The Good, The Bad and The Funny: Jordan

Here are just a few general remarks on life in Jordan :)

Men. There are good days and there are bad days. On a good day, a Facebook message saying things like this makes me laugh :

“I love all the stars in the sky, but they are nothing compared to the ones in your eyes!, ...... Only I need to know are you still single???.. ???..... i am looking for making a relationship..... i hope you like me ……...i want to be your real friend if you do not mind ....i live at Amman .... i see your photos... if you do not mind let us know each other first at internet ... ...i have master degree with Electronic Commerce ... …I will tell you more about me …. …I like your photo very much …. I will do anything for making you happy, ...if you need any help,, I am ready to give you my hand…… you are more beautiful than moon, i can not forget your eyes... There are 20 angels in the world,…..10 are playing,…..9 are sleeping,…..1 is reading this message…. Please add me and reply me soon ..... if you are not single please accept my apology .... god bless you .... thank.. “ (Wadaa Salim, 13^th July)

So do random love declaration, grammatically incorrect remarks. However, the constant starring, the kissing noises, the 'tstststs', the 'are you married?' are exhausting, especially on a bad day. That is one thing I haven't got used to in the four months I have been here, it annoys me just as much as on the first day. There are a few ways around some of the things, but they are pretty inefficient. You can dress modestly, but unless you're hiding under a ninja outfit, they won't leave you in peace. What I find amusing is to tell taxi drivers various stories when they question me. The one I use most is the one where I am married to a Jordanian from Irbid and have a son called Mohammed. If you wonder why I don't just ignore their questions, well, there are two reasons. First, I feel it's impolite (even if I know it is ok not to answer, I just can't help to feel rude) and also, taxi drivers are the only ones who speak in Arabic to me.

One could probably write a book on taxis in Amman. In summer, a silent 'masha'Allah' crosses your lips when a Taxi with closed windows stops: it has air conditioning! The others have a different way of “creating” air conditioning: they drive as fast as they can while leaving all windows open. The only problem: the increased traffic in summer, thanks to all the khalijis (people from the Gulf) who are enjoying the “cool” Ammani climate! What I love about taking taxis, is the way one gives directions. No one knows street names. In fact I have no clue about the name of the street I have lived on for three months. Not that I ever needed it. I was once asked at border control, as I was re-entering Jordan, what my address was. I had no idea - I just told them my neighbourhood- Al-Yasmeen. To get to a certain place in Amman, it is necessary to indicate a landmark near the place you want to go, unless you're lucky enough to be going to an obvious place, such as city mall or a specific hotel. In the vicinity of that landmark, you need to indicate to the driver where it is you want to go. The great thing about that is the fluency you acquire in taxi arabic. I can convince a taxi driver to go on a one way street, explaining that there is no traffic and that it is only a short bit, but I can only buy about 6 different fruits and vegetables without pointing.

Another means of transportation I enjoy is the bus. I have taken the one to Jerash many times and it has helped me to become more patient. The way it works is that the bus leaves when it's full, knowing that there are about 20 seats. Sometimes you're lucky, sometimes you're not. The unpredictability can be mish kwayyis. (not good)

The recent uprisings in the Arab world have confused people back home even more I feel. Nothing major happened in Jordan. At the various demonstrations that occurred during my time here, quite a number of protesters were beaten up, but nothing severely threatened the regime. I usually avoided risky areas such as downtown after friday prayer, so I haven't seen much. Just police getting ready on Friday morning in the balad, various protests in front of the Prime Ministry at fourth circle and protests in front of the Syrian embassy, back in May and June, when people cared.

Before I got to Jordan, I was so excited about the food! I figured I would put on a stone ( I rather lost a few kilos – due to a various digestion issues) . Hummus, falafel, tabbouleh and so on being the standard dishes in most places, become less exciting and are only convincing when they are really good. I know I will miss them at some point, probably when I will be facing toad in a hole, smothered chicken and fish and chips on a menu. The traditional Jordanian dish is Mansaf.(Wiki page: Mansaf ). The best Mansaf I've eaten was the one the women in the camp prepared. Jabri's is nothing compared to that! My favourite drink in the Middle East is Lemon and Mint. It is simply the best. It is refreshing, helps you digest and goes with anything. If, however, you are a fan of Coca-Cola, you will have difficult moments in Jordan, where Pepsi is the leader on the market. It was always a moment of exhilaration whenever a shop sold real coke. And although some might deny it: Pepsi is no Coke! (even when you are really REALLY thirsty!)

Getting dressed in Jordan was one of the most annoying things. It was hot enough to walk around in a swimsuit and yet, better cover your elbows and knees. I have never dressed that much for other people as I have in Jordan. Although you get used to knowing what is acceptable and what is not in certain neighbourhoods of Amman, I often checked with a friend whether I was dressed appropriately enough. I am looking forward to the UK, where you can wear whatever you want, because there will always be someone weirder.

One of the most frustrating things in Jordan was service. Most expats complain about it. In shops or restaurants, there is either one guy, who is really slow and totally overwhelmed or there are five guys and they are totally inefficient, because they are either all helping you or none is helping you. Waiters in restaurants generally never deserve tip and client satisfaction is a notion that is lacked in many places. Of course, in some restaurants and cafés people were friendly and effective, but they were the exception.

My favourite time of the day in Jordan is sunset, especially if you are sitting at Old View Café in Jebel Amman. The city is slowly infused in a myriad of orange, yellow and pink tones. Kids are flying kites. Trained pigeons are flying in circles and the call for prayer starts all over the city. It's divine.

My favourite experience in Jordan was meeting the women at the Gaza refugee camp. I went there several times to teach English in a gym. Sometimes they were 20, sometimes 7, but they were always the most genuine and nicest people I have met in Jordan. I didn't feel like a stranger in their group as we talked about life, food, sports or clothes. I found the female solidarity I was looking for in the Middle East. It broke my heart when I had to say goodbye and if anything will make me come back to Jordan, it is what I found in the camp.

My Palestinian experience

I have two Palestinian stories to tell...

Palestinians in Jordan

When you take the bus from the North Station in Amman to Jerash and you don't stop at the ruins, like all the other tourists, but you stay on the bus, you will get to where I am going every week this month: Ghaza Camp or Jerash Camp.

This is what UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East) tells you about the camp: 

Jerash refugee camp

Jerash camp was set up as an "emergency" camp in 1968 for 11,500 Palestine refugees and displaced persons who left the Gaza Strip as a result of the 1967 Arab-Israeli war. It is known locally as Gaza camp.

The camp covers an area of 0.75 square kilometres and is situated 5km from the famous Roman ruins of Jerash. After 1967 UNRWA quickly set up facilities for food aid, sanitation, health services and education.

In order to withstand the harsh winters, the original 1,500 tents were replaced with prefabricated shelters.

Between 1968 and 1971, 2,000 shelters were built with support from emergency donations. Over the years, many of the camp’s inhabitants have replaced the prefabs with more durable concrete shelters. Many roofs are still made of corrugated zinc and asbestos sheets, which can cause diseases such as cancer.

Statistics

• More than 24,000 registered refugees
• One women’s programme centre
• Four schools in two double-shift buildings
• One food distribution centre
• One health centre
• One community-based rehabilitation centre
• One camp development office

Major problems

• Poverty
• Overcrowded
• High unemployment
• Around 3 in 4 shelters are not suitable for accommodation because of structural problems.

Link

Fact sheets may speak the truth but are far from drawing the full picture. Imagine walking in extreme heat up the hill between small concrete huts. Some kids run past you, screaming 'hello' or the occasional 'I love you'. The smell of the open sewage system makes you feel slightly dizzy. In the middle of the street, a little canal is supposed to lead all the sewage somewhere, but the sewage doesn't flow very often. Water is scarce. 

A lot of people of Jordan are not (or do not want to be) aware of the situation. They know of the existence of camps but ignore where they are and what is going on there. In Gaza camp, things are very difficult, because the vast majority of refugees come from Gaza or areas around Beersheba and have flown during the Arab Israeli war of 1967. This means that they are not recognised as being citizens of former Jordan, when it still included the West Bank and thus they are not entitled to the Jordanian citizenship, which entails a lot of other problems: There are only a few professions that are allowed to them, they cannot vote and they have to pay university fees of foreigners, which are much higher than the national ones.

It seems to me sometimes that Jordanians defend their Palestinian brothers when it's to their advantage, but at other times it is easy to ignore their plight. I have talked to quite a few who don't seem to care so much about the Palestinians' hardship and it's not uncommon to hear Jordanian voices being raised on how invasive the Palestinians have become. This is of course ridiculous considering the fact that the vast majority of successful business men and millionaires in Jordan are in fact of Palestinian descent. The country wouldn't have got as far as it has without the Palestinians.

Luckily there are some people who do care. Great initiatives have been taking place. For example The Gaza Camp Summer Camp and the Women's catering service, whose food has been judged by many (including me) as the best food they have eaten in Jordan.

Palestinians in Palestine

I ventured to cross the Jordanian-Israeli border a second time and it was a lot more hassle than the first time. Apparently I was considered as “suspicious”, that's why we had to wait half an eternity, while they had our passports until a very grumpy woman called me in. Waiting in the daunting corridor, doors being slammed by by-passing security in a horrible neon light was pretty grim. After a while the grumpy woman called me in, asked me all sorts of weird questions about what I was doing in Amman, whether I was part of a Human Rights group and what I thought of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. She screened my bag thoroughly, taking out EVERY clothes item I had and going through each of my photos on my camera. She looked at my diary, luckily I write it in German- so she couldn't understand it.

The whole process can be summarized in the rather pertinent German term 'Schikane', which means as much as bullying and harassment. When I look at how we, as European and American citizens, are treated, I cannot imagine how difficult the crossing can be for the Palestinians who try to go to Palestine every month or every week, to see their families or to continue to do business. A lot of stories exist on what sick procedures the Israelis come up with, whether it is to make you sit in one of their cells, waiting for 4 or 5 hours or to alternatively strip you down to your underwear and make you wait. They would not dare doing that to a Westerner and if a Palestinian would speak up, they would just never let him in again. When in Israel, I had to think of a book I came across some years back. It is a cartoon novel, about the Holocaust, it is called Maus. It is a very good reading. Its specificity lies in the fact that it depicts the Nazis as cats and the Jews as mice. Now I can't help but having flashbacks of Europe between 1933 and 1945. Have the mice become cats? In Hebron, there is a graffiti left by Israelis saying “Gas the Arabs“. When I saw this, I felt like throwing up. What kind of person wants such history to repeat itself? How can ANYONE, anyone, who has probably lost family members in the gas chambers of Auschwitz, want this to happen to another human being? How? I can't see how you can be human and say such a thing. When I went to the Auschwitz-Birkenau Camp, there were many Israelis. Isn't one of the teachings of such a visit: “Never Again”?

A shopkeeper in Hebron repairing the protections.

On my second day in Palestine, I visited Hebron. We arrived on a busy street, that looked a bit like Madaba in Jordan. Nothing special, a few shops, cars, people, life... A few hundred meters down the street however, things started to look differently. We reached the old city of Hebron. The streets were very picturesque, some shops were closed. It being a Friday, we didn't suspect anything. Above the street, there were nets, metal grids and tarpaulins. On top of these, there were bricks, plastic bags, old vegetables and all sort of rubbish. Turns out the Israeli settlers living upstairs were throwing these things onto the shopping streets.

A Palestinian tour guide picked us up as we were looking at the streets... we didn't see any other foreigners apart from the settlers in Hebron. He lives off showing around the few tourists that come to Heron, and he has another job: As he lives in the occupied part of the city, the H2 part, he is able to cross the check-points. In the morning and in the afternoon, he accompanies the children from the H1 part to the school and back, as it lies in the H2 part. In the past, settlers were throwing rotten and old vegetables as well as eggs at the children who were going to school. Now, the community makes sure that there is always someone protecting the children.

We crossed the check points and as Westerners, we were allowed to enter the synagogue and see the tombs of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob and Leah. These tombs are the 'reason' why the Israelis decided to occupy this part of Palestine. Even in the synagogue there are soldiers with what I would qualify as big guns. I have never entered a church, where anyone was holding a weapon. If soldiers are necessary inside a holy place, then you probably did something wrong! In the H2 part, there are a few settlements, which hold in total about 400 settlers in the town itself. Outside the town, there are 200 more settlers. To ensure their security, 2000 – yes, two thousand- soldiers are stationed in Hebron. There is no sane way of understanding this.

In the H2 part, the streets are empty. Not because it is so hot in July, but because only the settlers, the soldiers, the other foreigners and the few Palestinians, who live in the H2 part, are allowed to walk there. The Palestinians were forced to leave during the Second Intifada (2000-2005) and the shops were forced to close. The welded doors do not lie.

But the question that bugged me most and that you might ask yourself as well: Who are these settlers?

Do they work? No. They get paid by the Israeli government. Where are they from? According to our guide mainly from New York and Washington. Why do they come? They get paid a lot of money, they have near to no expenses and all they do is pray and throw things at Palestinians. The more they hassle the Arabs, the happier the Israeli government it seems. What kind of people they are? I have no idea. I cannot fathom their minds... Of the few settlers we saw, most were young parents. Most settlers stay for a few years and save money.

 The Checkpoint

Empty streets? Well, most Palestinians aren't allowed to walk here.

The burnt down bus station 

The Western Wall: Did anyone write "Free Palestine" on one of these?

Our guide said at the end of our visit: “I don't have a problem with the Israelis or the Jews, I just don't like settlers.” 

'Smile! You're in Beirut, not in Abidjan!'

My weekend tripping in the Middle East had to include Beirut of course. I was there for work twice, but had some time to get the flair of the city as well as Jounieh, where I stayed during my second job assignment in Lebanon.

Lebanon is amazing. Coming from Amman, it appeared to be really liberal and very Western. Also, the fact that Beirut lies on the Mediterranean sea just makes this city a delightful place. I particularly liked the welcome greeting from a tea-selling gentleman: “Smile! You're in Beirut, not in Abidjan!” (At the time, post-civil war Ivory Coast was making the headlines.)

Sunset on the road to Jbeil

We walked from Hamra, where we were staying, to Downtown, along the beautiful streets. A few destroyed buildings, vestiges from the civil war, had caught our eye on the way from the airport, but what struck us in the city itself was the presence of so much military: they were everywhere! (just like cedar trees!) Also we couldn't access part of the pedestrian area because demonstrations were announced. Afterwards an AUB professor explained to me that they tend to close up that part even if only ten people end up demonstrating.

Beirut is beautiful. One cannot deny it. The first time I was not sure if I would abandon my Amman for it. Somehow Amman had grown on me, in the one month I had lived there, but now, with a little more perspective, I start considering Beirut as a possible future home!

For now it is an opportunity to to get away from a quite conservative society and show a little bit of skin! My first thought when I saw a young Lebanese woman wearing a tank top was “Girl, you're practically naked!” Also to see people kissing on the streets made me feel slightly uncomfortable at first. What has Jordan done to me? :)

Other places, that I can really recommend are Jbeil (or Byblos) and the Jeita Grotto. Jbeil is a very cute sea port, where you can visit the castle ruins, which look amazing, especially at sunset. There are plenty of bars and restaurants along the Souq and the atmosphere is generally relaxed. In Jeita, we visited a stalactite cave, which was really impressive, even before we entered the actual cave. Indeed, Jeita Grotto is located in the mountains, not too far from the coast though, and the hills are covered in Green! It looks like paradise, because two and a half months in the desert make you miss green nature: pastures, fields, the grass chewing cows of Normandy, a little stream and... I should stop, because even if I have a little home sickness, my appreciation for the Middle East hasn't waned !

Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen treeeeeeeeeeeeeees

In Lebanon, we stayed in a Christian area, which is distinctive by certain religious pictures (including photos of the pope), frequent statues of Holy Mary, no muezzin who wakes you up in the morning and also skin: hot pants and bare shoulders! It really feels like Europe and the easiness of life felt good.

When I boarded the plane back to Amman, I could already feel the melancholy. I don't know when I will return to Lebanon, but I know I will come back and I dearly hope that it will be soon!

Petra, Aqaba and the Dead Sea

Right now I'm writing from the terrace at the well known Books@Cafe in Amman, where some jazzy tunes accompany the beautiful view onto one of Amman's hills. It is nearly mid-June and the days are now becoming quite hot, people stay up late and every morning I wake up to a sunny day. I want to use this rather relaxed Saturday to portray my recent escapades around the country.

There is one thing, a visitor of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan cannot miss out on. Petra. In fact, from the moment I knew I was coming to live here, people started telling me “You have to go to Petra!“ It's the biggest thing in the country and the developments of the historical site, financed to a large extend by USAID, have created a real hype. OF COURSE I was going to go there. After the 20^th “Are you going to visit Petra“ I nearly wanted to shoot myself. I mean, would you ask someone who is planning on living in France, whether he or she will see the Eiffel Tower? Or would you ask: “Are you going to eat Tapas in Spain?”. Anyway, when I got here, the question became: “Have you been to Petra?“. After all this pressure, I am so glad that I can say: “I have been to Petra“ and I can also expose the banalities that every visitor is able to produce, qualifying the site of beautiful, mind-blowing, huge, hot, amazing... Indeed it is an incredible place, but allow me just to say how fed up I am with hearing people talk about it. This is why I am just going to do a few remarks on the place, and for more information, well GO THERE!

  Petra

A Frenchman we met there described Petra to be beyond everything: beyond time, beyond civilisation, beyond imagination... Indeed. It's difficult to believe that this used to be a flourishing city, while you are roasting on the way up to the superb views in the mountains. It is truly amazing and in my opinion, it's worth going for three days and just enjoy hiking around the place, because during the weekend we spent there, we were only able to see the main parts of it. Also, I might be interested in history, but I have a threshold when it comes to the intake of information. Thus, the thing I enjoyed most was being outside, with magnificent weather... 30° degrees sunshine (a bit cooler would have been even better). Hiking in such a beautiful place is incredible and my favourite spot of it all is what they call “The view of the end of the world“: beyond the Monastery, there is a spot in the mountains where you see the beginning of the desert and it just appears that if you continue walking, beyond the horizon you will fall of the earth. It is just magnificent.

A week later, I had the opportunity to see a bit more of south Jordan, especially the major coast city of the country: Aqaba. Although it is a beach resort, society there remains quite conservative because of its close ties with Saudi Arabia, only a dozen miles away. At the Red Sea, there is not much to do but lie at the beach, go snorkelling, scuba diving and enjoy other leisure activities. On top of that, the city is in a 'Special Economic Zone' so that especially alcohol and cigarettes are particularly cheap, which is quite an incentive to a lot of people every year!

Sunset on the Dead Sea

Jordan is also a great place for beautiful panoramas, especially the breathtaking canyons leading to the Dead Sea, which are called Wadis. However, getting around can become a pain when you miss a road and the lack of signs does not help in that matter! It can easily mean a 60km detour but for us it was an opportunity to accidentally drive past incredible views, that you don't find in any guide. Then in the vicinity of the Dead Sea, there is Mount Nebo where Moses is said to have seen the Promised Land before dying without ever reaching it. The view is beautiful there and at night you can see the lights of Amman in the East and the lights of Jerusalem in the West. On our bible-themed day, we also visited the Baptism Site, where John the Baptist is said to have baptised Jesus. The most impressive aspect of the site, in my opinion, is that the size of the Jordan river has been quite reduced, mostly because of Israeli irrigation policies upstream. This means that at the Baptism site, you are only standing ten feet away from Palestine. You can see some of the churches of Jericho! The distance in physical terms is ludicrous compared to the distance in constructive terms. However, the essential problem with the decreasing flow of the Jordan River is that the Dead Sea is slowly... well, dying. At the shore you can clearly see from the salt residues, where the water level used to be. A project of building a canal connecting the Red and the Dead Sea exists and it would reverse the shrinking of the latter. However, it also bears the name of Peace Canal, because regional cooperation is essential in its construction, but in the current climate, the project seems far from being realisable.

On a much lighter note, the Dead Sea is a perfect escape on weekends. From Amman, it takes about an hour to go to the lowest point on earth and then you can spend a day at the pool in the various hotels or beach complexes for about 20-40 JOD (20-40€) and spending a day in a bikini is a great bubble of oxygen!  

Kate and me at the pool bar...

Jerusalem, Bethlehem and a lot of buses

Last weekend I had the pleasure (and the courage!) to undertake a weekend trip to Jerusalem. I left my office in Amman (thanks to the generosity of my boss) at 2pm. The taxi to Tabarbour during Ammani rush hour was a pain, but then I had to wait another 45 minutes for the 'serveece' (shared taxi) to fill up. We were finally on the road to Jssr Almalak Alhussein (King Hussein Bridge or how it is called on the other side: Allenby Bridge). That was just the beginning... Then a first passport control on the Jordanian side, a very long and slow ride over the rather unspectacular King Hussein Bridge. Then a first, a second, a third and a fourth passport control, two luggage scanning and the according queues. Not to forget the very unfriendly “Why?!“ when I asked my passport not to be stamped.

There I was! Just a very expensive shared taxi ride away from Jerusalem. First sign to show me that we weren't in Jordan any more: “Please, put your seatbelts on!“ In Jerusalem, I walked along the dark streets, and despite my initial apprehension I felt rather safe. While I was waiting for my friends in a coffee shop, a very illuminated New Zealander interrupted me in my chilled latte sipping to talk to me about God, but Jerusalem was the last place on earth I would let myself be told that Christianity was the only way to heaven! Anyway, I was quite happy when my friends called me to let me know that they had also made it to Al-Quds, and it was time to explore the city, at least the bars and restaurants. Unluckily a thunderstorm and hail welcomed us.

On our first day we decided to wander the streets of the Old City, to see all the different quarters. It was a wonderful feeling to be walking again. Anyone who has been to Amman will have felt this need for walking, as in the Jordanian capital, it is not really a possibility: there are no pavements, the streets are broad so that you can't walk in the shadow of a building and anyway taxis are cheap. The many shops and small streets of the Old City made us feel like we were roaming around a post card. Our first thought was 'this is how I imagined the Middle East' and not the traffic, the dirt, the modern buildings we see every day! We went of course to see the wailing wall and the spirituality there was incredible.

However, unlike many visitors I did not succumb to the famous Jerusalem syndrome: no spiritual awakening. I thought that here out of all places I could have felt something, but surprisingly other places in the World have made me feel much more near to something divine. Then again a Jewish guy in our Hostel said that he had to look into the mirror every morning and tell himself that he was Jewish, as he saw so many people  of different faiths, who believed so strongly and whose experiences in Jerusalem were so incredible.

On day two we undertook a trip to Bethlehem in the West Bank and against every UN security statement we went by bus, which in these times of increasing tensions are the main target of extremists. Getting there was not a problem and I was amazed by Bethlehem. It is not very big, but it has a very nice city centre and after a delicious meal at Al-Hafteem we visited the Nativity Church. It is odd to see the context of a story you know since you are little. Jesus' birth is one of the first stories I ever heard and seeing the cave where it is supposed to have taken place was just unreal. It was like stepping into my little illustrated bible.

Then we saw another attraction of Bethlehem... the Wall. Being German, Walls bring up deep feelings, and seeing that wall just made me feel like vomiting. The Israeli soldiers were probably pointing their sniper at us from the watchtower. To get back to Jerusalem, we had to go through a checkpoint, that was described to us as still human, but it was so eerie. The worst was that the Palestinians were treated much more severely than us, the guard barely looked at my passport whereas the Palestinians were checked in detail and had to leave their finger prints.

In the evening we went to a bar in the New City of Jerusalem and suddenly it felt like being in another world. A world that looked a lot like ours. This bar could have been anywhere in Europe. How could all this make sense. The horror stories you hear about how Palestinians are treated and the bit you see of it versus the normalcy of life in new Jerusalem. Where are the bad guys?

The next day, we crossed part of the country and on our bus journeys we passed by so many IDFs: they were just teenagers with guns. One of them stuck her tongue out at my friend who works at UNRWA. Wow.

The journey back was incredibly long and difficult, accompanied by a little nervous breakdown of mine because of the stubbornness of the border police, the angry Italians and the enormous group of Koreans that somehow had priority.

It felt good to be back in Jordan.

Amman vs Dubai

During the Easter weekend I had the chance to come back to Dubai for a few days, but this time I had to realise that my perspective had changed, a lot.

Indeed coming from Jordan, my experience of Dubai was quite the opposite from what I had seen and felt a year ago. Everything was so much less conservative than in Jordan. You can walk around without having all the men staring at you although last year I found Dubai quite disturbing on that point.

The traffic, I recall, had seemed to be a huge mess and last Thursday, when I arrived, I found the traffic to be slow, quiet and even boring. Where was the honking, the spontaneous lane-building and the weird (or non-existent) priority system?

Also, I really experienced the arrogance and pride that lies all over Dubai. Just to illustrate the local mentality... you don't have to go grocery shopping. You can just stop in front of the grocery store, honk and wait for them to get out, ask for what you want and get it for you. One girl told me the battery of her phone had run out, so she had just bought a new phone for 100 AED (20 €) to make one phone call. People from Dubai don't seem surprised at that attitude; personally, I am. And I hope I will never think that way - I better not move to the Emirates then, cause apparently the system sucks you in!

the view from Medinat Jumeira

One day, the black gold will run out and this country will have enormous difficulties and I really do hope that they will start using the amazing power the region also has: the sun. Solar panels are still very expensive there, but Insh'allah some powerful and wealthy people will start to think responsibly. Not like the generations before them, who were taken by the same fever: to build even higher and even more luxurious, defeating every natural rule.

But however much money they will spend, my heart will always beat for Amman!

Al-Urduniyya

I'm sitting in a taxi, driving from first circle to Yasmeen, where I live. It is dark already and the warm breeze feels good on my skin. Amman is my new home: Somehow, I have woken up one morning considering all these strange new things as normalcy... the chaotic traffic, the car honking, the staring men, directing the taxi driver yameen (right) and shmal (left) to this or that duwwar (roundabout), hearing the Muezzin at 5am, hearing the usual „Kefek?“ „Shu Akhbarek“ „Kulshi Tammam“ etc. There also is the distinct (horrible) music the gas vending car makes or the amazing food... I have grown very fond of labane ( a form of thick white cheese) and za3ter (a thyme mix) and my everlasting love for cheese finds satisfaction in Halloum!

However, for a country where you hear “No problem, no problem” (with the accent it sounds more like 'no broblem, no broblem') all day long, things are really complicated. You can't really use public transport, because they not only give the directions only in Arabic ( and although I can read the script, I am still very slow, especially when it comes to reading a sign on a driving bus...) there are no clear bus stops (I'm not even talking about a map!): a random queue of people on the side of the road is generally a good sign indicating that a bus will stop here. At the beginning, I struggled a lot with this, because for me, all this was totally irrational, as many things here. Organisation works differently, even when it just concerns a few people and their plan to meet up. You spend more time discussing how you will organise than it takes for all of you to gather in one place. But to my greatest astonishment, things do work out in the end. All this made me acquire a great deal of patience!  أصبر الجميل  (Patience is beautiful)!

When coming here, I wasn't very sure what it meant to be a woman, living by herself in Jordan. At first I struggled to see the limits of security and the limits of appropriate behaviour. I started being overly careful, and I am sometimes still not sure if I am exaggerating with my apprehension. I can walk along the streets at night in Jebal Amman without thinking of any danger, but then a random cat that comes out of a dark corner scares the hell out of you and you feel confronted with your own vulnerability, not really knowing what to do with it. People from home always ask me what I wear and whether I wear a headscarf. Although a vast majority of girls do wear hijaabs and some women with niqaabs wander the streets of Amman, I don't feel weird by exposing my hair. However, I dress modestly, which means that I try to cover my legs down to half-calf at least and my arms below the elbow. Especially when you are going around by yourself using taxis, precaution is better. When I go out with a friend who has a car, I can allow myself to wear something shorter, although I have lost the appeal to it, I must say. Long clothes make you feel protected and comfortable.

I still feel like I have a lot to learn about the culture here and I often have these awkward moments. Such as yesterday, when my friend told me to dry my hair as wet hair was a sign of preceding adult activity...

Sunrise in Wadi Rum

I haven't talked about the country's beauty yet and it is something one must talk about! The several places I have seen here have made me hold my breath. The Dead Sea offers a beautiful and calm panorama, with amazing colours at sunset! The stones in the water shine in tones of red and orange as if they were from a different planet. Of course, every visitor has to get the floating experience but I did resist the picture with the newspaper in my hands. The taste of the water is awful though. I had imagined it to be just very salty but even very very very salty doesn't get near the taste experience that water represents. It is that salty that it gets bitter! Nothing you would want to cook your spaghetti in!

When we to drove south via Wadi Musa towards Aqaba, we passed by the most impressive panorama. We didn't have the time to stop at Petra, but I will go there eventually! Instead, we went to Wadi Rum, to spend a night in the desert alongside the (local?) Bedouins. It was also an opportunity to drive a 4x4 in the desert, to see the sunset illuminate the red landscape, to eat some traditional Bedouin food, to hear their songs, to collect wood, to make fire and to freeze during the night! The silence in the desert is truly impressive and the chant of the birds in the morning was beautiful. Somehow we decided that we wanted to do a camel tour and although it was one of the shortest of the ones they proposed, the pain I subsequently felt in my lower body has accompanied me back to Amman and has stayed with me for a few days!

Coming back to Amman was really a step back into civilisation after the desert! For me, it felt like coming home...

Amman

Hasta la vista!!!

As I am writing this I'm sitting on the plane taking me from Malaga to Birmingham :

This is my goodbye to Spain. I arrived about five months ago and a lot has happened since the moment I got my huge and heavy luggage out of the car to get them up three floor in the pension; but it feels like it was yesterday. I have met so many amazing and interesting people in my time here and I have seen wonderful places!


Recently I have done a little trip to Seville, where I visited Raf and Ned again and which enabled me to see some other places in Seville. I was actually really positively surprised by the Alcazar Palace. Having visited the Alhambra and actually seeing it every day has made me a bit smug and I didn't feel that I missed out in not discovering the Alcazar when we first visited Seville. Not only was it free, but it was truly beautiful! The gardens were astonishing and the palace itself shows a magnificent architecture. For any visit of Seville, I would definitely recommend this place.

Two days and an exam later, I went to Madrid with Biggi. We stayed with a couchsurfer, who luckily lived in Chueca, in the city centre. The wonderful location enabled us to discover the Spanish capital by foot. The perfect weather made the Retiro park such an enjoyable experience and after that we were off to the Prado. As we had booked the tickets online, we weren't aware of the fact that students from the European Union could enter for free, but the angry counter lady didn't want to refund us the money. However any expense in Madrid was justified by the fact that we were living for free...

The Rastro Flea Market wasn't as great as I had pictured it, as I was comparing it to Mauerpark in Berlin.(Yes, Berlin might also have made me a tad smug) There were mainly tourists and only a few stalls actually had good offers, like the 2€ jumper I purchased. I was also disappointed by the Plaza de Toros. The corrida building is very beautiful indeed, but not only was the (free) taurine Museum closed for works, the visit of the arena also cost 7 Euros, which was clearly too much. As we walked back, we stumbled upon a calligraphy exhibition in the Casa Arabe, which made up for the failure at the Plaza de Toros.

But let's get back to the good parts of the city, as indeed I found the stay extraordinary. We walked around in a more alternative quarter of the city, where the amount and diversity of bars and cafés were astonishing. The presence of street art reminded me of my dear Berlin and I instantly felt homey. I will always be a big-city-girl...

Cupcakes in Madrid

I am now left with melancholic thoughts about Granada - So many people and places I will miss, and of course Miguel's Spaghetti Carbonara ;)
 
It is time to start a new life.

Sierra Nevada or The Walk Of The Drunken Penguin

I'm standing on the platform of Granada train station and other than sweating in my light jumper, I have a wonderful view upon the white summits of the Sierra Nevada.

I can barely believe that two days ago, I was there, in a ridiculous 70's-style ski suit, trying not to make a total fool of myself while going down the ski slopes.

Talking about not making a fool of myself...

It is a universally acknowledged that things like skiing should be learned when one is young, because the older one becomes, the more difficult it gets. I mean now I'm 5'8“, the ground is much lower down. Also, too many scenarios were appearing in front of my eyes. What if I miss this turn? What if I skied there? In how many ways could I break my neck? Call me paranoid, but I just couldn't help it. Howver, thanks to peer pressure and some schizophrenic pep talk, I could gather enough courage to face the first piste.

As every fall was accompanied by laughter in the beginning, it wasn't too bad. Taking things with a smile usually gets me further. However, foolishness, recklessness or arrogance made me follow my two experienced friends onto the top of the mountain. The signs “Pista roja- Expertos solo”(red piste- experts only) really should have put me off, but for some reason they didn't.

There I was, standing on top of the Veleta, the second highest mountain in the Sierra Nevada, with a breathtaking view upon the Mediterranean Sea and the misty coast of Africa. But there was no way I could ski down the mountain, in snowplough that would have been sheer suicide. So there I was, all alone (technically there were people passing by, but that didn't change my condition). As I took off my skis to think of a way to get myself out of the situation, a couple of men stopped and asked me what I was doing. I was really lucky that they helped me, as I was really starting to panic. We first asked at the chair lift whether I could go downhill with it, but as chilled as some Spaniards might appear, this one was just not to be convinced. It was forbidden. Full Stop. Then one of the men had the patience to stay with me during the very long hour I went down the mountain in the most embarrassing way possible: step by step, sideways.

This taught me a great lesson of humility and also of thankfulness. My saviour didn't accept anything for probably saving my life. I was really amazed by this man. I will probably never meet him again, but I'll always be grateful for that.

After all these frights and emotions, a lunch in the sunshine was well-deserved. Then I actually realised in what danger I had been, because if someone fell down the steep piste, they would stop only some 700m downhill, broken ribs being the least of their worries.

Now it was time to do the right thing: go on the green pistes, the learner's section. I finally felt like I belonged there. I wasn't the worst skier for once! (yes, really!) At that point skiing changed from being totally frightening to actually being fun! Now, all I want is go back and try my best.

For now, I have a rather less glorious memory from our trip: severe muscle pain. Hence the title of this post, as I do look like a drunken penguin when I try to walk. There are days where I hate living on the 3^rd floor without a lift!

Now I am in the train, the beautiful Andalucian landscape is passing by, the weather is just amazing. There has been constant sunshine for the last week and I look forward to some more sunny days in Seville, where I should arrive in a couple of hours.

I have indeed miles to go before I sleep...

Interlude

The easiest and most unexpected of illnesses, that will sometimes take you by surprise or slowly creep up to make you shiver: Loneliness. It has little to do with being alone, because you can feel lonely amidst people. We all have our low moments... my personal remedy is making plans. What will my next holiday destination be? Who could I surprise with an unexpected gift or a favour? What part of the city could I discover or rediscover?

For now, I am trying to enjoy my last weeks in Granada and see all the things I can before leaving. Unfortunately exams and revision are taking a lot of my time.

My first travel plans should take me to Seville and Madrid. Then I'm visiting a few friends in England before returning to the homeland France in March. Sometimes I wish that all the people I love would live in the same town, it would make it such a wonderful life! Then again, that is really unlikely to happen and it is great when it enables me to travel around!

Last week, My terrace, Granada

C'est Panam!

Now some thoughts on Paris, as I have to admit that some readers were right to argue that parts of my previous post were „boring“, „like reading a geographical atlas“. So I will try to be different from Google Maps.

It is a great city to visit. Big news! Of course, there are so many beautiful sights and interesting museums, but you can find information about them in any travel guide. I also feel that Paris is trying to sell a dream: a dream of beautiful liberated women but also a dream of couply happiness. Call me a cynic, but those padlocks on the Pont des Arts with the lovers' names on them are just soooooo ( how many vowels are acceptable?) romantic and what a dream it is to stand on the Eiffel tower kissing your loved one! Urgh.

Paris is so much more than just the postcard side of it. There are many other aspects to it. The cultural diversity of the banlieues and the many arrondissements is easily overlooked. The Paris I like is the Paris of my cousin: Young people, going out every day of the week, interested in arts and independent cinema. That's where I can imagine to fit in, opposed to being squeezed onto an Eiffel-tower postcard. All what's of interest is fashion, beauty and stylishness. Also, the social problems I associate with Paris are quickly forgotten when talking about the 'City of Love'. Of course there is a often a big difference between visiting a place and living there, but I feel in Paris the divide between the two couldn't be wider.

I also have to admit that rediscovering Paris was a great experience. I remember visiting it with Adna about three and a half years ago and I was probably the worst guide imaginable. Criticising every single thing, acting unimpressed in front of every beautiful building: “I guess it's nice”. My poor poor Adna, I feel for her now and I regret being such a terrible host. Since then I have grown up and I have gained perspective on France... and I have already told Adna that I owe her a great city visit! 

Capital Hopping

My year 2011 started with an amazing opportunity for me: rediscovering Paris. Indeed, being from Normandy, I have over the years developed hostile feelings towards this city. This was also due to fact that Paris has always been a stopover point for me: from one train station to another, or to the airport. Thus I was far from having the postcard image of Paris, that we like to see depicted in Hollywood films.

However last Monday I was off to meet two friends from Granada, Miguel and Diego, both of Latin American origin, touring through Europe during the Christmas holidays. I was going to visit Paris with them and try my best to act as a guide. Luckily I had my cousin Carole's support in that, so that we saw a lot during our first day there. When I say 'a lot', it clearly is an understatement. Those who know Paris will understand how much walking the following route entails: Starting from the Sacré-Coeur, we walked to Saint Lazare, then on the roof terrace of the Printemps to enjoy the view (my secret tip if you are visiting Paris!), then down the Avenue de l'Opéra, to the Louvre, along the Seine towards Notre-Dame, after seeing the inside of the cathedral: Beaubourg and Les Halles, back along the Seine, passing by the Louvre again, through the Jardin des Tuileries, along the Place de la Concorde with its mysterious obelisk, stopped by the Palais de l'Elysée, where Nicolas wasn't waiting for us with a cup of coffee (huge disappointment here!), further up the Champs Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe, then we walked to the Trocadéro, took the mandatory picture from the Palais Chaillot, 

then down to the Eiffel tower, then up the Eiffel tower, where it slowly got dark and we had a magnificent view over Paris, better than during the foggy day! then back to the Champs Elysées, until we found a coffee shop. This was the moment we finally took the metro to have some traditional French food (galettes, crêpes and cidre, I wasn't trying to trick them into tasting Norman food at all!).

Now for those who didn't quite grasp the distance, I checked on the map, we walked about 18 km with 3 degrees Celsius and a biting wind outside! We were truly exhausted!

Next day: The Louvre. After queuing a few times, we got our (under 26 EU Residents) free tickets and then our 6 hour visit started. I just like to point out that a lot of the things we saw were stolen, and I don't care that it is many years ago, they were still stolen. From Greek statues, to Egyptian tombs, to Mesopotamian lions, to French paintings and Italian paintings, Dutch paintings, German paintings and so on. There even was a contemporary art exhibition ( to my greatest enjoyment). If you can ever call a museum huge it's this one and after all the times I've been there, I still discover new things. What got me thinking this time is the nipple-pinching painting. Yes, you did read correctly nipple-pinching. (see below). The “Portrait présumé de Gabrielle d'Estrées et de sa soeur la duchesse de Villars” (Portrait presumed to be of Gabrielle d'Estrées and her sister the Duchess of Villars) was painted around 1594. The odd gesture still makes me wonder. The official version is that the pinching should refer to Gabrielle's pregnancy, fair enough. I am still trying to imagine the circumstances in which the portrait was painted: can you imagine posing like that for a few hours? Anyhow, such a representation would be more than shocking nowadays: it wouldn't even make it on US live TV!)

After the Louvre, it was time for me to go. My night train was leaving from Gare d'Austerlitz and was taking me to Madrid. The two (very intense) days in Paris reconciled me with this city and I was again able to see its beauty and I finally understood the fascination it provokes among visitors from all over the world.

The next day, 10am I was stepping outside the Metro in front of Puerta del Sol, Madrid. It was raining.

I only had a few hours to do all the necessary sight seeing. I realised later, that I was lucky to be there on Spanish Christmas, called Reyes Magos, (6 of January) because there were many people around even though most of the shops were closed. Full of energy, I walked from the Puerta del Sol to the Plaza Mayor, passing by really nice streets and buildings. After a little stop at the tourism office, I was on my way to the Cathedral and when I got there, I saw a lot of people crowding around what happened to be the Royal Palace. Curious, I went to stand with the people, waiting for whatever might occur. It took me little while to realise that we were all waiting for the Spanish King. I was quite impressed, first royalty I've seen, even if it was from far away. Then, once he was inside, the guards paraded around the Palace, it was very impressive!

Then I had a little walk past the Plaza de Espana, up to the Temple of Debod and then across the Plaza de Oriente back to the Puerta del Sol...

My very short stay was intense and definitely convinced me to plan a real trip to the capital, his time for a few days!

After five hours in the coach, I arrived in Granada. Finally, the familiar streets greeted me with their crowdedness and festive atmosphere. I have less than 2 months left in Granada and I really want to make the most of it!