The Long Awaited List

We made a list of memorable occasions/signs of going crazy during the study abroad. Enjoy!

-tracing a hand to make a turkey during class
-sleeping in the ladies lounge for two hours
-not being able to connect english sentences
-reading an article about Iraq peeing oil
-breaking out in dance moves
-Sami's border crossing
-Sami playing poker with a girl from the Israeli army
-dance careers
-doing handstands on edges of cliffs
-guys dreaming about mahajababes/mahajaskanks
-boys watching anime movies daily
-sticking pens up one's nose (ahem James)
-trying to fit the entire recorder in one's mouth (ahem James)
-dissolving into boston accent
-wearing leggings for extended periods of time
-toilets exploding
-checking out our boab's booty. we call him big booty haris
-southern bell and eastern flower (m3 ba3d?)
-five foot tall attacking sass-a-frass
-no shave november
-roasting marshmallows on a gas heater
-choosing between warmth and asphyxiation (warmth won)
-stuck in elevators
-hair tumble weeds
-two students playing in sewer water (it was raining)
-speeding and drifting with arabs
-five liters of pepsi (small boston, big pepsi)
-epic dancing peekers
-fashion show on the bus
-boys talking like girls
-shwarma twice a day
-increased chocolate eating
-ferrel felines following students to school
-ferrel felines singing outside our window
-"I trusted you"
-someone trying to get an audience with the king and breaking all possible social norms (failed)
-race drama
-"thats what she said" got Out. Of. Control.
-skinny dipping in the Sea of Galilee
-running out of water in the middle of a shower
-the miracle of the water
-meeting with members of the Muslim brotherhood
-the miracle of the internet
-hitchhiking
-sticking fingers in water tanks because it was leaking
-wearing roommate's last pair of garments without permission
-punching a taxi
-eating falafal everyday
-Arab women falling in love with Andrew
-hellen keller
-Gary drowning in Wadi Mujib
-stalkers
-shoulder touching stories
-Arab men falling in love with Sarah Kate
-wearing ugly clothes, two sizes too big
-pushing two twin beds together and fitting four people
-comparing every price to falafal
-getting get kicked out of a taxi
-throwing humus in the restaurant
-getting flashed by an Iraqi mamma
-getting felt up by an Iraqi mamma (oh yeah, those happened)
-getting locked in kitchen/apartment
-unknown couple kissing in Qasid (STILL unknown)
-pregnant couple count: 2
-crazy shabab hair/pants
-talking teachers out of presentations
-falling asleep on buses
-speed walking to kanafa
-frequenting koshary restaurants
-adventures to Mafruq
-wearing clothes to bed, getting up and going to school in the SAME clothes (guilty)
-increased facial hair (not guilty)
-climbing down the colosseum illegally in Petra
-climbing up cliffs illegally
-mustache count: 8

Time for the Holy Land

Finished my exams!!

I have survived the Jordan study abroad. 

My apartment is experiencing a wild range of emotions. So if you are one of the men from the program, I suggest not coming within 50 feet of this apartment. 

Our next couple days are busy with our goodbye's and packing. We leave on Saturday. Here is my itinerary for the Holy Land:

Saturday 10th:
Cross border early
Massada
Jericho- lunch
Cable Car to Monastery
Hisham's Palace
Staying the night at a convent in Nazareth

Sunday 11th:
Sephoris
Akko
-Crusader Ruins
-New Excavations
-Prison Tour
Haifa
-Bahai Promenade
-Beach
Sisters of Nazareth Convent

Monday 12th:
Nazareth Churches
Nazareth Village
Sisters of Nazareth Convent

Tuesday 13th:
Banyas + Waterfall
Tel Dan
Druze Restaurant
Golan
Staying at Ein Gev, Kibbutz on Galilee

Wednesday 14th:
Galilee Churches
Boat Ride
LDS Church
Tiberias
Baptismal Site
Ein Gev

Thursday 15th:
Bet Alpha
Megiddo
Um Al-Fahm
Kibbutz Ein Shemer (dinner)
Ceasaria
Arrive to Jerusalem Center

Friday 16th:
Triumphal Entry Walk
Via Dolorosa
Cardo
Demascus Gate
Western Wall
Jerusalem Center

Saturday 17th:
Church
Gethsemane
Garden Tomb

Sunday 18th:
Temple Mount
Davidson Center
Kotel Tunnel
Lunch in Bethlehem
Jerusalem Center
Lectures at 7 and 8 PM

Monday 19th:
Lectures at 8 and 9 AM
Free day in Jerusalem (but wait, we have an assignment?)
Lectures at 7 PM
Jerusalem Center

Tuesday 20th:
Yad Vashem/Mr. Herzel Field Trip
Lectures 7 PM
Jerusalem Center

Wednesday 21st:
Sederot Tour
Tel Aviv:
Bun Gurion's House
Independence Hall
Rothschild St. Wooden Houses
Jaffa

AIRPORT

BOSTON :)

So naturally I am excited and praying that my energy will last a little longer.

Payback is Sweet, Matthew Martin

Meet Majdid, the mother of the Iraqi family. She just beat her kids in a card game.

 It must be a universal thing. Remember when you would make Jess cry, mom? Oh wait and Jayk and Jory AND Jacy. I can still hear your cackle.

I had to say goodbye to them last night. It was rough.

One time, Ynna criticized my blog for its lack of pictures. Since it's your birthday, this post is dedicated to you. Happy Birthday, pretty girl. I miss you.

This weekend we went on a two hour bus ride and found this:

Green.

So Dil stopped the bus and let us walk around outside. 

I'm thankful to be here.

I'm thankful to learn more about myself while studying Arabic and this culture. 

Even with the consequence of a constant headache, I'm thankful for our moveable gas heater. It saves us from our thirty degree apartment.

Death by hypothermia or asphyxiation?

Easy. Asphyxiation.

Our Thanksgiving was a little unorthodox with falafal sandwiches and hours of newspaper reading. We made up for it shwaya with a potluck dinner tonight. Finding cooking supplies and working ovens was a fiasco. Creative thinking made it work in the end and it was delicious.

I'm thankful for my Jordan family.

More importantly, I'm thankful for these girls. Last night, all three of us squeezed into a twin bed. Didn't think that was possible, didya? They even let me sleep in the middle, those gems.

I've written about Dana previously. She is the sweetest. 

Jordan and I have literally spent every minute together on this study abroad. We have pushed each other to maximum capacity and fought through times of sluggishness and despair. She's brilliant and extremely talented. I'm thankful to be around someone who is motivating and supportive. Shuks katiir.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Dancing: We are repressed from it. Music is ubiquitous in this culture and creates a temptation of the worst kind. We don't want to attract negative attention in public so we sit there and tap our fingers at the most. Well, the other girls tap their fingers. I lack self control so I shake my shoulders. When we get into elevators full of girls, we break out in the best booty dancing you wish you could lay your eyes on.

Today was one of those days.

I didn't think this white city on the hill could get more beautiful. 

And then it started snowing.

My mind was wondering today. There were a lot of situations in Egypt I did not understand while they were occurring. Looking back on them, I have more insight. 

Maiza was/is my favorite person from that study abroad. She is one of the servants in my host mother's home. I wrote about her once before. 

I went out one week with some friends to go look for a Galibiyya, a traditional Egyptian dress. We were excited for an upcoming dance party and Galibiyyas were the required garb. I bought a black dress with intricate gold embroidery. I remember trying it on in the attic of a Khankhalili store, looking in the mirror, and thinking it was absolutely beautiful.

When I got home to show my host mother, she took it from me and told me I couldn't keep it for reasons I still don't understand. Maiza watched from the hallway and instantly knew I was heartbroken/ young and stupid. We watched So You Think You Can Dance and ate mangoes that night.

When I returned from school the next day, Maiza had purchased a new Galibiyya for me. I have racked my brain trying to figure out its origin praying that she did not use her allowance for me. 

The dress was navy blue with gold embroidery and probably three sizes too big. I tried it on and she laughed. We spent the whole night altering it, trying it on, altering it once more. It's beauty along with the beauty of the memory continue to outgrow the first.

I'm aware I can never repay her for her kindness, but when I am in a position to, I'll try. 

Today was one of the better days.

Jordan and I visited the salon. I understood everything that was said. Better yet, I understood everything that the Moroccan woman said. Her name is Ahlam. Tonight, she tried to convince me to become the second wife to her husband. Evidently, he looks just like Enrique Iglesias. As fun as that sounds, I graciously declined.

On the way home, Jordan and I decided that this conversation was probably just a joke that only Arabs get. 

Or so we hope. 

I realize my comprehension has improved tremendously. I needed to recognize that accomplishment. 

So, yay, I can understand Arabic.

Now, time to work on my sputtery, sad excuse for speaking skills. 

Pillow Talk

"I'm pretty sure I haven't had any water for three months. It's only been pepsi."

"...gross, Jenny Boyle."

"Sometimes I open my mouth in the shower."

"Thats worse, Jenny Boyle."

Last post before I get serious.

Petra was incredible. We were giddy the entire weekend.
It's against BYU rules to rock climb.

(whoops)
I'm second to the left.

The only place we weren't able to get to was the urn on top of the monastery. Dil was guarding that like it was his job
(Well it was, in fact, his job).

We ended our Petra trip with a desert safari drive in Wadi Rum. This included more frolicking, rock climbing, camel rides, off roading in the back of Toyota pick-ups (I felt like I was re-living your St. John's childhood, mom and dad. teehee), dune tumbling, and eating a traditional rice and lamb meal called Mansuf.

Honestly, I'm surprised we all survived without major injuries.
It's a freakin' miracle.

Now, it's crunch time.
With peace ya'll.

I'd Stay Closer If I Were You, For Safety's Sake

For a moment we felt like little kids again.

Can't sleep. Insomnia comes at the worst times.

I have been getting frustrated lately with what I haven't been able to accomplish. It's hard to keep a greater perspective. This counts as my semester breakdown. It's been a long time coming. 

Needless to say, a break could not have come at a better time. 

This weekend we are going to Petra and Wadi Rum. I can't tell what we are more excited about, galloping around ruins like Indiana Jones or the fact that we will be staying in a hotel with real live heated water and warmth.

I'm psyched. 

Things I have learned this month:

When invited to dinner parties, placement is key. We fight for seats furthest from the mother, out of reach of her actively scooping hands. We also learned fairly quickly to eat at an uncomfortably slow pace. After we implemented these two strategies, we started to become a lot more mobile and a lot less achy.

We are often pitied because we are young students not living with or close to our parents. The Iraqi father always says that they are our substitute family. We feel the love, Abu Nuur.

The desert is freezing. None of us were even slightly prepared (mentally and clothing-wise) for the winter season. Our stone-floored apartments are designed to stay cool in the shadows during the heat of summer. Often, our apartments are ten degrees cooler than outside. It's miserable. The cold is engrained deep in my bones, no matter how many pairs of leggings I wear. 

People who are suffering from social boredom use a race as a means to start drama. And boy, did it start some drama. We had cut-throat debates for a week. Now if people were smart, they would be helping me in my quest to marry off at least one couple on this study abroad. Then we would have something real to talk about.

Telling stories about kissing boys is an instant way to make Arab girlfriends. They eat that up.

Arab women are gems.

The salon ladies think that I should wear more makeup and stop wearing black. They asked Jordan and I if we were mourning Qaddafi's death. I mean, that is one possible explanation.

Moothir means sexy by itself, but means influential when you add Alhitimam or controversial when you add alJadal. I may or may not have said Queen Rania is sexy in a presentation. Dr. Khalid got a kick out of that. I told him that in both cases it's true. He agreed. 

Also, 5d in Egyptian Arabic means turn, but in Jordanian it means 'up yours.' The taxi driver did not have quite the same reaction as my professor.

When it sprinkles, drivers put on their hazards and move down the road at five miles per hour. A five minute car ride turns into twenty.

I love this place. I realized how much I do when a group of us ran in a 10k. We begun the race with the Jordanian national anthem. The people irrupted in song. The roads were closed. We ran on deserted streets, descending down the mountain into the center of the city, and eventually ending at the Roman amphitheater. Can't get much better than that.

I'm thrilled to complete this program, but I'm sad I have to leave this country. It makes sense, promise.

I'm about to finish this post and silence was broken by the first call to prayer. Perfect timing.

Drama.

True Life

I woke up this morning, went straight to newspaper reading.

Dana was sitting next to me and she said, "If I take my hair out of my bun, it will stay like this."

Day four without showering. 

We can do anything.

(Except shower apparently)

Tonight, we are attending the baptism of an Armenian man named George. 

Side note on George: He is a mechanic and recently received a bus for repair. Every weekend since he obtained the bus, he takes people out on little excursions to different parts of Jordan. He keeps on telling the owner it has yet to be repaired. It's awesome. 

We decided to go all out and make the baptism a huge potluck. 

It's a historical moment for the branch.

What else is new? It's freezing. We now are stuffing the windows with Sara Kate's pants to keep cold air from seeping in.

We have therapy sessions to insure that our minds stay sound with our workload and also to combat culture shock. Today in my session, my TA suggested that I try to recognize the little bits of progress and daily achievements I make and reward myself accordingly.

I have recently been getting frustrated with some cultural barriers. For instance, we spend a good chunk of time in public transportation. The men on my program have great speaking opportunities with taxi drivers. Us ladies, on the other hand, are confined. It's against the social norm to speak to a taxi driver unless we are giving directions. So instead, we sit in silence. 

Today, a woman driver cut the taxi off so I called out, "She's a donkey with a license!" The driver said something along the lines of, "No kidding!" and then continued to go on and on about the drivers in Amman. 

I sat back and smiled smugly in the back seat. 

Yes, I am taking this as a personal victory, Griffin. 

Yes, I now hope that I will get into near-accidents daily so that it can be socially acceptable to break silence.

Arab hospitality

Right now, at this very moment, I have lost all ability to move.

Flashback: Randall takes the same route home daily. One day, an Iraqi man invited him into his home.  He quickly learned that the family is from Iraq, living in Jordan, waiting for the UN to help them move to Texas. Their date of departure is unknown. They asked him if he knew girls who could teach their daughters English. He said he did.

Tonight, Randall, Jordan, Hilary, and I visited their humble home and we were met with a FEAST. I capitalized that for emphasis. Let me break this down.

Roasted Chicken. Potatoes. Roasted vegetables. Peas with meat. Pasta with a meaty red sauce. Every type of fruit imaginable. Pita Bread (of course).  Each plate was overflowing with its contents.

Every time we put our food/silverware down, they scolded us, put more food on our plates, and laughed at our physical pain. This went on for about two hours. I told Jordan that she would have to carry me to our apartment. She said she would after Hilary rolled her all the way home.

We finally convinced them that we were in fact stuffed to maximum capacity. When we left their house slowly, we said hello to some of their neighbors. The neighbors invited us to come in and speak with them. They ended up giving us MORE fruit. I tried my best to be gracious.

We decided it was in our best interest not to say hello to anyone else on the street.

Back to the current moment: I have yet to complete my newspaper assignment knowing that it will send me to sleep and I will never wake from the food coma.

Quick thoughts on the family: They are amazing people. We felt the love that this family had for one another and instantaneously all of us as well. They would have given us everything they owned if we would have let them.

Tomorrow, I am going to the Distoor newspaper agency. I met a girl at the salon who works there and she offered to give me a tour.

The Loser of Rock, Paper, Scissors

In case you're wondering, I am sitting at home with a plumber. He is trying to fix all three of our toilets.  Don't worry. Because I am missing a newspaper exam, I am making this a learning experience. I now am the master of plumbing vocabulary, sort of.

He just approached me about some problem and left quickly. Naturally, I pretended to understand everything he said. It has been difficult (as a whole) to determine when to interrupt the flow of conversation to ask for meanings and when to be content with ambiguity. Now that the bathrooms are leaking and water is flooding our hallway, I wish I would have asked him more questions. 

Neurons that fire together, wire together

I would like to preface this post with the fact that it is nearly impossible to find female speaking partners outside of Jordan University.

Every day after school, I pass a salon for women on the way home knowing that if I entered, I could easily find friends. It took me four weeks to get up the courage to go. I'm a little ridiculous. And by a little, I mean very.

I entered it today. Four women from Palestine, Jordan, Egypt, and Morocco share the salon. I asked if I could sit with them and speak. Of course they said yes. Of course. Tomorrow they are going to give me a manicure (they were appalled by the state of my nails) while we watch their favorite Arab soap operas from Turkey. It was so amazing listening to their interesting lives. I showed them pictures of my family. Those were a hit. They told me I can come and sit with them whenever I like.

Euphoria. 

Pure Euphoria.

This is why I study Arabic. They are the reason. 

Also, it's super humbling when a woman is speaking to you, stops talking, and excuses herself to pray as a simple submission to God. I love it.

This past weekend I visited Salt with a small group. We went to a couple museums and then our professor loosed us to explore. The city consists of a hill, a valley, and a hill on the opposite side. The valley is the business center where a large souq and mosques can be found. A few of us decided we wanted to go to the top a hill and see the view. We climbed up stairs and ruins going through abandoned houses and hopping fences. Gorgeous.

It reminded me of the movie "Captain Abu Raed," which is actually filmed in Amman. If you haven't seen it, I highly suggest you do. 

I woke up this morning and realized that I will be in Jerusalem and Bethlehem during the Christmas season. Oh boy. I can barely contain my excitement. 

Three articles and a culture class on honor killings today. They were painful to read. It's completely understandable how people with sheltered lives can hide away in ignorance (I know, I have), but that doesn't make it acceptable. 

The more I spend time here studying this language, the more I know this is exactly where I'm supposed to be. 

We are out of water, again. Jordan says that our apartment is the girl's camp from hell that never ends. It looks nice though.

Jenni Boyle. She once told me that I am better than the only toilet in our apartment that flushes. I've gotta admit, I feel the same about her. 

We have to read two hours of newspapers a day. Well, they say two hours, but it ends up being about three. They are all depressing. Our recent articles have been about a drowning, the Palestinians losing hope about getting recognition, and Syrians being tortured. That one is the worst. One time we walked in the apartment and Dana was sobbing. She asked us Why do we have to read this? Jordan and I turned back around through the door and bought lots of chocolate that night.

I also purchased "The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe" in Arabic. We are trying to read it as an apartment before we go to bed so we can lighten the mood shway.

Thoughts on Dana. I am fully convinced that she is the most perfect human being I have ever met. She wakes up early, does her little kickboxing video, finishes her homework, prepares her lunch (normally a fabulous salad), goes to school early, comes back, does all her homework right away, makes some culinary masterpiece that smells divine, and (get this) she embroiders.

I'm amazed.

One time I tried to be domestic and make brownies. They ended up being gooey on the sides and burnt in the middle. I am putting all the blame on our archaic stove. :)

I went running with the perfect couple, Stacy and Jacob, the other day. Stacy is on the BYU track team. It was quite the rude awakening. There were a few choice words I wanted to say when I saw them running down the street looking like Greek gods at six in the morning.

The possibilities here are endless, let me tell you. I am growing bags on top of the bags that currently reside underneath my eyes. It's quite impressive.

I love being here right now during all this political turmoil. Pick up the newspaper. It's interesting. I get to listen to friends', teachers', taxi drivers' opinions about the recognition of Palestine and the Syrian revolution. There are also weekly demonstrations for both, which we are actually ordered to avoid, but I like to think that I'm participating in some form or another.

I still hang out with that group of girls at the university every day. They are fabulous. More details to come.

Neighborhood blackout in Amman? Check.
Hearing Sarah Kate's high pitched scream echo through our apartment building? Check.
Prying open the elevator to free Coby from the elevator? Check.

Guess homework wasn't meant to be. 

Instead of homework, we went star gazing.
Look at me, I'm getting a little wild and crazy.

PS: The call to prayer is bomb. It's got to be one of the best sounds in the world.

Signs of Culture Assimilation

At the conservative language institute that we attend, there is a ladies' room. As the name suggests, only us ladies can enter. Some took the segregation as an insult. Others love the quiet atmosphere and opportunity of shedding layers of clothing. Anyways, the BYU girls have taken over the room.

Today, Andrew came in to look for Esther. He swung open the door and marched in. He had been where no man has walked before. Because we have been so used to being apart from the men folk, some girls let their mouths fall open with shock, while others just stared blankly. He immediately realized he had done something wrong.

Silence for two minutes.

He turned around and left without saying anything and then we all laughed our heads off.
Now, I would like to remind you all and more importantly myself that it's only been two weeks.
Imagine how we'll be after three months.
Yikes is right.

Figured out how to turn on the water heater. 

And it was good.

You're Not Lost If You Don't Know Where You're Going

Traveling. Well, it was interesting. I spent two and a half days traveling from Boston to Frankfurt to Amman. My trusty companion, Catie, was with me the whole time. We met a massive group of BYU students when we arrived in Germany.

Since we had over ten hours of an airport layover, David, Jessica, and I decided to go exploring. It's not every day you are in Germany. We went without a plan, knowledge of anything German, and directions. Story of my life.

We almost got arrested.
You think I'm joking, but I'm not.

It went a little like this. We purchased train tickets in the airport and boarded the next train. Apparently, there is a first class train and a second class. Our tickets were for the latter, but we found ourselves on the wrong one. We were approached right before our stop and told to hand over our passports. My companions stood there with their mouths open. This is when the rage of Jadyn begun. I don't know why, but this has been a long month of sass. I have found myself arguing with many authority figures. Long story short, I got the policeman to give us back our passports, avoided the station, and paid half of the fine. I credit my bargaining skills to experiences with Egyptian salesmen. He should of been lenient because we could not speak or read German, but ya3ny some people are not so cooperative.

Stupid Americans.

So ten minutes in Frankfurt and I wanted to head back to the airport. I hated Germany. David talked me into staying. For that, I am grateful. We went to a couple cathedrals, walked along the Rhine river and had some pastries. We had a great time.

Pictures will come later. I am without internet except for spare moments at the institute. Uploading is too tedious.

I finally arrived in Jordan after two years of preparation and it has exceeded my expectations.

We have already gone to the Dead Sea, Mount Nebo, and the Byzantine site that marked Christ's baptism. Again, pictures will come.

In case you're wondering, dormancy for four months and an Arabic placement test don't mesh well.
I was sent to a room where a panel of Arab men sat with mungo pot bellies. That description is important. I had to read a paragraph chosen for me. It talked about the saying, "The way to man's heart is through his stomach." I was asked what it meant and my opinion about it. I started giggling because of the situation. One of the men told me it must be true or they would all be skinny. Yeah, it was a good time.

Jet lag went away fast.

Some have gotten sick, I haven't. Al7umdillallah. Jory, you can thank me for passing off my super-human germs to you when I used your toothbrush that one time.

Food is so gooood. We ate at a Yemenese restaurant our first night topped with some of the best ice cream I have ever had. I would describe it, but I don't want you to feel bad about your next meal.

It is actually quite cold here (especially at night). Good thing I brought all those cardigans, mom. :)

Jordan is in the top five countries that is in danger of having no water. We have a water tank on the top of the apartment building. It is filled up once a week. When that runs out, 5alas.
Showering... Well, it's interesting. It takes me about an hour to get up the courage to take one. We haven't figured out how to heat up the water yet. It goes a little like this:
 Water on. Shriek. Water off. Scrub scrub scrub. Water on. Shriek. Rinse. The end.
I try to keep it to five minutes max.

I thought I had it bad until our whole apartment actually ran out of water for a couple of days. That was a blast.

My apartment is great. We have an awesome view of Amman. You'll be jealous when the pictures come.

Classes have been busy. We talk about Arab issues in my first class. The second is a performance class where we prepare a speaking report every day. After, our professors loose us to the university where we are supposed to make friends and speak for two hours. I hated it at first, but now it's enjoyable. We meet back for individual speaking or writing appointments with Arab professors. Dil's class is last, newspaper reading. We get done about six and we normally have a full night's worth of homework.
I actually like the schedule and we still find time to relax.

Jordan and I met a group of girls. It's easy to make friends here. One of them invited us to an all women's party. Her younger sister just graduated from Jordan's version of high school. I got there and was whisked off for the makeup/ dress room. I have never worn that much makeup in my vida.
Arab women are so beautiful and sexy. They took off all of their hijabs and curled their hair. I tried not to stare...too much. We went downstairs and had a belly dancing party. I don't know why we don't do this in the US, but I plan on incorporating it in my near future.

Right now, I'm a little like this:

Interpret it how you will. 

I alternate from being overly excited to feeling like I'm going to vomit. 

Momma, I need you more than you think I do. Ill be safe.

Boston, it's been real. I kind of love you.

I'm about to leave for Jordan. 

I'm still deciding what I will write in here for the next semester and what I'll keep out (opinion-wise).

 I was asked by a few to be as honest as possible. 

As I am compartmentalizing the two dialects, I am also trying to separate my Egypt experience from the experience I am about to have. I have been comparing the two countries all summer. I know it will be disastrous if I continue to do so.  

So this post is the last time I'm going to mention Egypt until I return (unless I'm in class :)). My NSLI-Y experience is very special to me. I went on a government sponsored study abroad studying Arabic and living with a host family. People ask me all the time why I love this culture. That's an easy question to answer. From the get go, the Arabs I knew were the most hospitable and generous people I have ever met. They went out of their way to make me feel comfortable and safe. 

I was sitting by myself in class and a girl named Salma Youssef came up to me and invited me to the movies. I ate dinner with her and her mom often. I considered them to be my real host family. She is such a beautiful girl, inside and out. Seriously.

One time after school, I got locked out of my apartment building. It was getting really late and a crowd of shabab (teenage boys) started coming closer. I remember feeling nervous. A woman peeked her head out of her door and invited me in. Her family is from Saudi Arabia. She was so hospitable. She gave me food to eat and offered me tea. Her little boys taught me a couple words in Arabic. They would ask me to repeat and when I would in my terrible accent, they laughed their heads off. It was a great night.

My host family had servants named Maiza and Nagua. Maiza was my favorite, mainly because I felt loved by her and she wasn't a spy for my host mother. She was around my age and the hardest worker I have ever seen. I never saw her sleep. We couldn't really communicate with each other. We took turns braiding hair and making bracelets while watching So You Think You Can Dance. When hip hop would come on, she would get up and dance. <3

Egyptians know how to throw a dance party (and get this... the boys know how to dance). I love it. Our host siblings would bring drums and other percussion instruments on the busses. Everyone would stand up and dance to the beat while we were going over 80 mph down the road. Absolutely exhilarating.

Egyptian time. I do not have an internal clock myself so I was late to everything and so were they. It was relaxing. I enjoyed sitting with friends for hours in a cafe doing nothing but drinking juice and talking. Oh and laughing, a lot. The kids I met put relationships before time.

In high school, I would avoid any subject close to religion. I did not want to be labeled a religious freak or attacked for something that was a huge part of my life. Cowardly, I know. Egyptians are great member missionaries. Everyone I met asked me if I knew about Islam. Everyone. It was humbling to see the kids my age leave a cafe or activity to a mosque and pray. They taught me that it was okay to be religious. Normal, even. :)

And the Americans. I cannot even end this without writing about the group of ten with whom I spent the most time. Catherine commented during our last reunion that we were easier to talk to/closer than old friends. I feel the same. I love them dearly. They are some of the most intelligent people I've ever met and they inspire me daily to work hard.

I'm often accused for ignoring negative issues in this region. They're not ignored. I'm not blind. For one, I hate the social class system. I watched (uselessly/hopelessly/helplessly) while Maiza got beat daily. I had to listen to those cries. The only thing I could do was sneak her a mango afterwards. Not okay.
I was also lectured by my host mother regularly because I was hanging out with Egyptians who didn't have "class." Yeah, that got annoying fast.

I  hate the harassment in the streets and treatment of women. I have stories, but will only tell them in person and at my discretion.

I recognize work needs to be done (in every country), but this culture has more positive aspects than negative. The core beliefs of Islam are beautiful. The people are incredible.
 We (SLI kids) feel we are self imposed defenders of this culture. Someone needs to be. Our media constantly gives the region a bad rep. The average person is a good human devoted to his/her religion, providing for his/her family, living his/her life, surviving.

That's my long winded response to that. 

So that's it. No more Egypt for now.

I'm ready to go experience a new culture, a new language, and new people.

Today was my last day at the Gap until the end of December. Can I get a 7umdilallah?! A coworker once told me that working at the Gap was like being in an abusive relationship. So true. 

So August. It's been a busy month. The mentor job ended. It was, by far, the best job I have ever had. I made more in the month of July than I do in a year. My mom laughs. 

August brought many visitors: Grandma Cherry, Csilla, Luke, Ynna, Aunt Allisa, and the Youngs. I'm a lucky girl. These visits included many trips to the beach, a Red Sox game, shopping on Newberry street, Salem, The House of Seven Gables, and lots and lots of walks on the freedom trail. I love freedom. 

Ynna helped me buy oversized clothes. I'm going for frumpy in Jordan. I cried, she laughed. It's fine, we're lovers. We went to a used bookstore while she was here and now I'm addicted. Since she has been gone, I have purchased over ten books that I won't be able to read until December. They will be my reward after a busy semester.

I met up with some of my favorite SLI'ers in New York on an impromptu Fung Wah bus trip with Catie.  Yeah, that's right, Fung Wah. You can't beat fifteen dollars for a bus trip. Once we got into NYC, it took us three hours to figure out how to get to the orientation, only thirteen miles away. We laughed the entire time.

Shout out to Liz: I'll miss you, my friend, my cousin, my sister. You are one of the people I trust most. Even though we drive each other crazy, I know we will always remain close. 

Yesterday was my last night with Jess. We decided to go rock climbing. Our plans were halted by the rudest employee who wouldn't pass our belay tests. I hate knots. She told us she was too busy to remind us how to set up. Um, there were ten people in gym. It was about to be a girl fight, but I looked at Jess. His eyes begged me not to make a scene. I turned around and got my money back. I stewed about it for the thirty minute car ride home. Jess turned on Mason Jennings, kept commenting on how awesome his voice is, and suggested Vietnamese food. He has a talent of staying calm. Everyone needs a Jess in their life. 

I am regretting not studying any Arabic this summer, but I don't regret how I spent my time. Does that make sense? I know that I don't have much time left with my family. I hope I made it count. 

I want to take this opportunity to thank the student who burnt popcorn at 2:30 AM last night. Not only was he up past curfew, but he sent one hundred plus people out of their beds waiting in the rain for the firemen to come and find the cause of the smoke. It took an hour for the search and thirty more minutes to return everyone back to bed. Wake up call is at 6:00 FYI. Also, it is well into the next day and my room smells of popcorn death.

There is a silver lining. I am grateful the kid was not smoking cigarettes or worse. It would have been too late/early to yell and write him up. I'm not even sure I know how to discipline fully conscious. So alhumdilallah it was just popcorn.

She did it again, folks.

http://twostepartizani.wordpress.com/2011/07/21/a-sort-of-homecoming-2/

I won't mention it every time, but this is by far my favorite blog that I read. My aunt is a true hero. Come August, I get to spend time with this brilliance and nothing can make me happier.

A Little Update

It's currently ninety degrees in Boston. I'm going to go ahead and add ten more for humidity and ten more for residing in these cinder block dorms lacking air-conditioning. We are in survival mode. The mentors decided that all of the kids should sleep in the lounge (only room filled with AC) while this heat persists.

Am I the only one who thinks cramming seventy-one high school students in one room is crazy? I will be shocked if I get sleep this weekend. I am not sure when I became this old lady, but it happened.

2:19 AM, Saturday Morning

For the month of July, I am living in Cambridge dorms as a mentor for a high school summer camp with seventy one kids. I love it except for nights like tonight. A rumored "toga party" is keeping me up into these wee hours. Every so often, a kid will open his/her door and peek out to see if I am asleep. I am determined to outlast the little suckers. I am terrible at disciplining. Normally, I just let things slide like late nighters of dying people's hair or kids being a little late for curfew. I understand what it was like to be their age and the desire to be respected. Everyone needs mercy. However, drunk minors are no good hence the sleepless night of patrolling.

New dorm trend: Both girls and guys are shaving half of their heads and leaving the other side long. Let's just say the parents are not thrilled. I have received many a phone call.

We spent the evening at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston with a tour guide, something I highly suggest. Despite their half-witted attempts to sneak around, these kids are brilliant and I love spending time with them. I am amazed at their knowledge of art history and their ability to create. I would stare at a painting and one would explain the history and the concept behind each piece of work. Artists are misunderstood geniuses. Every brush stroke they make serves a purpose. They taught me this as they analyzed and discussed pieces together. I feel an art history course in my near future.

We split up into groups in the museum. Mine, of course, was the best.

Also, I highly suggest seeing Chihuly's glass exhibit and a glass blowing demonstration.

The other mentors I work with are artists as well. They are fabulous. When the kids are in class, we hang out in a hallway and they work on their own art. I watch and hopefully soak in the creative fumes. I had every opportunity and more to dive into this way of documenting history and I failed. Tonight, I am humbled.

Buggah, Jayk.

My family left to take Jayk to Pennsylvania for the weekend. He will fly out of Harrisburg to Brazil where he will serve for two years. Due to unfortunate events and a mandatory orientation, I am stuck here missing out on my brother's last hoo-rah. Not only am I sad, I am racked with guilt. This is an out-of-body experience full of mixed emotions.

I don't remember my one year without him. It's almost like we were born twins except we have different personalities and I have always been the more attractive one. Jayk's first two words were actually two grunts, "buggah" and "buddah." He used them for every feeling and need. My mom says this is because he had his opinionated and bossy older sister to speak for him. Sorry for that, braddah.

I have come to the realization that I write in a bullet-point type of fashion. I guess it's my style. Here are more stories I love:

Jayk used to stick toothpicks in his mouth creating the monstrosity of a gap in the middle of his two front teeth. I also might have chipped one of them in a fit of rage. That's a story for later. Let's just say that braces worked wonders.

We rode the bus in elementary school. Every morning, we would race to the bus stop. Jayk's body was always bigger and faster than mine with my brittle bones and underdeveloped muscles. Also, his head was mahonkin'. As soon as we started racing down the sidewalk, he would push me in a pile of snow. By the time I could pick myself and my backpack up, the bus would leave. My mom wasn't too happy about that.

Jayk has tremendous musical talent. Never in my lifetime have I seen anyone pick up a guitar (or any string instrument) and play any song that I want perfectly. His mind is made for comprehending music theory. His latest debate is deciding whether to go to Berklee or a church school after his mission. He has awhile until that decision has to be made.

Between school and dance practice, I had a study hall for the girls on the dance team. No joke, everyday I walked in the room, Jayk's name would be written all over the board from various samples of handwriting. I would sigh, sit down, and open one of my books trying to ignore the girlish squeals and stories of my sighted brother.

Jayk surrounded himself with the most diverse and eccentric group of boys. I love seeing them together. They are hilarious and thrive on making people uncomfortable. Most of the time they are up to no good. Example: Just the other night they got in trouble with the police for putting a Christmas tree with presents underneath in front of a random neighbor's yard.

Jayk learned at an early age how not to upset my parents, something I failed at consistently. I had a big, fat mouth. He blended into the background and demonstrated a great amount of self control. Secretly, he was the biggest trouble maker AND a giant tease. Jory ran into my room one afternoon with horror stricken eyes, face planted on the wall, and leapt into my arms. Two seconds later, Jess ran into the same exact spot on the wall chasing Jory behind me. Jayk followed soon after hitting the SAME spot. I couldn't even protect Jory from the boys because I was laughing hysterically. It was like a scene from Tom and Jerry.

Jayk likes listening to Tchaikovsky on repeat. He also enjoys watching Oprah or Jane Austin flicks with my mom while eating salted grape fruit. This is not an exaggeration, folks.

Jayk LOVES Christmas.

He took Jason to a fake Beatles concert. Jason is my handicapped, but high functioning uncle who loves his women folk. Jason saw a girl and decided to dance by her. After talking to her Jason returned and cowered behind Jayk's giant body. At the end of the concert, Jayk asked him what happened. Jason had asked her to dance and she turned him down. Jayk's reply was, "Oh, she must not have heard you. The music was loud." And with that, his spirits were lifted. I love this story and will continue to tell it.

One time, I went downstairs and Jayk and Jess were dancing to "Pop, Lock, and Drop It." Synchronized.

I have been attending the single's ward in the same building as my parents' ward. A guy sat down next to me during sacrament meeting. Jayk was looking in from the foyer (dropping his eaves as usual.) I received a text from him that said, "Knucks, he's a fox." Thanks for eyeing up my prospects, brother.

I can go on forever. You'll make a great missionary. I'm proud of you and I'll miss you. I'll always remain your fiercest defender.

And now enough of stories and time for hysterics. Life is about laughing at yourself right?

I went into work literally ten minutes after saying goodbye to Jayk. I was welcomed with a hug and a cupcake from my favorite coworker who understands us mormons and our duties. While I was on the floor, I would start to tear up so he would try to cheer me up. I would instantly go from teary-eyed to laughing. Yep, crazy. Anyways, some girl decided to steal five pairs of black pants. Being in the mental state that I was, I opened the door and yelled after her, "Hope you enjoy your pants!" Definitely not Gap policy. When I re-entered the store, all my coworkers were laughing (even my manager.) Don't worry, she likes me and my antics. However, she deemed me not fit for customer interaction and let me organize the stock room.

For decent and understanding people, I am thankful.

I recently had my first megabus experience on a trip from

Boston to DC. loved. it.

My bus buddy was an older lady who wore a rainbow bandana and a t-shirt saying "unfortunately we are making enemies faster than we can kill them" while carrying a New York Times. I knew we were going to be instant friends. We shared her newspaper and talked about the Middle East. I might have fallen asleep on her at one point.

I visited my lovely Csilla. She was kind enough to let me follow her around. I adore this girl and have since the seventh grade. She is a naturally good-hearted person. I look up to her. She is also intelligent and well-spoken. The universe has kept us apart for a couple years. Hopefully, our lives will intertwine once more. Thursday, she leaves for Morocco to save the world, one orphan at a time.

I also went to Lancaster for Jayk and Jared's farewell. Of course, it was great spending time with them and the fam. I have come to the conclusion that no one in our family, immediate and extended, is good at telling stories except for my Aunt Allisa. This does not mean we aren't hilarious.

I'm back in Boston for now. It is HOT. That's all I have to say about that.

Side note to all the GAP customers in the Boston area: You know you have a problem when you recognize an employee on the street, call them by name, and start up a conversation about their daily lives. Help can be found for your shopping addiction. Unfortunately, this has not happened only once. I'm a celebrity.

I miss living by my cousins. Instant love at any needed moment. I didn't realize how spoiled I was. Mushy, I know.

Renewal

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

I finally made it to Boston. It took a little over three days. I enjoyed myself on the trip, probably more than Sean and Liz. After seeing them everyday, it will be difficult for me to be apart. We stopped in Chicago and saw Auntie Vagi along with her family. Her kids grow more and more beautiful as the years go by. They must take after their mother :). Enjoy the pictures!

Courtesy of Liz:

We also had the opportunity to go into the Art Institute. The building is calm and serene. It reminds me of my dad. I used to draw with him in the gardens while he was attending school. I dragged everyone to the impressionism wing this trip to see George Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte," which also reminds me of my father, not because of similarities in their artwork. In seventh grade, he pulled an all-nighter helping me paint a pointillism piece. It is still hanging in the office of James Hart. I would credit that to my talent, but I know it was all his eye.

Here's one of his new pieces with my cute sister.

I had this as my status update on facebook, but it is too memorable to skip. On the way to Boston from Lancaster, I woke up in the back seat to Jayk and Jared beeping the horn and putting up a sign with their numbers for a car full of girls all while listening to War's "Low Rider." Pretty funny stuff.

I have been jogging around to familiarize myself with the city. I get lost the majority of the time. You know what they say, the longer the run, the more fit the Jadyn. My parents neglected to tell me that I live in the Jewish quarter of Boston called Brookline. I have run by three or four Jewish synagogues already. Not complaining, just think it's funny. I won't be using much Arabic here. My favorite street is canopied with trees called Wincester (pronounced Win-stah). It holds two synagogues. When I hit that street, I blast Arab music on my ipod and for a moment the two worlds collide and there's peace, at least in my world. I chuckle.

Fun fact: JFK was born a couple blocks down from my parents' apartment.

Jonsi is my artist of choice while running these days. I know, not your average, upbeat playlist. "Around Us" played during this morning's jog. I felt rejuvenated, healed even. This city has brought me joy.

I think I'm going to like my new home. Yep, I think I'm going to like it a lot.

Oh! My aunt started a blog. She is the true master of stringing words together.

http://twostepartizani.wordpress.com/about/

New year

I welcomed in the new year by falling asleep twenty minutes before midnight. Foreshadowing for the upcoming year? I hope not. Some short-term goals for this semester are to go to yoga and run, get good grades without spending my life in the library, cook meals weekly, and cut down on expenditures to save for Egypt. In a future day, I will create a bucket list.

I leave for Utah tomorrow. Someday I will be able to substitute Utah for Rabat or Caracas. For now, I will return to the land of marriage and casseroles.

And now, time to finish my Mayan language documentary.