First Week at Qasid= DONE

My first week at Qasid has come to an end. Qasid is the language institute that teaches Arabic to non-native speakers. The institute is housed on the third floor of an office building that is a 5 or 10 minute cab ride from my apartment. Qasid focuses on both Modern Standard Arabic and Classical Arabic. Modern Standard Arabic (or fousha) is formal Arabic that is used in newspapers, news broadcasts and public speeches. Classical Arabic, on the other hand, is the Arabic of the Qur'an. Classical is even more formal than Modern Standard Arabic. At Qasid, I am in the Modern Standard Arabic track. This means that from 11am to 2:30pm I am in class with the 6 other students in Level 3 using Modern Standard Arabic. I have two instructors. The first is Beyan. Beyan is maybe 24 years old and graduated from the University of Jordan with a degree in French. She knows English well enough that if we are stuck on a word or phrase she can translate it for us. She clearly loves working at Qasid. This enthusiasm permeates the way she teaches. We do debates, conversations and various games with Beyan. The second instructor is Arwa. Arwa is in her upper-20s (I am assuming) and is equally enthusiastic about teaching. Arwa speaks more quickly than does Beyan and is therefore a little harder for me to understand. Awra focuses more on grammar and the technical sides of Arabic.

After my Level 3 classes, I go to a grammar class from 2:30- 4pm. The grammar course is taught by a man in his mid 20s. He is originally from the United States and studied at Qasid himself. It is an impressive feat to study Arabic as a second language and master it well enough to teach the grammar course. This class will be the most challenging for me. It is difficult to explain why it will be so difficult. I will try. Arabic has short vowels that appear as markings above or below the letters themselves. Check out this link for a visual: Arabic Text. The hard part is that in newspapers or everyday writing, these short vowels aren't written but are simply assumed. I have been learning Arabic for the past 3 or 4 years without these vowels. This grammar class, however, requires that I use all of the short vowels, understand their placement and implications for a word. I am essentially starting Arabic grammar from its foundation. This will be good in the long run but for now it is tedious and time consuming.

My first week was long and exhausting. Language classes are so exhausting because your brain has to be tuned in all the time. Whereas in some university lectures, if you zone out for 5 minutes you can tune in again and probably sufficiently fill in the gap. This is not the case with classes entirely in a foreign language. There can be no zoning out unless you want to be completely and utterly lost. Moreover, with a class of only 7 people, any glazed over expressions are easily noticed. Beyond this, I get home from class, eat dinner and then work on homework for another few hours. I must say, however, that I notice that my Arabic recall is improving. I am better able to understand and respond. It has only been one week! I can't wait to see how I will be by December.

I am also anxious for my colloquial Arabic classes to begin. In a few weeks, I will take Levantine Arabic classes 2 or 3 days a week for 1 or 1.5 hours in the evenings. Levantine Arabic is the colloquial or "street" Arabic spoken in Jordan, Palestine, and Syria. This will be particularly useful to learn because outside of Qasid and the news, no one really uses Modern Standard Arabic. Colloquial classes will help make everyday interactions more accessible and much less embarrassing.

Rumtha

Sarah's House in Rumtha

This past weekend, Betsy, Shadea and I went to Rumtha to visit a friend of Betsy's, Sarah, who is in the Peace Corps. Rumtha is a smaller city about an hour north of Amman. We were told by Sarah that we should be sure to cover ourselves from ankle to wrist. So, we left our apartment Friday morning and headed for the North bus station in our appropriately conservative attire. This is the bus station from which you can get a bus or service taxi for most places north of Amman. A service is essentially a white cab that goes from one destination to another and back. The fair is a little higher than that of a bus. At the station, we got a service to take us to Rumtha. Luckily, there was already one person waiting to go to Rumtha so we didn't have to buy out the fourth seat.

The drive there was pretty uneventful. The scenery changes as soon as you leave Amman. There are plenty of hills for the taxi driver to speed down and plenty of curbs for him to whip around also. Needless to say, ours did this like he was a race car driver.

Once in Rumtha, we paid the cab driver our 2 JD each. Sarah was waiting for us at the bus station. We were easy to spot as we were the only foreigners in sight. After introductions, she asked us how athletic were were feeling. The walk to her house from the bus station takes about 45 minutes. We decided to hoof it. On our walk back to Sarah's place, we talked about her time spent in Rumtha and some of the difficulties she regularly encounters as a young, female American. As a rule, villages outside of Amman are much more conservative and the smaller they are the more conservative they are likely to be. Sarah was describing how much effort she has to put into maintaining her credibility. For example, there is another male Peace Corps volunteer working in Rumtha. However, they are unable to interact in public because of the social stigmas associated with male-female interaction. This is just one example of the many others she gave us.

After a solid 45 minute walk out of town, we arrived at Sarah's house. Sarah lives on the bottom floor of her landlord's house. She has a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen to herself. The family has the two floors above her for a family of 6. Sarah referred to her rooms as her "American sanctuary" a place where she can relax and maybe wear a short sleeved shirt! The four of us chatted for a while before the landlord's daugher Roulla came to get us. Sarah explained that part of the living agreement between herself and her landlord was that she would essentially become part of the family. Sarah makes daily visits to landlord's family upstairs. Today, they would be hosting all of us for dinner.

We went upstairs and sat in their living room. The living room was furnished in standard Arab style: cushions on the floor for sitting. As soon as we sat, the oldest daughter served us Arabic coffee as is tradition. I forgot the other part of the custom though: if you don't want anymore you have to shake your cup slightly. I thought I was just handing my cup back but instead I got a refill. Oops! The eldest son, Yousef, was at home. He majored in English language and literature so he was eager to use his skills. We talked with him and Roulla about their lives while they asked about ours. The eldest daughter was visiting for the weekend and she brought her 13 month old son with her- Ahmed. Ahmed is the most adorable, chubby toddler.

The landlady and her 2 daughters were preparing shwarma for us for dinner. Shwarma is a sandwich that consists of seasoned chicken (sometimes lamb) with mayonnaise, pickles and french fries all rolled in a thin dough. The women wanted to show us how it was made. We all crowded in the kitchen to watch the process. The mayonnaise and french fries were homemade. The chicken meat had been shredded/ torn apart, seasoned and cooked earlier in the day. We helped mainly with the assembly of the shwarma. There was so much! After we rolled the ingredients in the partially cooked dough, the shwarma rolls were put back into the oven to roast again. It was such a tantalizing process both because shwarma is delicious and because I was starving.

Finally, the main course was ready. Newspaper was laid on the floor in the living room in front of the couches. Plates of food for each of us were put on the newspaper along with extra dishes of homemade mayonnaise and sliced vegetables. The shwarma was definitely worth the wait. It was delicious- one of those meals where you have to recline once the meal is over. We did. We went back to Sarah's room and sat for a while.

Betsy and baby Ahmed

Once we had sufficiently recovered, Sarah suggested we take a walk. I was glad to because the weather was beautiful and I needed some exercise. We walked outside to find a flock of sheep grazing just beyond the back door. We walked to a neighbor's nearby farm to see their chickens and cow. Perhaps the most interesting event of the evening was assisting the family in unwrapping boxes and boxes of candy and cookies to feed to the cow. Why? Because it will make the milk sweeter- obviously.

After our walk, we went back to Sarah's apartment and updated her on American life specifically through viral youtube videos. She seemed to appreciate this. At this point, we were all pretty tired. It was much easier to fall asleep because there weren't any strange birds making noises or any cars honking their horns outside my window.

On Saturday morning, we woke up and caught a bus outside of Sarah's house to Irbid. The bus ride took about 35 minutes and cost us .40JD each. We made sure to sit on the bus in an appropriate fashion i.e. not next to a man. Once we arrived in Irbid, we walked a couple blocks away and waited for Sarah's Peace Corps counterpart from Rumtha to arrive. Once he arrived, we walked to McDonut's to meet 5 or 6 other volunteers. It was interesting listening to them talk about the various issues they have encountered living in their respective villages. The women talked about how the other women their age are married with children so they spend their time talking about babies. The men, on the other hand, have the 'shabab" as their friends. I am going to try my best to explain 'shabab' in a sensitive fashion. Literally 'shabab' is translated as "young men" or "youth." When I use the term shabab I am referring to the Jordanian men between the ages of 16 and 25ish. Often times, the term is used with a negative connotation. That is, ruffians might be a better translation. So, back to the male volunteers. They have only shabab to interact with so their social activities consist of associating with ruffians.

Eventually, the group migrated to Papa Johns where they indulged in expensive American food. I should mention, the Peace Corps volunteers receive about 1/3 of the monthly stipend that a Fulbrighter does. So, indulging in American food is expensive for me. Can you imagine how expensive it is for these volunteers?

After our late lunch, Betsy, Shadea and I decided to head back to the bus station. We walked about 30 minutes to the bus station where we got a bus from Irbid to Amman. The tickets were 1.90 JD each. The trip to Rumtha and Irbid was good. What was better was interacting with the Peace Corps volunteers. They are clearly motivated individuals who are trying to foment positive change in their towns and villages. Their positive attitudes were reassuring. I also felt mildly guilty about the comforts of my Amman apartment. Listening to their experiences made me thankful for where I am and what I have.

Sarah with Ahmed and Betsy

Bedouin Family with Rumtha in the background

Chickens on the farm

Food for the cow!

 

Roulla and Ahmed

 

 

 

 

Qasid and Ajloun

We started our orientation at Qasid on Sunday. Qasid is an Arabic language institute here in Amman where I will be studying for the next 3 months. From everything I have heard it is supposed to be intense and life-consuming. Honestly, I can't wait. At Qasid, the Fulbrighters took a placement exam. The exam lasted about 2 hours and covered Arabic vocabulary, grammar, writing, reading comprehension and listening. As all placement tests go, it was only meant to be completed if you are fluent. I did the exam to the best of my ability. I should find out what level I am placed in sometime in the next couple days.

Through Qasid, we were able to go on a trip to Ajloun. Ajloun is a town in northwest Jordan. The main reason to venture to this town is to visit the castle there: Qal'at al-Rabad. The trip from Amman to Ajloun takes about an hour and half. Qasid chartered a bus for us to get to the castle. The Ajloun area of Jordan is beautiful. There is much more greenery than in most of the rest of the country. From the valley below, the castle is easily visible perched on the highest hill. The castle was first built in 1184 and was rebuilt multiple times because of conquest or earthquake.

Upon arriving at the castle it was clear why the location had been picked for its construction. Syria, Israel, the West Bank and surrounding Jordan was easily visible from its vantage point. We took a tour of the castle that lasted about an hour and a half. The best part was simply being able to stand at the very top and enjoy the view and the nice breeze.

After exploring the castle, we got back on the bus and headed to Jerash for lunch. Lunch was excellent. We were first served a course of bread-dipping dishes. Essentially, there were 6 or 7 different dips and sauces meant to be eaten with bread. All were delicious. For the main course, we were served a dish that was a beef stew served in a round cake pan and covered with dough. It was so good! We ate a leisurely lunch of about 2 hours. Then we boarded the bus again to get back to Amman. The traffic was such that it took us an extra half hour or so to get into Amman.

All in all, a good day. I enjoyed the greenery and the fact that I felt I could eat lunch (the past few days my stomach has been- adjusting, shall we say).

Lunch in Jerash

Main Course at Lunch

View from Ajloun Castle

Ajloun Dry Moat

The Castle

View of Ajloun Castle

The Post Office

I got an email from Iman at the Fulbright House that I had a package waiting for me at the Jordan Post office in the balad. How exciting! I was definitely in need of a pick-me-up so it was perfect timing. I grabbed a cab to downtown. Side note about giving taxi drivers directions: road names are a fairly recent addition in Jordan. So, when you what to go somewhere you have to navigate the driver using landmarks or simply give him directions. When I got in the cab I told the driver I wanted to go to Hashim's (Jordan's famous restaurant) in downtown. When we got closer to downtown, I told him that really I was looking for the Jordan Post. We stopped at a nondescript building. I asked to make sure this was the post office. He assured me that it was. I was unconvinced. I asked again and again he assured me it was the post office. So, I paid him and got out of the cab.

Iman's email instructions said to go up to the second floor and talk to a man named Hamza. I walked behind the building to find a guarded entrance. I slid through the gate without a word from any guard and walked upstairs. I only saw two offices- neither of which indicated that a Hamza worked within. One of the two offices was occupied by a woman so I knocked on the door and told her I was looking for a Hamza who supposedly worked there. She asked if I was sure that he worked at Orange (a Jordanian mobile phone company). As it turns out the cab driver was wrong and this building definitely was not the post office. The woman kindly gave me directions to the post office and asked if I needed her to walk me there. I told her I hoped I could manage and walked back downstairs and out of the building.

After walking further down the street I found the actual Jordan Post office. I was sure this time because there was a sign outside. I went to the second floor and saw a flurry of activity. There were people everywhere. It reminded me of Baker Hardware on a Saturday during spring. There were workers chatting with each other and chatting with the customers. There were lines of customers waiting to be helped by one of the few people that could assist them. It was, needless to say, a busy atmosphere. I found myself stepping into a line not really knowing if that was the line I needed to be in. A fellow waiting customer asked if I had a package to pick up and I nodded yes. He pointed me to a different line where I was waiting for the man in blue. When it was my turn to be helped, I smiled politely and told him that I had a package waiting for me.

"From where is your package?"

"The United States."

"Fulbright?"

"Yes.

"Name?"

"Paula Koch."

The man rifled through a stack of packing slips until he came across one with my name on it. He handed me the slip of paper and told me to go to Office #1. I walked around the corner to find Office #1- so labeled by permanent marker on the wall. Inside the office, there were 2 desks with men sitting behind each. There was also a counter that opened behind into a small warehouse with shelves of packages. I walked into the office and stood waiting for one of the men at the desks to be free. A worker from behind the counter gestured at me for my packing slip. I thought it was just going to be that easy- I would give him the paper and he'd find my box and I could go. I thought completely wrong. I asked for my passport and wrote down my name on the paper again. Then he slid the slip over to one of the desks. I stood behind the desk waiting my turn. After a minute or two, I was told to go sit in the hallway and wait. I sat for 10 or 15 minutes waiting for my name to be called. Finally a man stepped outside and called "Bola!" By this time, I've come to accept that my name is Bola half of the time. Back in the office, I saw my package sitting on the table. The man asked me if it was mine. I nodded yes (it had my name on it). He picked up a box cutter and opened it up. I couldn't help but grin when I saw the contents of my care package from Jonah: gummy bears, gummy sharks, gum, a card and a stuffed eagle that says "Got Freedom" on the front and "Thank an Sailor" on the back. The man who opened my box slid the package over to the second desk. This man behind the desk looked through the contents of the package and told me "You can buy these things here!" in a rather accusatory tone. Iman's email warned that they are checking to see if I am importing goods to resell. I shrugged and used my best Arabic to try and tell him it was just a gift. He asked me what I was here for, how many words in Arabic I knew and then told me I need to learn a new word everyday. Finally, he asked me how much I customs tax I wanted to pay on my package. I said nothing. He chuckled. I took that as a good sign. He handed me my paper back after scribbling on it. I thought I was done so I tried to take my box. All three workers in the room said "No!" and told me I had to go get the director's signature first. I wandered back into the hallway looking for the director's office. A shorter man in a uniform came running out of an office and guided me to the directors office where he walked behind the desk and signed my paper. I asked him where I should go now. He pointed me to the line I was originally standing in. I finally handed over my packing slip again. He signed it and directed me to a second line where I was told I needed to pay .95JD in tax. I thought I wasn't going to have to pay anything! Oh well- I could deal with .95 JD. I asked again what my next stop was. He said I needed to go back to Office #1. I walked back in and stood in the middle of the office, not really sure who I was supposed to talk to this time. A worker came up, grabbed my paper and handed it over to man at desk #2 again who wrote me out a receipt. "Am I done?" I asked. He smiled and nodded. I took my package and left. I was laughing because of the absurdity of the whole process and grinning on top of that because I got a package from Jonah :)

The 'Eid and the Citadel

As many know, this past month has been the holy month of Ramadan for Muslims around the world. Ramadan ended on Thursday and began the holiday weekend. The end of Ramadan is referred to as Eid al-Fitr. In honor of the holiday, we have Thursday through Sunday off. The city has changed noticeably. People are out during the day, shops are opened and taxi drivers smoke. It has been nice to see Amman a little more lively than it had been in the past week or so.

In light of our days off, Betsy, Shadea and I decided to be tourists today. We ventured down to the center of Amman to take a look at the Citadel or in Arabic, جبل القلعة, pronounced Jabal al-Qal'a. The Citadel sits on one of Amman's seven hills and gives a breathtaking view of the surrounding city. There is evidence that the area has been inhabited for the past 7000 years making it one of the world's oldest, most continually inhabited places. It is difficult to describe the curious juxtaposition of the ruins with the recent Amman buildings in the background. I think the best way to describe might be to show. Take a look at the pictures below:

Me and the ruins of the Temple of Hercules

Me and a pillar from the Temple of Hercules

Ruins of the Temple of Hercules

Ruins of the Temple of Hercules

Fingers from an ancient Roman statue

View from the Citadel

Page from the Dead Sea Scrolls!

Lemon ma' na'ana

Quran Burning and Mosque Building

There are certain topics and subject matters that cannot be left without a response. The United States has been afire with controversy regarding building an Islamic center close to Ground Zero for the past few weeks. Currently, Florida pastor Terry Jones is threatening to burn a Quran. I find it difficult to convey the passion with which I vehemently oppose such an ignorant and hate-inciting action. As I find myself in the welcoming company of many Muslims, I am almost ashamed to identify myself as an American. How can I respond to the questions about these news stories? How can I convince these people that America is a tolerant society, welcoming of all faiths?

Enough is enough. What is it that we are afraid of? Why are you afraid of an Islamic center close to ground zero? Why are you afraid of Islam? What is in the Quran that makes you so fearful? I have a sickening feeling that there are many people who would respond with "I don't know." Go figure it out! Take the 15 minutes to wikipedia Islam (link included!) and understand what the tenets of the faith are. Go read about the vast similarities between Christianity, Islam and Judaism. Ignorance is a choice. My fear is that too many Americans have chosen ignorance.

Acrum and Sara's Seafood

Betsy spent about six months in Amman about a year ago. Therefore, she has a number of friends and contacts in the area. One such contact is Acrum. Acrum invited Shadea, Betsy and I to have iftar with him at Sara's Seafood in downtown Amman. We decided that it would be a good cultural experience to share iftar with a Jordanian in the city center. First, however, a word about downtown Amman: Downtown Amman is properly referred to as "wasd al-balad" or "center of the country." For short, downtown is called the "balad." The balad is the cultural center of Amman. This is where the souqs (markets) are where the typical Jordanian shops for everything from clothing to furniture to spices and everything in between. Additionally, as the cultural center of the city, the balad is more conservative than other parts of the city.

The Balad

The Balad

Now, on to Acrum and Sara's Seafood.  We met up with Acrum in an alleyway across from the balad's famous Hashim's restaurant. Acrum had already ordered food for us before we arrived. We were lead up a staircase and out onto a balcony overlooking downtown. After sitting down, we were able to engage Acrum and find out a little more about him. Acrum is about 24 or 25 years old. He graduated from the University of Jordan where he studied engineering. Currently, he works designing armored vehicles. Importantly though, he considers himself a social activist. Beyond this however, Acrum is a very animated, interested and interesting individual.

Dinner (But before the last two dishes came)

As is required, we waited until after the Adhan (call to prayer) before eating or drinking, essentially before breaking the fast. I was a little wary about eating at a seafood restaurant in the balad but at my first bite any previous hesitations vanished. Everything was wonderful! First, the waiter brought out a plate of fried fish followed by a plate of cold salads. This along with the almost compulsory bowl of pita would have been enough for the four of us. But the food kept coming! Next, the waiter appeared with a plate of roasted potatoes and then another dish of baked fish topped with cheese and olives. Finally, we were delivered a platter of rice mixed with spices. So much food- too much for the four of us to even attempt to finish. We ate our meal slowly enjoying the people watching and the cooler night air. As we left, Acrum paid the bill. We all realized what a small fortune he must have paid for our meal. How generous he was!

After leaving the restaurant, Acrum asked if we would be up for a "spin" around downtown. For clarification, by "spin" he meant "walk" or "stroll." Acrum deftly guided us through the crowds of people and down the streets of the balad. The bustling souqs were in stark contrast to the streets we had seen only a couple of hours earlier before iftar. Acrum pointed out different buildings and explained to us their significance and history. He was able to answer any questions we had. Truly, this is the best way to experience a city. Later, however, we reflected that this we a rare experience for us. As I mentioned, the balad is one of the more conservative parts of Amman. The balad is a place to exercise particular caution as a foreigner and as a woman. Therefore, to be in the balad at night was probably an experience we could only get with a Jordanian man as our guide. 

On our walk back to get a cab, Acrum stopped at a juice stand to introduce us to sugar cane juice. What is sugar cane juice? It is exactly what you think it is. A corner stand had a large juicer and an ever larger pile of sugar cane stacked next to it. We watched as a young man fed sugar cane rods through a hole the size of a tennis ball in the front. He continue feeding the cane through until there appeared enough juice for the four of us. Sugar cane juice is a little hard to describe. It is obviously very sweet but it retains an earthy taste. At my first sip, it reminded me of fresh, uncooked corn. I could only drink half.

Brunch with Tom the Journalist

I first met Tom at the "breakfast for dinner" iftar. Tom has been living in Amman for about two years working as a freelance journalist. When we first met, I mentioned to him about how much I would miss American breakfast. He recommended a couple of restaurants that serve good American-style breakfast. So, Friday morning (the first day of the weekend), I got an invitation from Tom to meet him at Crumz in Abdoun for breakfast. Why not? I could use a good breakfast. Shadea and Betsy both agreed to check it out with me so we set out to meet Tom. As promised, the menu at Crumz included a variety of familiar options such as pancakes, waffles, omelets, bagels, and hash browns and so on. I ordered blueberry pancakes- I couldn't resist. As we enjoyed our breakfast, Tom imparted on us some interesting stories and valuable advice. As it turns out, Tom will be moving to Kabul, Afghanistan in a few weeks to continue his career as a journalist. He has clearly been in Amman long enough that he has become well connected in the ex-patriot community. In my book- he is good person to know.

Buckeyes, God, and an Apartment

The past couple of days have been undeniably stressful. The moving out and moving into the hotel on top of homesickness and the general stress of transitions has made the past few days very difficult. I would be lying if I said that the thought to just give up didn't cross my mind. I was having trouble sleeping so I tried calling home- which I couldn't get to work. Fortunately, I text my mom and she called back using a calling card and eventually skype. Skype and my mom are two of my favorite things right now. Anyway, I was essentially having a crisis of faith in myself. After talking for a while, I took some NyQuil to clear up my congestion and help me fall asleep. I slept pretty well. I got up and had breakfast in the hotel. I was still so stressed that I had little of an appetite at this point but I ate a hard boiled egg and a miniature chocolate croissant. After sitting for a few minutes, I went back up to the room to get ready to go back to the Fulbright House to do some apartment hunting. My crisis of faith in myself was creeping back in. I probably used a half dozen techniques from any self-help book to psych myself up. I eventually googled "encouraging Bible verses" - mom, you must be so proud. I came upon Psalm 145:18: "The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth." Boy, was I calling! This is an integral part of this blog post which is why I bother to share.

So, after trying to adopt a "Paula, you can do this" mindset, I went downstairs to meet Betsy, Zach, Shadea, Rebekah and Leila. All of us were headed to the Fulbright House to try and find an apartment. We got there and I went to speak with Alain (the director of the Binational Fulbright Commission in Jordan aka the Fulbright House). Alain had originally advised me about moving out of my Jabal Amman apartment. He was aware of my situation and I updated him that I had received an email from the apartment tenets asking for "financial and emotional compensation." Alain was very helpful in sorting out what to do etc. He was also very encouraging when I let out how stressed, overwhelmed and homesick I was feeling. Essentially, Alain is great. 

After my pep talk from Alain, I went with the other girls to a very nearby apartment building- maybe two or three blocks away right across from the Bird Garden (where there are geese and roosters in captivity). The landlord showed us three available apartments. The three were similar in layout but different in decor. Leila and Rebekah decided to move into an apartment on the third floor. Betsy, Shadea and I decided to take an apartment on the second floor. The apartment is three bedrooms, 1.5 baths with a very spacious living/ sitting/ dining room and a pretty fully stocked kitchen. Additionally, since it is three people the rent is only 200JD per person per month (I had seen much smaller places for 250-300 JD per person per month). All of us girls went back to the hotel to get our things together and check out. The bellboys helped us get three cabs to take us and all of our luggage to the apartment building. It was a chore getting everything up the 2 and 3 flights of steps. Once we did, the landlord, Jaleel, came to give us a set of keys and answer a few of our questions. Jaleel is a very sweet man of maybe 65 years old. He speaks decent English and was very excited to rent two apartments in one day. 

Then, the three of us put together a shopping list of things we would need- mainly groceries. Then we walked to the Food City, a grocery store about 3 blocks away. As we walked in, a heard Spring from Vivaldi's Four Seasons playing. If you know me, you know that this is my go-to whistling tune and in fact probably the only thing I actually whistle. Sign? I think so. We did our grocery shopping in about an hour and checked out with a 67JD bill ($93) for a good amount of food and other supplies for three people. We are bargain shoppers. We had too much to carry back by ourselves so we got a cab to take us back to the apartment. 

A little while later, Betsy and I walked to the ATM while Shadea took a nap. Jaleel requires three month's worth of rent up front. Essentially, we each owe him 600JD by Monday or Tuesday. This is pretty typical. Most landowners want a year's worth up front but Jaleel has dealt with Fulbrighters before so he knows the procedure. On our walk back from the ATM, Betsy and I looked down and saw BUCKEYES on the ground! Can you believe it? Buckeyes! Another sign? I'll say yes.

The BUCKEYE!

Shortly after getting back to the apartment, Jaleel's daughter came up to our apartment and installed wireless internet! Yay! She said that the internet would cost us 41 JD per person per year. What a great deal! Now I can skype, chat and email from the apartment! Glorious.

Kitchen 2

Shortly after, the three of us left to visit Betsy's former host family- a single mom, Janet and her 16 year old daughter Lara. They welcomed all three of us into their home with open arms. They were very curious about us and what we were going to be doing. Lara reminds me of a typical teenage girl. She plays basketball, she wants sillybands and she loves learning new English words and American phrases. 

My bedroom

Hallway

After the visit, us three girls went to get dinner at Lebnani Snack where I had fatoosh and mango with strawberry juice. It was great. After a long day, we walked back to our apartment and crashed. 

Dining Area

Half Bath

Yoga Room

I need to continue to remind myself that this was never meant to be easy. And, as a great friend once told me, the more unsavory the experiences the more shaping they will prove to be.

Living Room Part 2

Living Room part 1

 

 

 

Dining Area

Kitchen 1

Housing. Yeah

So, it has been an eventful couple of days so far. Yesterday, I moved into the apartment that I had found before leaving the United States. I unpacked my things and tried to settle in. Gretchen, the girl already living there, seemed nice enough. She was eager to chat and impart what she deemed essential information to me. She introduced me to a friend of hers, Leena, who lived in the apartment directly below. Both girls have been here for about a year teaching English in various schools. I spent most of the afternoon chatting with the girls and trying to get settled. The water in the apartment was out so I couldn't shower. The more I talked to Gretchen about the situation with the apartment the less I liked it. In the evening though, Gretchen and Leena invited me to a "breakfast for dinner" iftar (the evening meal that breaks the fast during Ramadan) with some other expatriates. It was great meeting some other people who are in Jordan for various reasons. I met a journalist, a guy from New Zealand, another guy from Sweden and a guy from Canton Ohio! Most of the people there though were between 25 and 30. It was great to have scrambled eggs and french toast though. We got back from the iftar at about 1030 and I tried to fall asleep in my new surroundings. It wasn't going so well. I woke up early the next morning to skype Jonah :) At this point I still had a lot of reservations about the apartment. For example, Gretchen would be moving out at the end of September leaving me alone in the apartment- not something I would really want for my second month in Jordan. Additionally, heating is too expensive in the apartment so they don't heat it during the winter. Also, she told me that a realtor from a previous apartment she had lived in was after her for 300JD and that she had had to 'hide in her bedroom' one afternoon last week to avoid him while he was at her door. Again, not a situation I really wanted to get in the middle of. Essentially, my gut said no. After talking it out with Jonah, I emailed Alain (at the Fulbright House) to see what my options were. I decided to *try* and shower. In addition to everything else, the water ran out yesterday before I got to the apartment. Gretchen assured me that there would be water by the next morning (i.e. this morning). When I tried to go shower, I got a dribble of water that managed to fill a few glasses of water that I could pour over myself for my morning "shower." Cherry on top, right? At about 9am I headed to the Fulbright House to talk things over with Alain. I told him my concerns and he told me to get out. Luckily I hadn't signed a lease or anything along those lines. I went back to the apartment to repack my things. I told Gretchen what was going on and that I was going back to the hotel. She, for obvious reasons, wasn't too happy. She left a few minutes later without saying anything. I packed my things, left a note, the keys and some money to compensate for the night. After that, I headed back to the hotel I had stayed at my first night. I left my luggage in a Rebekah's room and walked back to the Fulbright house with another Fulbrighter, Laura. Laura and I joined 4 other students as Iman and Zaina took all of us around to some available apartments. The apartments I saw were much more spacious than the one in Jabal Amman for the same rent or slightly more plus they were in a part of town closer to the language institute and the Fulbright House. Laura and I viewed 4 apartments in various areas of Amman. Then we came back to the hotel to meet up with Rebekeh to view two more. The first one was really expensive and being rented out by a 'close security' guard for the U.N. (not someone you really want to haggle prices with). The second apartment was nice but unfurnished and expensive. All three of us passed on this one. We hopped in a cab and headed for the hotel once more. At this point (4:30pm) the only thing I had eaten was one clementine at about 8 am. I was feeling a little dehydrated too. So, we walked to a local market (think the size of your kitchen (maybe cut it in half) and line it with food on each side and you have a "local market." I bought two 1 liter bottles of water (together costing me about .70 JD). I have to make a conscious effort to keep hydrated. I know I need to but Ramadan doesn't exactly make it convenient to go out and get water (because everything is closed during the day). Upon arriving back at the hotel, I reserved a room for tonight. On the way to my room, I ran into Betsy from Dennison University in Ohio. She arrived very early this morning. She was also in a room by herself by a booking error. We went to the front desk to see if they could put us together for tonight. They agreed- now we will each pay 35 JD for tonight and share a room. In about an hour I am meeting up with 6 or so other Fulbrighters for dinner. I am hungry and looking forward to it. First, though, I plan on showering because on a grossness scale of 1-10 I am hoovering at about an 8.5. I am really looking forward to sleeping tonight too. Additionally, if you would like to send mail, my address is as follows:

Paula Koch
c/o Binational Fulbright Commission
P.O. Box 850215
(19, Mahdi bin Barakah Street, Shmeisani)
Amman 11185, Jordan