activities and a lot of photos

Well, it's again been an embarrassingly long time since I wrote in this blog.  If anyone out there besides my parents still reads it, your about to get a whilwind summary of the big events during the last month or so.  It's a bit challenging to string together the grand narrative, so this will probably be a bit scattered.

About a month ago, we took a trip to a place called Ecole de la Rue  (translation: School of the Street).  Prior to our visit, we  had been presented with a lecture on the Senegalese public and private school systems, which are largely based on the French system.  Unlike the American system, which tends to encourage analytical and independent thinking, at least to a certain degree, the French system is mostly focused on rote learning and examinations.  In any case, we had all, I think, assumed that we would be visiting a typical Senegalese public school.  Instead, we got to see a truly excellent community project.  In one of the poorest neighborhoods of Dakar, a man started and now runs a little school for the children there, giving them the opportunity to develop the skills needed to advance themselves.

we got to see inside one of the classrooms, where the kids recited for us:

a lot of them wanted to shake our hands:

this is what the neighborhood looked like:

Two weeks ago, we started making petit voyages out into Senegal on weekends.  Our first trip was to Saint Louis (pronounced "Sahn Louie", of course) in the north of the country.  This city used to be one of four major colonial cities created by the French in Senegal.  This is quite apparent in the architecture, and also in its continued status as a hotspot for French tourists.

It felt odd for us to be there after spending a month in Dakar trying to do exactly the opposite of tourism and trying to integrate ourselves into some version of daily Senegalese life.  We were even dragged out on a carriage ride tour of the city.  This was altogether a disaster.   I would never go on a carriage ride in any city, let alone as a group of white people in a former colonial outpost where resentment still runs high.  Still, I did manage to take some good photos:

We left Saint Louis early Saturday morning and set out on a long bus ride to a nature preserve where we went  on a long boat ride.  The intended purpose of this boat ride was for us to go bird watching (or, "bird washing" as our professor endearingly mis-pronounced it), and go bird watching is indeed what we did.  I took around 40 photos of birds, but here are some of the more exciting things we saw:

A crocodile basking:

an island full of thousands of mating pelicans:

Some kind of water snake with legs?  The language barrier impeded a good understanding of what this is, but it was pretty neat:

This past weekend, our voyage was more fruitful.  We went to a village called Sokone located in the Sine Delta.  The drive to get there dragged on and on, but when we did arrive, it was most certainly worth it.  We unloaded the bus into a lovely little compound of huts run by a sweet and wise man whose name I have completely forgotten.  He is terribly interested in the environmental issues his village is facing, and he has started to attract ecotourists.  This was the perfect trip for a bunch of liberal arts college students from the Pacific Northwest.

Our first activity was a tour of the mangrove forests in the Delta.  Our guide explained that for years, the villagers have been cutting down the mangroves, and this has been slowly destroying the ecosystem.  We walked down to the shallows of the Delta to meet a group of local women who have made it their business to see that the mangrove forests are not destroyed.  They were drumming and dancing when we arrived:

They took us on a tour of the mangroves they were planting, and we watched the sunset before heading back to our hut to repose before dinner.

That night, after dinner, we went to the community dance.  Sadly, I forgot my camera, but I try to describe the experience.   In rural areas, when a dance is held, all the people in the nearby villages come.  When we got there, there were already five or six men playing drums and about 100 people gathered around in a messy circle.  We were quickly adopted by the children near us, and they would drag us into the circle to teach us the dances they were doing.  Senegalese dance is incredibly fast and vigorous, so we did our best to keep up, but we mostly did it without skill, but with a lot of enthusiasm.  This went on for several hours, and ended in a lutte (wrestling match) between two boys from different villages. Before they wrestle, the boys show off their prowess by dancing.

The next morning, we got up early and headed out to another mangrove forest, where a group of villagers have discovered that keeping bees in the mangrove forest has a double benefit.  First of all, the bees are very protective of their environment, and will happily swarm and attach anyone who tries to harm it.  Second, mangrove honey is extremely delicious.  We visited one of the hives.

We also toured the little building where they harvest the honey from the honeycombs, and we each bought a few jars for ourselves and our host families.Then we got back in the bus and headed off to another village that I don't know the name of.  Upon arrival, we were immediately swarmed by about 40 children who immediately took our hands and followed us down to the waterside.  Our guide showed us and explained the method of cultivating oysters that these villagers had developed in the last year or so.  While oysters cooked over a fire, we played with the kids.  This is the one that adopted me.  Her name was long, but it started with J...

Here we are eating oysters:

After several hours of eating, playing with children, and lounging under a tree, we headed out in a pirogue to and island nature reserve:

After a tour of the island, we swam in the Delta and hung out on this strip of beach  (which is composed of whole, white seashells, not sand).  After about an hour and a half there, we headed out again as it was getting dark.  The water was so beautiful:

When we finally made it back to the huts, dinner was waiting for us.  We ate slowly and then headed for bed chatting about how wonderful our weekend had been....

I would just like to take a moment at the beginning of this blog to express my frustration about African internet.  I renounce all my complaints about Jordanian internet; that was nothing.  The standard here is so low, I couldn’t put my finger under it.  Anyway, it’s not the worst problem in the world, but it is truly amazing how frustrating a simple thing like an internet connection can be. 

Now on to more exciting things, and some pictures provided the internet holds up okay.  (edit: the pictures won't upload at the minute, but I'll try again soon)   

First of all, let’s start with my host family.  The concept of a big family doesn’t quite capture the Senegalese family, or my Senegalese family.  Here, people refer to cousins as sisters and brothers, and that’s just the beginning of the confusion.  Living in my house are the following people: me, my host mother and father, their daughter, three cousins, one grandchild, and two maids who are like family members.  That’s on an average night when we don’t have guests.  It’s also customary to always welcome anyone who comes by to eat with you, so oftentimes there are 8-12 people eating lunch at my house.  Most often, the guests we have are host Maman and Pappa’s grandsons: Sidi, Pappi and Iba.  They are 2, 10 and 6 and I love it so much when they come over.  A lot of times, we do homework together.  Hopefully soon I will be allowed to take Iba and Pappi out for ice cream. Here’s a picture of Sedat, my host nephew (I suppose) who lives in my house:

I have my own room here (no American roommate, yay!) which is such a luxury.  I sleep on a couple of foam pads on top of a wicker bed frame, under a DEET-impregnated mosquito net which has an altogether cozy, rustic effect.  The power, which is controlled by the government, goes out for about half to three quarters of the day, so I’ve been doing homework and reading by LED lantern a lot of nights.  A lot of times, I just pretend I’m camping and then it feels like more of an adventure than an inconvenience.  

On Thursday, we didn’t have class in the afternoon, so a number of us headed off the beach near N’Gor island, to the north of Dakar.  It cost about $1.50 for the ten minute cab ride there, if you can imagine that.  It was pretty windy and cold, so I didn’t swim, but I did laze about in the sand. 

Last night, I went to see Youssou N’dour in concert.  I had been listening to his music for about a year before last night, and it was so cool to see him live with his enormous band.  I was in the standing area in front with all the kids from my programme, and for a while we were trying to dance, but the French people kept telling us to sit down.  Only the French would go to a lively Senegalese concert and demand that people sit instead of dancing.  It was slightly less than outrageous.  But, eventually people just couldn’t stand it anymore and we all had to get up and move to the music.  It was too contagious to resist.  I spent about half the concert right under Youssou’s lovely, sweaty head.  It was awesome.  Here, have some photographic depiction:

So far, one of the coolest things I’ve learned just from being here is how little water it actually takes to get thoroughly clean.  The water I use to get clean is always cold, so it’s a great incentive not to waste it, unlike hot water.  I could spend fifteen minutes in a hot shower, and I know that’s not as bad as some people.  Also, I haven’t shaved my armpits or legs in the two weeks that I’ve been here.  I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to live with this new monkey-like me, but I’m giving it a fair shot, I guess. 

first observations in Dakar

bonjour de Senegal, chers amis!  I have not had time to write a logical and thoughtful entry, so instead, I present to you sections of emails I have written that describe my first few experiences here:

Bon soir, tout le monde!  Right now, I’m sitting in my new bed in Dakar, Senegal.  I landed at about nine pm last night, was picked up at the airport along with the rest of the kids from my trip by an envoy from our study abroad program.  We were herded onto a bus and taken to a huge apartment full of twin beds.  We had apparently arrived in the middle of a blackout, so we ate a very cozy meal of lentils and some kind of meat by candlelight and flashlight, took cold showers, and chatted in our respective beds for a while before nodding off. 

We have had orientation all day today, including a long walk to find our host homes and to try to get oriented (which was mildly successful).  There was a long presentation about the organization that is hosting us and one about what to expect about our family lives here as well as a Wolof class.  At the end of the day, they dropped us off in each of our respective host homes. 

It seems a little early to be moving us in with our families, but I guess its best since it severely reduced the amount of time I had to spend worry about moving in with mine.  My family seems great so far, although I can’t figure out how many people live here yet, or how everyone is related.  I can only remember the names of three people, but I’m sure I’ll catch on.  The power is also out this evening, so I was greeted at the front door by my host father carrying a large battery-operated lantern that he kindly left with me in my room.  I unpacked my things and then promptly started missing everyone, so I lay on the bed and closed by eyes for what I thought would only be a short while till dinner.  However, it was several hours before dinner and I fell asleep for a while before that.  Dinner itself was quite tasty, although hard to see because of the blackout, so I’m not really sure what it was or what most of my new host relatives look like.

Now, I’m just waiting to be sleepy enough to turn out the lights and sleep for the night.  In the last few years, I have found that the first nights alone in a new place before a long stay are challenging for me.  When I first arrived in Jordan, it was several days before I could sleep for more than a few hours.  I slept well enough last night, so I’m hoping for another success tonight and especially for a quick adjustment to this new place so that I can start enjoying myself.  This week, we have more orientation activities culminating in a visit to Ile to Goree.  It looks like the program will be keeping us busy with lot of classes and outings, which is fantastic.

--

Senegal is such a different experience from Jordan, so I’m constantly finding myself experiencing the shock of both leaving the States and leaving Jordan.  There are some things that I’ve noticed are quite similar in Senegal in Jordan (Muslim culture and expressions are ubiquitous, but have been slightly adapted for each society) and there are so many things that I find myself doing out of habit from being in Jordan, like keeping my feet on the ground when I’m sitting (it’s very rude to point the bottoms of your feet at someone in Arab culture) and trying to say things in Arabic, which isn’t working so well. 

The power has been off almost the entire time I’ve been in my house these last two days (they moved us in with our new families Monday night, which was unexpected), so I’m having trouble remembering the names and faces of my family members, but my house is about a five minute walk from Baobab, or about an eight minute walk at African pace, which is very relaxed.  I have my own room, with a window and a key it, which is great.  It’s a relief to know I have my own, secure space even if I don’t spend much time in there.  After today, I think I will start doing my homework in the salon (living room) so that I can hang out with the family at the same time.  I just took my first bucket shower, which was surprisingly pleasant.  The water wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be, and it takes so little water.    My family is Muslim, so I’m excited to compare my two experiences living with Muslim families in two completely different places. 

We started learning Wolof yesterday.  I already know how to say some very important things like thank you (jerejef) I’m full (suur naa) how are you? (naa nga def?)  I’m doing well (maa ngi fii rekk—this literally means “I am only here” which is very poetic).  I’m enjoying starting a new language from scratch.  This one is so different!  The word order doesn’t make any sense to me yet, so I’m just trying to memorize phrases and things that I can use to melt peoples’ hearts.  I’m going to see what my work load is like here when classes start next week, and then I’m going to see if I want to try to arrange Arabic lessons.  I think it would be great to study the Qur’an if I can find a teacher who is both very patient and also willing to teach me without trying to convert me to Islam.  I have decided to tell people here that I am Jewish, since it is expected that everyone here has a religion even if they are not practicing. 

--

Today was my first day that I can really call great.  I woke up late at nine and ate breakfast (fluffy baguette with chocopain, which is like nutella but nuttier) and then walked to the Baobab Center to meet up with Melissa.  We chatted with Samba, this guy who works at ACI, and he took us on a petit tour to a bank so Mel could change money and to Casino, which is a super market, but it’s small.  It only has about six aisles and a little meat and cheese counter in back.  I bought little packets of tissues to use as toilet paper, laundry soap for washing my underwear, postcards, notebooks for school, and a pineapple to share with my family.  Samba had dropped us off at Casino, so we walked back together and stopped at Mel’s house.  She has two beds in her room and a brand new television and DVD player, which is kind of weird and also she’ll never use it so it’s kind of wasted, but oh well.  Then we went to my house and I introduced her to my host maman and the bonne (the maid) named Maimouna who works and lives here is always telling me to eat more in Wolof and French.  I dropped off all my stuff and gave the pineapple to Maimounanß and then we went out to do our homework which was to buy something at a little shop in the neighborhood and make note of our experience.  I bought a little piece of wood that people here use as toothbrushes, I guess.  Melissa bought dried fruit from the Baobab tree, which is really interesting.  It tastes a little like dried peaches, but… different.  After that adventure, I went home for lunch with my family.  A man was visiting, although I’m not really sure who he was, with his three sons, who were named Pappi, Imba (I think) and Sidy.  They were overwhelmingly adorable.  I shared my pineapple with the family after lunch, which was fun.  Pappi told me he couldn’t have any because he has indigestion, poor kid.  He’s very serious.  8 going on 80. 

After lunch, I went back to the Baobab Center because we had a field trip this afternoon downtown.  We were there yesterday exploring the markets and it was totally overwhelming.  Today, we walked to the art museum, the American Embassy, the Parliament Building, the president’s palace, etc etc etc, and we ended up at the French Cultural Center, where I am going tomorrow for a big concert.  I’m very excited!  Anyway, we took taxis, and I’m really used to how they are constantly almost hitting other people because of being in Jordan, but it was really funny to watch other people getting really nervous about it.  I’m sure they’ll get used to it. 

After the downtown adventure, we came back to home base, and then some of us went out for ice cream and then walked home just as it was getting really dark.  I greeted my family members that were around, and talked to my host cousin, who lives next door to my room.  His name is Pap Samba and he’s from Mali, but he’s going to high school here in Senegal.  Also, the sister of one of the cousins who lives here is visiting, so I was introduced to her, although she’s very quiet and serious.  Anyway, after I got home, I took a cold shower, which felt fantastic after my long day of traipsing around Dakar. 

Okay, so that was my day except for dinner.  We all eat around a big plate of food in the living room.  For lunch, we ate on the floor, but for dinner, we ate in chairs and on couches, with the food on the coffee table.  The food so far has been really, really good.  I am so lucky.

My host family has been taking really good care of me.  There are so many people living here that I can’t quite figure out who is who or who is related to whom how, but they are all nice.  My special allies in the family so far are Pap Samba, my host father, who is always smiling and laughing, my host mother who is clearly the reigning household authority, and Maimouna. 

Madaba, Mt Nebo, Baptisms, and the Dead Sea

I am more than mildly ashamed of how long it's taken me to write a new blog post.  I hope that the nearly two months of silence will be a testament for how hard I worked on my academics for the last semester.  My program, as I previously mentioned, had us taking 5 courses rather than the usual 4, so I was quite busy.  Luckily, I was able to make use of tiny fragments of free time to have some solid adventuring before finals.  

The most obvious of these adventures was the trip Amideast took us on to Biblical sites and the Dead Sea.  Jordan's sweet little city of Madaba boasts a church dedicated to St. George.  Aside from lovely frescoed walls, the church boasts two artistic wonders.  The first of these is a giant mosaic in the floor of the church.  I'm not sure of all the details of the mosaic, but I do know that its quite old and- more importantly- that it is a map of the Holy Land at that time.  Unfortunately, the labels are done in Greek, so I can't read them, but here are some pictures: 

The walled city depicted in this once is most definitely Jerusalem:

This church is also known for a painting of Mary and the baby Jesus, which, according to local accounts, suddenly sprouted a third blue arm in a flash of light.  For many years, people brought gold to donate to the church by leaving it by this painting:

I have a tradition of lighting candles in the churches I visit.  I lit this one for all the people I love, so if you're reading this, I probably lit it for you:

We also saw an open-air museum of other mosaics (the Middle East LOVES mosaics).  I won't bother to upload any pictures because the time it takes for a single picture to upload on the internet out here is not worth it for that particular set of mosaics.  

After Madaba, we journeyed out to Mount Nebo.  According to the Torah, this is where Moses stood and saw the promised land.  Today, the same view looks out at Jericho, which is in the West Bank:

After our stop at Mt Nebo, we pressed onward to the Jordan River.  Specifically, we were headed to the baptisms site of Jesus of Nazareth.  I didn't find this experience to be particularly enthralling, as the site itself has been reconstructed to the point that it seems to have lost its historic flavor.  In any case, here's a photo:

More interesting to me was the Jordan River itself, which is pretty much just a sad little brown ribbon by the time it gets to Jordan:

Directly on the other side of the Jordan is Israel...  Seeing the IDF soldiers was more than enough to send me into a small spiral of culture shock:

At the Baptism site, a hoard of loud European tourists stripped down to their scanty underwear and plunged themselves into the Jordan.  I found this to be offensive, but the European tourists I encountered in both Jordan and Egypt were wholly disrespectful of modesty standards and local customs in that regard.

Finally, from the Baptism site, we headed to the Dead Sea for an afternoon of floating around and smearing ourselves in mud.  It was much-needed relaxation, and the minerals in the mud really do soften the skin.  We saw a gorgeous sunset before heading back to Amman for a long night of studying.  Here's a quick glance at the beautiful Dead Sea:

Al-Intikhabat (Elections in Jordan)

It's elections season in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.  In fact, the elections for Parliament are only 3 days away.  My Arabic isn't serviceable for intellectual conversations on the complexities of elections in a kingdom, but there are a few things I've been able to gather about the whole situation from my courses, conversations and from a field trip we took last week.  Everything I've written here is a matter of subjective observation and personal thought, nothing more.

Campaigning for the elections started all of a sudden.  One morning, I stepped out of my host family's house for my walk to school, and the streets were filled with banners and campaign posters.  It turns out, it is illegal to campaign until one month prior to elections.  Therefore, once campaigning begins, no one wastes a single minute.  While in the states, we have months of humiliations and petty triumphs between candidates, in Jordan, campaigning is crammed into one intense month of posters, banners, campaign tents and social networking.

At the end of my street, they've erected a huge campaign tent.  Every candidate has one, and they are the center of political outreach for a candidate.  I am neither Jordanian, nor a man, so I've never been inside of one of these, but I've heard that the candidates are often there in the evening, and that people in the area can get a free meal of mansaf, the national Jordanian dish, here many a night during campaign times.

Earlier this week, we went on a field trip to the nearby town of Faheis with Malek Twal, the second in command of the Jordanian Ministry of Political Development.  He showed us around the town, and arranged meetings for us with two cousins who are running against each other for representation in the Parliament.  Here's a picture of Malek Twal explaining elections to us in the campaign tent of the first candidate:

This first candidate welcomed us into his tent, served us cold water and hot tea, and sat with us to answer all of our questions.  He didn't speak much English, so his son (who was studying in the UK and had come home to help his father's campaign) acted as translator for us (although, I actually understood most of what he was saying!).  With a hopeful and idealistic attitude that felt very familiar, he spoke at length about his concern for human rights in Jordan, and his duties to his constituents should he win.  He specifically cited the importance of delivering human rights to prisoners, and made a point of talking about his personal involvement with the issue including many visits to former prisoners to discuss their experiences including food, hygiene and their treatment.  He also expressed strongly the need for freedom of expression in Jordan. This man seemed to have a genuine interest in the rights of the people, saying that once in office, his door would always be open to his constituents to come discuss their concerns.  While this could easily be an empty promise, Jordan is a very small country, and voting districts are tiny compared to the size of what we're used to in the states, so it is possible although probably quite time consuming to retain a personal connection between Parliament member and constituency.

This man reminded me of the hopeful liberals who always run for city council or state legislature at home.  He has big ideas, and is earnest in his campaigning, but he probably doesn't stand a chance against the wheeling and dealing of the "big boys."

The second candidate we visited was the total opposite.  We met him down the road a bit at his campaign headquarters instead of in his campaign tent.  He ushered us into his office, and then left us in there with Dr. Malek, while he answered phone calls and the questions of his staffers.  Once he finally came in and sat with us (he's on the left in the picture below), we didn't have time for many questions.

What I did gather from this visit was the total opposite of our last visit.  The main issue of this man's campaign was essentially "to make a more fair Parliament."  At first I thought, huh, that's an interesting and specific goal, maybe that's good.  But, then I realized it's not much of a campaign goal at all.  And then I looked at the offices around me which, in the words of one of my fellow students looked suspiciously like "mafia boss" offices.  I'm not saying they were, I probably wouldn't have the slightest idea if I stumbled into the middle of something like that.  More to the point, it looked like a lot of money comes in and out of that office, and I got the sense that the candidate didn't really need to work very hard to prove himself to anyone.

I don't know enough to make a real statement about it, but perhaps this man was one of the "big boys" I referenced earlier, who will use all his power to squish the idealistic candidate and his real concerns about the people.  It seems likely.  The downtown of Fuheis was plastered with his posters:

Next, we drove back through Amman, making a quick stop at a candidate's house.  I'm not really sure why we stopped there since we didn't go in, but it certainly left an impression.  This house is enormous.  I know that this does not represent all candidates, but it certainly says something:

Even though I guess it's possible to run without a personal fortune, I'm not sure there are really any political candidates in the world that can run purely on values and a good message.  During our trip, I heard that a person could spend at least $100,000 on a campaign, and that $5 million was a high but not unreasonable number.  It certainly says something about a potentially scary pitfall of representative democracy.  Of course, in theory, the best ideas should win, but in reality, sometimes money can buy you a lot of clever, flashy advertising or a lot of votes.  Speaking of which, I learned that the going rate for a person's vote is about 500 Jordanian Dinar, and that the government is fighting really hard to keep people from buying votes.  Mostly this involves tracking registrations.  For example, if you're registered to vote in Aqaba, and you and a busload of Aqaba people show up to vote in Irbid, it's a pretty strong indication of something fishy happening.  Certainly, it's not always so obvious, but regulating elections is a part of having free and fair elections.

Jordan certainly faces some serious challenges in its push for democratization. Structurally speaking, a kingdom with a democratically elected legislative body has to be able to demonstrate that the elected officials have real power.  At base, if an elected body is just a gesture of appeasement to those who demand democracy, then democracy cannot flourish.  However, I believe that is not the case here.  Rather, it seems that Jordan's powerful executive branch has a sincere interest in taking steps to make the Parliament a vestige of true democracy in the region.  After the dissolution of the last Parliament, these elections are crucial in determining whether Jordanians can trust this aspect of their system.  It seems that if this session goes as poorly as the last, it will be very challenging to prove the legitimacy of this body.

Socially speaking, the elections face enormous obstacles.  Campaigning here is based largely on an intricate, and ancient system of social relations.  Families are the units that make up larger extended families, which make up tribes, and beyond that, there are tribes within larger tribes (we don't have the vocabulary for all of this in English, but I assure you, in Arabic, there are words for each of these groups as well as the relationships between the people in them).  I won't go into the details of this system, but let me just emphasize that it is deeply, deeply ingrained and determine a lot of social relations. So, in terms of elections, campaigning is controlled by the power structures within families, extended families, tribes, and bigger tribes, as well as all the relationships between families, extended families, tribes and bigger tribes.  Many, but of course not all, votes are cast more with this system in mind than the issues a candidate might represent.  In fact, many candidates don't run on a platform at all, and almost nobody runs as a member of a party.  So campaign slogans are almost always general, hopeful, and promise something no one can disagree with.   Without discussion of issues, political negotiation, or open debate between candidates, voting really comes down to the social connections of the candidates.

One might even go so far as to say that there isn't enough politicking in the politics here.

Hitting the books

I realized this morning that I haven't really shared much about my actual life here, just the big events like seeing Petra, and going to Egypt.  Since, I have two papers to write this weekend, this is the best time to procrastinate on my school work by doing something semi-productive.

Since 80% of my awake time is spent on academics, I'll talk about that today. I am in class approximately 17 hours per week.  Four days a week, I have Modern Standard Arabic, or fusHa class for an hour and a quarter.  This is by far my favourite class.  After spending the summer at Middlebury immersed in Arabic, this class feels the most comfortable for me, and it's also the most exciting in some ways.  In terms of grammar, we are reaching the upper levels of intermediate learning.  But since language learning is very gradual, retrospect is the best lens for measuring progress.  I love everything about MSA.  My professor for this class is a young woman (my guess is that she's about 24) who speaks fluent, nearly accent-less English.

Three days a week, I have an hour long course on Jordanian dialect, or al-'amiyyeh al-ordunieh.  Even though I'd never studied any dialects of Arabic before coming to Jordan, I was placed in the Intermediate level because of my more advanced MSA level.  This class is centered on vocabulary building and most of the grammar is taught by comparison to MSA.  Luckily, Jordanian dialect is closer than some dialects to Classical Arabic.  My professor for this class looks strikingly similar to Iran's president Mahmoud Ahmadenijad, but that's where the similarity ends. He has the most incredibly infectious laugh, and will laugh uproariously at even the most remotely funny thing.  Also, if anytime we guess the correct meaning of a new word or expression, he claps his hands and yells "ya salaam 'aleiki!" which literally means peace be upon you.  Positive reinforcement at its best.

Anyway, all the things I could say I love about Arabic classes would bore the hell out of anyone who reads this blog (if anyone does) so I'll keep my love to myself and move on.

I am also taking three "content" courses in English.  Each of these happens only once per week, but in a 3 hour block.  On Sundays, I have a course about ethnic and minority groups in the Middle East and North Africa.  Compared to the rest of my courses, the reading for this course is quite light, but part of understanding the region is understanding the complexity of the social make up.  It has been my general impression while being here that most Americans have absolutely no grasp of how deeply rooted these differences are.  

My favourite content course, which is called Contemporary Issues in the Arab World happens on Tuesday afternoons.  The class is a political science course, and we read about 100-150 pages per week for it.  It's very challenging, and the professor is a political advisor to the King Abdullah II, as well as a professor at the University of Jordan as well as a freelance academic. He's very discerning and detail-oriented, but encouraging as well (and he's taken a liking to me, which I find very likable in a person) .  For his course, I am working on a large research paper on how water issues effect the political relationships and economic development of the area (Iraq, Syria, Jordan, Israel-Palestine, and Lebanon).  Having spent my entire academic career before coming here between the pages of books, it is refreshing to be able to touch the subjects of my writing.  For example, this weekend, I will touch the Jordan river, which is one of the superstars of my research, and in a few weeks, I may have the opportunity to visit a few farms in the area to observe their irrigation systems.  Neither of these trips effects my real research, but it makes the project tangible.  

My last course of the week is about radical Islamic political movements, and is taught by a senile ex-diplomat.    Though he was surely once brilliant, he is now quite old and his class is unpredictable and stressful.  He took an immediate dislike to me on the first day of class, and has never given me a chance to change his mind.  In spite of this, I have learned in his course.  I won't regret it, I'm sure.  My project for him is about Ruhollah Khomeini and the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran.  I did a big research project on the doctrine of the movement about a year ago, so I am looking forward to deepening my knowledge of the topic.  

It's challenging to find the enough time and energy to complete the necessary work for my courses, but coffee is everywhere, and falafel is cheap (about thirty American cents for a sandwich) so there's fuel enough to sustain me.  

In any case, it's now time for me to return to essay writing.  Today, I'm writing about the fall of the Maronites in Lebanon, and the rise of the 'Alawis in Syria.

Unrelated to academics, here is a picture of laundry drying on the roof of a house I see every morning during my walk to school:

wadi rum and petra

We've all been a little tired of Amman lately.  Or maybe it's just me and I get tired of seeing the same streets for too long, but I've been restless.  So, it couldn't have been better timing last week to take a trip down to southern Jordan to Wadi Rum and Petra.  

Wadi means "valley" in Arabic, but that's a bit of an understatement as to what this place really is... but of course, words don't really capture it.

We were taken around the desert by Bedouin in pickups and on camelback:

And we spent the night in a Bedouin camp under the stars.  The cooked dinner for us in a traditional way: underground, surrounded by coals.  It was delicious: chick and rice and carrots, plus salads and bread on the side.  Here they are pulling it out of the ground:

I slept outside along with most of the group.  It's been years since I've seen so many stars, and I saw more shooting stars that night than I've ever seen before.  It was beautiful... Too beautiful to sleep, really.

We woke up early the next morning and ate breakfast in an open tent against a cliff face.  Then we piled in the back of another pick up truck, climb into our bus, and headed north for Petra.

I never saw Indiana Jones growing up, so I'm really not sure where I first heard of Petra.  I think it was from National Geographic magazine, or maybe Smithsonian, but regardless of where I first saw pictures, ever since then I've wanted to see it.  Who wouldn't?  An ancient metropolis carved out of red sandstone in the styles of the Nabateans, Romans and Byzantines is about as romantic an image as can be imagined.  Of course, since deciding to study in Jordan instead of Egypt, I have been holding my breath for the moment when I first saw Petra.

This was the first ruin we saw.  It's an ancient tomb:

This is the Siq (long, narrow passageway):

  

and finally after trekking through layers of standstone and ancient carvings, I caught my first glimpse of the Treasury:

The Treasury is the most famous view of Petra, for obvious reasons:

After seeing the Treasury and completing our tour of the main areas, we had lunch in a shockingly delicious restaurant... They had a wide range of greens and vegetables, which I ate voraciously, as such things are not as common  as I would like in Arab culture.  

After lunch, we had two hours to wander about, so a friend and I explored some more tombs and took a slow stroll up to the exit.

My feet were pretty unhappy by the end of the trip.  Next time, maybe I'll invest in more camel rides.