Moving Day!

Imad sits smoking a cigarette outside his three story apartment. “Here pussy pussy” he calls to the five kittens sheepishly hiding behind the palm tree. The garden has green grass, rosemary bushes and climbing roses despite the water shortage in Amman. Imad, now retired, was a mechanical engineer and clearly he made a living well above the average Jordanian. As we sit outside sipping tea and coffee, the call to prayer came over the loudspeaker. For Imad, life does not stop.

Imad is my “step father,” my “dad” and my “while you are here dad,” as he tells my roommates and myself. He is older, well traveled, and considerably liberal, as I could tell by the glass of whiskey he sipped between feeding the cats (Alcohol is frowned upon and taxed up to 200%). His wife, Ashman, is my step-mom. They have three children. One lives in Boston, one in Toronto and one in Dubai.

Although I chose to live in an apartment, this is a cross between a home stay and an apartment. Imad and Ashman live above us, and Imad built this building by hand-- for himself, children and parents. They are a sweet couple, feeding us an amazing middle eastern meal—telling us to eat More More More!

The Israeli embassy is right down the street, which is a good or a bad thing depending on the state of the world. The apartment over looks the city, and the view would have been spectacular if not for the accelerating growth of Amman. Now, that view is marred by apartment complexes. You can still see it though, in crevices, and standing atop the balcony railing.

Our apartment is situated on a hill so steep that “you need to take a ski lift to get to the top” as one of my roommates (a fellow Iowan!) said. At the bottom of the hill is a papa johns, burger king, and Popeye’s mega fast food building. America is never very far away.

My room is awesome. I instantly fell in love. The cabinet, vanity and headboard are all 1970s style lacquered wood. A single bare bulb hangs from the ceiling. But what I love most of all about this room is the headboard. It looks like the dashboard of an old school Cadillac, complete with a now defunct radio, although the buttons still work. The living room and kitchen are also 1970s style.

Water isn’t drinkable here, but our land-family (that’s what I will call them from now on) bought us drinking water in jugs that you see in offices. An entire jug costs 1 JD—roughly $1.40. We are allowed a stipend of 150 JD a month for travel and expenses. The average Jordanian family makes that much in a month. I feel rich.

Tomorrow I venture down that giant hill toward my first day of class and my first taxi ride in Amman. Let the adventures begin.

Oh, side note. My roommates McCahey and Sarah want me to let you know they are very cool and awesome.