On Saying Goodbye

Alas. The CIEE summer program in Amman is over. Everyone has left me. I cried myself to sleep last night. Not really. Although this morning certainly wasn't the best morning of my life. Sitting alone in my empty apartment, I definitely felt the most lonely and homesick that I've felt since coming to Amman. Especially thinking of how soon enough, my friends would be landing in the States where they would undoubtedly gorge on giant plates of bacon. Whereas I have to wait another five more months for this to become a reality . . .

I had a really great "I'm a dumbass" moment this morning. I had a big bag of food - rice, pasta, spices, nutella, tea - basically a lot of things I deem necessary food staples in my life. I set it on a chair by the door last night. This morning I took out the multiple bags of trash and water bottles that had accumulated by our front door. Later, as I was getting ready to leave, I went to grab my food bag - and it wasn't there. I had taken it out with the rest of the trash. FML. I went back to the dumpster, thinking that the unopened stuff would still be salvageable, but I guess everyone in the neighborhood had decided to take out their trash since then, and the once empty dumpster was brimming with crap. I'm just really pissed, because there was stuff like pepper and olive oil and sugar that I'm going to have to buy all over again, but normally would have lasted me for the duration of my stay. I hate waste. And I just wasted so much food. It's especially hard in a country like this where the poverty is much more noticeable. Now all I'm left with is half a bottle of Chef West hot sauce . . .

Thankfully, CIEE did not make us do any awful group activity goodbyes. I really would have hated that. We had a dinner together, but it wasn't like anyone said goodbye there because we all had to take an exam the next morning. That night I ended up getting sloshed on Petra ("Oh so this is Petra!? We finally found it!"), an awful lager that starts to taste like hard liquor the further down in the can you get. Then I had to go in and take the same exam we all took at the beginning of the term - so as to chart my progress. I was so nauseous the first time I took that exam two months ago, and it turned out that I felt pretty much the same on my second run. This time though it was completely of my own doing. Thankfully though, my progress has been quite significant and the three hour grueling exam had turned into a fairly simple two hour procedure. Anyway, I wasn't in the best mood and bounced as soon as I could without even realizing I would never see 75% of these people again, and therefore ended up saying goodbye to very few people. But then again, I only said goodbye to the people I was close to, and didn't have to suffer through any forced moments where I pretended I was going to miss people I absolutely wouldn't miss at all.

So I haven't read at all this whole trip, but then I blazed through a book in two days. Unfortunately this book was "Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea" by Chelsea Handler. I'm really embarrassed about this. But then again, it felt good to read something so refreshingly American i.e. lots of obnoxious behavior involving sex and alcohol. Although, I really want to get it off my hands now, but I'm not sure I should just leave it in the hostel. I feel like a book referring to alcohol in the title, let alone a picture of Chelsea holding a vodka martini, are not things that should be seen in this country . . . but should I throw it away? That's just blasphemous. Even if it is just Chelsea Handler. I'll just hide it in a desk drawer.


Oh right. Before the program ended, the babysitter gave us a bit of "re-entry (not rear-entry)" training. We all acted so mature on this trip sometimes . . .
"Dammit, Liz. Do not take a picture of this."