48 Hours: Beirut

Two white UN humvees sat outside the airport. Soldiers paced nervously, guns slung across their shoulders. The air was humid and warm, the salty breeze drifted in from the Mediterranean. I definitely wasn’t in Amman anymore.

Driving through the traffic of Beirut with our hilarious hotel owner, Hussam, I noticed the buildings. Built with French flare, many were decrepit, riddled with bullet and shell holes from the not-forgotten civil war, which ended in 1991 after nearly 15 years. Still, they gave the allure of the grandeur that was. Laundry flowed in the breeze, hung out to dry over elaborate wrought iron balconies.

When we pulled up to the Al-Shahbaa 'hotel' my first thought was "uhhh where the HELL am I?" The building looked as though it hadn’t been touched since the war, but the inside was pleasant, and Hussam was happy to be of service to us.

This hotel was in the best location. Situated a block in-between one of the nightlife hubs, Gemmayze street, and 15 minutes from the ritzy part of town—Place d’etoile.

Place d’etoile is a completely rebuilt part of down. Devastated in 1991 and hit again in 2006, this place is brand spanking new. And is it ever gorgeous. Wide (walkable) sidewalks are lined with a variety of cafes and boutiques. In the center is a clock tower surrounded by a beautiful garden. French, Italian and Spanish could be heard from the passerbys. If I ever forgot I was in the Middle East, armed guards and barricaded streets quickly jolted me back to reality. At one very surreal point the call to prayer and church bells were ringing at the same time.

Another fun Beirut-ian fact: they take American money. You can pay in Lira or in USD. You can pay with a combination of the two, and get change back in either. It was a very odd system. Also odd: 60,000 Lira was $40. I still had trouble punching in those numbers at the ATM.

What struck me as so amazing is the ability for Beirut to integrate so many different parts of their culture. Just in the plaza area you had new mosques, crusade churches, the ruins of roman bathhouses. There was a TGI Friday's, Virgin megastore and Dunkin Donuts. The transition between new and old was seamless. Amman needs to take note.

After a fabulously fabulous dinner of Abourgine stew at a local institution—Le Chef (ANTHONY BOURDAIN ATE HERE PEOPLE) the nine of us headed kicked it into high gear for the night. Gemmayze street reminds me a bit of Iowa City in the fact that is basically all bars. We bar hopped before ending up at this club around 1 AM. Called The Establishment, it exclusively played a music variety known as Dub-Step. Now, I’d never heard of it before, but this is the baseline of every song: dun dun DUN, duh duh duh DUN. My feet are still tapping this baseline.

After a late night, morning two started early. By 9:30 Olivia, Emily and I were at this lovely Parisian Café. I breakfasted on croissants, tea, freshly squeezed orange juice and an omelet.

From there we took one frustrating and expensive taxi ride to the National Museum. Located on the infamous “Green Line” which divided Beirut into the “Christian side” and the “Muslim side,” the Museum itself is pretty non-descript. The best part of the whole thing was when it was over. We were having trouble finding a taxi. Out of nowhere, an armed solider comes up, asks if we need a taxi and calls someone. Two minutes later, a taxi rolls up, the driver hands the solider a jug of mango juice, and we get in. Odd.

After another delicious and slightly more expensive dinner, in which our group went through at least six baskets of pita, we headed out for round two. We started at the New York Time’s approved bar “Hole in the Wall.” It’s a very small and cozy place that pumps out an eclectic mix of Weezer, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, The Cranberries and Journey.

We made friends with a group of Lebanese who offered to take us to a Halloween club. After paying the $20 USD cover, we were greeted to a wild dance party. The music was fabulous and straight from my 8^th grade school dance. The Macarena, Cotton Eyed Joe, and Mambo Number 5 were all played. That night wrapped up around 3:30, however, I’m sure the Lebanese danced long into the early morning.

We may have been a little lazy the next morning, but ate a late lunch at a boutique-café that Olivia thought was “cooler than anyplace in Europe.” I had a nutella waffle, enough said.

We wandered through the plaza again and this time found something new. SHOPPING. Louis Vuitton, Chloe, Carolina Herrera, Jimmy Choo—all brands were accounted for. Granted, I settled with H&M but it still was a fun time.

From there, we casually strolled along the Cornish—a beautiful walkway along the Mediterranean. People were running and riding bikes, couples held hands (!) and little carts sold freshly squeezed juice. It was bliss.

Dinner was phenomenal. The restaurant literally jutted out into the sea. Waves crashed against the windows as we ate our dinner. The fried Calamari was the best I’ve had, as was the brushetta.

From the parts that I’ve seen, Beirut is a city that is working to fix its flaws. They want to be a destination, unlike Amman. They try to appease their guests (having toilet paper in the public bathrooms did it for me). Although it’s a wonderful and charming city, you could feel the tension under the surface. With the trial coming up for the assassinated prime minister , it will be interesting to see what happens to the dynamics of the city. But I hope it doesn’t change. I love it the way it is. 

For Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2084393&id=1175280303&l=36afa7a184

Guest Blogging on PinkPangea

I'm giving myself a break today, sort of. I'm the guest blogger on the travel website PinkPangea.

CHECK IT OUT. GO. NOW. thx :)

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Dumpster Cats and Begging Children

So cats. They are everywhere. Their slinky bodies will show up pawing at the kitchen door, jump out from behind the wheels of the car, or my personal favorite, rattle around in dumpster so that it scares the living daylights out of me. They scamper across the walkways at the university and hide out along sidewalks.

Cats here are scavengers, so when I see, oh 8 hissing over food some rotting food, it’s a little gross, but not out of the ordinary. What’s even more perturbing than the over abundance of cats is the lack of dogs. WHERE ARE THE DOGS?

Since I’ve been here I’ve seen 3. Only three. Once I saw a woman walking a dog. That was weird. I looked twice. I guess dogs are considered dirty in Islam, which explains why there aren’t any. But according to my friend Erin, she saw two steroid-ed men walking Pomeranians in Abdoun. So I guess there is hope?

Now the begging children. It may seem a little cruel to lump cats and kids together, but hey, they both annoy me. Kids around Petra hawk postcards. The kids in Amman sell gum.

They are usually dirty, wearing clothes that obviously haven’t been washed in a while. They come up to people sitting and try to sell penny gum. Once, a kid was crying because somebody wrecked his gum and spilled it all over the street. That was sad. Erin gave him money. I didn’t. I’m cruel, I guess.

There is also this other tyke. He can’t be any more than 5, and his mother or grandmother can be found begging for change daily on the stairs to the underpass to the university. She always wears a black burka, has her head down, and holds her hands out as you pass. On one particular day, the child received some money and was running while screaming “fooloose” (money). It’s strange though. For the high population density, homelessness is very uncommon. I haven’t seen more than two people this entire time. It’s a testament to the power of family in this culture. 

I judge you by your Hummus

Hi friends. It’s been a while, no? Perhaps that is because the Internet decided to be a little annoying and not work! After 20 minutes of trying to send an email, blogging seems just not worth it.

However, it’s time to blog about my favorite topic – FOOD! I know I’ve written before about my favorite meals, but now were gonna talk about my favorite restaurants!

Hashem’s- Situated in a dirty alley in downtown Amman, Hashem’s is known for cheap and good food. It’s hard to find from the outside, only one simple metal sign marks the spot, but ask any taxi driver, and they’ll know the place. The lines that form at all hours are proof that tourists and locals alike covet this place. Plastic tables are set up along a narrow alley between a cart that is making plates of falafel and a man running a cash register.

After being seated, pieces of paper are set down as your “plate,” towers of pita are put in the middle surrounded by bowls of hummus and fuul (bean spread). A man carrying a large mixing bowl comes around shouting “Falafel?” Flag him down and you will not be disappointed. This is the best falafel EVER. Hot and crispy on the outside, warm and gooey in the middle.

It’s a no frills place, not the cleanest, but its been around since Attaturk himself. When a meal costs you only 1 JD, you know you’ve found the right place.

5/5 Bowls of Hummus.

“Mataam” – Ok I don’t really know the actual name of this place, mataam is just the word for restaurant, but Mataams has become quite popular with the CIEE crowd. Located just outside the gate of the university, its tucked away in a small corner, and according to the sign specialized is Iraqi cuisine. Whatever it is, it’s cheap and delicious. Walk in to this tiny shop and simply tell the man “sandwich falafel” and let your taste buds be amazed.

The cook—if you can call him that—take pita cuts it in half the long way and spreads down a generous helping of hummus. He takes 3 falafel and smushes them down so they are flat. Then is placed the ubiquitous cucumber and tomato salad. After being rolled up it is ready for consumption.

It’s simple, delicious and authentic. Nothing wrong with a .25 cent pita.

4.5/5 Bowls of Hummus

Noodasia

Whaaaa? What’s an Asian place doing on the list of my favorite restaurants?! Well too bad, because I missed Asian food enough to go seek it out. This place is uber swanky. Located in the upscale Abdoun neighborhood, Noodasia oozes urban luxe. Lacquered wood and modern lighting give this place an air of downtown Chicago or New York City. And none of the workers speak Arabic. It’s English, Chinese or no dice. I’ve been there a few times and each time have been surprised by the food.

The first time I ordered Vietnamese spring rolls and Sweet and Sour Chicken. The spring rolls were delicious and covered in a peanut satay sauce. Add the best seaweed salad I’ve ever had, and it was a pretty damn good appetizer. Now, the entrée was unexpected. I was ready for deep fried chicken coated in pink goo. Instead I got a classier version served with pineapple. The second time I had the absolutely fantastic Green Tea Noodles in soy sauce and peanut satay, served chilled. I could eat that all day, every day. Probably one of the best entrees I’ve had one either side of the pond.  For the excellent service and delicious food, the prices actually not bad. I spent 5 JD the first time and 10 JD the second.

4.5/5 Bowls of Hummus

“That one shwerma place”

“That one shwerma place” is located behind the CIEE office. The workers don’t speak English and your only choices are Shwerma: chicken or lamb, big or small. (That I can actually say in Arabic). Walking into the shop, which is the size of a small office, you will be hit by a blast of heat that is emanating from the giant rotating slabs of meat. Shwerma is basically meat that has been mixed with spices and made into a cone shape and placed vertically over heat. When someone orders, they shave off the meat and put it into a pita along with tahini and a pickle. Now, I love tahini, but oh god I hate pickles. And they LOVE pickles. They pickle everything here.

With the exception for that pesky pickle, this place is delish.

4/5 Bowls of Hummus

Lebnani Snack – Jordan’s fast food restaurant. It’s local, it’s across from the university and offers staples like pizza, shwerma and fish. What they are really known for, however, is their “cocktails.” They are delicious. Now, of course they are not cocktail-cocktails, that’s just what Jordanians call their smoothies. Originally, Lebnani was just smoothies, so that is why it makes sense they are so darn good.

My favorite is just the original with fruit. I’m pretty sure its strawberry, banana and kiwi. What is so unique is that they will have half of the smoothie be liquid and then chop up pineapple, grapes, apples and banana to fill the rest of the cup. In a country where fruit with meals is hard to come by, this more than makes up for it.

The rest of the food is so-so. Overly greasy, not enough salt on the fries (no place salts the fries). But for a smoothie job well done:

3/5 Bowls of Hummus 

It's 95 degrees, why am I wearing pants?!

As we head into November, I am still soaked in sweat. It was 95 degrees today in Amman. This morning I grudgingly put on my pants, slipped on a shirt and a ton of deodorant. Almost immediately little beads of sweat began to form on my neck and forehead. I went through three liters of water today just to replenish the inane amount exiting through my skin.

Since I lost my foundation a week ago, I have been going sans makeup—a big step for me. It still freaks me out. But I make it ok by saying it would just sweat off anyway—because it would.

I wake up in the night soaked in sweat. I keep the windows closed to keep the mosquitoes out, so the fan I have basically circulates warm air. Maybe I am losing weight in my sleep—the fit of my pants seems to confirm this theory.

Today, despite the haram nature of my shirt, I decided to forgo the scarf. It’s just too freaking hot. It makes me wonder about the other Muslim women.

If you look around campus, almost all wear their hijabs, but many also wear full denim or khaki trench coat type outfits (Jilbab). And they wear jeans or other pants underneath.

Then there are the women who wear the full Burka. They are wearing BLACK. How hot can that be? And they keep their hands covered as well, wearing leather gloves. So, really, I have it easy not having to wear strict attire, but I feel bad for these women, I don’t want to know how miserably hot it must be for them day after day.

I miss Iowa falls. Here, it’s just endless sunny days of hot hot heat. Where is my depressing clouds?! Where is the nip in the air that signals the first frost is only days away? I don’t know. But it ain’t here. 

My love(?!) for CSI Miami

So apparently CSI Miami is the most popular show on the planet. WHYYYYY? It is overly campy, way too dramatic, and David Caruso plays with his sunglasses as if they were going out of style. Nonetheless, I have been sucked into CSI Miami’s dubious web. It plays no less than 3 times a day of Fox Series, one of about 5 channels that play American shows. Once I start watching, I can’t stop.

Now, Jordanian TV is very interesting. Shows from America are heavily edited and the amount of “love scenes” has been cut wayyy back. Case in point. Gossip Girl. I was watching an episode I have already seen, and Chuck and Blair were gonna kiss and then STOP cut to the next scene. It made me and McCahey cry out in anger. It was such a good scene.

I know they also play True Blood here, and I don’t even want to know how they can possible edit that show so that it’s not “obscene” with out ruining it.  

The selection of shows that play is also quite entertaining. The Simpsons, Lost, The CSIs, Gossip Girl, and Criminal Minds are all some logical shows that play on the various channels. But then you have the weird shows, the ones you don’t even remember showing in America. Shows like The Listener, Gary Unmarried, Samantha Who, and Dollhouse. Gary Unmarried is stupid, Samantha Who, mildly entertaining, and Dollhouse—very odd.

Not only is the selection of shows kind of strange, so is the background music. “I speak No Americano” and a selection of Beatles songs keep the mood upbeat, while some heavy metal grunge music scares the pants off of me. There aren’t really commercials either, which is nice. The shows just end at quarter till and then the next show starts on the hour.

Clearly I am scraping the bottom of the barrel in regards to things I have to talk about. But I am going to Beirut soon, so I will have a plethora of new things to talk about. 

The difference my love, is that when you laugh, I forget about the sky.

My lover asks me:

"What is the difference between me and the sky?"

The difference, my love,

Is that when you laugh,

I forget about the sky

- Nizar Qabbani (Syrian Poet)

The olive trees dotted the landscape as we drove through the rolling hills. Heading north from Amman the scenery slowly changes. Gone are the rocky hills and treeless streets. Replacing them are olive groves—some planted in neat rows, some planted as though the seeds were thrown to the wind. The sky was blue and the day was hot. It was only 8 am but I was well on my way to Ajloun to get my volunteer on.

A group of about 20 of us dedicated our Saturday to paint a village school outside of Ajloun. The all-girls school needed some major upkeep. The walls, once white, now were a dingy shade of beige. The desks looked as though they were from the 1800s. Each classroom had one chalkboard and barred windows. No technology was present in this school. The toilets- squat- were outside in another dilapidated building.

Our mission was to paint the classrooms and pick up the littered campus. Those in charge gave us white paint and brushes. No paint tray, no drip cloth, no scraper to scrape off the chipped paint. We made do; however, I ended the day covered in white goo. 

What proved difficult was the “village Arabic.” It’s not too often that I don’t get one word of what someone says. But I could not understand a word of the village dialect. The other two girls I was painting with seemed to be something of a novelty for the Arabs. The men sat outside the room smoked their cigarettes and laughed while pointing at us. It was a bit uncomfortable.

Upon finishing, we drove a few kilometers to a house that overlooked the city. A family offered to make us lunch. It was delicious. Stuffed zucchini, rice and chicken, green beans, tabouleh and potatoes sat before us on the floor as we sat on gold cushions around the perimeter of the room. The mayor of Ajloun even came by to thank us for working to improve the village. It was a very touching moment—until he yelled at someone on the phone in Arabic. No idea what that was about.

Culture Faux Pas: I needed to use the restroom. So I asked “Wein Muhim.” They looked at me really funny. Only after I found the restroom, I realized why. Instead of asking “Where is the bathroom,” I asked, “Where is the important.” Stupid words that are too close together…

The day ended with a trip to the Soap House, which is funded by the European Union. Five women work at this little shop and make handmade soap. The profits return to the community to help better the lives of the women. It was a lovely idea in an area where women often are relegated to home life.

About the poem: Nizzar Qabbani is widely considered to be the best, and most romantic, Arabic poet. 

This Information has been Classified

Parentals, please look the other way.

Last night I partied at the US embassy. It was probably one of the best nights I’ve had out in Amman. Maybe it was because I felt like I was in America. I guess technically, I was.

Now, I have never been inside the embassy in Amman, but pulling up to it was very intimidating. The Israeli Embassy looks like a shack compared to the fortress like US Embassy.

After making it through security, having my person thoroughly checked and basically signing my life away, I made it inside the “frat house” where all the marines live. It was awesome. They have a ridiculously nice set up. Club music pumped through the stereo system, there was a table of chicken wings, hubbly bubbly was readily available, and obviously there was a bar.

Of course, this would be the only place in Amman where I can’t legally drink, since it’s US territory, the drinking age is 21. Like this was a problem.

One of the marines informed me there were several “upper level military” people there including a colonel. Cool. The crowed was a mix of youngins like myself, and middle aged folk who seemed to disappear as the night went on.

Basically I was just super excited to play beer pong ----in the US embassy. This is still something I can’t wrap my mind around. It just seems so counter intuitive. The night ended with an impromptu dance party in the living (like a king) room.

Continuing with the alcohol topic. Today I went to Madaba, the center of the Christian population in Jordan. Aside from really annoying tourists and ancient churches, liquor is available in restaurants, unlike in Amman.

Our tour guide for the day –Sufat (or something) the 35 year old director of the TAGKS program took us to a delicious Arabic restaurant and made us try Araq—the national Jordanian liquor—yes they have that. Now, I’m not keen on drinking during the middle of the day, but when I saw this stuff my inner child was super excited. First you pour a tiny amount of Araq in a glass about twice the size of a shot glass and then you pour water and add ice and something AMAZING happens. It goes from a clear to a milky liquid. The taste, however, I could have done without. Araq is made from Anise and tastes like black licorice, which I hate. But I drank it anyway, to be polite.

OK parents, you can look now. 

One Month Reflections: It's Superlative Time!

Somehow, I have been here for a month already, and have to decided to mark the occasion by giving superlatives about my favorite/least favorite/gross things.

Most likely cause of death (immediate) – Taxi driving. I know I have bemoaned this before, and I will reiterate. It will probably be death by taxi that does me in. I could also be hit by one while crossing a four-lane highway—which I do on a daily basis.

Most likely cause of death (long term) – Second-Hand Smoke. I smell like an ashtray. All. The. Time. Everyone smokes here. In fact, you are considered weird if you don’t. Taxi drivers light up while I’m in the car. One of the leaders of the CIEE program was giving a lecture on safety while puffing away—slightly ironic, don’t you think? There are hundreds of cigarette butts on the stairways of every building, and every ashtray I see is always full. Restaurants sit in a haze. Word to asthmatics: don’t come here.

Most likely cause of Tetanus- Streets. If you look at any of the streets in Amman you will notice they are COVERED in litter. Old drink cups, wrappers, gum, cockroaches and paper are some of the items one can happen to step upon. Besides the trash, the streets are covered in a constant grit from the lack of rain. Nothing ever gets washed away, so it is always dirty.

Most likely reason to laugh at an inappropriate time – Pictures of the Royal family. Jordanian’s LOVEEEEE the royals. King Abdullah’s photo is in every office, adorns every building and sidewalk, and can even be found in people’s homes. They really love their king. The pictures always crack me up. Abdullah in army attire looking like he’s ready for war. Abdullah a spiffy white button down and Khaki’s with his wife and children. Abdullah looking like a sleazy news anchor. What’s even more hilarious is the Crown Prince. Poor guy, he looks like quite the nerd. If he wasn’t royal he would be shoved into lockers.

Most likely to make you look like a foreigner – Backpacks. Ok, yeah, I have white skin. But the dead give away that you are a Westerner is a backpack. Students here don’t have backpacks. Women carry around tiny purses with a tiny notebook and a tiny pen, and guys simply sling their baby-covered notebook under their arm. Apparently only the engineering nerds—secluded on the other side of campus—carry backpacks.

Most likely cause of dirty looks – Israel. They realllly don’t like Israel here. It’s the occupied Palestinian territories thankyouverymuch. A large majority of the Jordanian population is Palestinian, and they will let you know it. Then you have the Circassian-Jordanians and the Egyptian-Jordanians. Basically, it’s really hard to find a Jordanian Jordanian—but when you do, they will let you know.

But yeah, living by the Israeli embassy has let me know a few things. Cab drivers will try to rip you off if you say you need to go to the Israeli Embassy. They may exclaim “OHMYGOD YOU’RE ISRAELI” or simply babble on about how much they hate Israel.

Most Likely Cause of Food Poisoning –Bedouins. Yeah. I got food poisoning. Any follower of my blog would know that. I just got over it two days ago. 10 days of food poisoning is NOT FUN. Despite the fact that the Bedouin food was delicious and amongst the best food I’ve had while in Jordan, 80-90% of the participants on the program got sick with in 24 hours of being at the Bedouin camp. It was quite shitty.

Most likely reason you’re fat- Oil. So at the friendly neighborhood Safeway, there is an entire ASILE devoted to different types of oil. My arteries clog just by looking at it. Canola seems to be the go-to oil here. You would think Olive Oil, but its not the case. Olive Oil is more for dipping bread into than actually used for cooking. Apparently when my land mother cooked for us one day she was just pouring cups of oil into our stuffed zucchini. Yummm…. (But it actually was reallyreally good).

Most likely reason I will not come back to the US – Food is so darn cheap! If you wanna eat like you do in America, yeah it will cost you. A box of Kellogg’s cereal will set you back 10 USD and a thing of JIF peanut butter will cost about 7. But besides that, you can eat for practically nothing. I went to the store today. This is what I got (in USD).

-       A loaf of bread- $.90

-       Pita (12 pieces) - $.35

-       Large jar of jam - $2

-       Tub of Yogurt (plain) - $1.50

-       Cheese slices – $1.30

-       Bananas (7) $1.70

-       Kiwi (7) $1.40

-       A kilo of Cornflakes (Jordanian Brand) - $3

-       Several zucchini - $1

-       Frozen Strawberries (1/2 gallon) $2.5

-       Granola bars $1.25

-       An enormous bag of chicken breasts $10

Yeah, relatively cheap. And it should last me a nice long time J

Yanni, Malish, she's haram. It's not a bamza, inshallah.

A list of words and there meanings:

Haram – literally means something that goes against the Islamic religion. Ie. Not praying, eating pork. Socially acceptable definition: showing cleavage, being a slut, drinking—basically being American.

Sentence: Did you see her last night? She was so Haram dancing all up on that guy.

Shway- 1.A little. Use in many circumstances. Shway cold, Shway hungry. Do you speak Arabic? Shway.

            2. Hold on. Usually is accompanied by putting all your fingers together in a point and shaking it at someone

In Shallah- This basically means “God Willing.” Will there be a snow day? In Shallah. Will I eat today? In Shallah. Are you going to make it home alive? In Shallah.

Malish- No worries, bro. Got a problem? No you don’t.  Malish.

Bamza- JKJKJK. You’re fat. BAMZA. (maybe)

Yanni- There was Yanni a girl Yanni who was totally Yanni talking Yanni way too Yanni loud. The colloquial word for “like.” Even when professors are speaking English, several “Yannis” will slip in there. 

YALLA- my personal fav= let's go. YALLA YALLA YALLA. it's fun to scream. you should try. 

Kissing is Hard

I will never get this kissing thing down. Is it one, two or three? Is it the same cheek multiple times, or is it a different one. I have no clue and I look like a bumbling fool each time someone goes for the kiss. I just stand there awkwardly. Jordanian greetings take some getting used to.

Affection between men here is surprisingly common. You will see them walking arm in arm. They don’t shy away from greeting each other with a mix between the “bro hug” and kisses on the cheek. It took a while for this to become a normal sight, but I did get used to it. It’s almost cute now.

Girls do much the same here as the do at home. They walk arm and arm and hold hands while giggling.

I met a Jordanian-American student named Amy. I have run into her several times and each time she is a bundle of smiles and energy. The first time I saw her, I was sitting with a group of the CIEE kids and she walks up and introduces herself. After running into her a few more times, we exchanged phone numbers. The other day I was helping her with her presentation on plastic surgery for her English class. She greeted me and went in for the kisses. I froze. I knew it was coming but I had no idea what to do. She got it though, her mom is from Seattle, and knew that us uncultured Americans had no idea what was up.

Food Poison

In honor of my food poisoning here is a list of some of the most delectable bits I’ve eaten while I’ve been here, aptly entitled, Food Poison.

Enscallop Sandwich. Whoever thought of this delightful creation should move to Iowa and put up a booth at the state fair. Americans would go nuts. Ready? It’s a breaded chicken patty, fries and ketchup rolled in a pita. Literally orgasmic. And at a price of .60, you could have them all day. 

Sheesh Tarok. OMM NOMMM NOMMMMMM. Fried bread. Chicken. Cheese. Enough said.

Stuffed Zucchini. Oil. Oil. Oil. And zucchini and meat and rice, slathered in more oil. It was made by my land mother and actually was quite delicious despite the copious amounts of oil used. I’m sure my arteries dislike me.

Shwerma. Any shwerma, every shwerma. Basically its shaved chicken with spices and pickles rolled inside a pita.

Falafel Sandwich. Spread hummus on a pita smush falafel and top with a cucumber salad and roll up. It is perhaps the most delicious and cheapest food you will find at .25.

Barely and Tomato Soup. Although it has nothing on my grandma’s homemade version, my land mother’s put an interesting twist by adding barley. It added a welcoming texture.

Pita. Well obviously pita is a staple, but let me tell you, there are a plethora of options you can have. Aside from the aforementioned sandwiches, you can dip it in a hummus, olive oil and chickpea mixture. Add Jelly. Spread Laughing Cow cheese over the top (very popular). Don’t forget about the olive oil and oregano mixture—also tasty. 

Egg McPita- Ok, obviously this isn’t a Jordanian Dish. It’s one of my own making, and I have been eating it like crazy. Scramble and egg, add some deli meat. Melt some cheese. Stuff inside pita, and enjoy!

Life in the Taxi Lane

Taxi’s are a fickle subject for me. A necessary evil, if you will. My day starts, and ends, with a trip in a taxi. And much like everything else in Jordan, it tends to be a mixed bag.

I’ve had my fare share of interesting cab rides. But of course those only occur if you can actually CATCH a taxi. Today, for instance, I had a meeting with my teacher at 8:10 so I walked on down Hell Hill and across Death Traffic at 7:20 to the other side of the street to catch one. I waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually my hand got tired of the semi-Nazi salute so I just impatiently tapped my foot until I saw one approaching.

It had a person in it. So did all the other ones I saw. It took me 20 minutes to flag one down. That taxi ride was only somewhat eventful. The driver pulled off the side of the road to fill up with gas--only a little jarring.

Other notable rides:

-Obama Lover. There was the ‘I LOVE OBAMA HE IS BLACK’ taxi driver who had a strobe light and pulled over to get coffee whilst I was in his car. “GEORGE BUSH BAD” he bellowed.

-“We’re French” man. After striking up an unusually friendly conversation that we half understood (mainly through gestures and single words), he asked where we were from. McCahey responded “France.” The driver was very excited and exclaimed “Zidane! Zidane!” The only one in the car with a clue, I was like “Ahhh, football” (Hey, least I didn’t say soccer). The driver than proceeded to pull up to a random car and yell out the window “France!!” while gesturing wildly to us in the back.

-The many “AL ADAD” drivers. One thing that royally ticks me off is how many of the drivers think I’m stupid. I know what the fare to get me from A to B is, and I know your meter always works. So STOP TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME. The meters start at .25 piasters and increase by .1 for every 10^th of a mile. If the guy refuses to clear the meter or says “it’s broken” it’s time for action. I usually forcefully say “Al Adad” (meter) and if he says it’s broken, I get out. It’s happened only a handful of times, but still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And finally. The “music lovers.” I’m just gonna come out and say I love the music here. It’s delicious. and I’m sure a later blog will address “Fancy Nancy.” Many of the taxi drivers listen to the news, and I can only pick up a bit of what they say (Although today, I deciphered an ad for an online university!). However, my favorite drivers are the ones who blast music. My absolute favorite was the one the other day who had the most bizarre playlist. It started with a wicked European techno dance track before segueing into the Jonas Brothers. I could help but smile and sing the chorus under my breath. 

Camels, Pirate Ships, and the Red Sea

I am eating watermelon on a pirate ship after snorkeling in one of the best places in the world for it—the Red Sea. The sun sets over the hills of Israel and the my hair, tangled from the salt water, blows in the warm wind. Who Am I?!

***

Did you know that outside of Amman is mostly desert? Because it is. A lot a lot a lot of desert. The first stop on our three day mega-sight seeing saga was Wadi Rum. Wadi Rum literally translates into “high valley.” It’s known for its breathtaking rock formations and red sand.

A camel ride took us across the Wadi. Now, let me tell you about these camels. They make really bizarre noises. And they are not comfortable. I currently have a lump in my back from the saddle-esque thing and bruises on my inner thighs from straddling it. In fact, they recommend sitting cross-legged. Well, didn’t know about that one until it was too late.

My camel’s name was Geldan and Erin’s was named Gelby (Arabic for ‘my heart’). There was a lot of padding between me and the camel. Aside from the saddle, I was also sitting on beach towels, old pillows and a purple Columbia fleece. You get on the camel from a sitting position and getting them to stand is not pleasant. I felt like I was going to get thrown from it each time we got on and off.

We set out overlooking the “7 Pillars of Wisdom” rock that inspired none other than Lawrence of Arabia. Much of the filming of the movie was done in this area as well. And it was BEAUTIFUL. The sand was incredibly red, and the way the wind blew over the rocks made the most stunning patterns. We took breaks along the way for rock climbing and sand dune rolling.

Our day ended outside a “shway” touristy Bedouin camp. Little known fact about the Bedouins—they are loaded. This was apparent from the digs we stayed in. Even though we did sleep in tents, the bathrooms had ceramic floors. There were palm trees, a hookah station and an eating area.

That night, a group of us hiked out into the desert to do some stargazing. The sky was the most spectacular sight. I have never seen that many stars. I could even see the whitish stripe in the sky marking the Milky Way. Perfection.

***

Day two dawned hot. I wrapped my scarf around my head in an effort to block the sun. It really works! We started by taking a 3-hour ATV ride through the desert. Since we were going relatively fast, the sand got in my nose and mouth. Not fun. We stopped by various sights to rock climb, which I did sans shoes. One stop was even Lawrence of Arabia’s former home. Granted, it’s a pile of bricks now, it was still pretty cool.

We then proceeded to Aqaba. Word on Aqaba—it is SO touristy. It reminded me of a mix between South Beach and French Boulevards. European shops lined the city streets against the backdrop of the Red Sea. 

Aqaba sits on the Red Sea. The water is clear blue but is also in a spectacular blue shade. Now, I really wanted to pull a Moses and part the Red Sea, but it proved too difficult. I’ll just leave it to the experts. My boat was called the Alisar and was a PIRATE SHIP! Really though, who does this. We took an hour ride along the coast until we finally anchored.

I was uber excited to jump off the side of the ship.  And after a hot day, jumping in was rather refreshing. But oh dear god, was it ever SALTY. I mean, I knew the Dead Sea would be salty, but didn’t expect it from the Red Sea. I quickly got back on board the ship and donned my snorkeling gear.

Now, I’ve never snorkeled. It’s not easy. I have giant flippers on my feet and am flailing around in the water trying to get my mouthpiece in just right so I don’t inhale the seawater. I failed. I took in enough salt to shrivel all my insides.

The snorkeling around the Red Sea—between Aqaba and the Saudi border—is considered to be the best in the world. I can’t even describe how beautiful it was. Colorful coral sat along the bottom with fish swimming around. I even swam through a school of fish. It was one of those experiences words cannot describe. I can now see how much fun it would be to be a marine biologist.

We headed for shore in time to see the sunset over the hills of Eilat. The captain of our boat—a scrawny Libyan looking man—fed us watermelon and cookies as Arabic music played in the background. As we got closer to shore, the music became more of the dance variety and the boat was soon a rocking with swiveling hips.

Day 3

They warned us—strongly—that the 6-mile backdoor hike to from the Bedouin Camp and up several Jebels (small mountains) to Petra would be tough. There would even be a spot where you had to cross a 4-inch ledge, clinging to rocks, lest you fall hundreds of feet into the Wadi below. I knew I was in shape enough for it…but the whole ledge thing kind of freaked me out. I decided to do it anyway.

And I am so glad that I did. Marching through the desert gave me a sense of independence. We hiked up over rocks and stairs. The views were amazing. It reminded me somewhat of the desert side of the Rockies. At one point a Bedouin was selling tea on the side of the mountain. It was delicious.

The four-inch ledge was a little intense. Nothing I couldn’t handle. I just didn’t think about falling. It was fine. Now the most incredible part of doing the backdoor hike is that Petra kind of sneaks up on you. Since you are not going through the main gate, you see no throngs of tourists in tacky clothes. You round a corner and there it is. Petra.

The first part we saw was the Monastery. And because it was so secluded, it was by far my favorite. Petra has had a long history. The Nabateans were the ones that saw Petra through its golden age. How they managed to carve such intricate patterns into the rocks is something I can’t even comprehend. After wandering through the rest of Petra, I noticed several things. I dislike tourists. The absolute disregard for customs perturbed me. Women were walking around in Bikini tops and skimpy shirts. I really wanted to walk up and ask them “Excuse me, where do you think you are.” Another thing I found surprising was how many Bedouin women were selling things.

They would call out from the shops “No charge for looking” or “A special surprise.” Children would come up and ask if you wanted to buy postcards or rocks. They would pester you saying you could ride on their donkey for only 5 JD. The treasury—or what is typically thought of when “Petra” comes to mind was spectacular, if not marred slightly by how many tourists were there.

All in all, this weekend made me realize that I am embarking on something that very few people do, and I feel incredibly lucky to have this opportunity.

 For Photos of my weekend