On Sleeping in a Dorm Room with Randoms

So today is day four of my thirty day stay at the Farah Hotel, located in downtown Amman. I've moved from my master bedroom with king-sized bed to a closet-sized room with two bunk beds. My bed from the apartment wouldn't even fit in this room . . . Plus, while I dropped my suitcase off at the CIEE offices for the break, I still have a ton of shit and it's all over the place. I thought I forgot my toothbrush and toothpaste in the apartment until I found them in a nightstand drawer with all my schoolbooks. However, only after I had emptied everything else I owned onto my bed. Now, I've stayed in hostels plenty. I'm accustomed to making do with a small space, but then again I sure didn't have so much crap last time. I'm just itching to throw stuff in the trash. I really hate stuff.

The best, and worst, part of staying in a dorm is the fact that you have to share a room with random strangers. This is great when they're cool, and usually backpackers are pretty swell. However, I'm currently sharing the room with a Chinese girl who has (god dammit. Somehow gum got stuck on one of my notebooks in my backpack. Note to self: There's a reason gum goes in the trash.) anyway, this girl told me she's on vacation, but she has slept all day and all night pretty much every day I've been here. I get that Amman is not the greatest place to be as a tourist, but then why did you come here? If you want to sleep, why not just check into a hotel at home or something. At least then you could check into a nice hotel with room service, air conditioning, and maybe a private room. Also, how can one person sleep this much? She woke up for breakfast this morning, but then went back to sleep. She's still asleep. It's 4:30 pm. And she was asleep when I came in the room at midnight last night. Whatever. I'm hostile about it because a.) she told me you only need three months to become fluent in Arabic and b.) I really want to do my Rosetta Stone French, but bitch is always in the room sleeping, and I'm not about to sit out in the common room and work on my pronunciation. Three months to learn Arabic? Please. Especially coming from someone who can barely speak English.

Overall, the guests here have not been spectacular. I met the coolest British girl the first day I got here; we bonded over our love for Berlin and The Guardian, as well as a mutual disbelief that Sarkozy could be running a country. Then I realized I really needed to move to Europe. We hung out for the two days she was here, but she left to do volunteer work in Rum yesterday morning, and I haven't taken a fancy to anyone since. There seems to be quite a few Arab men staying here, including one that has been sitting in the common room in his too small boxers all day. I refuse to talk to someone I don't know if I can see the outline of his junk. Then, there's this really loud Australian girl (surprise, surprise) who keeps flirting with everyone and making the dumbest comments about this country. She asked the guy at the front desk last night what she should bring to a dinner party. "Because in my country, we bring wine, but like, you can't do that here, right?" Shoot me now.


Today I finally got the chance to go to the Friday market, which I've been wanting to do since I got here. It's a thrift store shoppers dream come true. Rows and rows of clothes. Plus fruits and veggies and shoes and all sorts of random household items. I could have browsed for hours, but I bought three pairs of pants in the span of 15 minutes, so I had to bounce before I bought an entire new wardrobe. It's been blazing hot in Amman this past week, and it doesn't seem to be cooling down, so I found it imperative to go find some lighter weight pants that don't get soaked with sweat and stick to my bum. And at 1 JD a piece, they were impossible to pass up.
I bought a range of harem pants so as to ensure that I never leave the house looking like a ridiculous tourist again. Also, my swass was so bad, I put them on as soon as I got back to the hotel without a wash, but I'm wary that I might get crabs. It happened to David Sedaris once.


Oh, one last thing. I joined Twitter. Yep. But sorry guys, I will not be tweeting. Just wanted to follow Chelsea Handler. Not really. It's actually a pretty great way to get the news.