Family Life and a Trip to the Top

     Jordanians watch television. CIEE talked about it in the home stay orientations, but I was not prepared for the devotion of my host family, and the entire country to the consumption of programs, movies, sports, and soaps from the Middle East, but when available, the United States. My family owns more that 200 movies. They have seen almost everything. Avatar, Up, It's Complicated, they've seen them all. Now as their guest I had the opportunity to join them. Luckily, my studies will allow me to escape, but in the first days with them I saw more American TV than in the last six months.

    My host family, like all the others that I have heard about is utterly devoted to ensuring that I want for nothing. The first night was a swift meeting and reconciliation of the expectations. I share a house, though not a family with another CIEE student, Darci Dwyer. She's a level below me in Arabic, but our experience complements well and we are able to help each other out. Tim Bettis, my roommate from the Manara Hotel is a few blocks away; we plan to share taxis on the way to the University.

    I live primarily with three elderly people: Munah, Rajai, and Samira. The apartment upstairs is currently being rented by a Lebanese family, but I will move into it on the 15th and vacate Rajai's room where I currently sleep on a small, saggy, but warm bed. The third floor is home to Munah's son Marwan and his family. They have three children: a teenage daughter, Dianh 16; a 13 year old son Odeh, and a 10 year old spark of a daughter named Leen.

    The entire family speaks some English. The kids have a remarkable grasp of it, though Odeh is a little hesitant. Most of the adults have either studied in or visited the States. The ability to communicate is a blessing, but I hope and expect that as I get better with Arabic, both sides will speak less English.

    Darci and I are both vegans. We had been told that the families Twal (loosely translates to tall) were aware of and were willing and able to accommodate this dietary rarity. Our first dinner, a pleasant fare with the now familiar pita, hummus, and vegetables in abundance, was the first time the Twals learned exactly what vegan is. Margaret, an earlier student in residence had apparently been a vegetarian, but the people around the table began to murmur anxiously as we explained that we don't eat meat, fish, or chicken; eggs, milk, yogurt, or cheese; and that I don't eat sweets and don't drink coffee, tea, or soft drinks.

    Over the next few days we reconciled as they became accustomed to empty our plates of foul (fava bean paste), hummus, and salad that we were not starving. Darci and I, in turn, figured out what to take from the briefings and what to learn from observation. Warnings about flushing toilet paper were not warranted, people touched food with their left "dirty" hands. Everyone wore slippers or socks, but didn't seem too concerned when a heel pointed in their direction.

    Friday, our first full day together was spent at home, or getting tours of the neighborhood with the family. We live close to the massive King Abdullah Mosque, the National Fine Arts Gallery, and two Christian churches whose bells compete with the call to prayer to puncture sleep and gather the faithful. We visited the Friday Souk (marketplace), a ragtag mash of clothing, electronics, trinkets, and produce all crushed into a square a two minutes walk from our home.

    Saturday, Darci got a text recruiting fellow CIEE students to meet up at the Ministry of Culture, some five miles away. We wanted to get some exercise and set out, despite the apparent concern of our families, to get a sense of the city. Amman is not pedestrian friendly. Like most aspects of life here, traffic works within a set of loosely defined and laxly obeyed defined rules and a more important set of social expectations and norms. Pedestrians, are near the bottom of the totem pole, bikes are non-existant, mopeds are a suprising rarity, and personal cars are simultaneously a luxury and a prolific presense in all corners of the city.

    Two hours later we reached the ministry only to receive a text alerting us that the rendevous point had shifted six or seven miles in the opposite direction, past our starting point, and well out of reach by foot. Hungry, we searched for my first restaurant meal but came up empty and caught a taxi through the congested maze towards the ancient citidel and historic downtown of Amman.

    We ate outside the Citadel at a place with roasting chickens outside and a sandwich bar inside. We clumsily worked our way upstairs to the dining area and fumbled our way through a menu before being presented with falafels, hummus, pita, and a plate of hot peppers. A filling, and much appreciated meal that came to about JD2 for the both of us.

    The sky was Grey and hazy as we climbed the stairs to the Citadel, a wind had come up, but there was only a little chill in the polluted air that swept past. We walked through streets of poor children, a first prolonged encounter with the millions of impoverished residents of Amman. The gates of the Citadel were open and we strode through the limestone ruins looking out on the city, small scenes and wide vistas showing the breadth and vivid scale of life in Amman.

    Darci called Scott, the guy that had prompted this expedition and we met outside a grand mausoleum before walking towards the exit. At this point we were accosted by the first of a trail of children that wanted their picture taken, and some money for their troubles if they could manage it. I spent the next half an our repeatedly bending down to snap and then show the shots to my eager audience. Their enthusiasm was both inspiring and at times disconcerting. By the end of it I was hoping only to escape without provoking a fight amongst the children or a harsh reproach from an adult.

    As we returned to street level, I made the first of my navigational errors and set us off walking, what should have been the reasonable distance to home but turned out to be the distant outskirts of the city. In our hours long trek, we passed the royal court and got thoroughly worn out. When we discovered our mistake it was a good fifteen minute cab ride to home, a journey not aided by the fact that I misremembered the name of our mosque and took us by King Hussein Mosque before finally setting foot near home. Exhausted, we thoroughly enjoyed dinner and got to bed early for the first day of classes on Sunday.