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?