[13 hours on the Airbus]

1. They have touch-screens in every seat.

These come with games, on demand movies, an interactive map of where your plain is/how fast it’s going/ETA, streaming radio, Arabic music, American music, etc.

2. The flight attendants look like models. What happened to the good old days where female flight attendants wore pressed skirts, jackets, hats, and were also ridiculously good looking? They all moved to Jordan and renewed their geneaologies. I thought of it as proper, charming, and comfortable, but feel free to read that as misogynistic, oppressive, and anti-modern. Someone has to.

3. No BS. Everyone is super nice unless you’re being disobedient. Call it rude, call it time-efficient: There’s no, “ma’am, could you please put that carry-on back in the overhead bins? We’re not allowing people to get up just yet” – only, “No./La.” and they put it back for you.

4. The people who fly Royal Jordanian are much more pleasant. By the looks of him, I sat next to the Israeli Uncle Jessie. He spent about 40% of the time praying (flight anxiety, I assume), often bumping his head into the touch screen monitor in the back of the seat and turning it on and off. Instead of sweating, making anxious conversation, and/or trying to hold my hand to soothe his flying fear, he softly hummed the Qur’an to himself. We can learn from this.

5. They take you away from the watery torture of the Midwest Spring/Summer and bring you here:

And that was just economy class.

Getting into Jordan is pretty straightforward. Everyone in the airport (and most people here, it seems) speak English.

That said, using your (my) broken Arabic at the visa counter is more of a timesuck

than anything.

Conveniently for students like me who are  jumping into a program that operates on a you-know-as-you-go philosophy, telling immigration officers you have no clue where in the country you’re going (“La arif, sayyid…”) is all the info they need to stamp your passport anyways!

What’s funny about Queen Alia airport–which is really not difficult to navigate once you get over the initial existential shock of touching down in a foreign country–are the differences in some security values.

Downstairs at the baggage claim, kids are jumping on and over the conveyer belt to check tags and find bags for their parents. If you happen to be particularly pale, red-haired, and American, men in blue Queen Alia jumpsuits rush to give you carts and ask if you are from “Chicago? Chicago?” While a man in a dark blue suit finds your bag in the back and offers to show you Amman (Side Note: You probably don’t want this man to show you Amman).

If it’s too heavy, they may forego the secondary baggage scan before you’re free to graze in the palm trees outside.

Now, the upside of participating in a youknowasyougo program is that it comes complete with who could be a member of Jordanian intelligence waiting for you outside in a black suit, sunglasses, cigarettes in one hand and an “SIT” sign in the other.

Turns out his name is Ahmed. He seems to “take care of business” for SIT, though his official position is program coordinator/PR manager. Ahmed will have his own post later in the program.

Ma’ salaam for now!

Ugh.  No picture this time, seeing as i forgot to bring my camera.  but last night we went to yashao clothing market….otherwise known as the fake mall.

classy, huh?  what makes it even classier is all the scolding that you get when you bargain with them.  i must have heard “you’re killing me” at least a dozen times.  my roommate was amazing at it, though.  i think she might have been very much more successful at it than i was.  i wish i was as good as grandma was at bargaining.

perhaps part of it is that i have a little trouble knowing the value of rmb….while i know the value of ringit.  i wonder if i’d be better bargaining in malaysia than here….

but my chinese is getting better!  i had a really funny conversation with the taxi driver that took us to the market.  it was mentally taxing….but we had a reasonably smooth conversation.  he was really really nice…something that i didn’t expect from taxi drivers in general, since last time i tried to get a taxi, they tried to rip me off…..

but this guy, and apparently lots of other people, keep asking if i’m 中国人, which throws me off.  because to me that means “are you chinese?” and to them that means “are you from china?”  so i’ve said yes a few times and had to catch myself, saying quickly, “不不不不不， 我是美国人”

i really don’t think my chinese passes as good enough to be from china, considering all the stuff i can’t say.  or perhaps they just think i’m mentally challenged….which may be slightly true in a sense, but not true in the way most people think about it.  and i’ve started to garble my chinese…and it actually seems to aid in my audience’s comprehension rather than when i try and speak crisply.  i haven’t decided if that’s disturbing or not…it probably merits more investigation.

buuuuuuuuuut…getting back to the subject, bargaining in china is almost a dangerous business.  i’ve been hit twice by trying to save a fellow student from the grasp of an over-eager salesman in tian’anmen square, been scolded enough to make snape want to cry, and almost tricked into buying something that i really really didn’t want.  and, supposedly i’m killing people when i bargain.

it’s a bit ridiculous that they say that i’m not making them a serious offer, when i really am.  if i wasn’t serious, i wouldn’t be making an offer…and you wouldn’t give me it for that price if you weren’t actually making money off of it.  it’s silly how many times they say that they’ll give it to me for a better price and that they’re not making any profit from it…when we learned in class how cheap labor is in china and how little money each item costs.

the best thing is when they try and tell you that it’s real.  but i figure it’d be really rude to laugh right in their face…

so in the end, i was convinced to part with about 450 rmb.  which, all in all, really isn’t too bad for all that i got, but is probably more than i could have paid for it.  i guess it’s a learning process.  but, rule number one of bargaining: never go lower than you’ve said before, because it makes the shop owners very very angry with you.

You wouldn’t think that finding the time to blog over a four day period would be that difficult, but when those days are your first four in China it starts to make sense.  In fact, I can’t quite believe four days have passed since my 20 hour plane ride finally came to an end.  The days since have been filled with seemingly endless visits to all of the most memorable Beijing sites (think Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City) , extensive lectures by TBC professors, whirlwind tours of the campus and jetlag induced bouts of sleep.  I’m not quite sure what I thought China would be like before I arrived, other than the usual assumptions of pervasive construction (even more than I imagined) and terrible air pollution (worse than I imagined).  However, the time I have spent here so far has shown me a diverse, bustling city that is seemingly always on the move, yet always stationary.  My experiences  are so defined by these dual notions that it is hard to wrap my mind around them.  Part of the day I spend visiting ancient monuments that have stood for hundreds of years without change and the other part I’m surrounded by an ever changing environment that seems unabashedly capitalist, more so than even the U.S.

I’ve taken five showers in my lifetime that I can describe as life altering. Two of which I legally can’t speak about. I’ve been in Rome for 3 days, and I just now feel like I have 75% of the sand out of my clothing/hair/ cell phone? Said cell phone is no longer working BTW. I’m still trying to get life in order here now that I have access to the internets. Luckily I also brought a little friend back from Africa in the form of bacteria. I’m going to see a Doctor in the morning to finally rid myself of we affectionately referred to as “Bourgibas Revenge”. Apparently my Mom is close with the Cardinal who lives across the street from her who is referring me to a good doctor from Vatican City(Cause thats normal). More info on Tunisia and Rome later, as I need to get some rest.

Buona Notta

True: in parts of the city, it’s not uncommon to see Jordanian women in miniskirts, tank tops, or even summer dresses.

But if you’re not Jordanian, leave the stilettos at home.

There’s a very understood familial culture in Jordan. It’s a tribal country* that

operates with a very protective network of communities. And just because you have a few Jordanian friends doesn’t make you a member.

The reason Jordanian women can wear mini-skirts is because men usually refrain from cat-calling or touching them for fear of repercussions from the family. It doesn’t take long to figure out who anyone is here. If a girl doesn’t know the man who whistled at her in Duwar Abdoun, chances are her uncle has done business with his grandfather–and if grandaddy is too old to do something about it, one of her brothers, or her father, will.

“Done away with,” is how one of my instructors described it.

Bottom line: tribal sensitivity/assimilation does NOT = tribal membership. So ladies: No need to look homely, but cover your shoulders and knees.

*Note on tribes: they’re pretty huge. Having 15 siblings is not uncommon here. (My one brother greatly confuses most people. It’s almost anxiety producing for them.) Multiply that by generations upon generations and you’ve got a familial support network of, oh, a few hundred living relatives?

I did not like Rome. Fact. Maybe it was a function of where I was staying, maybe it was being sick, maybe it was having just left Tunisia. There was a bit of culture shock after a month in Africa. Seeing bare shoulders and other uncovered…parts….was actually uncomfortable. Possibly also sick of all the spaghetti and pizza. Oh, and honestly, how many gelato places do you really need Rome.

I felt like cattle in vatican museum.

Enough about Rome. I’m in Istanbul now and I have met up with some of my friends from Tunisia. Were staying in the old city known as Sultanhmet, and its gorgeous. We had dinner last night on a rooftop terrace overlooking the Haghia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. ( I would post a picture of that but i’m being lazy). After we sat down at a sidewalk cafe for some nargeli and drinks. Some locals from the hostel took us out to the clubs and I dont believe we returned till sunrise. We’re all hurting a bit today.

But hey, check out these F’n camels

So catch up time. Ironic that I am saying catch up when I only have 13 days left in Europe, and only 9 more in Spain. Has it already been a month?! It just doesn’t seem possible. It is time to really get out into Madrid and see all that I want to see, especially now that I have a good working knowledge of the metro and bus systems.

Allora (there really are just some words from Italian and German that are permanent parts of my vocabulary now). So 10 June I went back to Germany for the last time. I know, why go back? You lived there and visited last semester, but I wanted to see my friends once more before leaving. It was a relaxing weekend- we sat around and talked. There was not rushing around seeing as much of a city as possible or worrying about hostels and belongings being safe in a locker somewhere.  As Eugene Kennedy said, “the real test of friendship is: can you literally do nothing with the other person? Can you enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple?” That is what my weekend to Germany was. The simple moments that mean so much to me, and they are what have made my time in Europe so wonderful, in Germany, in Italy, and in Spain, and they are what made my two hour flight back from Germany the longest flight of my life to date. I still feel as though I have left part of me in Germany with my friends. I look forward to the day when we see each other again.

When I was back in Madrid I had dinner with a friend, and then we did something else that I think is something that is missing from American culture: we had ice cream and sat in a Plaza for a few hours just talking and watching people. The slower pace of life truly is wonderful. It allows you to relax and actually see what is going on around you, instead of just a blur of color and noise. The past week, between that Sunday and Friday was spent studying and focusing on Spanish. On Friday, I had my midterm. It is interesting how much of the grammar is coming back to me as I see it again. However, my vocabulary still needs work. I can read the newspapers with only minor issues and have even been working on a novel. My receptive language is defiantly better than my speaking abilities. Hopefully with time that will change.

It is weird to think that after two weeks of class I had a midterm, but I did! And, after getting back my test today, I am happy to day I did well. Even though it has been longer since I studied Spanish, I am finding it easier than when I restarted Italian. I am not sure why, 100%, but I am thankful, as it has made my life easier. But I have found myself missing Italian and Italy. I never thought I would say that, but it is true. I miss sitting in a cafe in the morning before class drinking a cappuccino and having a cornetto, conversing in Italian and just enjoying the Roman sun. And this coming from the guy who was missing Germany for 5 months… jaja

That being said, the title of this blog probably has confused some people… So after the midterm, two friends and I went to Park Retiro to kick around a fútbal (soccer ball). As we were doing that and chatting, a boy came up and gave us that look that clearly asked “May I join you?”. So we asked him “Quieres jugar con nos?” to which he gave an enthusiastic ¡Sì! After a few minutes he asked “Dove… er de dónde eres?” So answered him, and then I pulled out the Italian of Parli italiano? It turns out he is from Milano and speaks some Spanish, Italian, and French. Not bad for an 11 year old. His brother who was 8,5 joined us later. We ended up playing World Cup with them for about 3 hours, conversing in Italian (with me) and Spanish with the other two. It was a relaxing afternoon, and a lot of fun. It is always heartwarming to know there are some things that transcend language barriers and countries: one is fútbal. And it is so nice to be in a place where I can take part in that.

Anyway, on Saturday I went with USAC to Aranjuez y la Mancha. Aranjuez is the site of the Palacio Real de Aranjuez, or the Royal Palace, that today is a museum showing how the royal family lived during the time of Isabella. It was used by the royal family until 1890. Sadly, no photos were allowed, and thus, all I have are memories. It was a nice palace showing what life was like. Again, I am always astounded at the decorations and details that have gone into many of the rooms. After touring the palace, we had free time to wander the gardens and the town where some friends and I bought some of the best fresh fruit that I have ever eaten. I would say it rivals that of Münstermarkt in Freiburg. Then we were off to lunch in La Mancha, an area of Spain. We had some amazing food such as Pisto Manchego, Duelos y quebrantos, migas de pastor, and queso manchego. They are all traditional foods of La Mancha. Now, some people might recognize that name…

Don Quijote. I have not read the entire book (it is on my list of books to get in Spanish and read), but I do know the part about the windmills. I can now say I have seen the windmills of la Mancha and even been inside one of them. In addition, we also had time to explore the Castillo de Consuegra, which was built along a ridge with many windmills. I was reminded a lot of Greece and some of the castles we were able to explore there during Spring Break. That was probably my favorite part of the trip, besides the food of course. 🙂

And that brings me to the present. So I only have 4 classes left, and the final, and then I am done with school here in Madrid. As I wrote earlier, I am not sure how this is possible. When I decided to come to Spain so many months ago, it seemed like a month would be a long time. It even seemed like that in March! And now, I am not sure where the time has gone. The past year has flown by. In 13 days I will be back in the US, which is an interesting and slightly scary thought. It has been a long time, and while I am excited to see my friends and family, I am also sad at leaving many of my friends here. It is bittersweet on both ends. But I am trying not to think about that yet. I must first make it to Thursday, which is a Holiday here in Spain: Corpus Christi. So no school! It will be a day of exploring Madrid and enjoying all the city has to offer. Holla! Then Friday, I am going on my last trip in Europe: Porto in Portugal.  I am excited as I have wanted to go to Portugal since August, and now I am finally going there. And the best part is I will be back by 10.00 on Sunday! So I will have all day Sunday in Madrid as well! This way, my last weekend is not completely spent away from Spain or Madrid. Win-win, I’d say.

Achso. That about sums up everything for now. Check back in to see how the last full week in Spain is going!

Hasta luego!