Petra

So last weekend we were carted off to Petra, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, according to the Jordanian tourism bureau. In case your general knowledge of ancient cities is lacking, Petra is an amazing combination of natural and human marvels. The ancient Nabateans carved a city out of the living rock of a desert landscape. It’s hard to explain what I’m talking about, hopefully the pictures help.

Personally, I have good memories of Petra already. I visited last year with a friend from Brown, whose grandparents ran the Brown archaeological dig there. Everybody knows her and her family there, and we stayed in the local Bedouin village with a family friend rather than in Wadi Musa, the tourist town. As a result, I knew some of the locals this time around, which was really nice. Petra runs on tourism, and can feel a little cynical and impersonal. The Bedouin are friendly, but they can be aggressive salespeople.

Anyway, I digress. We arrived in Petra on Thursday night and were installed in the five-star Movenpick. In the immortal words of one CLS administrator, “You are State Department property and we don’t want you lost or broken.” Thus we had to stay in a hotel with a security detail, which also happens to be the nicest hotel in Wadi Musa. With a spectacular breakfast buffet. Thanks, Uncle Sam.

We all got up early on Friday morning and set off in a thirty-strong group with a tour guide. Not my cup of tea. We walked through the Siq, Petra’s distinctive gorge. You may recognize it from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. I quickly skipped ahead of the group. To my mind, the wonders of Petra are natural, not man-made. I don’t need a tour guide banging on about the significance of this inscription in both Akkadian and Ancient Greek. It might have been another language, classicists are invited to read this and weep.

Here are some pictures from the Siq. Marvellous indeed.

You come out from the Siq into the Treasury, Petra’s most famous building. It’s very well preserved with all this elaborate carving. Some tours just walk to this building, and then turn around and go home. A picture in front of the Treasury has become a staple in every well-travelled person’s album, I think. That is to say, it’s a cliché. Like I said though, the buildings don’t do it for me so much, even really really goodlooking ones. I was eager to get up into the mountains to see the views I remembered from last year. First I stopped off to see the aforementioned family friend with whom I stayed. Her lovely nephew was in Petra from Australia, and I ended up spending the whole day exploring with him, which was also a welcome relief from the group. We climbed up to the Monastery, which is a massive building not unlike the Treasury. The top of the mountain affords incredible views towards Wadi Araba. It’s called the End of the World lookout.

Then we climbed the Monastery building itself, which is totally not allowed, but commonly done by Bedouins. Who are like mountain goats and prance about deathly cliffs with utter assurance. I’m used to America’s litigious culture, so it was a little alarming to peer over the edge and see a fifteen story drop. The most alarming part was descending the worn down stairs. They turn corners, like most staircases, which means they lead right off a sheer drop. So if one happened to build up momentum and couldn’t make the turn – boom. Extreme caution recommended. But it was really cool to go up there, you don’t realize how big it is otherwise.

Woke up early the next morning for the next climb, to the High Place of Sacrifice. The views were so amazing that I decided to stay for a while. The group of girls I came with wanted to leave after about twenty minutes, so we resolved to meet later and I just sat and stared for about an hour.

That whacking great piece of rock on the left, below, is called Umm al-Biyara, and it's not on the tourist trail. I climbed it with Sureya last year and we were the only people on the whole thing. I also just found out that a guy lost his life on it two years ago....

little blue lizard

On the way down. Eerily like a movie set

There are few sights in the world sufficiently interesting as to command one’s attention for an hour. I just sort of sat, and meditated on life, and reflected a bit. The beauty was overwhelming. I’m working on a post describing this. Afterwhich I went down, and went back to the pool, and slept. Ah.

A thousand words

Throwing my newly acquired kickboxing roundhouse on top of a Petra mountain

Kickboxing!

As you may know, I did taekwondo at Brown this past year and loved it. Taekwondo is a Korean martial art that’s been around for two thousand years or so. It’s got formal elements, like board-breaks and poomsae, those martial arts dance routines that you may have seen before. My favourite part, though, is sparring. Taekwondo fights are an Olympic event now, and I love’em. I’ve found that sparring does great things for my psyche. You have to be one hundred percent focused on what you’re doing, and it’s real and engaging in a way that a lot of university isn’t. It’s a good element in my life.

Anyway, after a week or two here, I started to miss the excitement and energy of martial arts, and I needed an outlet for the frustrations of being told what to do all the time. It’s easy to feel like I’m losing my agency here, and I miss autonomy. Noel, one of the younger program staff, told me about his kickboxing class. We started no contact sparring in the hallways, and he eventually suggested that I go with him. I’ve been to four classes now. We had a funny experience in the first class. We were goofing off and throwing punches at each other, without touching though. Til he grabbed my wrist and twisted it. You know when someone twists your wrist and you have to twist your whole body to take the pressure off? So I turned around and threw an elbow strike at his face. But I accidentally connected and gave him a bloody nose! It was accidental, and I felt bad, but he’s boxed and is used to it. He told the entire program, and I’m now the student who hit a member of staff in the face, which makes a good story I think.

Anyway, taekwondo to kickboxing has been a big adjustment, and I largely have no idea what I’m doing. Taekwondo is all about kicks, you score a point by landing a kick on your opponent’s body protector, and more points if you get their head. There are jumping kicks and spinning kicks, front and back and side kicks. Some are simple, many are elaborate. It’s quite balletic, and a well-executed kick is a beautiful thing, a masterpiece of balance and efficiency. Kickboxing, on the other hand, is far less elaborate. I’d say taekwondo is to kickboxing what formal Arabic is to spoken. Taekwondo is elegant and controlled, while kickboxing is practical and forceful.

Consider the roundhouse kick, very powerful and fundamental to sparring successfully. In taekwondo, you pick up your foot and pivot your hips over, whipping it around like a tennis racket before putting it down in front of you. It took me a while, but I feel like I know how to do it now. So I was surprised and frustrated when the coach told me “your kick is strong, but your technique is all wrong!” The kickboxing roundhouse is more like whacking someone with a baseball bat. It’s less controlled. You keep your leg straight, swinging it up and putting it down behind you after the kick. You have to rely on momentum rather than control, it’s weird. All of the kicks in kickboxing are like that. You don’t take a step forward with a kick, because you’ll get punched in the face if you do. So a back leg axe kick has to come all the way back. Co-ordinating kicks and punches is also difficult, and requires a different way of managing your weight.

Learning the whole boxing part is hard too. Jabs, hooks, crosses, uppercuts etc. I got these nasty scabby cuts on the tops of my feet where the skin broke from beating up the punching bags, so I haven’t been able to kick a person because they bleed everywhere. They look exactly like stigmata, I’m Jesus. So I’ve just been focusing on punching, which is good for me I think.

Switching martial arts is confusing, not unlike learning spoken Arabic from formal. But after four classes, I think I’m getting the logic of it now, which feels amazing. I also got some boxing gloves, which makes me feel kind of badass, to be honest. Last class, the trainer finally let me box, and I think I did alright. I hit her more times than she did me, although it’s hard to tell who would win when you’re doing light contact, because it doesn’t hurt when you get hit. You can light contact spar with someone much bigger than you, and feel like you’re doing well, but in a real fight they would stun you if they landed a real punch. Fortunately, the elements of sparring are the same everywhere: distance, timing and angles. I’m also glad to be learning a more practical martial art, in case I do actually ever need to hurt someone. Be afraid, harrassful Jordanian males.

The class is also a rare opportunity to speak Arabic in the real world, rather than in a controlled speaking partner session. The whole class is in Arabic, and Coach Ali does not speak any English at all. Fortunately the names of the kicks and punches are the same as in English. I learned how to explain “I can’t do any kicks because I’ve hurt my feet and I’ll bleed anywhere,” I learned how to say “Is this OK?” and “Do it again?” and “I’m sorry! It was an accident!” Last class, I wore my Avi Schaefer Fund t-shirt, which has “seek peace and pursue it” in Arabic, Hebrew and English on the back. Hebrew script is not a great idea in the Arab world, but I had no shirts left. It got some attention, and I explained the fund and Avi’s story in Arabic, leaving out the Israeli army bit. I really needed to explain something, and I was able to, which felt excellent. It was a good example of language encouraging mutual understanding, I think. We also generally get rides back from the guys in the class, and we speak Arabic the whole time. I’m encouraged by how much I can understand when Noel and the lift-giver are rattling away at a hundred miles an hour.

I know that was quite a technical post with a lot of specific metaphors, but Arabic and martial arts actually hold quite similar places in my life. For years, I wanted to learn Arabic and martial arts, but they weren’t as easily available as Spanish or the gym and I never took the initiative until my second year at Brown. People are generally surprised when they hear what I do. In both areas, the more you know the less you know, and you can tear yourself apart if you expect perfection, or even competence, right away.

Here’s to kicking linguistic and physical ass for the second half of the CLS!

The Starbucks Question

This is an interesting piece of graffiti. It was near the Starbucks in the Fourth Circle that I mentioned earlier, and reads "Starbucks... Death is near," with a Star of David. Many Arabs believe that Starbucks sends money to Israel. I remember the protests outside the Israeli embassy in London when Israel invaded Gaza. There was a mini-riot and the protesters smashed the windows of a Starbucks on Kensington High Street. I googled it just now, and I can't really tell how much is rumour and how much is true. A few years ago, somebody wrote a parody of a letter from the Starbucks CEO thanking customers for supporting Israel with every drink they buy. It seems that although Starbucks doesn't financially support the Israeli state, the CEO is a self-proclaimed 'Active Zionist' and has been recognized by the Israeli state as a contributor to US-Israeli relations, whatever that means. Many Palestinian advocacy groups encourage boycotting Starbucks. Funnily enough, Starbucks has actually failed to conquer Israel - they closed their six cafes there in 2003 after making massive losses. However, the chain is popular among young, hip, wealthy Arabs. Food for thought. If you're interested in reading more, here are some links:

From a boycott Israel website, detailing Starbucks' support for Israel
http://www.inminds.co.uk/boycott-starbucks.html

From the Starbucks PR department, denying Starbucks' support for Israel
http://news.starbucks.com/article_display.cfm?article_id=200

A reproduction of the original hoax letter from the Starbucks CEO
http://www.snopes.com/politics/israel/schultz.asp

I know I should shut up about these t-shirts, but they're just so good. Here are a few gems (none of which I bought)

Tri-State Regional Wheelchair games? I'm down.

Definitely want to meet Bob. I imagine him to be the Khanh of Hawai'i (family in-joke)

My personal favourite. See what I mean about the unwitting irony?

Our segregated meal - the pita in the foreground was full of spiced ground meat. Awesome.

The view from the top of jebel alql'a - a massive hill with stellar views.

On Fridays, the skies fill up with kites from all over the city, but especially from the poor eastern part of Amman. I suppose it's a cheap way for the youth of today to entertain themselves.

Spot the feral cat. Cats in the Middle East are rather like squirrels in the West. They're more pests than pets. I despise cats, so I'm all for this.

A thousand words - the Arabic Monster

So, one day in Arabic class we decoded some Arabic cartoons, and were then obliged to draw a caricature of our own. I drew this picture, which has actually been in my mind all year. The thing about formal Arabic is that it's immensely complicated, with an endless series of rules. Whenever you think you've learned how something works - like pronouns, for example - it turns out that there's a whole sub-series of rules they didn't tell you about. I've realized that Arabic is like the Hydra in greek mythology because every time you cut off one head, it grows back TWO. Anyway, for those of you who don't read Arabic, the warrior girl is titled Student (feminine form) and the monster is called Arabic. The necks have got the names of different parts of speech - verbs, nouns, listening, case endings, all of which give us a considerable amount of grief. The heads are breathing out the word homework.

Anyway, the picture seems to have really hit a nerve with the other students and the teachers. I ended up making photocopies because my friends wanted them for their rooms! Interestingly, girls liked it much more than guys - no guys wanted a copy. They said it was too violent. I think they were uncomfortable seeing a girl with a sword lopping these long necks off - ask Dr. Freud about it.

Arabic students, enjoy. Observers, please sympathize with our travails!

T-shirts and karaoke: the weekend

I’m having a great weekend so far. Last night I was planning on going out with Mo (Jordanian friend from Brown), his friends and Claudia, another Brown kid in Amman. However, circumstances intervened and we ended up going to an Arab karaoke night. It was amazing. The male/female ratio was about 70/30 and the guys were absolutely freaking out dancing. It seems that in mixed environments here, the men dance more and the women watch, while in America/England I’d say it’s the other way around. Anyway, Arab dancing is great, it’s all from the shoulders as opposed to from the hips. I’m trying to get the hang of it. Of course, all the songs were in Arabic too. It’s funny, at home all Arab music sounds kind of the same to me (sorry) but here I’m getting much more attuned to it and really liking it. I’m not a music person, but I do like to dance, and Arabic music encourages a whole new way of moving that I’m greatly enjoying. Claudia and I may be taking belly-dancing classes at some point.

Anyway, so we were kicking back and enjoying the scene, and eventually we all start daring each other to sing. The Arabs in the group went up and sang…. So the pressure was on Claudia and me. In case anybody reading this doesn’t know (and assuming that anybody outside my family is actually reading) I really really can’t sing. Not in a modest, self-deprecating ‘Oh, really, I’m not that great’ kind of way, but in a can’t hold a tune way. However, I caved, and we sang All Star by Smashmouth – the song that opens Shrek, as I recall. I know all the words from summer camp. Suffice to say that it was the longest three minutes of my life. There was a point when I was listening to the music and wondered, ‘what’s that godawful noise?’ Of course, it was me. To make it worse, nobody there knew the song so nobody was singing along or dancing, they were just looking at us in a particularly judgmental way. Argh. Except for that debacle, I had a great time.

Today, there was an optional day trip to the Dead Sea. The CLS organised it for us, everybody was going to spend the day at a hotel with a Dead Sea beach. I debated going, but decided that I would rather explore the city with Claudia a bit than spend yet more time with the people in my program. I’m glad I did. I woke up at about noon this morning and met up with Claudia at souk Abdali, which was a distinctive shopping experience. Somehow, the stallholders get tons of customized American second-hand t-shirts. You can buy a commemorative ‘the 2005 Fieldstone, IL half-marathon,” shirt, a kid’s one that says ‘Aromas, CA Little League.’ It’s totally absurd. They have corporate t-shirts, retirement-home t-shirts etc. etc. I took some pictures of the funniest ones, and I’ll put them up. Anyway, it’s quite surreal looking at these legit pieces of Americana and wondering how in hell they got to downtown Amman. It’s great for ironic shirts too. Claudia got one that had a map of the Middle East on it, with guns and helicopters, titled ‘Operation Desert Storm.’ She said she had to buy so that nobody else would see it.

I got lots of fun things. I found this awesome little kid’s top with a really detailed paint-splatter pattern all over. Inside, the label has ‘jessica’ written on it in pen. Thanks, Jessica. I unearthed the National Volleyball Championship shirt of some Arab country – it’s got a little ball and “Volleyball Something” written on it Arabic. Rad. Also a plain white and a plain burnt-orange t-shirt. The nice thing about second hand shirts is that’s the cotton’s really soft. I also got part of a set of silk pajamas that I’ll wear as a jacket, and this crazy skirt that’s made of a dark greenish/gold see-through crinkly material. By the looks of it, it was made on someone’s sewing machine. Not to be worn here, of course. By the way, all of the above was ten dinars – about ten pounds, or fifteen dollars.

After this retail extravaganza, we were in need of food. We were walking in the downtown area, which is full of touristy restaurants, when I spotted a bunch of tables and chairs down an alley. It was full, so we decided it must be good. Much to our surprise, we were put in a separate seating area. It turns out that traditional places have a men’s area and then a family area, assuming that women don’t go out by themselves. Curious. The food was good though, we had all sorts of grilled meats.

We finished off the day at books@cafe, which is a gay landmark in Amman. The owner’s gay, and it’s an unofficial gay place. Claudia and Raillan, another Brown kid, are making a film about LGBTQ people in Amman, so they’ve interviewed the owner. It was the first internet café in the Middle East and has had a fairly chequered history. It’s supposed to be safe space for people who don’t necessarily fit into traditional Amman society, and it’s been arbitrarily shut down before. Apparently, the news item on the café’s temporary closure was the most visited website in Jordan.

So, that was that! It’s so nice to have time off to wander about, especially since we’re being ferried off to Petra next weekend. Until next time, amigos.