Short Stories

Short Stories - 4 February 2010

Today it rained/snowed in Amman. All week, the newscasters have been building up hype about a large snowstorm that would be hitting the city all weekend. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be (at least comparing it to Minnesota storms). In the lower parts of the city it was only wind and rain but as you got higher it turned into snow. (So far, none of it has stayed.) The word here is that once anyone even mentions snow, everything shuts down. (Hamdullah, there was no school today! 3-day weekend!)

There is a term I have created for a special kind of fruit my host parents give me. I call it “guilt fruit.” The first week here I noticed a large pile of fruit in the kitchen. As I observed it throughout the week, I noticed that’s its overall size ceased to change but it continued to age. However, I failed to realize until recently that every last bit of it was meant for me. My host parents apparently don’t eat the fruit, so it has been my sole responsibility to devour the enormous pile. My parents began to ask me every night and before I left for school if I wanted fruit. I quickly took the hint and began, begrudgingly, taking fruit to school every day, hence “guilt fruit.”

In dealing with International Students, I have always been on the receiving end. i.e., I was always helping show around foreign students, interacting with them, helping them with their English, etc. However, now the tables have turned and it is me who is the foreign student. This was made very clear to me the other day when I tried telling my host family I was full, but instead told them I was a character from 1001 Arabian Nights. They proceeded to laugh whole-heartedly at me for the next five minutes and still continue to not let me live that moment down.

Something very very cool happened to me yesterday but since I am aware of basic security protocol and how public this blog is, I thought it would be smart to wait 24 hrs until after the fact to tell you. (You’re welcome, Muhabarat. Hope your day is going well.) For the privacy of the receiving party, I will not disclose the reason for the visit, but as I was walking into my neighborhood after the taxi dropped me off and my spider sense started to tingle. (That among other things, BA DA CHA!) One thing I noticed that was out of place was this really nice car sitting in front of a house with the door slightly open. I carefully walked by it and went into my house. What I missed only a few minutes earlier was the 2 heavily armed guards (and I’m sure many more nearby) escorting the sister of King Hussein (that’s right, a princess) into the house! My family was rushing around the house and peeking out windows JUST IN CASE she decided she wanted to come in for tea. (No luck.) I did, however, get to peek at her while she was leaving. It would suck to say that I came to Jordan and didn’t get to see any royalty. Little did I know that it would be from so close away!

I also thought I should tell you that I was hit by a car the other day. No worries, I am in one piece. Hit is probably the wrong word to use; I just like it because it freaks people out. Bumped is a better word to use. As I was waiting outside my university attempting to flag down a taxi, I was waiving bye to some friends who were getting into a cab, an SUV parked at the Burger King behind me backed up without looking where he was going. He seemed very apologetic, but he still hit me. Dumbass.

My travel itinerary this weekend has been simple so far. Rarely do I ever know where I am going. We visit so many family members that I just smile and go with the flow. Currently I am sitting in the living room of my host brother, I just left the house of my Aunts, soon I will go to my friend Sam’s house. (Nope, didn’t plan that one either.)

FUN FACTS:

There are no more fun things left in Jordan to tell you. Everything else is dramatic or boring…..ok that’s not true.

According to a local newspaper known as the Onion, after years of regional conflicts and a chronic shortage of resources, Jordan has had a troubled history. However, King Abdullah made a very wise decision in marrying Queen Rania.

English is prevalent in Jordan for the same reason French is popular in Lebanon. Prior to Independence, Jordan was administered by the British.

As I had mentioned in a previous blog, Jordan has the second highest refugee rate in the world. There are extremely large numbers of Palestinian and Iraqi refugees living within Jordan. There are Palestinian refugees from the 1948 Arab Israeli War, the 1967 Arab Israeli War, and Iraqi refugees from Desert Storm and the 2003 Invasion of Iraq. Refugees have become such a predominant part of Jordan history that there is no longer one type of Jordanian. (There has been some tension around this as you can imagine.) There are Jordanians, and then there Jordanians of Palestinian origin. (They even distinguish between refugees from the 1948 and 1967 wars.) My family came to Jordan from Kuwait after Operation Desert Storm.