Tuesday, July 8, 2008
We've Moved!
Hello to all my loyal readers. I've decided to move Against Goliath to a new home. The new website is againstgoliath.wordpress.com. So, since I know all of you have my blog bookmarked, it's time to update. I hope you can all make the change and keep reading my stuff!
Monday, July 7, 2008
Women...
I was very shocked today to see a female security guard checking bags at the entrance to the mall (I find it funny the level of caution rises when an Arab passes through as opposed to the Americans…). However, I’d say here is the main difference between Jordan and Israel – besides, of course, the number of Jews on hand and the fact Israel is considered first world – the women.
Obviously, this is a Muslim nation, so many women here are very conservative and are often treated as such. But the difference is still astounding. When I approached the female security officer today to have my bag checked, she sort of looked down and motioned for me to continue past her. She essentially told me to go to the male officer. It took me a few moments to figure out what was going on, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate for a female to check my bag.
Now, in Israel, if you’re not careful, the women will stick an Israeli Assault Rifle up your butt and smile as you wonder why a woman just stuck a rifle up your ass. At the airport once, I had a very stocky female customs agent question me about being a Jew (questions like, what are the words to the song you sang during your Bar Mitzvah; when I replied I didn’t have one, she wondered why I told her I was Jewish). This woman, albeit short, purposely had a uniform that was too small so the buttons strained to keep it on her body. She had this weird afro of a haircut and she badly needed braces which I took note of because she never stopped smiling. It was only after the intrusive interrogation that I realized if she had stopped smiling, she probably would have broken me in half, put a hard plastic shell over me and blown me up just to be safe.
When I’m not busy analyzing the differences of women between countries (one Jordanian Christian calls the fully-covered Muslim women “Ninja Ladies”), I am in fact trying to speak Arabic to people. However, there are clearly different groups of people when the issue of Arabic comes up. I have found I have far easier time communicating in Arabic with people who actually speak English. Before you laugh at the statement of the obvious, let me explain. I firmly believe now that, one, by breaking the ice, people are more receptive to the fact you want to practice Arabic, and two, people who can speak English know how we form our syllables and understand the problems we have in imitating foreign Arabic sounds not in the English language. This allows them to more easily figure out what exactly us English speakers are trying to say when using Arabic.
Other people have absolutely zero interest in letting me use Arabic, even when I demonstrate I actually can say a few things. They automatically assume I can’t speak Arabic and then no matter what comes out of my mouth, they refuse to try and understand me and go looking for an English speaker to help in communicating. And then some of these people still assume I can’t speak and then laugh hysterically when a word comes out of my mouth (although I don’t think it’s mockingly, but more like, “Why the hell would an infidel know words in the language of Muhammad?”).
I suppose I’m picking up a few new words here and there, but I also think another semester or two of intense studying in America would have been (and will prove to be) beneficial.
A couple more articles, this time with a bit of light on the horizon:
http://www.metimes.com/International/2008/07/07/syria_will_break_links_with_iran_if_us_steps_in_to_help/8591/
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/06/world/middleeast/06iraq.html?_r=1&ref=middleeast&oref=slogin
Obviously, this is a Muslim nation, so many women here are very conservative and are often treated as such. But the difference is still astounding. When I approached the female security officer today to have my bag checked, she sort of looked down and motioned for me to continue past her. She essentially told me to go to the male officer. It took me a few moments to figure out what was going on, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate for a female to check my bag.
Now, in Israel, if you’re not careful, the women will stick an Israeli Assault Rifle up your butt and smile as you wonder why a woman just stuck a rifle up your ass. At the airport once, I had a very stocky female customs agent question me about being a Jew (questions like, what are the words to the song you sang during your Bar Mitzvah; when I replied I didn’t have one, she wondered why I told her I was Jewish). This woman, albeit short, purposely had a uniform that was too small so the buttons strained to keep it on her body. She had this weird afro of a haircut and she badly needed braces which I took note of because she never stopped smiling. It was only after the intrusive interrogation that I realized if she had stopped smiling, she probably would have broken me in half, put a hard plastic shell over me and blown me up just to be safe.
When I’m not busy analyzing the differences of women between countries (one Jordanian Christian calls the fully-covered Muslim women “Ninja Ladies”), I am in fact trying to speak Arabic to people. However, there are clearly different groups of people when the issue of Arabic comes up. I have found I have far easier time communicating in Arabic with people who actually speak English. Before you laugh at the statement of the obvious, let me explain. I firmly believe now that, one, by breaking the ice, people are more receptive to the fact you want to practice Arabic, and two, people who can speak English know how we form our syllables and understand the problems we have in imitating foreign Arabic sounds not in the English language. This allows them to more easily figure out what exactly us English speakers are trying to say when using Arabic.
Other people have absolutely zero interest in letting me use Arabic, even when I demonstrate I actually can say a few things. They automatically assume I can’t speak Arabic and then no matter what comes out of my mouth, they refuse to try and understand me and go looking for an English speaker to help in communicating. And then some of these people still assume I can’t speak and then laugh hysterically when a word comes out of my mouth (although I don’t think it’s mockingly, but more like, “Why the hell would an infidel know words in the language of Muhammad?”).
I suppose I’m picking up a few new words here and there, but I also think another semester or two of intense studying in America would have been (and will prove to be) beneficial.
A couple more articles, this time with a bit of light on the horizon:
http://www.metimes.com/International/2008/07/07/syria_will_break_links_with_iran_if_us_steps_in_to_help/8591/
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/06/world/middleeast/06iraq.html?_r=1&ref=middleeast&oref=slogin
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Speed it Up...
Jordan, for all of its good qualities, certainly does not lack in specific behaviors that seem to baffle the mind. Take, for example, the seemingly full-population endemic of walking slowly. This might sound contrite, but every single person, without exception – men and women, old and young – walks slowly. There appears to be a switch that gets clicked off when they step foot out of their cars – cuz God knows, this certainly does not apply to their driving techniques – and they kick back into first gear.
I’ll be the first to admit, lollygagging has its place in the universe. When at the Grand Canyon, for example, the idea is to walk slow and take in the view. Or when getting in touch with your spirituality as you slowly stroll to the local church. These are all plausible scenarios in which “Sunday Walking” is deemed acceptable. However, there is no balance out here. Even when walking from a restaurant to a shop along a busy highway, they walk like they’re in a park feeding the ducks. And do not use the excuse they’re just enjoying life – life is a journey, not a destination, if you will – because when I’m running errands or walking on a busy street or trying to get somewhere with the sun slowly melting my skin away, the absolute last thing I want to do is take a nice stroll around town. I want to finish up so I actually can go enjoy life.
Not to mention, there is an extreme affinity amongst the population to adopt a herd-like mentality; meaning, no one walks alone (which of course makes the sole short-wearing American jaunting around town all the more awkward). So these huge groups of people will be creating this massive slow-moving barrier which is positively impossible to navigate around, making every errand or walk around town four times longer than it should be. It’s like a human traffic jam purposely trying to slow things down in the city, ala the massive bike rallies in San Francisco.
What’s worse, there is absolutely zero walking when on an escalator. Escalators are for standing on and being moved in a nice, relaxed fashion. The ultimate problem here, though, is that they don’t start walking once they’re off the escalators. What the hell are you supposed to do when you’re about to step off an escalator and there’s a horde of people standing there wondering where to crawl to next? Of course, oddly, I seem to be the only person that takes issue to this quandary. Somehow, as the one American in the mall goes barreling through peaceful families standing pat like a fricking bowling ball through bowling pins, everyone else glides in and out, apparently by the grace of Allah. Oddly, as I’ve mentioned several times, once they get back behind the wheel, all shit hits the fan. I just read, however, that the legislature is passing new traffic and public transportation bills, so apparently, I’m not the only one who finds a woman driving backwards on the highway slightly ridiculous.
Also, some real interesting articles:
http://www.economist.com/opinion/displaystory.cfm?story_id=11670357
http://www.economist.com/world/africa/displaystory.cfm?story_id=11670939
I’ll be the first to admit, lollygagging has its place in the universe. When at the Grand Canyon, for example, the idea is to walk slow and take in the view. Or when getting in touch with your spirituality as you slowly stroll to the local church. These are all plausible scenarios in which “Sunday Walking” is deemed acceptable. However, there is no balance out here. Even when walking from a restaurant to a shop along a busy highway, they walk like they’re in a park feeding the ducks. And do not use the excuse they’re just enjoying life – life is a journey, not a destination, if you will – because when I’m running errands or walking on a busy street or trying to get somewhere with the sun slowly melting my skin away, the absolute last thing I want to do is take a nice stroll around town. I want to finish up so I actually can go enjoy life.
Not to mention, there is an extreme affinity amongst the population to adopt a herd-like mentality; meaning, no one walks alone (which of course makes the sole short-wearing American jaunting around town all the more awkward). So these huge groups of people will be creating this massive slow-moving barrier which is positively impossible to navigate around, making every errand or walk around town four times longer than it should be. It’s like a human traffic jam purposely trying to slow things down in the city, ala the massive bike rallies in San Francisco.
What’s worse, there is absolutely zero walking when on an escalator. Escalators are for standing on and being moved in a nice, relaxed fashion. The ultimate problem here, though, is that they don’t start walking once they’re off the escalators. What the hell are you supposed to do when you’re about to step off an escalator and there’s a horde of people standing there wondering where to crawl to next? Of course, oddly, I seem to be the only person that takes issue to this quandary. Somehow, as the one American in the mall goes barreling through peaceful families standing pat like a fricking bowling ball through bowling pins, everyone else glides in and out, apparently by the grace of Allah. Oddly, as I’ve mentioned several times, once they get back behind the wheel, all shit hits the fan. I just read, however, that the legislature is passing new traffic and public transportation bills, so apparently, I’m not the only one who finds a woman driving backwards on the highway slightly ridiculous.
Also, some real interesting articles:
http://www.economist.com/opinion/displaystory.cfm?story_id=11670357
http://www.economist.com/world/africa/displaystory.cfm?story_id=11670939
Friday, July 4, 2008
The Streets of New York...
Before I left for Jordan, several people confronted me.
“Dave, why Jordan? You know how dangerous it is out there?”
It’s true, in a sense, that the region is relatively unstable and could erupt – seemingly – at any given moment. However, there is certainly another reality that not enough people realize. We have the very unfortunate consequence of a free press that has grasped the unholy truth that violence sells. Danger sells. Explosions that claim nine lives in a fiery car bomb sells.
But there is a certain peace and calm in Jordan while walking around at night that I have only experienced in two other places: one in my very suburban home community of Baywood Estates, a veritable paradise for yuppy families to enjoy the safe life of Minivans and gardeners, and Israel.
It is a sadly unknown fact that the crime rate in these countries is virtually nonexistent (unless you leave your backpack open near a bunch of Bedouins, long story…). In these highly religious countries, crime is either against the faith or punishable by very unsavory policies. And yet, with the bombing of a hotel or the mad rampage of a man and his tractor, headlines tell us to stay away from these nations.
Again, sadly, these free and objective headlines play right into the hands of the Islamist movement. A definition of terrorism, as provided by my professor Jeffrey Bale, (this is a paraphrase if he ever happens to read this), is violence or the threat of violence against a target of symbolic significance with the intention of making a third party act differently in order to bring about a change. Meaning, for example, going into an extremely peaceful neighborhood and blowing up a bus to force other people to no longer want to take the bus and sending a message to the rest of the world that the city is a dangerous place.
However, while the threat of a bomb going off in a local coffee shop looms, the threat of danger seems practically nonexistent. I felt far more likely to get mugged and stabbed walking in New York City or Berkeley or Denver or – hell – Monterey. Perhaps more accurate reporting would be, “Four die in Israeli terrorist attack while 6 million survive night in New York.”
Not to mention, against all the stereotypes I heard before coming here, the cordiality of Middle Easterners is unlike anything I’ve experienced in the United States. For example, I got lost. Surprise, surprise. I was making numerous mad dashes across highways to figure out where to obtain a visa, when I finally dropped my manliness and asked someone where the hell I was. A man, finally figuring out what the hell I was asking about, finally told me where to go, but unsure of himself told me to pull out a pen and paper so he could write down his address.
“Look,” he said, “if you get lost, get a taxi to take you to my house and I’ll help you. Or, for anything. If you need any help, just come find me. And welcome to Jordan!”
Besides the fact he basically gave me the wrong advice, where else would you find that kind of hospitality?
“Dave, why Jordan? You know how dangerous it is out there?”
It’s true, in a sense, that the region is relatively unstable and could erupt – seemingly – at any given moment. However, there is certainly another reality that not enough people realize. We have the very unfortunate consequence of a free press that has grasped the unholy truth that violence sells. Danger sells. Explosions that claim nine lives in a fiery car bomb sells.
But there is a certain peace and calm in Jordan while walking around at night that I have only experienced in two other places: one in my very suburban home community of Baywood Estates, a veritable paradise for yuppy families to enjoy the safe life of Minivans and gardeners, and Israel.
It is a sadly unknown fact that the crime rate in these countries is virtually nonexistent (unless you leave your backpack open near a bunch of Bedouins, long story…). In these highly religious countries, crime is either against the faith or punishable by very unsavory policies. And yet, with the bombing of a hotel or the mad rampage of a man and his tractor, headlines tell us to stay away from these nations.
Again, sadly, these free and objective headlines play right into the hands of the Islamist movement. A definition of terrorism, as provided by my professor Jeffrey Bale, (this is a paraphrase if he ever happens to read this), is violence or the threat of violence against a target of symbolic significance with the intention of making a third party act differently in order to bring about a change. Meaning, for example, going into an extremely peaceful neighborhood and blowing up a bus to force other people to no longer want to take the bus and sending a message to the rest of the world that the city is a dangerous place.
However, while the threat of a bomb going off in a local coffee shop looms, the threat of danger seems practically nonexistent. I felt far more likely to get mugged and stabbed walking in New York City or Berkeley or Denver or – hell – Monterey. Perhaps more accurate reporting would be, “Four die in Israeli terrorist attack while 6 million survive night in New York.”
Not to mention, against all the stereotypes I heard before coming here, the cordiality of Middle Easterners is unlike anything I’ve experienced in the United States. For example, I got lost. Surprise, surprise. I was making numerous mad dashes across highways to figure out where to obtain a visa, when I finally dropped my manliness and asked someone where the hell I was. A man, finally figuring out what the hell I was asking about, finally told me where to go, but unsure of himself told me to pull out a pen and paper so he could write down his address.
“Look,” he said, “if you get lost, get a taxi to take you to my house and I’ll help you. Or, for anything. If you need any help, just come find me. And welcome to Jordan!”
Besides the fact he basically gave me the wrong advice, where else would you find that kind of hospitality?
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Worth Reading...
Check this article out from 2001... Extremely disconcerting, but those people who don't think we're playing right into the Islamist movement hands, perhaps this could be a counter-argument.
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9401E2DC123FF937A25753C1A9679C8B63
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9401E2DC123FF937A25753C1A9679C8B63
Lessons From the King...
Despite being a small country stuck in the middle of a very large problem area, a number of lessons can be learned if we all took a step back to look at what is truly taking place here.
King Abdullah has managed to befriend every country in the Middle East. It is so friendly with Iraq that it practically got free oil. In return, and perhaps to provide some stability, the two countries are working on ways to bring water to perpetual warzone. Then, while Saddam was lobbing rockets at Israel and Iran speaks constantly about wiping Israel from the map (which, admittedly, is taken slightly out of context, but as our newspapers are so quick to realize, it sells), Jordan turns around and befriends the Middle East Pariah. The king manages to keep this friendship intact despite the majority of the Jordanian population being Palestinian, and most of the people choosing not to recognize Israel (my roommate just spoke with a man that told him to go visit Haifa, the most beautiful city in Palestine).
Meanwhile, as the world suffers from the oil crisis and Israel and the US biting at the bit to wipe Iran off the map, King Abdullah signs major contracts with European nations about creating nuclear energy for peaceful purposes. Jordan is well-equipped with natural Uranium, and by constructing these reactors, it not only provides an example of what a Middle East country can achieve in terms of nuclear power while also placing itself in extremely good graces with the West, it is going to utilize the additional power to fuel water desalination plants to tackle the impending water crisis. With so much additional electricity, it will hopefully be in a position to even sell some of the power to surrounding nations.
Not to mention, while being surrounded by Palestine, Syria, Saudi Arabia and Iraq, with Egypt and Iran not too far away, the Jordanian government has devised a way to bring Islamist terrorism practically to a screeching halt (the 2006 al Qaeda attacks being the lone exception in recent years).
This of course is not saying that Jordan is not very much a third world country and is very much governed like a third world country. However, the one way to create a thriving nation is to make friends, figure out how to power the nation, and invite investment. King Abdullah has quite successfully been chipping away at all three.
With any luck, these successes will make the newly planned economic zones dispersed around the country just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps George Bush chose the wrong country to point as at the future of Middle Eastern democracy.
King Abdullah has managed to befriend every country in the Middle East. It is so friendly with Iraq that it practically got free oil. In return, and perhaps to provide some stability, the two countries are working on ways to bring water to perpetual warzone. Then, while Saddam was lobbing rockets at Israel and Iran speaks constantly about wiping Israel from the map (which, admittedly, is taken slightly out of context, but as our newspapers are so quick to realize, it sells), Jordan turns around and befriends the Middle East Pariah. The king manages to keep this friendship intact despite the majority of the Jordanian population being Palestinian, and most of the people choosing not to recognize Israel (my roommate just spoke with a man that told him to go visit Haifa, the most beautiful city in Palestine).
Meanwhile, as the world suffers from the oil crisis and Israel and the US biting at the bit to wipe Iran off the map, King Abdullah signs major contracts with European nations about creating nuclear energy for peaceful purposes. Jordan is well-equipped with natural Uranium, and by constructing these reactors, it not only provides an example of what a Middle East country can achieve in terms of nuclear power while also placing itself in extremely good graces with the West, it is going to utilize the additional power to fuel water desalination plants to tackle the impending water crisis. With so much additional electricity, it will hopefully be in a position to even sell some of the power to surrounding nations.
Not to mention, while being surrounded by Palestine, Syria, Saudi Arabia and Iraq, with Egypt and Iran not too far away, the Jordanian government has devised a way to bring Islamist terrorism practically to a screeching halt (the 2006 al Qaeda attacks being the lone exception in recent years).
This of course is not saying that Jordan is not very much a third world country and is very much governed like a third world country. However, the one way to create a thriving nation is to make friends, figure out how to power the nation, and invite investment. King Abdullah has quite successfully been chipping away at all three.
With any luck, these successes will make the newly planned economic zones dispersed around the country just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps George Bush chose the wrong country to point as at the future of Middle Eastern democracy.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Wake Up Calls...
A large part in my choosing my place of residence for the summer, besides the 513 non-English speaking channels, is because there is a massive mosque about a block away. I knew that by choosing this specific locale, I wouldn’t have to worry about the dreadful prospects of getting a good night’s sleep.
You see, out in this part of the world, all of the lovely mosques come fully equipped with large minarets booming upwards to the sky. These picturesque towers are not meant to be flashy or to show the power of Allah (which would be a form of blasphemy in Islam), but to create a nesting spot for several loud speakers higher above the city’s relatively short building code. One of the five pillars of Islam, Salat, calls for good Muslims to wash themselves, face Mecca, kneel, and pray five times a day. The loud speakers of the mosques are so that the local prayer leader (not sure if it’s the Imam, Mullah, or Sheikh) can not only address the people who come to pray, but to tell the entirety of the community that it is time to stop what you’re doing and honor the Lord. Apparently, this also means discontinue sleeping. The first prayer time comes sometime between 3:30 and 4:00 AM. Thus, I am pulled out of my peaceful slumber by Aaaaaahhhhh, Aaaaaahhh, Allah al-Akbarrrrrrrr!! It is slightly resembling of Monterey when the Defense Language Institute plays taps at 5:00 and 10:00 PM on the dot across the entire city. Of course, what I just suggested is that instead of God, Americans worship the war machine, but I meant no offense.
Certainly, arising at this hour and listening to the chanting of the Muslim prayer isn’t horrific. There is a sort of peace involved in the routine of an entire country – if not an entire region – lifting themselves out of bed to commit themselves to a sole purpose. It has become a certainty when I fall asleep that I will wake up to the soothing sounds of knowing God is great. It’s almost like sleep-hypnosis, if you will.
I also know that around midnight I will be awoken by sharp cracks and bright flashes. Apparently, this time of year is wedding season in Jordan, and at Jordanian weddings, it is customary to set off fireworks to honor the new couple (usually involving a bride who is eerily completely covered in white robes and a big pointy hood, so the wedding photos are of a man who is ecstatic to begin his new life clinging onto what can only be thought of as the fundamental offspring of the founders of the Ku Klux Klan). You can only imagine my surprise the first night when I snapped out of bed to the multiple cracks of something extremely loud.
“Oh my God,” I thought, “Did I arrive in Jordan for the uprising of Islamic militants, gleefully firing their AK-47s into the air as they overthrow the government?”
I figured regardless of the culprit, I was safe enough if I pulled the covers a little bit tighter and prayed that God was watching over me so I would safely return home to my family.
Queue: “Allah al-Akbar, Allah al-Akbar.”
“Thank God,” I thought again as I drifted back to sleep,” I suppose he’s watching after all.”
You see, out in this part of the world, all of the lovely mosques come fully equipped with large minarets booming upwards to the sky. These picturesque towers are not meant to be flashy or to show the power of Allah (which would be a form of blasphemy in Islam), but to create a nesting spot for several loud speakers higher above the city’s relatively short building code. One of the five pillars of Islam, Salat, calls for good Muslims to wash themselves, face Mecca, kneel, and pray five times a day. The loud speakers of the mosques are so that the local prayer leader (not sure if it’s the Imam, Mullah, or Sheikh) can not only address the people who come to pray, but to tell the entirety of the community that it is time to stop what you’re doing and honor the Lord. Apparently, this also means discontinue sleeping. The first prayer time comes sometime between 3:30 and 4:00 AM. Thus, I am pulled out of my peaceful slumber by Aaaaaahhhhh, Aaaaaahhh, Allah al-Akbarrrrrrrr!! It is slightly resembling of Monterey when the Defense Language Institute plays taps at 5:00 and 10:00 PM on the dot across the entire city. Of course, what I just suggested is that instead of God, Americans worship the war machine, but I meant no offense.
Certainly, arising at this hour and listening to the chanting of the Muslim prayer isn’t horrific. There is a sort of peace involved in the routine of an entire country – if not an entire region – lifting themselves out of bed to commit themselves to a sole purpose. It has become a certainty when I fall asleep that I will wake up to the soothing sounds of knowing God is great. It’s almost like sleep-hypnosis, if you will.
I also know that around midnight I will be awoken by sharp cracks and bright flashes. Apparently, this time of year is wedding season in Jordan, and at Jordanian weddings, it is customary to set off fireworks to honor the new couple (usually involving a bride who is eerily completely covered in white robes and a big pointy hood, so the wedding photos are of a man who is ecstatic to begin his new life clinging onto what can only be thought of as the fundamental offspring of the founders of the Ku Klux Klan). You can only imagine my surprise the first night when I snapped out of bed to the multiple cracks of something extremely loud.
“Oh my God,” I thought, “Did I arrive in Jordan for the uprising of Islamic militants, gleefully firing their AK-47s into the air as they overthrow the government?”
I figured regardless of the culprit, I was safe enough if I pulled the covers a little bit tighter and prayed that God was watching over me so I would safely return home to my family.
Queue: “Allah al-Akbar, Allah al-Akbar.”
“Thank God,” I thought again as I drifted back to sleep,” I suppose he’s watching after all.”
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Killer Donkeys...
Today marks the second time in as many weeks that a donkey was the focal point of an attempt on my life. While pissed and slightly embarrassed I allow myself to be put in these situations, it is worth mentioning.
I was walking from my apartment to the Mecca Mall to enjoy some authentic Jordanian food for dinner – KFC – when I noticed a donkey standing on the side of the highway. Now, Amman is not Petra. The city does not have an abundance of “air-conditioned taxis” trotting along the streets, so in and of itself, I found it to be bizarre that a donkey was standing quietly on the side of a very busy highway. Then, I noticed the donkey was not alone, but was standing on top of a man – or rather, the donkey stood there while a man slid underneath the animal. Again, bizarre, but not completely outrageous. But then, I saw quite distinctly that the man had a frickin’ wrench in his hand, and appeared to be, in one way or another, “working” on his “ride.”
While this was happening, I was simultaneously consumed with crossing the said highway. As many of you know from previous posts, not an easy task even for the sharpest of people. Now, the highway, naturally, has two sides to is divided by a barrier. The roads are one way on each side. So, while crossing, it only makes sense to look in the direction of the oncoming traffic. I learned the hard way that in Jordan, nothing is as it seems. As I quite professionally mapped out my path through the traffic while curiously watching the man “fine tune” his donkey, I logically didn’t notice the sole car driving backwards into the oncoming traffic! Apparently, when people miss their turn in Jordan, you don’t drive back around as in America. You hit the brakes, back it up, and make your turn. How was I supposed to know I was supposed to account for the possibility of reversals when I made my mad dash through traffic? Perhaps if I had my wits about me and wasn’t fully consumed by a man, his donkey, and a wrench, I could have sensed my impending doom, but alas, I was too intrigued by the soft squeal let out by the donkey as one of his lug nuts was tightened back into place. As it were, the car missed my toes by about two and a half inches, and I certainly learned an invaluable lesson. Even as my Englarabic improves ever so slightly, my skills in cultural communication is far from fluent.
In other news, a big music festival is set to take place in Amman this summer, and yet several of the artists are beginning to back out, citing, “Normalization with Israel.” Interesting that even in the one country on good terms with Israel, it is practically taboo to give the impression you are interested in peace. Unfortunately for Jordan, it sits directly in the middle of Iran and Israel, meaning any potential missile that falls in the event of a future conflict had better be accurate, and Jordanians had better be praying that the winds are blowing out to sea. Perhaps more than any other nation in the Middle East, it would be extremely beneficial to the future survival of the country if Israel were to normalize its relation with the rest of the region. This, however, appears to be extremely wishful thinking.
To end things, let me impart a little bit of wisdom passed down from my Grandfather’s own worldly experiences: “It’s not always in your best interest to pet a sleeping walrus just to make sure it isn’t dead.”
I was walking from my apartment to the Mecca Mall to enjoy some authentic Jordanian food for dinner – KFC – when I noticed a donkey standing on the side of the highway. Now, Amman is not Petra. The city does not have an abundance of “air-conditioned taxis” trotting along the streets, so in and of itself, I found it to be bizarre that a donkey was standing quietly on the side of a very busy highway. Then, I noticed the donkey was not alone, but was standing on top of a man – or rather, the donkey stood there while a man slid underneath the animal. Again, bizarre, but not completely outrageous. But then, I saw quite distinctly that the man had a frickin’ wrench in his hand, and appeared to be, in one way or another, “working” on his “ride.”
While this was happening, I was simultaneously consumed with crossing the said highway. As many of you know from previous posts, not an easy task even for the sharpest of people. Now, the highway, naturally, has two sides to is divided by a barrier. The roads are one way on each side. So, while crossing, it only makes sense to look in the direction of the oncoming traffic. I learned the hard way that in Jordan, nothing is as it seems. As I quite professionally mapped out my path through the traffic while curiously watching the man “fine tune” his donkey, I logically didn’t notice the sole car driving backwards into the oncoming traffic! Apparently, when people miss their turn in Jordan, you don’t drive back around as in America. You hit the brakes, back it up, and make your turn. How was I supposed to know I was supposed to account for the possibility of reversals when I made my mad dash through traffic? Perhaps if I had my wits about me and wasn’t fully consumed by a man, his donkey, and a wrench, I could have sensed my impending doom, but alas, I was too intrigued by the soft squeal let out by the donkey as one of his lug nuts was tightened back into place. As it were, the car missed my toes by about two and a half inches, and I certainly learned an invaluable lesson. Even as my Englarabic improves ever so slightly, my skills in cultural communication is far from fluent.
In other news, a big music festival is set to take place in Amman this summer, and yet several of the artists are beginning to back out, citing, “Normalization with Israel.” Interesting that even in the one country on good terms with Israel, it is practically taboo to give the impression you are interested in peace. Unfortunately for Jordan, it sits directly in the middle of Iran and Israel, meaning any potential missile that falls in the event of a future conflict had better be accurate, and Jordanians had better be praying that the winds are blowing out to sea. Perhaps more than any other nation in the Middle East, it would be extremely beneficial to the future survival of the country if Israel were to normalize its relation with the rest of the region. This, however, appears to be extremely wishful thinking.
To end things, let me impart a little bit of wisdom passed down from my Grandfather’s own worldly experiences: “It’s not always in your best interest to pet a sleeping walrus just to make sure it isn’t dead.”
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