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.