1) There is a kid in our program named Matt Baird. This name is rather unfortunate because "maat" in Arabic means "he died", and "baird" means "cold". So his name, Matt Baird, translates as "he died cold" in Arabic. Every time he tells an Arab his name, they either bust out laughing or think they misheard.
2) One of the first days I was here, I accidentally called somebody a really horrible name in Arabic. I was talking with some Shabaab (a gang of guys who sit around and make fun of each other) and was intending on calling the guy a "humar" (donkey) in Arabic, because that is how this group of Shabaab refer to each other. But I mispronounced the word and said something close to the word , but the vowels were off (I think that it was something like "Hamur" or something). The kid got this look in his eyes like he was going to hurt me, then he gave me a lecture about how I should never use that word, taught me the correct pronunciation of "donkey", and then shook my hand and acted like nothing had ever happened. It was a close call.
3) A girl in our group had hiccups, so I offered her some water and told here to drink it with her head upside down. This didn't work. So a few minutes later I jumped in my chair and startled here to which she screamed. The hiccups were gone, but this guy came running out of his office thinking that I was trying to rape her or something. We tried to explain to him what had happened, but he was still really confused, and still thought that I'd done something to her. Then one of the guys we were sitting with (it was actually Matt Baird who was mentioned in item #1)just happened to know the word for hiccups in Arabic so we could explain to the guy what happened, to which he laughed, said "salamtik" (your peace), and walked away. This was another close call.
4) My roommate and I met a guy who told us about a history book about the United States that said that a U.S. president was assassinated for making a speech in which he said that Jews should be kept from immigrating to the United States. We thought this sounded pretty fishy, something that we would read in the "al-haqqiqa" tabloid we read every week for one of our classes, but the guy insisted that he had read it in a history book. So he got my roommate's phone number and called us back yesterday with the book in hand and told us that "President Benjamin Franklin the 3rd" was the one who was assassinated. We insisted that this person was not a president. After doing some research on the internet, I have come to the conclusion that there was never a "Benjamin Franklin the 3rd" in the first place.
5) The Arabic language is wierd because the written language is universally understood by all Arabs, but the every-day spoken language changes drastically from region to region. In the United States they taught us the universaly written form and the egyptian spoken language because it is the most commonly understood form of sproken arabic. So when we showed up in our host family, they thought it was so funny they we spoke like egyptians. The mom especially keeps saying things to us in Egyptain Arabic and laughing. We are slowly exchanging our Egyptian accent for a Jordanian accent, but people still think it's really funny or "cute".
6) This is old, but I was just thinking about recently. When we were in Egypt, one of our guides kept using the expression "too many" to express what native speakers of English mean when they say "a lot". It was funny because he would say stuff like "there are too many pyramids here in Egypt" when he wanted to say "there are a lot of pyramids here in Egypt". In english, the expression "too many" is used in the negative sense, but he never used the expression this way. He also pronounced everything according to Egyptian Arabic pronunciation rules in which only two consununts can be pronounced at the same time, so "words" would be pronounced "wordes", or "mosques" would be pronounced "mosqes".
7) I was talking with my host brother Yazan, and somehow we started talking about the meaning of the word "satanic". He then informed me that people who like disco dancing are satanic. Apparently, a bunch of people in Amman got together and had a "satanic disco party", and were subsequently arrested. I thought he must have been mistranslating, so I did a little disco dance with my left hand on my hip and right finger pointing up and then down to see if he knew what dsico really was, to which he said, "yes, this is disco. It is very satanic."
8) To get to the University of Jordan everyday, my roomate and I take a taxi to a prominent intersection where we meet up with a girl from our program and then take a bus. Every few days the bus drivers keep trying to charge us more because we are foreigners. This is illegal and we usually just sit down and ignore them. So we were here at the University for a week in between semesters here at the University, and therefore hardly anybody here and limited bus service. When we finished class we walked out in front and there was one #3 bus (the one that we take) sitting there, so we started walking towards it. When we got close to it, the number on the bus changed to #16 out of no where. We stood there confused, and decided that we should probably just take a taxi home instead. As we turned and started walking away, this guy ran out of the bus towards us and asked us where we were going. We told him, and he said that the bus would go there. We got on, and he asked for more than the normal fair, so we said thanks and walked away. Then another guy came out of the bus after us, probably his son, and asked us why we weren't going to take it, to which we told him we normally pay less. He said we should pay the normal fair, but the driver was really bitter about it. We were the only people on the bus besides the driver and his son. The driver then turned the number on the bus back to #3. We sat on the bus for about twenty minutes and only one other person got on. A bunch of people started congrogating on the curb in front of the bus, and when a #16 bus showed up, they all got on. Our driver got out and started arguing with someone. He was pretty mad and kept walking in circles shouting at someone on his cellphone. Still, no one else got on the bus. It seemes to us that the driver had known that a lot of people would be going on the #16 route, but changed it to #3 because he thought he would get more for taking some foreigners, but we ended up paying the normal fair. Then only one other perosn got on his bus, so he was mad. After we had been on the bus for almost forty-five minutes, he drove all four of us, but he was incrediblly ticked.
9) For some reason, Arabs have a really hard time pronouncing my name. I have no idea why because the sounds in "bruce" are all found in Arabic. I often hear people say my name like "press" or "buush" or one of my teachers always says "mosh". My favorite one though is "brush".
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Sana Hilwa Ya Gamiil (Happy Birthday)
My days in Jordan keep ticking away.
Last Thursday was my host brother Rami's birthday. To celebrate we went to our relatives house where the whole extended family usually congregates. There house is really interesting because it is a huge apartment building where they have an apartment downstairs, but then they have a huge penthouse on the roof with a kitchen, living room, and giant patio with a great view of West Amman. The extended family is also hosting four other students so they were there also. It started out as just a bunch of people sitting around, but then someone turned on the Arab Techno CD and the younger members of the family started dancing. It was an interesting cultural experience to see how an extended Palestinian family works.
On Friday I went to church. After church I was supposed to go hang out with Anwar and the guys, but I wasn't sure how it was going to fit into my schedule. Me and Nikki ended up going to the internet cafe straight after church. The taxi driver tried to rip us off by telling us that the meter was slow so we really owed him twice as much money for the fare. When we showed up, Anwar said "today we have a special trip planned. We're going to Madaba and then the Dead Sea "Panorma". So we drove to Madaba ate at a really expensive restuarnat, and then drove for another 45 minutes through the Jordanian hinter lands to building perched on some cliffs overlooking the dead sea. It was amazing. The weather jumped from the nice 70 degrees in Amman to 90 something. At that point we were closer to Jerusalem than Amman.
When I got back from our little day excursion, I went with my host brothers to pick up our host sister at their aunts house. This what I thought was going to be a 15 minute trip turned into an hour and a half visit to their aunts. We ended up watching a really popular Turkish soap opera called Noor and eating a second dinner. All the weight I lost last winter from mono is going to come back after living with a Jordanian family for a few months. There is always so much food and it is rude not to finish everything on your plate. I'm also really worried about my sugar intake. I don't have very many opportunities to walk or exercise that much here and everything is coated in sugar or high in carbs.
Saturday morning I got a phone call from Ryan telling me that him and Shea were going to go to the ancient Roman city of Jerash in an hour. I needed to take my passport so I started looking all over for it, but it wasn't there. I practically tore my room apart and researched my bags over and over again, but still no passport. Then I decided to look through my shoulder bag one more time and found my passport, debit card, and emergency 50JD bill tucked into a secret pocket behind another secret pocket that I'd forgotten about. We were thus late. So my roommate Seth and I went over to "C-Town", a Wal-Mart type super-store, to wait for them and the five other people who would be going with us. I also went there to register my phone number with the phone company because there is a new law here in Jordan that everyone's phone line must be registered under somebody's name. They say this is to aid the police in cracking down on harassing calls, but it is also probably a measure to help track terrorism. But only two other people were there. I think we ended up waiting at C-town for an hour and a half, by which time we didn't feel like going to Jerash anymore because it was hotter than usual that day. By the time Ryan and Shea finally showed up (they got caught trying to work through poor customer relations at Mecca Mall's phone number registration outlet)they still wanted to go. We ended up going and taking a really sketchy minibus than couldn't go any faster than 50 miles an hour. When we got there, me and the four other people with University of Jordan resident cards got in for 50 fils (75 cents), while the two girls who hadn't gotten their cards yet payed 8JD ($14). The city was pretty cool, but the heat was a major downer. At one place, a bunch of Bedouin guys came out and started playing bagpipes. We were really surprised when they started playing the melody to "Praise to the Man who communed with Jehovah", apparently it is a Scottish folk song. We stood aways and took pictures, and then left really quickly so that they wouldn't ask for "bashiish" (tips). We somehow found a bus back home, but the bus was more expensive because the way back was mostly uphill. When we got back to Amman we went to the infamous Matam Hashem where the waiter spilled olive oil on me. That night we went back to our host Aunt's house and ate more of the left over cake from the birthday party and watched another episode from the Turkish soap opera "noor".
On Monday we went to the police office to register our Visas. Last time I was in Jordan, we didn't do this, and were prohibited from leaving the country until we paid 40JD. At the police station, we went into a room and the guy took our passports, stamped them, asked for our address and phone number, and then wrote something in it. What he wrote is our Visa number. Today, we were informed that we need to give our Visa numbers to our program director, but when I looked inside, I could hardly decifer it. I asked an Arab guy to read it and he said that one of the numbers could be a 4 or a 6. That is just how stuff here works.
Last Thursday was my host brother Rami's birthday. To celebrate we went to our relatives house where the whole extended family usually congregates. There house is really interesting because it is a huge apartment building where they have an apartment downstairs, but then they have a huge penthouse on the roof with a kitchen, living room, and giant patio with a great view of West Amman. The extended family is also hosting four other students so they were there also. It started out as just a bunch of people sitting around, but then someone turned on the Arab Techno CD and the younger members of the family started dancing. It was an interesting cultural experience to see how an extended Palestinian family works.
On Friday I went to church. After church I was supposed to go hang out with Anwar and the guys, but I wasn't sure how it was going to fit into my schedule. Me and Nikki ended up going to the internet cafe straight after church. The taxi driver tried to rip us off by telling us that the meter was slow so we really owed him twice as much money for the fare. When we showed up, Anwar said "today we have a special trip planned. We're going to Madaba and then the Dead Sea "Panorma". So we drove to Madaba ate at a really expensive restuarnat, and then drove for another 45 minutes through the Jordanian hinter lands to building perched on some cliffs overlooking the dead sea. It was amazing. The weather jumped from the nice 70 degrees in Amman to 90 something. At that point we were closer to Jerusalem than Amman.
When I got back from our little day excursion, I went with my host brothers to pick up our host sister at their aunts house. This what I thought was going to be a 15 minute trip turned into an hour and a half visit to their aunts. We ended up watching a really popular Turkish soap opera called Noor and eating a second dinner. All the weight I lost last winter from mono is going to come back after living with a Jordanian family for a few months. There is always so much food and it is rude not to finish everything on your plate. I'm also really worried about my sugar intake. I don't have very many opportunities to walk or exercise that much here and everything is coated in sugar or high in carbs.
Saturday morning I got a phone call from Ryan telling me that him and Shea were going to go to the ancient Roman city of Jerash in an hour. I needed to take my passport so I started looking all over for it, but it wasn't there. I practically tore my room apart and researched my bags over and over again, but still no passport. Then I decided to look through my shoulder bag one more time and found my passport, debit card, and emergency 50JD bill tucked into a secret pocket behind another secret pocket that I'd forgotten about. We were thus late. So my roommate Seth and I went over to "C-Town", a Wal-Mart type super-store, to wait for them and the five other people who would be going with us. I also went there to register my phone number with the phone company because there is a new law here in Jordan that everyone's phone line must be registered under somebody's name. They say this is to aid the police in cracking down on harassing calls, but it is also probably a measure to help track terrorism. But only two other people were there. I think we ended up waiting at C-town for an hour and a half, by which time we didn't feel like going to Jerash anymore because it was hotter than usual that day. By the time Ryan and Shea finally showed up (they got caught trying to work through poor customer relations at Mecca Mall's phone number registration outlet)they still wanted to go. We ended up going and taking a really sketchy minibus than couldn't go any faster than 50 miles an hour. When we got there, me and the four other people with University of Jordan resident cards got in for 50 fils (75 cents), while the two girls who hadn't gotten their cards yet payed 8JD ($14). The city was pretty cool, but the heat was a major downer. At one place, a bunch of Bedouin guys came out and started playing bagpipes. We were really surprised when they started playing the melody to "Praise to the Man who communed with Jehovah", apparently it is a Scottish folk song. We stood aways and took pictures, and then left really quickly so that they wouldn't ask for "bashiish" (tips). We somehow found a bus back home, but the bus was more expensive because the way back was mostly uphill. When we got back to Amman we went to the infamous Matam Hashem where the waiter spilled olive oil on me. That night we went back to our host Aunt's house and ate more of the left over cake from the birthday party and watched another episode from the Turkish soap opera "noor".
On Monday we went to the police office to register our Visas. Last time I was in Jordan, we didn't do this, and were prohibited from leaving the country until we paid 40JD. At the police station, we went into a room and the guy took our passports, stamped them, asked for our address and phone number, and then wrote something in it. What he wrote is our Visa number. Today, we were informed that we need to give our Visa numbers to our program director, but when I looked inside, I could hardly decifer it. I asked an Arab guy to read it and he said that one of the numbers could be a 4 or a 6. That is just how stuff here works.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
The Zabalawis
Here is the situation I'm in right now: I live with a really nice family. I love them and I already feel at home with them. For the last few nights I have sat around with them and just talked about random stuff for hours. Their last name is Zabalawi. The dad is a translator by profession, but dosen't work right now. The mom's name is Hana and she is a stay at home mom. The oldest son is named Rami and he works at HSBC bank. The next ldest so is named Yazan and he is studying music education at the Jordanian academy of music. The youngest is a 14 year old girl named Layal. We have an interesting thing going on because our host mom's sisters are also hosting students from our program, so we go over to their houses everyonce in awhile. Everyone in the family speaks some English. One of the sons will only talk to me in English. The daughter is really into Magic tricks, so everynight she does a couple new tricks for me.
I now have a completly different perspective on language. I think it is amazing that we as humans can communicate to eachother what we do in our native languages. I thought I knew so much more Arabic than I actually do. Arabic is especially hard because there are always two differnt ways to say something, but in Jordanian Arabic, there are multiple ways to say something since there is such a borad range of different dialects from the Palestinians, Beduins, Syrians, and Iraqis who all live here.
As I said before, we live pretty far away from the university. So every day we take a 35 cent Taxi ride to an intersection and then take a 50 cent bus ride to the University. It takes over an hour by bus what would probably take 30 minutes by Taxi but would cost 1.40 a person each way. The biggest problem for us in doing this is making sure we have small enough change. The ATM gives us 20JD and 50JD notes, but nobody has change for these unless you buy something around the price of the note. If your taxi ride is 1.2JD and you give the driver a 5JD note, he most likely can't give you change. It is a huge pain.
In other news though, I had my first writting appointment yesterday and my writting teacher turned out to be one of my old teachers from two years ago. I was supprissed that she recognised me on the spot. My classes are going better, but I'm always really tired during class for some reason and have a hard time paying attention. One of the nespapers we read each week is called "Al-Haqiiqa" ("the fact" in english) and it is pretty much a tabloid...but a political tabloid. It is kind of like readin the national enquirer to learn how to read english newspapers, except that Al-Haqiiqa is a step up from the national enquirer...but only a step. Each issue talks about Zionist-Ameican conspiracies to destroy the Al-Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem. This week, there was an article about how some organization called "the messanger of allah unites us" was promoting the ban of Dutch-Danish products (I couldn't think of anything importnat that they would ban besides those Danish cookies that come in the circular tins. I love stuff like this. I look forward to reading Al-Haqiiqa each week. Also, the maps here don't have Israel marked or an Israeli flag. We started playing a game with people here in our program where we would take them to a map in the attrium of the language center and tell them to look for a couple countries flags first, and then ask them to find Israel...which they can't because it dosen't exist according to the map company.
I now have a completly different perspective on language. I think it is amazing that we as humans can communicate to eachother what we do in our native languages. I thought I knew so much more Arabic than I actually do. Arabic is especially hard because there are always two differnt ways to say something, but in Jordanian Arabic, there are multiple ways to say something since there is such a borad range of different dialects from the Palestinians, Beduins, Syrians, and Iraqis who all live here.
As I said before, we live pretty far away from the university. So every day we take a 35 cent Taxi ride to an intersection and then take a 50 cent bus ride to the University. It takes over an hour by bus what would probably take 30 minutes by Taxi but would cost 1.40 a person each way. The biggest problem for us in doing this is making sure we have small enough change. The ATM gives us 20JD and 50JD notes, but nobody has change for these unless you buy something around the price of the note. If your taxi ride is 1.2JD and you give the driver a 5JD note, he most likely can't give you change. It is a huge pain.
In other news though, I had my first writting appointment yesterday and my writting teacher turned out to be one of my old teachers from two years ago. I was supprissed that she recognised me on the spot. My classes are going better, but I'm always really tired during class for some reason and have a hard time paying attention. One of the nespapers we read each week is called "Al-Haqiiqa" ("the fact" in english) and it is pretty much a tabloid...but a political tabloid. It is kind of like readin the national enquirer to learn how to read english newspapers, except that Al-Haqiiqa is a step up from the national enquirer...but only a step. Each issue talks about Zionist-Ameican conspiracies to destroy the Al-Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem. This week, there was an article about how some organization called "the messanger of allah unites us" was promoting the ban of Dutch-Danish products (I couldn't think of anything importnat that they would ban besides those Danish cookies that come in the circular tins. I love stuff like this. I look forward to reading Al-Haqiiqa each week. Also, the maps here don't have Israel marked or an Israeli flag. We started playing a game with people here in our program where we would take them to a map in the attrium of the language center and tell them to look for a couple countries flags first, and then ask them to find Israel...which they can't because it dosen't exist according to the map company.
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