Some things are easy...

If you know how to ask, you can get just about anything done in Jordan. We needed to get our Visas extended from one month to three months. The adviser at the university told us we needed blood tests, proof of registration from the university financial office, and a residence contract in order to get our visas. Then Saleh (our adviser from Miami) tells us that he knows some guys at police station that will stamp our passports for us without that. Saleh, however, is notoriously slow at getting thing done, and a friend of mine from France needs to get her passport renewed before Saleh will do it for us. So a couple of us go with her to get our visas, just to see if we can do it. We walk into the police station, without blood tests or proof of registration, and they tell us to sit in the lobby. The bench we sit on is no less than fifteen feet from a prisoner at the local jail. Soon one officer shows us into an office, where a man is sitting reading papers and doesn't look up when we come in. We tell him that we are students and that we need to get our passports renewed. He says in Arabic, "Speak Arabic, Speak Arabic." He apparently doesn't speak English. So when I finally come up with the word for Visa in Arabic, and tell him that we are students, he starts to speak perfect English. We continue on in Arabic as much as I can, filling in the gaps in English and he gives our visas without blood tests our proof of registration.

A few days later, I decide I want to take a raod trip to Mount Nebo, where on a clear day it is possible to see both Jerusalem and Damascus. I am ready to go at ten in the morning, but once I round everyone up, we (read: they) want to wait for our friend who has been studying in Dubai to get in. Once she does (now 11:00) we have to wait for her to finish her shower (now 12:00). Then "we" need to eat lunch before we go. Once we finish eating (now 1), we have to go back to the apartment and get everyone else. Thirty minutes later, we try to hail cabs, but someone has forgot something in the room and needs to go back and find. By the time we hail cabs again it is 2:30. We tell the cab drivers to go to the bus station so we can take that for most of the hour long travel time. Now after a few telephone calls and trying to find the right bus we realize that we can't find the people in the other cab. We soon realize that we are not at the same bus station. By the time we can convince their cab driver to take them to our station, it is 3:00 and too late to spend much time at Mt. Nebo. Now I am writing this post, not having gone anywhere and without any pictures to show you.

By Taxi

Taxis in Amman are by far the easiest way to get around. Not only because the Arabic is pronounced exactly like the English, making them easy to hail, but because they are so cheap. Going anywhere in the city is about the equivalent of $3-$5. This is not to say that I have handled transportation perfectly. Jordan uses three decimal place, and in my first cab, I was looking at the meter as I started to pay and thought it said 12.90 Dinars instead of 1.29 Dinars. I almost gave this guy a $15 tip. Luckily for me, he handed the rest back and explained how the meters work.

This first taxi ride took me to City Mall, where I bought a towel and cleaning supplies. Malls here are extremely Americanized. Its actually harder to find Arabic writing in a mall than English writing. We soon wanted a taste of real Jordanian culture so we took a less embarrassing taxi ride to the the markets and the amphitheater. In the market, people passing on the street frequently tell Americans, "Welcome, I love you." We passed by stands selling traditional Arabic things as well as knock-offs of just about anything you want: soccer jerseys, shoes, watches, etc.

Western culture is pervasive here in Amman. In fact, as I am writing this, I am sitting in a coffee shop which is playing "Smack That" by Akon, featuring Eminem, and at least one man is singing along.

After the market, we headed towards, an arguably more historic western crossover, the Roman Theater. Climbing to the top of this thing was challenging with some of the stairs at about a 60 degree incline.

Finally, I took the placement test today. Too say it was difficult would be an understatement. The same test was given to all students regardless of what level one wants to get into. There are six levels, and I want to be in level two. There was page long story that I believe was about smoking, but I only know that because there was a picture of a cigarette at the top of the page.

On a more positive note about my Arabic, I can now successfully talk with cab drivers and my landlord. From whom I have learned such pearls of wisdom as "Life without wife, is like 50 without 5." That is, zero.

I have arrived!

Royal Jordanian is the best airline I have ever been on. I was given hot towels, dinner, a snack, and tea about five times on a four and one-half hour flight. I also had on my own personal television with On Demand movies. I watched an Egyptian comedy about a father who tries to kill his son a number of times because he doesn't like the woman he married and I'm Not There with censored Arabic subtitles. The phrase "That's fucking Alan Ginsberg" is left untouched in the audio, but translated in the subtitles as "That's a very happy Alan Ginsberg."

Upon arriving at the Queen Alia Airport, I exhausted all of my knowledge about this trip. I did not know where I was staying or who was picking me up. My course of action unplanned, I decided to go to the center of the terminal and look lost, hoping whoever is meeting me at the airport sees me. This failed. No one was meeting me at the gate. After getting some currency exchanged, I go to get my Visa. I saw a sign that said I needed the address of my residence in Jordan, which I, of course, do not know where I am staying because Saleh (my adviser) has not told us anything about anything. So I decide to play it cool, hand the officer my passport, and wait until he stops me. When he asks "address?" I respond "I don't know" (in Arabic). He then askes me many more questions in Arabic which I don't understand. I pretty sure I felt the glaze cover my eyes. He then shrugs, stamps my passport and I am on my way. I am then escorted past all of the lines, given my bags on a cart (I didn't have to pick them up myself) and taken past customs. Apparently security is lax for Americans.




I find Saleh and take a cab to our apartments, which can be described as livable. The bedroom is much better than the kitchen and the bathroom. You see here the propane powered hot plate that is my stove. The water is heated by solar power so I can only get warm water in the middle of the day. Moreover, we get about one toilet flush about every eight minutes because thats how long it takes the tank to refill. On the upside, we do have air conditioning, although the 90 degree weather isn't that bad in the shade. This is what I get for 200 dinars a month ($285 US) across the street from the university.

The next post will hopefully have some prettier pictures and include information about the University.

Creation of Blog

First, I should credit the title of this blog to a song by The Brunettes of the same name.

I plan to use this blog to stay in touch while I am abroad.

This first post is just under two weeks before I leave. Regular blogging will commence when I arrive in Jordan.