Home again, home again?

September 1, 2007

Against a steep incline on a hill overlooking the Jordan University lays a boxy concrete villa surrounded by olive trees, grape terraces, and fig. My initial impression of dread and nervousness cloaked all beauty in a hazy rumble of my stomach. My given description of the family was only somewhat accurate:

Name Birth Sex Speaks English Occupation
Issa 1937 Male Yes Retired
Nawal 1947 Female Little Housewife
Carol 1977 Female Yes UN officer
Sylvie --- Female No Maid/housekeeper

Religion: Roman Catholic
Family name: Alam-Salman

Equipped with this meager knowledge I was expecting to be greeted by an elderly slow moving small household…. However, when I arrived the building was bursting with persons. The 5 children of Issa and Nawal lived within mere blocks… one even lives on the bottom floor of the villa. All have kids, all the cousins live close enough to visit every few weeks, and so I found myself with a typical Arab family – loud, noisy and full of love.

My first day was rather dull, but my second was disastrously dramatic. I awoke that morning to a cup of Turkish coffee. Moments later my stomach rumbled. Minutes after that, I excused myself to lie down. Within an hour I had Montezuma’s revenge, could not hold down any food without throwing up, and was dizzy with a 102-degree fever.
They called my coordinator and rushed me to the hospital. They diagnosed me with the vague but accurate “tourist bug” and stabbed my arm into an IV. For the past day and a half I have been battling that. Heavy drugs make me sleepy and yet I feel only nominally better… The fever has passed, as had the vom.
Tonight I’m to meet my cousins. Their relation to me is somewhat distant. They are my father’s first cousins children and family. I hope everything will work out and I desperately hope I will not feel sick when they come to pick me up.
Hope everything is well with everyone!! I have Internet from Sunday to Thursday sporadically. Feel free to send e-mails and such. If you begin the thread, I’ll respond. Much love.

Pictures from Amman

* The language center is basically where all my classes are and where my educational life will be centered around when I'm there.

* The weird statue is the oldest human statue in the world. There was otherones that looked the same but had these creepy wide eyed faces but... I forgot to photo them.

* The rest of the pictures are of the old citadel of the city, pretty much everything from Roman ruins to Ummayyad ruins

Enjoy.

Little Boxes

My first impression about Amman came hours after I had arrived… The plane landed, I was rushed to the hotel, I made a few fool-hearty hellos then I slept. At 5:30 am, I awoke – eyes wide open – to a reverberating spiraling voice beckoning the faithful of the city to prayer. All was still… the sun had just dawned leaving a blue cast to the…. Boxes.
Amman, Jordan is a city of little boxes tossed up on 7 hills and convoluted to fit the ideological mold of a “modern city”. Individually, these boxy buildings are nothing but slabs of grey concrete with perfect rectangular eyeholes… Little more ingenious or beauty than a concrete parking garage.
However, in the early morning or with a carefully achieved viewpoint, Amman morphs. The thousand and one holed buildings become honeycombed in shape… The dusty monotony of the concrete becomes a clear grey calm against the blue sky. The call to prayer beckons the soul to tranquility and you submit.
My first day in Amman has been just that… submission. A calm acceptance to the drudgery of jet lag and the pace of orientation. We saw sites, we ate food, and we go to know one another. All very routine and predictable in a way… the city itself breathed calm and I submitted.
Even the unexpected news of my home stay assignment with a family brought little surprise. Maybe this will be how all my time is here? Calm and relaxing learning. Peace in the face of surprise. Gentle submission to the greater powers above.


Pictures are to come, as soon as I unpack my bag (next few days)