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.