American Girls

A delicious ice cream treat in a local coffee shop, 7-11.

Travel lesson number two: Travel in small, attractive groups. It has only been three days, and we have reaped the benefits. As Rebecca and I made our way from a sterile, cold internet cafe to a comfortable, free internet cafe, we contemplated the impact of only knowing the Arabic alphabet. Dismissing the idea, we quickly became comfortable in an environment that we were used to. An hour after the shay fiasco, our server came out with two heaping bowls of ice cream. He smiled broadly as we profusely thanked him for being so sweet. The owner asked if we had a good time and hoped that we would come back in again. Free things? Yes, we'd love to.

The next incident occured today in Amman. Gabriel, another student here, wanted to show us a Byzantine church with an art exhibit inside that he found intriguing. As it was Jordan's Independence Day, it was closed to the public. Fortunately for us, the exuberant maintenance man was more than happy to open up the gate and walk us around the church. Not only did he offer us refreshments from the cafe, but he squeezed lemons to make us lemonade. Jordanian people are so friendly.

Rebecca and I cannot walk down the street without cars stopping to 'welcome us to Jordan.' Everyone is ridiculously excited to hear that we're from the United States, and one man showed us the American flag on his passport. It may help that Rebecca and I never stop talking. We met the University president's daughter in the grocery store, and we have incidents that should place us on the list for our own sitcom. A wonderful example occurred today in a place resembling Target.

Rebecca cannot live without a hair dryer and is lacking the converter to allow hers to work. The lack of converters in this country led her to buy a new Jordanian hairdryer from a store in the mall. Not surprisingly, Rebecca picks the hairdryer with only the floor model left. As she asks one employee if she can take it, two older women come by and try to help the poor salesman that speaks no English. This causes four more employees, who have been watching us stealthily from the moment we walked into the door, to sprint over. Their limited English skills lead to the conclusion that we want a stereo. The continuous laughter of the American girls brings a manager over, who promoptly gives Rebecca the hairdryer. As three more employees circle us, the first employee takes the hairdryer and beckons us to follow him. We turn to see him with the hairdryer plugged it, blowing air around the store. With all customers and employees of this superstore watching, Rebecca takes the hairdryer and we stumble to the registers, trying to contain our laughter. What do we see when we walk up to the register? A huge crate of the very hairdryer we were buying the floor model of. After profuse apologies from the manager and our continued laughter, we left the Jordanian superstore waving goodbye to our newfound friends.

Everywhere we go, Jordanians want to chat with us. They love to teach us Arabic and learn English. Rebecca and I stood in the student center waiting for our ids-3 new friends, one Syrrian, one Palestinian, and one Algerian. We sit on the bus from Amman to Irbid-two new friends, both from Jordan and wanting to help us with Arabic. The only awkward thing is the staring. There aren;t many blondes here, so they're probably just curious. I don't think many Americans come to Jordan, but I don't know why they don't. Everyone here is so friendly and welcoming!

Arabic

     There are few people in Irbid, Jordan that speak English. But there are plenty that want to talk. Thus begins our rapid Arabic lessons. Day one, Rebecca and I are somehow thrown into an intermediate class. After blankly staring at the worksheet and unable to answer any questions, we are removed and placed into our rightful beginner's class. Some Arabic sounds are unlike any made in English, and I find myself struggling to relearn speech. One sound I am good at, the /r/ sound. My four years of Spanish has paid off in the acquisition of rolling my r's. Thank you Spanish.

     We've had a lot of delicious food here, including Jordan's national dish, Mensaf. Normally, I'm very picky with what I try, but I'm very adventurous here. This dish was made with lamb, served over rice with pine nuts and almonds, and covered with pita and a delicious yogurt sauce. So delicious. And schwarma. Their version of fast food, lamb or chicken in a pita with veggies and sauce. I love Middle Eastern food.

It's difficult to interact with people in Irbid, as many do not speak English, but I suppose that's the important part of immersion. We're forced to learn to interact, and we'll learn more Arabic that's not colloquial. Interestingly enough, two other students in our trip are from Madison as well. Some of them are ahead of us in Arabic, but this is only apparent when Rebecca and I have to speak for ourselves. We asked for tea (shay) and received shisha (flavored tobacco or hookah) instead. We had a long laugh with our server and reverted to google translate when he attempted to converse with us. Eventually we'll learn this language. It's Jordan's Independence day tomorrow, so we're going into Amman and sightseeing. Apparently, it's more conservative and stringent than Irbid. As almost every woman here wears a burka, maybe it's time to invest in one. Especially Rebecca.

How much can you do in a four hour layover?

Big Ben in London!

     Plenty. As Rebecca and I stretched from our seats, we contemplated wandering around England instead of impatiently waiting for our next flight in the airport. Walking through customs, the stamper questioned our staying in England for 4 hours. Yes, we know it's a very short time. Yes, we just want to see some tourist things. And off we went into the blundering gaggle of tourists attempting to figure out the English subway system.

     Between oyster cards, one way tickets, and the overpowering Euro, we managed to buy tickets and made our way to our subway line. The Piccadilly train took about an hour to get into the city, and we excitedly sprinted off the train. lugging our carry-ons. We walked by Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, snapping a plethora of pictures. We made our way to Buckingham Palace, taking a picture in a bright red phone booth on the way. Buckingham Palace was overcrowded, but we were able to watch the guards marching around. By this point, our time in London was coming to a close. We made it back to the subway and made it in plenty of time for our next flight.

     Goodbye London, hello Amman!

Leaving for Jordan!

      An important travel lesson: dress how you wish to be treated. As I stretch across my newly acquired extra seat and enjoy the doting attention of the flight attendant, I recall a chat with my father from that very morning. He was positive that the cashmere dress with the dressy sandals was entirely too uncomfortable for a day of flying. We discussed my desire to be taken seriously, and who will treat a twenty-something in sweatpants and a tank top like an adult? This proved to be beneficial, as I was promptly moved from a torturous middle seat to the front exit row by a dimpled attendant that proceed to call me “honey” for the duration of the eleven hour flight. As I settled in amidst the sighs and consternation of those around me wanting those very seats, I thanked Banana Republic for keeping me classy and comfortable on this international flight. Oh hello London…