anything that is going on around me. My host dad was nice and asked me things here and there, but I wasn't really comfortable with the stilted conversation thrown into between bursts of Arabic with other family members. That's not how I'm used to getting to know someone.

After dinner, I ended up mostly playing with the kids. One of the girls in the family goes to an English school, so her English is better than her Arabic. I immediately took a liking to her, even if it meant curling up in a cubby in a closet to play hide and seek. Being around this many children might become tiring sometimes, but I think it will definitely benefit my Arabic. I feel more comfortable speaking to them then adults, because they don't give you those condescending looks of feigned patience as you struggle through what you want to say. The best moment of the night came when one of the girls got out a deck of cards and asked me if I wanted to play Goldshit. I thought I heard her wrong. "What?" I asked. "Goldshit. Let's play Goldshit." Yep. She definitely said Goldshit. Ohhhh. You mean Go Fish.

Later on in the evening, my host dad announced that one of my classmates was coming over. It turns out his dad hosts a CIEE student as well, and on the weekends, they're either at our place or we're at theirs. It's a definite relief to be able to go through this whole experience with someone at my side. I started this yesterday, Friday morning - it's now a day later - and all of Friday was spent at the dad's (or grandpa's), and I think I would have broke into tears if I didn't have Monica to talk to. I don't think I've ever felt more exhausted. Spending two straight days essentially trapped in a non-English speaking environment is like running a marathon. But I definitely see it paying off, because my Arabic has noticeably improved in just two days.

A Little Bit About Having A Maid

Having a maid here in a Jordan is a very popular thing right now. They're all young women from Asian countries - I think mostly the Philippines, Indonesia, maybe Bangladesh - and I'm pretty sure they're with the family 24/7. On the information sheet I received about the family beforehand it said they didn't have a maid, so I wasn't expecting to have one, but we do. This is a definite adjustment. Ours, Jessna, literally just grabbed my arm out of the sink and slapped it when I tried to wash my teacup . . . I am not used to having someone clean up after me - walking in my room, emptying the trash, taking out the laundry, etc. I guess there are perks to living with a family here - perks I never even had back home - like having all my meals home cooked or never having to do laundry.

Oh side note. There is literally no processed food in this house. It is AWESOME. The kids have been snacking all day, but what I've seen them eat is: corn, grapes, bananas, chicken, and pita. The jam is even homemade. The fridge consists of a bunch of baskets with assorted fruits and veggies and then tupperware containers with all the home cooked leftovers. As long as I don't stop at the 7-11 and buy candy every day, I'll be eating really healthy. Even if it has to be mensahf. I think I've explained about mensahf before, but here's a refresher: it's the Jordanian national dish, and they LOVE it. It's lamb cooked in a sour yogurt sauce and then poured over rice. To me the yogurt tastes rancid. It is definitely an acquired taste. Yesterday, this is what we had for lunch. While I feel like I can tell my family if I don't like something, I don't have the heart to tell any Jordanian I don't like mensahf. That just seems brutal. So I will continue to suffer through eating it. Right before lunch, my host grandpa handed me a cup filled with the yogurt, and was like "Close your eyes and drink deeply" and I was like "shit, this is the most disgusting thing on the planet as far as I'm concerned." I can't believe he was drinking it, like it was juice. Then, at lunch, I figured I would take as little yogurt "gravy" as possible - just eat the rice and lamb - but while I was up getting soda, my host grandpa decided to literally douse my plate in the yogurt. And what can you do but smile and eat it?