Culture rehab

I've been looking forward to writing this post. Although it won't be as "historically" or "traditionally" shocking, my day in Jordan two Thursdays ago was one for the contemplative books. I'd like to apologize for it's length to start off! A bit long-winded to say the least.

So, in a previous post I had mentioned that I might end up going out with some Jordanian girls. Well, originally when I left the USA I thought that spending some time with Jordanian girls would be a fascinating experience. I was hoping that, and Gary was as well, that I might get to spend some time alone with some traditional Muslim women as they might be more forthcoming about their daily lives with me (as a woman) than with Gary, a male professor. You know, I thought, teas, possibly trying on a burka, and maybe go to a mosque or event where men and women are divided.

Well I stand corrected, "traditional Muslims in Jordan" are changing as rapidly as Madonna has changed her images in the past two decades. When I met Sarah, her twin Farah, and their friend Sherihan, at the courtyard meet and greet a couple of days earlier, I did not expect to be chatting them up about going to some "clubs and parties." I was torn about agreeing to go with them, as I was in Jordan on "business" and had a higher image to uphold, or so I thought.

After our first introductions, we exchanged phone numbers and facebook pages, and we had been in contact over facebook for the past few days. GO FIGURE! As I had mentioned before when I was at the University of Jordan (UJ), I noticed how the women dressed in the range from full black burkas with faces covered, to jeans with fashionable tunics and simple headscarves, or no covering at all and plain ol' Western garb that I might wear. My Jordanian friends were of the latter style, which is why I was hesitant to go out with them as I figured it wouldn't be much different fro what I was used to.

When we first discussed going out together, I was initially surprised how eager they were to insist I was coming... another example of how hospitable and welcoming the Jordanians are. The next thing they asked me was, "What are you going to wear? Do you like Arabic music? We will pick you up, ok?" Oh jeeeeeeeez!

So I found myself at UJ on Thursday morning to attend a "19th Century American Literature" class taught by Dr. Rula Quawas, one of our Global Modules enthusiasts. I wanted to get a feel for what these students are learning in an English/American class in the Middle East. The languages, arts and English depts are very active here. English is the second and very common language and Western education is avidly encouraged and attended.

The theme of that particular class was based on a reading by Margaret Fuller titled, "Women in the 19th Century--A breaththrough in the rights of women." Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting when I went into the class; was I going to participate? Be a fly on the wall? How does a Middle Eastern classroom conduct such a discussion? To my surprise, not only were the students bright, and way more well versed than some English Literature students I know in the US, but they were quick! Dr. Rula's style of teaching is direct, very fast, and interactive. In fact, Dr. Rula spoke faster than any teacher I've ever had. She covered more material in a 1 hour class then we @ Champlain might cover in a week. I was dizzy just trying to keep up, but I enjoyed it. It made me feel like the students were expected to, and do, take their classes seriously. It was a refreshing change for me.

Side note: Let's have a quick word about the English language here... I am a speaker of one of the romance languages because I went to a French immersion primary and secondary... it's easier to learn a second language as a child. However, I've always been told, and believed, that aside from the Asian languages, and possibly some of the historic languages, that English was the hardest to learn because of all the slangs, double uses, and dialects. The military students that are staying at ACOR from Pennsylvania who are at the University of Jordan for a semester to learn Arabic have said it was one of the more difficult things they have ever done. Most of them have had previous Arabic classes while in the US and the experience in Jordan was like a capstone to their studies. No such luck they say, according to them, it's impossible to wrap your mind around Arabic in just one semester, no matter what extent of training one has. This led me to conclude that it's a testament to these local students at UJ - not only are they born Arabic speakers, but they are a school of 35,000+ students who can speak and study fluently in English. Their willingness to learn puts the average American student to shame. No offense.

Passionately, Dr. Rula imparted that women were encouraged to leave their mark on the world, remember that women's rights are RIGHTS and not privileges, resist indoctrinations, and that concluded with a quote from Katherine Mansfield, "I'm capable of becoming whoever I want to be," at which point my Jordanian friends came rushing up to me to finalize plans for later that evening.

In a 30+ student classroom where the majority were covered head to toe - my Jordanian friends looked as though they walked right out of a US suburb mall: Juicy sweats, high ponytails, hoodies... the plan was they were going to pick me up at around 630-7pm. Kind of early for sure, but most girls have a curfew of 10pm every night, even if you are an American study abroad student. However, it was Thursday night, which is like our Friday because in Jordan the business/school week runs from Sunday-Thursday with Fri & Sat being the "weekend," so their curfew was extended to midnight. I thought, how harmless could it be? Being home at midnight might still give me time to get some work done. Also, I wondered, how is it these girls can even go out? They are 19!

Turns out they couldn't pick me up because at 630-7pm, both Sarah and Farah were still in their salon chairs. It's extremely common for Middle Eastern women to do the salon thing. I took a taxi and met the girls at the Abdoun Mall where they were getting their hair and makeup done for 3JD each!!!! Something they had done for less than 10 usd would have been around 50usd in the US. They had asked me on the phone if I wanted to have it done as well, but I declined, but after seeing them, I was like, "damn!" I'm not one to shy away from an evening of dress up.

Farah and her stylist


After the glamour girl session, we hopped into Mohammad's car, the girls' companion, and who I would later learn is a trusted family friend. Muslim women cannot really be seen wandering out by themselves, it's not socially accepted and might cause a reputation strike against her and the family if they are seen alone or with an "inappropriate" male. We spend the next hour in the car looking for the "bar" we are going to. Yeah, I said BAR - which I'm confused at considering alcohol isn't permitted in the Islamic faith. It is a little weird at first when you go to a restaurant and there's no beer or wine on the menu, I always found myself looking to have a glass of wine with dinner. Ironically, along the way I wonder why we are hitting dead ends, backtracking and confused at where we were going. My friends had been to our destination before, and have lived in Amman all their lives, but the city is even confusing for the locals. A series of hills and various "circles" which attach the web of streets that make up the metropolis is nearly impossible to master. Meanwhile, it's a good thing it takes us 30 minutes to find the location because Farah was dressing in the car.

I don't know what I was expecting when I agreed to go out with Jordanian ladies, but it certainly wasn't being out with ultimate divas. I assisted in the backseat while Farah got out of her sweatsuit and into a pushup bra, black mini-dress, black patent peep-toe heels, and miles of L'Oreal bronzing stick, ounces of perfumes, and layers of eyeliner and lip gloss. About seven years ago the Western influence on Jordan increased so much that anything materialistic, cosmetics included, is new to the latest generation. And L'Oreal seemed to break into the right industry. Whenever I went to a trendy Western-style mall, the L'Oreal stores were a focus of the mall, looking a lot like MAC cosmetics would in the US. Whereas L'Oreal here is simply a higher quality drugstore brand, hardly worthy of a retail location. All the while we are listening to a station on the radio that they love which is playing the same kind of dance music I used to party to when I lived in Montreal. I even knew the words to the songs... and most of them were underground, non-commercial tracks... it was surreal. Here I was half-way across the globe, in a Middle-Eastern city, in the backseat of a car with girls getting ready for a night at the club, singing along to some of my old faves. Had you backtracked me 5 or 6 years... I would have been in Montreal - no difference.

I asked the girls how it was they could be out on this night, basically wondering what the deal was with their parents? Were they lying to them about where they were? Their father worked for the UN... ahhhhhhh! I assumed he was simply very open-minded, and they said that they normally would have to be home at 10, but they were allowed out until midnight tonight. I asked if they could come home looking like this, or if they had to pull a maneuver in the bushes outside of their house and transform back into the sweatsuit-clad teens from earlier and they said, "nope." Alllllrighty then!!!

We find our bar--hilariously on what seems like the only street in Amman that's being torn up and worked on. The tiny compact car is bumping and off-roading along the street through piles of dirt to get the to front door. Three high-heeled ladies pour out of the car and lead eachother arm in arm, giggling and wobbling our way along the uneven road inside the place.

It's a quaint, modern and cozy, almost hidden bar, three small floors high with a terrace on the top floor. We sit at the bar running along the railing with a view of one of Amman's many hillsides and of the sleepy and dusty cross-street below.

Our Spot


The Ladies!


View from the terrace


My escorts - twins Farah and Sarah


How do I look?


The bar is cock-full of American selections: Bacardi, Grey Goose, Bombay Saphir, etc. I order a Bacardi and Coke, my first drink in the Middle East, (yes it feels weird, and kindof wrong) and
the girls opt for a simple Red Bull. They said they will drink at our next destination, a Spanish-style club where Farah's boyfriend might be and apparently where we can get our dance ON! WooHoo! Two of the girls' friends, Americans of course (I've come to the conclusion they are American magnets), from Minnesota meet up with us.

As an intermediary stop before the club, the girls want to go to a house party to meet some friends. We spend another 45 mins trying to get to this place, somewhere near the Israeli Embassy, and find ourselves in a neighborhood of Hummers, Porshes, and Mercedes. Lovely. I get on the phone and speak with Nicole, from Southern Cali, drawl and all, and we finally get to our house party destination. It's supposed to be a Halloween party, being that it's the Thursday before the holiday and there was going to be Americans here. Of all the Americans to be there, I wasn't expecting to walk in and see my roommates from ACOR! Of all the parties and places in the great city of Amman, I walk into the same party that I saw my roomates getting ready for when I was getting ready to go out with my Jordanian friends. On my way out earlier that evening, we had each wished the other a good evening and a good "adventure." HA! Go figure.

Mahmoud and Mohammad


Friends


Sarah, Friend, Farah, Me


They were all dressed for Halloween and we all had a great time... it was surreal. Being at a Halloween house party in the Middle East with the only Jordanians in the room. We danced, we sang, and we never made it to the Spanish club. My friends from ACOR escorted me home and I was thankful for that. It's funny how strangers can become family in such a short time.

Ross and Spencer - Friends from ACOR - as coaches

Amman - Day One!

First "real" day one in Jordan. I woke up to the call to prayer at about 5am, I think. I wasn’t sure at first what was happening because I heard it in my dreams. You know, like when your alarm goes off and somehow you dream about it before you actually wake up, and I had only gone to sleep about 3 hours before that with the help of a sleeping pill—and it was very, very dark out still. I was expecting to hear it at some point, well probably at many points, however I certainly wasn’t expecting it to wake me up. It was strange, yet comforting, and not scary at all. It’s a very soothing, and clearly very Arabic, rhythmic chanting. All the mosques play the call to prayer five times a day, and I believe we must be in the center of it all because it went on for about a half hour. Right when I thought it went away, it would roll back around and get louder and louder again. I think I must have fallen back to sleep because when I got up again, it was very sunny and bright in my room and I guess around 630-7am.

View from my room - UJ is down the hill and to the right.


So this was my first time looking out my window and really seeing where I was. It’s pretty spectacular. We are perched on one of the sides of one of the many hills that make up Amman. Square, white-ish buildings surround ACOR with some large patches of dirt here and there, basically the equivalent of empty lots—just much dustier and no vegetation. As far as I can see, there are large portrait pictures of King Abdullah scattered about. Many cats around – no dogs. A fairly busy main drag down the hill and across that street and just down to the left is the University of Jordan.

Cats everywhere - no Elaine, you can't pet these ones - although they look like everyday housecats, not tomcats or alleycats. No dogs anywhere.


I hadn’t spoken to Gary yet and suddenly I felt some manic rush to get ready for whatever today was going to be, so I drank my EmergenC got in the military shower (not a real one, you just can’t keep the water running the whole time, water conservation is simply a way of life here). Because I only have one outlet adaptor, everything has to be timed. Things need to be plugged and unplugged and everything gets their turn with the juice. My hairdryer almost blew up because sparks flew when I plugged it in and it started to smell like it was burning – thank god I only needed it for a short time, otherwise I might be bald right now.

I got ready in record time, and went downstairs to grab coffee and breakfast from the kitchen and wait to see Scudder. There’s a dining area next to the lobby with a large kitchen where everyone can grab what they want to eat for breakie that you have to prepare yourself: eggs, toast, cereal, coffee, tea, milk—whatever’s around. Then lunch is a more formal affair and served @ 2pm. You must tell them if you are going to attend because they are big on NOT wasting food. There is a family that has been cooking here for something like 30 or 40 years and because they are Muslim, there will never be pork served here, nor can you bring it in out of respect.

The dining room adjacent to the lobby at ACOR - kitchen is through a door to the right.


Lobby of ACOR


Scudder arrived somewhat disheveled – the airline lost his luggage again. Ack! This happened when he went to Morocco during his past trip. He got in later than expected (3am) due to filling out the missing luggage forms and all that jazz. I was introduced to Char at breakfast who I’ve heard a lot about. She is a professor from The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington, (near where I grew up) and a good friend of Scudder’s. She is in the heat of her sabbatical and teaching online classes for now. Last time she was here she brought a troupe of students from Washington—a neat lady who we will be having dinner with later tonight.

I went with Gary to grab some toiletries so he could be somewhat groomed for his presentation at the University of Jordan this morning. I think men aren’t supposed to sit with women, or maybe they are supposed to sit up front for directions. But I sit in the back and Gary sits up front. It cost him about 30 dollars to grab some shaving essentials, shampoo, etc. Yikes! However, there wasn’t any time to get him any new clothes, so the two-day old clothes were going to have to suffice for now.

Front of ACOR


Front Courtyard of ACOR


One of the views from the deck - there are many plants and flowers Mom would love.


View from back of ACOR - my room is second window down from far left


Olive trees everywhere