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.