So, I’m here! In a deranged city that looks like a giant pile of sugar cubes where there are trees in the middle of the narrow sidewalks and everyone gurgles at each other in this bizarre language I can’t understand. I actually really like Amman, much more than I had expected to. I’d heard so many bad things – Amman is a city with no soul, it’s ugly, it’s boring, it’s bland. But I’ve been rather charmed. Amman is built out of a pale stone not unlike Jerusalem stone, and is spread across seven hills. It seems like a good place to start, it’s easy to get around by cab and everyone is nice. I’m going to write another post about the city, because I think it deserves its own.
The whole Arabic language thing is both easier and harder than I expected. I’ve found that I can talk to the teachers and the speaking partners and the other students, but I’ve yet to succeed in a conversation with a real live Arab. To speak Arabic with me requires a tremendous amount of patience – you need to speak slowly and repeat words several times, with synonyms and mimes. This is a lot to ask of someone who isn’t paid to do so! The Jordanians I’ve talked to tend to laugh, tell me I need to practice more, and continue the conversation in English. This is actually less discouraging than it sounds, and I have faith that I’ll get better eventually. For those who are blissfully unaware of this language’s perversity, Arabic is tricky because you actually have to learn two languages. There’s Modern Standard Arabic, MSA, which is used in the media, literature and legal settings. It’s tricky and mathematical. Then there’s colloquial, which is generally much easier to speak, but can be an altogether different language depending on where you are. Jordanian colloquial is rather similar to MSA.
I really feel like I’m in a program program here, the number of staff here to look after us is surprising. We have three young Americans with the group, who are a few years older than us. They are sort of residential counsellors, and seem to organize the day to day running of things. Encouragingly, they’ve all learned to speak excellent Arabic and are full of interesting stories of their travels in the Middle East. Then there are about seven or eight Jordanian speaking partners, who chat to us in colloquial and take us out for language socialization activities like going to the mall. Then there are our formal Arabic teachers at the Qasid institute, who are lively and fantastic. The institute’s screening process is ridiculous, apparently 300 people applied for their last opening. We’re also ushered along by the directors of the American Center for Oriental Research, ACOR, where some of us live, as well as by the program’s head of academics.
Anyway, because the State Department is paying a ridiculous amount of money for us to be here and learn Arabic, we are on a mad hamster wheel of activities. During the week we leave for Qasid at 8am, where we have MSA class 8.30 to 12. After a short lunch break, we have twenty minute MSA sessions with our speaking partners, followed by a colloquial class 2-3pm. Then we’re bussed back to ACOR just in time for another hour’s colloquial class. Then we have Arabophone dinner and are finally free at 7pm – which is when we have to start our homework.
To my mind, this is too much. We’re meant to commit wholeheartedly to Arabic whilst were here, but the hours of class leave us no time to go out and explore and immerse ourselves without a safety net. The best experiences I’ve had so far have been when I’ve struck out with just a friend or two to wander through a new neighbourhood and chat with the people we meet. Because we have so much work, it’s easy to relax into the current of the program. You do have to fight to make it out independently, but I think that that’s how I’m really going to learn.
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