What follows is the Good, the Bad and the Shway so far in Jordan. Shway is Jordanian slang: I've determined means "the so-so" or "meh" in Anne's colloquial language. I often have disjointed thoughts which are better fit for free-form poetry than for blog posts with plots so this is my collage of life in blog form...
Free time is sparse these days. So are squirrels and arachnids. I also ran out of honey to put in my tea and on rice bread in the morning. So Honey is also sparse these days.
I'm really enjoying my time here. I learn more in one day here than I do in a week at home. It was obvious that I needed a change of pace from the stresses of of Hopkins. I was like that partially watered plant that was bent in one direction towards the sunlight, and I needed to be redirected so as not to die or grow funny. In fact, I often felt like Hopkins was a special kind of "pressure cooker" in that Hopkins didn't just want a delectable rice dish to come out of said cooker, it demanded diamonds. Everyone who has taken 5th grade science knows that enough pressure and heat makes a diamond, aka a nobel prize winning student. However, enough pressure and heat also makes volcanoes explode, and that's the direction I felt like I was heading at Hopkins. Natural disaster averted.
Old challenges: getting into the FFC, El Hob breaking down, juggling multiple jobs and classes, organizing Club Soccer, leading OP trips, El Hob breaking down again, keeping fridge stocked with cheese, finding a free parking spot after 11pm, avoiding noise complaints and eviction in Wyman Towers, baking 367 sugar cookies during reading period, memorizing the entire history of the European Union.
New challenges: crossing traffic circle intersections without dying, ordering food in Englabic (english-arabic), finding empty taxis downtown, trying to resist eating aero bars as the main course for every meal, avoid doing haram (forbidden) things like walking outside with wet hair, talking politics in cabs, or streaking in front of Kind Hussein Mosque.
Thank goodness for the Slumberjack. (Tommy, I might have taken your sleeping bag). I use it every day and apparently it is a must have for the Badia Homestay because the desert gets frigid at night. Actually, I'm using it right now. Mmmmm.
Speaking of the Badia (the desert North and South of Amman where the Bedouin lifestyle is still at large), we leave in two days. While I am always excited for new experiences, I regret to admit that I finally got into a routine that I will be sad to destroy. My first period of relative normalcy in 2011 ends now. For the entirety of January, it came to my attention that I did not sleep in one place for more than 5 days. Like a proper hobo I had no place to call "home" (the hobo is an extended metaphor in my life because I am notorious for dressing down, wearing cut off gloves and absurd hats, and most significantly El hob is easily converted into "El Hobo"). I slept in the Hotel Patio Andaluz in Quito, Morgan's Dad's friend's friend's house in Cuenca, the 4th floor of a rented building at the top of Villalengua street in Quito, 2 mountain huts, 2 international flights, and the hotel in Amman. This adventure ended February 6th when West Amman became my home.
Here is a day in the life of Anne Hobson:
•Wake up at 7 when Razan, my awesome 13 yr old roommate, has to get ready to go to school.
•Fall asleep with Al Jazeera as a lullaby.
•Wake up again at 7:52, which I have discovered is the absolute latest I can wake up and still get Turkish coffee, say good morning to my host mother, and walk to the American Mustashfra (hospital) where I meet Laura and Sarah to catch a cab for school every morning.
•Prepare Lebanah (it's like greek yogurt) and cucumbers on rice bread to be eaten on the walk to our meeting point.
•Scurry down the hill to the hospital and inevitably cross paths with a natural gas-selling truck that emits a high pitch tune as if it is a wanna-be ice cream truck. Today I took out my ipod and a flashcard with the word "shams" (sun) fell out of my pocket. This was cruelly ironic because it was hurricane aftermath weather with a light drizzle in the air and was therefore the most un-shams morning so far. The card promptly sank and joined the rest of the congealed trash along the edge of the building. People litter here as if once it hits the ground in a public place, the trash is no longer their problem or concern. In psychology, this is called "the diffusion of responsibility" which happens in large groups of people when responsibility is not explicitly assigned. In economics, it is called "the tragedy of the commons" where people will take advantage of a resource because it is not their immediate concern and because the consequences are long term. Either way, it bothers me daily and it is out of my control.
•Hail a taxi. I love the feeling of hailing a taxi to do your bidding. However, once the taxi is hailed and a potentially awkward Englabic conversation is immanent, the excitement is gone. I have a goal to hail a taxi without looking, get in and speak my destination in unaccented arabic, spend the rest of the cab ride in respectful silence, then seal the deal with Arabic blessings before I exit. They often let out a little honk to let you know they are coming from behind, and I am starting to be able to distinguish the language of honks...
little toots= "Hey I'm behind you, alla rahsi (at your service)!"
little-medium toots= "you're hot shit, turn around and give me the satisfaction of having made you turn and look"
Medium toots=normal American honk "pay attention cars!"
Long Toots= "I 'love' traffic circles during rush hour! Woooo."
•After the cab ride, we all make our respective teas/coffees and attend class (Fus-ha Arabic class, the daily seminar/lecturer, and colloquial Jordanian Arabic "Amia" class). We get an hour for lunch which always involves more tea/coffee and for me... juggling a flat soccer ball with moderate success, and consuming a delicious sampling of dates and almonds. I have become quite obsessed with both. They are great for your digestive system and a lot of other systems...
I had a pregnant almond today. That's right, one almond had a baby almond attached to it, it was so hoosoosea (special). I bought a bunch of almonds from a stand in Safeway and they were STILL IN THEIR SHELLS. I never knew almonds had shells. It makes me so happy and they taste so much better when you have to work hard to get to them (the added taste of victory). Nescafé is the most shameful invention of mankind. It just has no redeeming qualities.
•After much struggling in Arabic class throughout the day, I look forward to the walk to the Orthodox Gym where the aura is very European. Yesterday, they began to play Edward Maya's new song "desert rain" (incredible, check it out) but then switched to "I just had sex" by Lonely Planet. I am surprised that their music is unedited and uncensored given the culture outside the walls of the gym. I would not be allowed to play that song at the Johns Hopkins Rec Center where I work.
•Shower and dry my hair. Apparently, Bedoiun women used to wash their hair in the river after having sex so it is haram (forbidden) to go outside with wet hair because it still can carry these connotations.
•Catch a cab home around 6:30. Walk 15 minutes up a hill at dusk with Orion overhead and a glowing city to my left. Get meowed at from a dumpster.
•Arrive home at 7pm, heat up dinner, watch TV with the family (this is literally all Jordanians do for entertainment). Get bored of TV (today a horrible movie involving baseball and Keanu Reeves), study/write essays/write blog posts/read Queen Noor's book.
•Pass out at midnight with Al Jazeera as a familiar lullaby. Ah, the circle of life.
We went to Salt (old Capital of Jordan) this past Saturday. Watched some older Jordanian men play mancala in the park (to see this on video see my friend Biff's blog http://biffpm.tumblr.com/ it is well written and informative on many topics other than mancala as well). I decided to climb a tree to better observe. It turns out the tree I decided to climb was the oldest tree in the city and this park was the center of the city. This is how naive foreigners get detained...
In Salt, I bought a stuffed Camel for 9 JD from a Women's society that provides income to poor families that otherwise would have none. The camel has a pattern that denotes it as Jordanian. I promptly named the camel "Tayim" which means "attractive" and proceeded to include him in all photos after that moment...
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| Sarah "I shant shake it in public!" Dropek with Tayim with Salt in the background. |
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| Tayim looks at the setting sun over Palestine in the distance. |
I decided that if I had a ridiculous amount of money, I would own two cars. A green mini cooper, and a Mercedes Kompressor. The latter is as much of a status symbol as the spiraled shaved bushes in front of peoples houses. I would name my Kompressor some intense gutturral German-inspired word like Klomptaug Heifenbruer and refer to it in daily speech as if it were a Scandinavian friend of mine.
I had Mansef, a traditional Jordanian dish, yesterday. I LOVED it, though it was hella salty. It's scary looking because the chicken just floats there in this yogurt-water mush which was made by some long process of drying and cooking yogurt.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I hope the TV wont make a peep
And If I die before I wake...
Don't mock the glutard with funeral cake!
-Al Hob
In 1974 the general public got a graphic illustration of the “tragedy of the commons” in satellite photos of the earth. Pictures of northern Africa showed an irregular dark patch 390 square miles in area. Ground-level investigation revealed a fenced area inside of which there was plenty of grass. Outside, the ground cover had been devastated.
ReplyDeleteThe explanation was simple. The fenced area was private property, subdivided into five portions. Each year the owners moved their animals to a new section. Fallow periods of four years gave the pastures time to recover from the grazing. The owners did this because they had an incentive to take care of their land. But no one owned the land outside the ranch. It was open to nomads and their herds. Though knowing nothing of Karl Marx, the herdsmen followed his famous advice of 1875: “To each according to his needs.” Their needs were uncontrolled and grew with the increase in the number of animals. But supply was governed by nature and decreased drastically during the drought of the early 1970s. The herds exceeded the natural “carrying capacity” of their environment, soil was compacted and eroded, and “weedy” plants, unfit for cattle consumption, replaced good plants. Many cattle died, and so did humans.
Author Garrett Hardin was professor emeritus of human ecology at the University of California at Santa Barbara.