Diving in Head First

I'm already getting behind! The post below is from three days ago. But I am getting caught up and will practice the "less more often" method from now on.

My first full day in Amman was especially long and equally as lovely. After enjoying a leisurely morning chat with Anne as we sipped tea and munched on cereal, we set out for my grand tour of Amman. With little more than a plan to eat at the famous outdoor falafel dive, Hashem's, and get some basic shopping done for my apartment, Anne decided to throw me in the deep-end and we headed to the traditional downtown area called al-Balad, . Friday is the holy day for Islam, and mosque was just letting out, so we were swarmed by men in traditional dress who had just finished praying. After wading through makeshift prayer mats of cardboard strips strewn across the mosque courtyard, we ended up at the fruit and veggie market where men were shouting above one another in Arabic about the quality and price of the produce. Both of which I agreed were great. It was interesting to me that very few women were actually shopping. Despite the overwhelming scene and sea of men, I never felt unsafe because among the pious it is haram (forbidden) to touch a woman—although I did get accidentally bumped a few times.

From here, we admired the ancient Roman Theater over tiny cups of potent Arabic coffee from a second story, no-frills café. With my fresh eyes, it was a dump (but I loved the coffee and view). With Anne's experienced eyes, it was an expensive tourist jaunt (but she also loved the coffee and view). After paying an "expensive" 1JD ($1.25USD) for our coffees, we headed back out onto the street where we made quick stops at little local shops for power adapters for me and cheap DVDs for Anne. From there, we reached the famous Hashem's, where enormous photographs entice diners with past appearances by the queen and king. We found seating at a plastic picnic table, ordered our food and super-sweet mint tea and welcomed a friend of Anne's and her friend's coworker to the table. We munched on pita, falafel (fried chickpea bites), hummos (mashed chickpeas), and fuul (mashed white beans)—and I remembered to only eat with my right hand!

With full bellies, we then climbed Jebel Amman to the Friday market. Jebel means hill, and the further we ascended, the more fantastic the view. Much of the architecture in Amman is from the 1930s and the well-preserved neighborhood was teeming with awesome art deco houses displaying the quintessential curvatures and geometric designs. We took an unexpected detour after admiring one particular house with enormous picture windows and a blooming front garden. Anne's friend remembered that she knew the renters and we ended up chatting with them for over an hour. The group composition made for some great dialogue: American teacher (me), Australian UN worker, Italian UN worker, Dutch UN worker Canadian UN worker (there is a pattern here), and a Palestinian-American lawyer working on water negotiations in the region. The American guy decided to accompany us to the market after we enticed him with the watermelon smoothies available there.

We poked around the very upscale outdoor market where I saw Jordanian women with uncovered hair and heard English all around. Considering I will be teaching English at a private school in this neighborhood, I shouldn't have been surprised, but my apartment and the downtown area are very traditional, so I was caught a bit off-guard. As I observed the giggling groups of girls and accompanying mothers in high heels and expensive, flowing frocks, I wondered if these were my students and their parents. We wove our way through the market and found ourselves at a very swanky outdoor café called Wild Jordan, which is perched precariously on the side of Jebel Amman. Inspired by our watermelon smoothies, we decided to order their famous mint lemonade version, which was tart, refreshing, and extremely expensive (3JD / $4.25UUSD). But you get what you pay for. At the edge of the outdoor dining area there is one step down that leads to a glass railing. And on this step pillows are scattered for patrons like ourselves to lounge and enjoy the view. We happened to arrive just as the sun began to set and the evening breeze blew in.

This would have been the perfect ending to a great day, but I desperately needed food and cleaning supplies for my apartment, so we all parted ways and Anne and I caught a taxi to a different section of the city called Sweifieh. There, we strolled the blocked off streets, stopped in to check the sale rack at Zara's, had pizza in an outdoor café, and then headed down to Safeway. Zara's, pizza, and Safeway? Indeed, Amman is a fully modern city with western influences scattered throughout—including throngs of giggling teenagers chattering in high pitched English. I wasn't really sure who was going to be wearing the tube tops and miniskirt from Zara (most of the girls I saw wore long-sleeved shirts under their trendy tops and covered their hair with colorful scarves). Or why anyone would pay $4USD for Starbuck's when there is excellent Arabic coffee to be had for $1.25USD, but the chain "coffeehouse" was packed. Image is everything, I suppose.

I have to admit, the Safeway was really convenient. I felt exhausted and barely had the energy to translate which yogurt to buy or find the cheapest muesli (cereal can cost up to $10USD!). Perhaps on another day I will have the energy to barter in the fruit and veggie market or practice my Arabic at Ducan Abu Azam's (the corner store near my flat, owned not coincidentally by the father of Azam). It was after midnight by the time we exited Safeway (Jordanians like to stay up late like me!), so we collapsed in the taxi and headed home for bed.