Keeping Busy in the Middle East

I bet you have all been dying to know what I do to keep myself busy here in the Middle East, besides church callings and studying Arabic. And everything else that comes with living in the Middle East--which entails quite a bit, don't get me wrong.

Well, like at every other time in my life, I wished to be busier than I had time for.

Wish granted.

Before I even came to the Middle East, I let the word spread that I give free haircuts in the Middle East. I give free haircuts in Provo too, but that doesn't quite sound as cool.

Lest you think that one would be crazy to take me up on this offer, I did go to beauty school. But I never finished. (Yes, I am a beauty school drop-out. Does this change your opinion of me?) This is why I don't charge--in case I know how to do everything but one side, or something like that. I ask them instead to donate to the Perpetual Education Fund, but I don't know if anyone has actually done that...

Anyway, everyone here seems more than willing to take advantage of this free haircut thing, and I have probably given 12-15 haircuts while I have been here, with a couple more on the schedule before I leave.



I also teach piano--also for free. Man, I obviously have no business sense! I could be making a killing by now...

I teach several people in the branch (I am actually the "piano lessons coordinator") after church on Fridays, which is always a joy and a pleasure.

And finally, I teach piano lessons to two of the children in my homestay. This one, though, I do get paid for.

Good thing, too, with what I have to deal with! :) The other day Hashem climbed out of his chair and onto the dresser behind him. When I, shocked, asked what he was doing, he sat down like this and said, "Taking a yoga drink!"

I thought it was so funny that instead of being frustrated, I laughed and asked him to wait while I grabbed my camera. I actually teach these two kids every day, so I am more like their piano tutor.

Oh yeah, and I keep busy by playing with the cutest kids in Jordan...


(These are the branch president's children, Halen and Savannah. Grace, 1, is missing from the pictures.)

His Majesty the King Abdullah Al-Hussein the Second

Jordanians love their king. Alot. As I have never lived in a country that had a monarchy before, I find it somewhat strange--in America, we can say whatever we want about the government, but in a long-standing monarchy, not much is said against the king.

Ever.

Instead, pictures of the king are everywhere--from street signs to some in the LDS church building in Amman (that one I am still trying to figure out...).

In this one the king looks rather manly and kingly. Like a friendly king.

He is, of course, every man's king. Like here, he is the Bedoin king, looking rather Bedoiny.

People also really like pictures of the royal family--no matter how old the picture is.

Or how awkward--notice how the son is not even looking at the camera? Queen Rania is, as always, looking beautiful, as she was rated the 3rd most beautiful woman in the world, according to Wikipedia.

They also don't seem to care how faded the picture is...

This imposing structure is a record of kings past--King Hussein's father, grandfather, great and great-great grandfather. Intimidating?

And then we have this random assortment...

Be Aware of Paint

Mansaf

For those of you unfamiliar with traditional Jordanian food dishes, let me introduce you to Mansaf.

It is Jordan's national food, or something like that. And if you have lived in Jordan and not eaten mansaf, you are either very lucky or just haven't eaten at any Jordanian's house.

Or both.

Needless to say, I don't really enjoy mansaf. The actual "food" part of it is not so bad--it is rice and some sort of nuts sprinkled on on top of a big bread/tortilla type thing, with pieces of lamb on top (sometimes chicken, but "real" mansaf always has lamb. If you are lucky, there aren't any pieces of lamb hair still stuck to the bones and meat. If you aren't...well, does it make you feel better that I have been there, too?).

The worst part of the mansaf (and, according to Jordanians, what makes mansaf) is the "yogurt/lebene" sauce they drench the thing in. I don't really know how to describe what it tastes like. The actual taste is not so bad, except the first time I ate mansaf, I stuck the first yogurt sauce-covered bite in my mouth and my tastebuds started screaming and shrank back from this vile liquid that I had just subjected them to. Something about the curdled lebene in the sauce makes my tastebuds shrink back in despair and my throat close off, begging me not to swallow the thing.

I have eaten mansaf a lot here. Fun, eh?

This is a picture of the yogurt sauce the pour on the mansaf.

And this is my friend Lorien. Mansaf is eaten from a communal dish and it is eaten with ones' hands (although we have come to find out that many Jordanian women don't eat it with their hands--"we don't know how," they explain to us). Lorien is a pro at making "mansaf balls," which are then eaten. I am not so good at it, as you might be able to tell from my hand and the awkward mush therein, which is also in the picture.

Lorien doesn't like mansaf either. Maybe it is an acquired taste?

Arabic Boot Camp

I have been thinking recently about how this Arabic study abroad (and learning Arabic at BYU in general) is kind of like boot camp, at least for me. Boot camp is long and miserable and hot, and no one signs up for the army thinking, "I want to go to boot camp!" At least, no one "normal."

Anyway, most people in the army think back on boot camp as a miserable time and love to complain about how awful it was. (I might be overgeneralizing here, but I am just making a point.) But no one tells them that they just should have had a better attitude and they would have loved boot camp! It is miserable on purpose. It is a means to an end--and not the end in itself.

Anyway, that is how I feel about this study abroad. For all intents and purposes, I really don't like being here. Learning Arabic is hard and tedious and dreadful, and it is so hot and everyone stares at me. And I am sick of people telling me that I should have a better attitude.

Just to clear up the question, in case you think I am the only one with feelings of dislike toward this country/language/study abroad, let me just say that many, many people here have complained some of the same things to me, including the director of the program and his wife, one of the American grad students/teachers here, and most of the girls and even some of the guys. Which made me think (side note)--does this happen with every study abroad and every language, or just with Arabic? Do people come back from Germany hating everything German, or do they come back fluent? Is there a correlation? Because, according to Dil, this happens on every Arabic study abroad to the Middle East.

Anyway, this study abroad is a means to an end--I just don't know what the end is! It is ok if I didn't enjoy my experience here and if I want to go home. Don't fault me for not enjoying boot camp! I am just happy that I have survived and that one day I will realize what the purpose of learning Arabic was for me--whether for the language or for the things I learned, like patience and humility, that will help me on my mission.

So, if you are going to do this study abroad and get scared from reading my blog, just remember that it is a means to an end--and everyone has their own "end" to figure out! And don't be afraid of being miserable--it is only four months, after all. :)

Sunglasses

Sunglasses are one of the most brilliant things I brought with me to the Middle East. Not just because I look so attractive while wearing them, but also the protect my eyes and my honor.

Let me explain.

The first thing: my honor. Ok, so maybe it isn't so dramatic. But while I was in the America, I searched everywhere for a pair of sunglasses that were so dark that you couldn't see my eyes through them.

I think I suceeded--and they look particularly CIA-ish, cleverly disguising my face giving the impression that I am looking at you, even when I am not, or the impression that I am not looking at you while I am. Ha.

Actually, lets be honest, most of the time I just look silly, like I am a CIA agent in some comedy where I walk around whistling my own theme music. But most of the time I don't whistle out loud.

Anyway, everyone stares at me here in Jordan, as I look so much different than everyone else. I mean, really. I have two eyes (which happen to be blue) and hair (which is the really strange part, because I don't wear a hijab. And my hair happens to be red). The men don't wear hijabs either, and their hair is exposed, but somehow that is less tantalizing to the women than women's hair is to the men. More on this later.

Anyway, everyone stares at me because I am an "ignebia," or foreigner. Or maybe because I have big ears. In any case, I have noticed that I get a lot less attention when I wear sunglasses. People stare less because they can't tell if I am staring at them or not--which most of the time I am. Clever, eh?

Secondly, it is completely normal to wear your sunglasses everywhere here. Almost all of the Jordanian girls have them, especially at the university. And they sell them everywhere. The Jordanian girls really like the big sunglasses, with bling blings on the side, which I personally think look ridiculous. But they wear them everywhere, sometimes even inside.

When I am in the America, I find it rude when people don't take off their sunglasses when they talk to you--mostly it bugs me because I can't see their eyes. So when I was here for the first little while, I would take my sunglasses off when I walked into stores or was ordering food, etc.

That was a mistake.

I don't know what it is about my brilliant blue eyes, but people (and by people here, I mean men) would do a huge double take when they saw my eyes. It was startling, actually, and scared me a couple of times when they would jump backward because they were so shocked. It was like I had lasers coming out of my eyes, or something.

Anyway, now I keep my sunglasses on all of the time--riding busses, in taxis, walking into stores, etc. And so do all the Jordanian girls, so it is not so weird.

Secondly: eye protection. For those who don't know, I have been having major eye problems (but haven't found the nerve to go to a doctor here) in which air and light caused incredible pain to my bloodshot/infected eyes. (Did I mention that the sunlight is intensely burning here? Not so good for the eyes.) So for a week or so, I wore my sunglasses everywhere--in the middle of the night, in class, and even in the hotel in Petra.

All the other hotel guests stared at me as I was eating, but I am sure it was just because they were jealous, or wondering if I was part of the CIA.

So sunglasses. Definitely a necessary part of any wardrobe for the Middle East.

Taiwan in Arabia

For those of you who don't know, I am going on a mission to Taiwan. In less than six weeks. (!)

Anyway, I have recently been wondering what I am doing in Jordan right now. I mean, three weeks after I stop living in the Middle East learning Arabic, I move to Taiwan and learn Mandarin Chinese. Logical? Not really. At least, not to me--the Lord keeps telling me that He knows slightly more than I do. Actually a lot.

Anyway, I have found bits of Taiwan, even in Arabia. For example, in the language center at the University of Jordan, there are posters on the wall advertising beautiful places in Jordan. And other places in the Middle East, and Turkey.

And...Taiwan?!

And secondly, right after I got my mission call, the first counsellor in the branch presidency here in Amman apologized because he had told Sister Cho about my call to Taiwan before he let me tell her. I was ok with that, because I didn't know Sister Cho was--TAIWANESE! She actually lives in Taipei and her husband is working for the embassy here--but they go back to Taipei next year. I will most likely see her and her family--I might even be in her ward again! What a small world the church is!

This is Tutu, Sister Cho's son. We were pretending to be sharks, after I distracted him for a whole Enrichment (while his mom was trying to demonstrate how to cook shrimp balls) by drawing an elaborate scene of sharks and fish under the ocean. My drawing skills are pretty much amazing.

Makin' Cookies

Last Friday, my friend Lorien and I decided to make cookies after church. (Remember, the Sabbath is on Fridays for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints here, because of the way the work week works--Sunday is the first day of the work week and everyone has Fridays off.)

It was really a beautiful idea. I have really been missing cooking (although lets be honest, how much cooking do I do when I am in school? Maybe muffins from a package occasionally. But that is really beside the point) and my former roommate, Ghee, left me a cupboard full of "making cookie" supplies. (Remember how I have my own kitchen?) I realized that I should take advantage of my rather large and beautiful kitchen, since no one else (except Karina and Spencer) on this program has a kitchen like I have, not even the married couples. Jason and Brian don't even have a stove--ha!

Anyway, taking advantage of the free kitchen, free supplies, and free time after church, Lorien and I made cookies.

True to form, I forgot to check and make sure I had all the ingredients before I started. I really like doing things--but sometimes the "preparing" part gets left behind in the rush. Thankfully, we had everything we needed except butter, but we got Crisco from Bashira (the mother of the family with whom I live). I am not really a fan of Crisco--I prefer butter. Actually, I prefer margarine, but that is a different story (everything's better with Blue Bonnet on it!). Sorry for those of you who like Crisco cookies. I just like tasting more cookie than Crisco, personally.

Anyway, we ran into only a few snags--first, the oven. I know how to light ovens in the Middle East, but I was afraid because I wasn't sure when the last time was that my oven had been used. Everything is run by gas here, and so to turn on your oven, you turn on the gas, get a match or a lighter, and then stick it into the gas pouring out of the bottom of the oven, hoping it doesn't exploed in your face.

Don't worry, it didn't explode, and I got it lit.

Next stop: conversions. I had a cookie recipie from my mother, and I thought I would have to change the measurements into liters, etc.

Well, I might have had to, but I forgot about measuring cups. They were conspicuously absent from my kitchen.

Never fear, though, because I know how to "eyeball" things, and we had some mugs that looked like they were about 1 cup. And I never measure vanilla--I found out early on that the lid on vanilla is almost always 1 tsp!

With several hurdles overcome, we ran into another--the brown sugar. It was so hard it felt like a rock. Definitely not stirrable, especially since we didn't have beaters and were stirring the cookies with a fork.

Again being the resourceful one, I had Lorien break it up with a fork and, after 15 minutes or so of stirring it with a little water, it became palatable.

Well, this post is getting long and kind of boring, but suffice it to say that after all of the hurdles, the cookies were beautiful. Amazing. Delicious. And so very American.

Don't they look beautiful and amazing? They were.

Suffice it to say, we were pretty proud of ourselves. That mug is what we used for our "1 cup" measuring source.

I, obviously, was more than a little excited for them. :)

Aren't Arab Children Beautiful?

Sometimes they even look like me, with red hair or blue eyes--but rarely both. Whenever this happens, all of the women make a big deal about it--how this Jordanian child looks like me, a foreigner--and it is natural!