My Last Month...

Day 333

...has been incredibly busy; was full of frantic efforts to wrap up interviews and start writing a final research report; included enough goodbye parties to last a lifetime; is best told in a few pictures.


Posted research paper and farewell Jordan post to come...

Sha3shaboneh

Day 313

I got a good tip from Lina on an all-day (8 hour) Jordanian blogging workshop, Sha3shaboneh, taking place on June 28th, and I sat in for a number of really great multimedia presentations (in Arabic) at the Makan art space just down the hill from my place in Weibdeh.


Sha3shaboneh, which I think means 'Daddy Long Legs' or something (and probably a play on the world wide 'web' as well as the new Jordanian-crafted pan-Arab job listings site Akhtaboot--'octopus'), was the brain-child of local blogger (Khobbeizeh), journalist, and visual designer Mohammed al Qaq. He gathered eight local bloggers and blogging experts--including Lina (Into the Wind, 7iber) and Ahmed Humeid (360East)--to give talks on the history of blogging in Jordan, blogging basics, citizen journalism, and issues of censorship/self-censorship. All related nicely to my research, and were quite informative in their own right.

It's pretty cool to see impassioned Jordanian bloggers and interested audience members all gathered in one place to really tease out all the layers in this still new and misunderstood phenomenon of blogging in Jordan. Since the death of blogger meet-ups under the now defunct aggregator Jordan Planet, forums like these continue to play a valuable role in educating and inspiring Jordanians about this new platform for free thought, social space, and occasionally, citizen journalism.

Bike & Run

Day 313



Once upon a Friday, Jordan Cycling hosted the 2nd annual Bike & Run race at King Hussein Gardens park. Great fun was had by all, and namely friends Nina and Dave (ex-pat team #1), and me and our friend Kelsey (team #2). To be fair, there were some Brits from the posh 'Abdouni gym Vy on hand as well, but they had paired up with Jordanian cycling stars, so I'm not going to count 'em. Kelsey and I sort of scrambled even to register on time. In fact, Nina and Dave had kind of talked us into this whole thing; I wasn't really in serious training still from the Dead Sea half marathon, and Kelsey and I had to track down a racing bike via a French friend-of-a-friend so that she actually had something to ride.

About 30 pairs of competitors were on hand for the ~20k bike and ~5k run combo-race on a warm June morning. Dave and Kelsey sped off at the start while Nina and I jogged and stretched in the waiting area with my Jordanian running pals from Sports City. Dave came speeding in about third among the bikers (some of whom wiped out unclipping from their pedals in the exchange zone). Also dangerous was the biking route itself, apparently, without any traffic redirecting and with plenty of jostling among the cyclists for the shoulder. Kelsey got tangled up with another biker heading around a traffic cirlce, flying head first over the handle bars. The warrior that she is, though, she hopped right back on the bike (with a new nasty gash on her hip) and came flying into the exchange area to put me in a good spot in the race overall--and 4th in the mixed team competition heading into the run.

I caught the first two mixed team runners after the long first hill, and closed in on Nina (with a friendly smile) at about 2 miles. I came trotting into the finish area still unsure of our place, but Kelsey and I ended up fourth overall and first in the mixed category (with Nina and Dave close behind for second).

We were (all four of us) all smiles as we fetched Kelsey some ice and chugged some cold ones from our (now familiar) neighborhood race sponsor Red Bull (see Dead to Red and Dead Sea Half Marathon posts). And we collected our bling at an award ceremony presided by HRH Princess Reem.

I'm a bit sad to say this will be my last race in Jordan. But I've been hitting the Sports City running trail daily now, bumping up mileage to be ready for some more serious post-collegiate stuff back in the States...

Syria

Day 313

*I'm obliging a request to make the text shweyyah bigger--although it no longer matches my microscopic handwriting...

Aware that my 6 month visa to Syria was set to expire, I split a serveece with three friends for about 5 days in and outside of Damascus.

Suq al-Hamadiyya

Syria will always be synonymous with hot in my mind. My previous stay in As-Sham was last July, and this year was just as stifling. But we had a great time the first day traipsing around the Old City (rather haphazardly), taking in the sights and smells of the narrow alleyways and the affable nature of the Damasceans. Our secondary goal was to search out a handmade glassworks just outside the Old City walls, and after our meandering tour we finally found the place, where the workers served us tea in front of the glass oven while we watched the guys work. After dinner at famed Khawali in the Old City, Uliana and I sampled the shops and famous Bakdesh ice cream at Suq al-Hamidiyya before catching a performance by Damascus' last oral storyteller at the Nafura coffee house before bed.












Damascus shopkeep (it was hot) and Glassblowers at work



While two of my friends had headed back to Amman for work the following day, Uliana and I continued onward and outward from Damascus. First stop (after a long hunt for the Hertz rental car office) was the October (1973) War (with Israel) Panorama on the city outskirts. (I use a lot of parentheses). This was a real treat in Syrian state propaganda. It's always good to catch the 'other side' of this conflict, as was our goal, but I was even a little unprepared for the one-sided presentation of history. The huge museum building is flanked with military hardware and relics from the war. To the left is a collection of captured and destroyed 'enemy' equipment--including a pair of downed fighter jet skeletons, which are carefully tagged with 'American (or French) made' plaques. To the right is the pride of 70s era Syrian military equipment (and a joint Syrian-Soviet space capsule), which were good for some unsupervised climbing around on if nothing else.














The main attraction, however, is the panorama itself. After a 10 minute film of old war footage, our guide took us to the top floor of the museum building--essentially a huge circular auditorium with a rotating set of seats centered within. From our seats, a carefully recreated battle scene diorama spreads out 360 degrees until it almost seamlessly melds into the North Korean-painted floor to ceiling wall mural. As we sat, rotating ever so slowly, patriotic march hymns and a scratchy narrator relayed the story of the battle over the Israeli-controlled reconnaissance and observation tower that the Syrian soldiers bravely assaulted. In the pale blue sky above, dog fights and mortar shells glided over our heads.

You just can't make this stuff up

We hit the road after noon and drove north into the town of Ma'lulah, one of only three villages (all in Syria) in the world where the ancient Semitic language of Aramaic is still spoken. The small town is almost completely Christian, so Uliana and I hiked up the hills to a couple of monasteries honoring Christian martyrs from the late Roman pagan era, and explored a small cave said to have provided sanctuary for persecuted early Christians. We tried to pick up a few phrases of Aramaic between sampling local wines and lunch with a Ma'lulah patriarch, but I will admit to have forgotten most of it here just two weeks later.

I guess day two was essentially a spiritual journey, so we continued on racing the sunset to the secluded monastery of Mar Musa that I had heard about from a friend, just outside of another small Christian town of An Nabbek. The place has an interesting story to it. Essentially what was once a Roman Byzantine church and mountain fortress (first established by a Ethiopian prince-turned-Christian wanderer) was rediscovered in a state of disrepair by an Italian Jesuit priest in the 1980s, who then convinced his order (and the Italian and Syrian governments) to provide the funds to restore the site as a functioning monastery. The Priest, still only in his late 40s, is multilingual (and fluent in classical Arabic, in which all liturgy and readings take place). What's more, the monastery is multi-cultural and actually religiously indiscrimate--welcoming all denominations of Christianity and curious visitors of any religion. We hiked up the hundreds of stone steps to arrive at the low door of the monastery just after dark, and just in time for evening prayers.












Deir Mar Musa perched in the Syrian hills, with refreshingly spartan and quiet living quarters

We were the newcomers, but Mar Musa attracts all manner of Arab Christian pilgrims and foreign backpackers. The biggest group of the roughly 15 guests when we were there was a crew of young Egyptian Copts. Mar Musa's doors are always open; some stay 2 days, some ten years. Room and board are free, as long as you do some work to pay your way. After morning prayers the second day, Uliana and I spent about two hours with one of the Egyptians cleaning about 3 days worth of monastery dishes, before prepping some locally-grown veggies for the lunch meal. I could have stayed a week there, but Uliana and the other sights in Syria were calling me onward.

Continuing north, we passed through the city of Hama, famous for its late Roman period waterwheels and, more recently, for a local Muslim Brotherhood uprising in 1982 that was brutally supressed by former Syrian leader Hafaz al Asad via an army artillery barrage. The locals don't get too many tourists, and were creeping Uliana out, so we quickly pressed further north to Halab (Aleppo).


Aleppo has an (even older) Old City of its own, and an impressive Islamic citadel perched high above the bustling city. We took in our fair share of both that evening and early the next morning. I personally found Aleppo a bit disappointing, so I won't write much here.

le Krek

We spent the remainder of our last day at the very impressive Krek de Chevalier French (and later Islamic) crusader castle. Like the Aleppo citidel, we covered the whole thing on foot sans tour guide--and in about 4 hours, before grabbing lunch and some localish wine to hold us over for our trip to the Med. coast near Tartus. We drank the wine and drank in the sinking sun on a pebble-strewn quiet beach north of Tartus, taking time for a tip in the warm water before our long drive back to Damascus for that last night.



Mission accomplished. I (heart) Syria. Even more now than the first trip just to Damascus a year ago. Good people, great food, amazing sights. Hopefully future travels or work in this region will take me back someday.

I'll miss you Bashar

POMED Conference

Day 283

I stumbled upon a press release for an intriguing conference in March that was taking place in Amman at the end of May. It seemed right up my ally as far as my Fulbright research project (more on this further down) and I knew it had the potential to be a really interesting and worthwhile experience. I was not disappointed in the least.

Co-hosted by Project on Middle East Democracy (POMED) and Americans for Informed Democracy (AID), the three-day conference was billed as "We are Connected, But are we Communicating?: American Foreign Policy and Jordanian Society, A Dialogue." That left a lot of room for interpretation, and left me skeptical that this may turn out to be another high-minded and well-intentioned conference that produced a lot of generalizations and not much else. I decided to risk it, and what played out really surprised me in its depth and breadth. The conference, part of POMED's three-part series after unique iterations in Morocco and Cairo (full description here), brought together 50 young Jordanians and Americans to hear panelists, discuss issues, and ratify policy recommendations to be presented by one elected Jordanian and American participant to various NGOs and the appropriate respective government officials. Panels consisted of:

- U.S. Department of State Cultural and Educational Exchange Programs
- Youth Cyber Activism: Tool of American-Jordanian Communication
- American Foreign Policy in Iraq: Effects on Jordanian Politics and Society
- American Foreign Aid Programs for Political Reform/Democracy Building

The second panel had obvious draws for me, personally, regarding my research. To my delight, the panelists included Marc Lynch, GWU professor of political science and international affairs, renowned scholar and author on digital Arab news media (insightful articles available at Arab Media & Society), and popular blogger at Abu Aardvark. It also featured Line Ejeilat, columnist for JO magazine, co-founder and contributor to the unique 'citizen journalism' project 7iber, and prominent Jordanian issue-blogger. Lina later presented a workshop on citizen journalism in general, and both the panel and workshop generated a lot of discussion and debate around the viability of new media, internet press freedoms in Jordan, and concepts like 'bridge-blogging' and web 2.0.

In a greater sense though, the conference en toto really impressed me. Like Tunis, participants were extremely bright, well-spoken, and highly-analytical. So much so that the debate surrounding the final group policy recommendations was simultaneously exhausting and highly rewarding. The other Americans included fellow Fulbrighters (from Jordan and beyond), and an assortment of interesting folk who either found themselves in the region for academic or professional purposes or traveled from the States to expand upon their regional studies or international relations work at American graduate degree programs. The Jordanians were equally impressive; a collection of students and young professionals that really invested themselves in the weekend's program and in presenting the crucial Jordanian POV counterweight to even the most culturally-immersed Americans.

Our linguistic barriers were steadily broken down through official translators and a genuine effort from both sides to meet each other half-way in communicating (although, in general the Jordanians' English was far better than our Arabic--where it existed--so the real kudos goes to them for sure).

With an eye to practicality (aided especially by the insights of a U.S. House of Representatives junior staffer), our policy recommendations were mostly specific, timely, and thought-provoking. I don't agree with all of them--some kind of impractical ones still made the democratic cut. And we were all, however, appropriately skeptical about their chance of actually being implemented through lobbying in either country. But in a larger sense, in light of the fact that the conference could generate so much and so deep of discussion around them and the more general themes, the fate of the recommendations themselves seems like a small footnote in the success of the conference as a whole. We also pursued various strategies to remain connected, and communicating, despite geographic and cultural distance. If the conference demonstrated anything, its that even in an era of overblown cultural and religious differences and discourse on a 'clash of civilizations,' there remains an incredible amount of shared ideational ground between young Americans and young Jordanians.

For my own part, I'm taking some of the lessons of the conference to heart in applying to volunteer at American University this fall with Soliya, a non-profit that provides training and technology to facilitate video-teleconferencing sessions between American and Jordanian university students around an assortment of themes relevant to the "Arab world-West relationship," and all the baggage that phrase may imply today. The idea is to keep the dialog started at conferences like the POMED Amman weekend going, to build bridges and tear down walls and hopefully create a space where genuine discussion can take place outside of greater political, cultural, and media-inspired misunderstanding. It's a bit lofty, I will admit, but if the POMED conference taught me anything, it's that lofty ideas, embodied by passionate and open-minded youth, can have real longevity and practicality beneath and beyond their rhetorical or conceptual beauty.

So here's to high hopes and all the leg-work necessary...

Night(s) in Tunisia

Day 283



One undisclosed perk (among others) of a Fulbright scholarship to the Middle East is the opportunity to meet your fellow regional Fulbright fellows in a pan-Middle East/North Africa research conference. Well, two conferences actually. U.S. Department of State and IIE divides the MENA folk in half, dispatching a group to Tunis and a group to Amman. Fortunately, the Jordanian Fulbrighters all had the chance to travel to Tunisia (which I will call "little Europe" compared to Jordan), and likewise with the Tunis folk to Jordan.


It was a particularly good opportunity for me to socialize among, learn from, and network with the other regional Fulbright groups, seeing as I missed the pre-grant orientation session in DC for a summer immersion program in Irbid. The three-day conference hosted speakers and divided us up into presentation panels by research topic, enabling an exposition and (occassionally heated) discussion of our projects. Some travel time was built in as well, so outside of the quaint beachside Sidi Bou Said host town and nearby capital Tunis, many of us traveled North and South to take in as much of the Tunisian experience as possible. Not to mention our opportunity to wine and dine with the US Ambassador to Tunis at a reception at his private residence.


I am reluctant to go into heavy detail about the conference (mostly because it was so long ago, whoops), but here are some take-away thoughts:

-The people your US tax dollars have sent over here are brilliant and intellectually/culturally diverse.
-The range of projects wowed me: even in only half the MENA Fulbright pool gathered in Tunis, we had everything from a materials science masters student making construction-quality concrete from reused Moroccan mine waste ('slag') to a contemporary theater writer/director/researcher in Damascus.
-Friendships made over weekend conferences have an amazing ability to endure beyond their contextual limits (more on that in the next post as well)

Thanks Tunis, thanks Fulbright. But note to self, learn French.

*also, more pictures of this and Tim's visit available on Fbook for the friendly...

Ikhwan

Day 283

[despite this trip occurring almost two months ago, it's probably an important post in the travel/research/ramblings blog this has become...]

First off, having someone come visit you in the Middle East is a blast. You get to play tour guide, make practical use of language skills, and enjoy a short vacation yourself. Having that person be your older brother is just an added bonus.

Dana



...From the Dead Sea, Tim and I headed out with a big crew of my friends to Dana nature preserve. April is the best month to see Dana, and having a two-car caravan of excited outdoorsy folk made the trip a perfect kick-off for our around-Jordan tour itinerary. Dana is considered a unique success story for sustainable development, with all the baggage that term implies these days. A tiny village situated on the cliff above a vast wadi (valley), Dana makes an ideal spot for a protected nature reserve. After economic trends dried up the Dana economy in the 90s, the Jordanian government and NGO the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RSCN) turned the village and expansive wadi into an eco-tourism geared nature preserve, providing much needed capital to the area surrounding Tafiyleh--the small industrial town straddling the large mountains that rise out of the Dead Sea coast. The locals that stayed in the village or commute from neighboring villages are employed as hotel operators, nature guides, and handicraft entrepreneurs.

After relaxing in the quaint and Bedouin-inspired hotel, our group headed out the following morning (still stiff and sore from the races) for a 4 hr. hike. The descent down into the wadi is long and steep, comprising a myriad of switchbacks past small farm houses and herds of goats. Although still a bit sparse and desert-like for a nature preserve, in April Dana's trees and bushes are in full leaf and full bloom, and the ground is more or less carpeted with strange plants and herbs. If you pay attention to the little things at your feet, you're also apt to spot colorful lizards and butterflies. The real downside to the hike from the village-side of the preserve is the return trek up the switchbacks, which was long and exhausting, if not rewarding for the views of the valley floor below.

Wadi Rum



Parting ways with the bigger group, Tim and I diverted further south to Wadi Rum for a couple days of touring and camping. We arrived just before sunset at Beit 'Ali, an eco-lodge run by a British-Jordanian couple just outside the official Rum preserve. While Tim caught up on sleep, I shared the camp fire and some beer with a stock broker from Amman and a British family on holiday from Aqaba. The next morning we rendezvoused with a Bedouin Mohammad in Rum village, who operates Jeep and camel treks around Wadi Rum out to his secluded tent camp. Fairly tech-saavy for a Bedou, I had found his tour packages and phone number on his website (currently unavailable). Tim and I shared a Jeep tour with an Italian woman named Monica, piloted by one of Mohammad's employees Ruwan. I guess we were paired up with Ruwan instead of Mohammad himself because they quickly figured out I spoke Arabic and could act as translator and mediator for our car. The Jeep was a no-frills 1970s model (actually a Toyota I think), which Ruwan started and restarted via some hot-wiring below the steering wheel. Pretty 'adi here. Our circuitous route took us to WR's main attractions, including secluded springs surrounded by vibrant plant life, ancient inscriptions from the Nabitean people (of Petra fame), strange rock outcroppings and rock bridges, and several sites notable for having supposedly hosted T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia) himself. Of course, and I think Tim would agree here, Wadi Rum's major attraction is Wadi Rum, and all the expansive views punctuated by sand dunes and massive vibrant red rock pillars. Our motor tour ended just before sunset at Mohammad's aptly-named Sunset Camp out in the desert. After a night of communal dining and Debkah dance in what amounted to the party tent, we indulged in the touristy pleasure of a morning camel ride back to Rum village to complete our stay. Two other campers came along for a four camel caravan of two hours of gentle swaying.

Petra



Leaving Rum in late morning, Tim and I had enough daylight to squeeze in a few hours in Petra outside of the quiet (but very touristy) town of Wadi Musa. Fortunately most of the European and Asian tourists were booking it out of the park by the time we descended through the narrow and high rock-walled siq into the ancient city. Impressed by the towering rock-hewn facades of temples, we were both a bit tired from the non-stop adventuring since Friday's race and stuck to a simple circuit of the main attractions, Nabitean and Roman, and saved the stiffer climbs til the next morning. After trekking up to Petra's peaks to check out the High Place of Sacrifice (of probably goats, not virgins) and the Monastery temple the second day, we were ready to hit the road back up to Amman. Trying to give Tim the full Jordan experience, I chose the King's Highway route which snakes (more switchbacks) through Jordan's beautiful middle North-South corridor back to the capital before darting, frustrated, to the bleak Desert Highway in the interest of time.

Amman and Irbid



On our last full day in Jordan, we explored downtown Amman on foot, taking in the Roman amphitheater, Ummayyid Palace on Jabel Al Qala', Darat Al-Fanun contemporary art gallery in Weibeh, and Hashem's restaurant for some sha'bi humus and ful. We caught a trusty Hijazi bus up to Irbid to meet up with my former Yarmouk dorm-mate and American Rotary scholar for some argheelah and a relaxing evening. Ahead of us was an early morning taxi and the trials and tribulations of the Northern border crossing to rendezvous with Tim's friend for 5 days in Israel. My tour guide and translation work done, I could breath a sigh of relief and look forward to playing the passive observer role. And so I also will defer more active observations to Tim's thoughts and memories of the next leg:


Israel


(Guest post from Tim forthcoming...)

Dead Sea Half Marathon

Day 253

The opening salvo of my older brother Tim's two-week visit to Jordan was an early Friday morning race I had been training for, running from the outskirts of Amman down (and I do mean down, net-elevation drop was a nice feature) to the public beach at the Dead Sea. Unfortunately my training had been pretty skittish the previous month, ~60 miles/wk and a week off due to illness, but I was still out to have a good run and enjoy the down-time thereafter with Tim, traipsing all around Jordan. Plus, I could only squeeze in about 3.5-4 hours of sleep that night due to our late dinner and hectic provisions shopping.

All in all, though, things went pretty well. The 15th annual Dead Sea marathon is actually 4 races in one: a short ultra (48k), a marathon, a half, and a 10k fun run. The fun run brought out Jordanians, resident ex-pats, and foreign tourists in droves. The start point and check-in were a nightmare, the busing system to the various start points was ill-managed, but nevertheless it was great to see so many enthusiastic runners in a country normally devoid of respect and recognition of the sport. One caveat though--it's still Jordan and I greatly enjoyed the sight of a number of runners lighting up for their last smoke in the waiting pen.



Tim followed in our rental car to the half start line, and acted as impromptu photographer and enthusiastic supporter at various stops along the way. My race had a couple of talented Jordanians in it (from the national team), so it quickly developed into a 4-man race where a third Jordanian guy and I battled it out for third in sight of the leaders. This was my first race in about 10 months, so I was a little rusty tactially-speaking, besides not being in tip-top shape. I cruised through 5k at 14:45 and 8k at 24:15 before settling down and trudging though the second half of the race. The route was pleasant, although hot (with no shade to speak of on the side of the highway)--so I made good use of the sponge and water stations. The last 5k or so was a bit frustrating, not only because it includes the only 3 or 4 long uphills on the course, but because slow jogging and walking 10k fun-runners were congesting the entire highway. After leaving my race partner at about 10k, I wrapped things up in 1:07 even for third place, which I was pretty pleased with, all things considered.



The various races had different prize systems, but my finish was good for a box of coffee products and a flashy new cell phone. So I could finally say goodbye to the standard base-line Nokia model "foreigner phone" and gain much-needed respect from the camera phone and ring tone culture here. On another bright note, my friend whom I had been coaching for her first half-marathon ended up switching to the full marathon distance last minute and pulled out a win! Her 3:34 was a couple minutes quicker than second place and, not to mention, a Boston marathon qualifier.



I had a big crew of ex-pat friends taking part in the race, from the 10k to the ultra, so with Tim included we all enjoyed the lavish post-race party beside the pool above a crowded Dead Sea beach. Then Tim and I kicked off the rest of the trip...

Fly Rum

Day 253

yikes, a six week drought is up...

Perhaps needless to say, stuff came up and I got a bit swamped with things for a few weeks.



Anyways--in early spring here, I took off with some friends for a weekend in Wadi Rum and Aqaba. Rum is always a treat but the draw this go around was a new program offering flights over the Wadi in a microlight plane. A young female instructor pilot Basima, after smashing the glass ceiling at Jodan's commercial aviation academy, came up with the idea to fly the short jaunt from the airport in Aqaba, land on the dry lake bed outside Wadi Rum park and take up weekenders and tourists for 15-30 min. hops. The twist is, she goads you to do most of the flying (outside of landing). Fortunately it's pretty hard to screw up in such a light plane and I had a blast flying over Rum village and Jabl Rum. If you're an actual pilot, like one of my friends, you can pay half the price essentially and tool around solo.



So yeah that was amazing. Then we took our 4x4 truck way out into the reserve near the Saudi border and set up an isolated camp. I was still in training mode for a half marathon (more on that later)...so I did laps around the dry lake bed one day, and went for a sunset run from camp the next. Sunset run, alone, in the desert. Not a great idea. This is the happy pre-run picture, in which I am oozing (misplaced) confidence at my adventurous idea. I figured I could squeeze in 4 miles before dark, but turns out all your landmarks look different at dusk and from reverse. Short story is I made a wrong turn somewhere, and ten miles of frantic and frightened running via crude star navigation later, I finally saw the camp fire. The real fire, I should say--desert mirages are not just the stuff of myths. So a little dehydrated and bloodied (thorny desert bushes are hard to see and harder on the legs), I wolfed down our lavish BBQ feast and slept easy that night.

Turns out there is a (well-marked) nighttime race in Wadi Rum in late May. For various reasons I will not be partaking, but much respect to all those who do.

'Weird News' Update

Day 209

Deja Vu? This is an even stranger coincidence than the recent coffee culture repetitions in the press. I first started the 'Weird News' series last December with this post, after I came across an letter to the editor bemoaning the 'immoral' trend of young Jordanians sagging their baggy pants.

That first piece I discounted as the marginal rantings of an out-of-touch member of the older generation in Jordan. Unfortunately, this more recent editorial [Arabic] is straight from the pen of a daily columnist for the popular Ad-Dustour newspaper and a respected issues-blogger (with both Arabic and English sites) on domestic and international political, economic, and social matters--and who, by the way, is considered a pioneer among (young) Jordanian bloggers for building a bridge between traditional print and e-media*.

The parallels in language between the letter-to-the-editor and this columnist's editorial are striking...

"Jordan Watch: Young people of the nation: Raise Your Sagging Trousers"
(previous post's headline: "A National Campaign: Raise your sagging pants young people!")

some exerpts:

-"I fully support the 'unwritten' directives of the Public Security Directorate (blogger's note: I cannot believe the PSD is tackling this issue and not a myriad of legitimate domestic security concerns) to reduce the phenomenon of the young men of our beloved country wearing sagging trousers that reveal a significant portion of their 'backs'"

-"As a Jordanian citizen, it is my right to not to have to be exposed to the experience of seeing the 'back' and underwear of the person walking in front of me or that tragic moment when they bend down to pick up a pack of cigarettes or money."

-"Young Jordanians' problem is not their outward appearance, but a general lack of attention to work and culture and a lack of clarity in their objectives that we want them to receive from older generations, who judge and misunderstand young people because of their external appearance."


* article also available on his Arabic blog

Update 2: Coffee Cultures

Day 198

So this iteration of the coffee culture question has more to do with the current economic situation in Jordan than specifically with changing coffee tastes. However, it does illustrate the observation I tried to make about the generational shift from traditional Arabic coffee to the Western style moving only as fast as economic progress in the country will allow: those who can afford cups at a Starbucks or similar venue are likely to make the switch, and the distribution of Western-style cafes in more affluent urban areas like West Amman proves the point.

For some context, early this year the Jordanian government removed gasoline, electricity, and heating oil subsidies to, among other reasons, keep its expanding Social Security program afloat (small world). Because of the ubiquitous role of these basic amenities in daily life, the price hikes have had a wide ripple affect, driving up prices for all kinds of commodities like food staples.

I think these two ideas are perfectly united in the following political cartoon, reprinted in Maraya News online, one of the emerging electronic news sites from my research...




Trans:
(A look at the serious skip)
1. "Honey, what do you think about drinking coffee in this cafe?" "Not here"
2. "Alright hun, here...great coffee...!" "No not here"
3. "Hey buddy, I want to get coffee with you...Nothing pleases you--enough, where do you want to drink coffee?" "Watch it!"
4. "Abu 'Adb, 2 coffees (with a little sugar) and a cup of water...you love of my heart!"

Skiing in Lebanon

Day 190



Yes, you can ski in the Middle East.

Last weekend, I traveled with friends and roommates to Faraya, Lebanon (a mountaintop ski village about 40km north of Beirut). Although the drive there through Syria was not without hassle and misfortune--one of our group was turned away on account of a grumpy border officer and some ambiguous evidence of her trip to Israel :( --the weekend itself was a blast.

I hadn't been skiing in over a decade. And it showed. After my gracious roommates Lynn and Bestian gave me a quick ski lesson on our first run, I was off and skiing (and falling, a lot). But several hours later I was respectable enough to take on some green, blue, and even one red slope. The weather was perfect. Although the ski resort had a good 3 feet of snow from the winter for the slopes, it remained mostly sunny and probably in the 40s.














One special feature of skiing in Lebanon is that you can sit atop a mountain and overlook the Mediterranean (you can distinguish the horizon in the first pic). Faraya is a known haunt for Beirut affluent families, but the slopes weren't crowded until the official state weekend started on Saturday and I had to avoid the mother-duck-and-ducklings ski classes that were weaving down most of the runs. Note, most of these 8 year olds were much better than me, so I would usually let them pass and then tag along and follow their well-chosen routes down the descent.

Coming off the previous weekend's Dead to Red adventure, I found myself pretty exhausted after ~8 hours of skiing on each of the two days. Running fitness only transfers so well.

I'll have to go back to Beirut again. Just walking past some of the protest tent cities and down streets famous for their restaurant and night life flare before catching our ride up the mountain was a treat.

Dead to Red

Day 188














While the trials and tribulations of a 150 mile all-night relay race from the Dead Sea to the Red Sea resort city of Aqaba may be too voluminous to summarize in a blog post, here's a short capsule of the madness and joy of the February 21 weekend.

With twelve teams of runners gathered at the start of an at-least 15 hour ordeal, the start line of 11th annual Dead to Red had a relatively party-like atmosphere. Personally, the Red Bull sponsor's inflatable arch happened to remind me of some other party-like night runs in Charlottesville, also involving the energy drink (and possibly other beverages...). My team, a hodge--podge of embassy employees, ex-pats, and young Jordanians--was certainly in good spirits. The weather was a nice, comfortable mid-60s at 3pm; which was extra nice considering a snowstorm had postponed the race 3 weeks prior.













Splitting up the ~250km distance was up to team strategy. I led off the first leg before we settled into a system where each of our two team vans of 5 members traded off 5ks (each person races a kilometer before the exchange zone, as specified by the odometers). The first good bit of the race hugs the glistening Dead Sea on a slightly-hilly coarse before flattening out and heading through some sparsely-populated towns and past a few Bedouin camps. By the time the sun sets, the road stretches through wide desert flats and by midnight we were running through surreal expanses of white sand illuminated by the full moon.














To enable more rest time for each van, we switched to 10 and even 15 K intervals of each group. This enabled enough time during rest stops to get in good stretch, a quick nap, and a decent amount of gatorade, Red Bull (a la the cute girls in the two Red Bull Mini Coopers trailing the teams all night), power gels, crackers, granola bars, pasta, cheese, olives, etc. Aside from the beginning of the race, the only teams we encountered were the semi-pro Aramex sponsored group, a crew running for a local drug store chain, and the Hadideens--original participants from the race's origins and a perennially-strong group of competitors. But by sun up, the Hadideens (with whom we had traded 3rd place a couple of times during the long night), were within sight and we caught up to them along a long, straight uphill that led to the Aqaba city limits. Grouping both vans together into 10-person continuous relays of 200m sprints, we started closing the gap. By the time we had entered the streets of Aqaba with just a couple Ks to go, they were within reach. I led our final charge with a 400 or 600m all out sprint to get us within striking distance before I joined up with our other top runners to put together 100-200m sprints and eclipse the Hadideens less than 200m from the finish, with a margin of only 5 seconds in the end after over 16 hours of racing. Our final time of 16:23.00 comes out to just under a 4 min/K average. Not too shabby, and it was a heck of a lot of fun.


















Needless to say, there was much rejoicing among our team at having been on the winning end of the final photo finish. The Aramex team guys and the second place crew (who edged us by only 2 minutes) were also on hand to offer congratulations. I knew several members of each from days of training at Sports City, and we could share in the relief of ordeal finally being over. Later on we picked up some hardware (some metals and a dinky trophy) and much respect from the Jordanians at the after-race dinner.

And then a day and a half of jacuzzis, beers, and beach time (and much soreness) followed.

Weird News Volume 3

Day 188

Unfortunately, a recurring theme in some Arab news media (and even more individuals' points of view), is a tendency to filter some unexplained news events through a conspiracy filter. Not that Western cultures are at all immune to this predisposition either (the continued resonance of JFK and Princess Diana assassination theories comes to mind), but the asymmetrical power relationship that usually sparks this kind of explanation is a remnant of the region's colonial and Cold War experience and a continuing part of modern day political life here--whether the culprit is Israel, America, or some combination of the two in a form pan-Western meddling.

Although these beliefs, when manifest in news media, are almost always confined to the editorial page or the marginal comments of a guest on one of Al Jazera or Al Arabiyya's "talking heads" analysis programs, their presence is a nonetheless regrettable sign of the the media's role in legitimizing and sustaining this mode of thinking. For example, the death of long-time Hizbollah terrorist operative Imad Mughniyeh in a car bomb in Damascus gave rise to a flurry of American-Israeli covert operation theories ("Mughniyeh's Death is a Harbinger for a New War").

However understandable that cognitive connection may be in the Mughniyeh story (given he was a top priority on Mossad and FBI anti-terror lists since the 1980s), this next story still made me laugh. It comes from the editorial page of an English-language daily, The Star, owned by the prominent Jordanian Daily Ad-Dustour:

Middle East Undersea Cable Cutting: A Zionist-Neocon Covert Operation?

"...as of February 1, internet traffic routing through/from/to Iran has been cut to zero. Packet loss is 100 percent...Internet traffic to Israel has been unaffected" and "Lebanon and Iraq have been 'spared the chaos.' So, the sudden, unprecedented round of undersea, communications cable cutting in the Middle East leaves Israel and Iraq still connected, while completely shutting down the Iranian Internet. Funny how that works, isn't it."

--So the author is proposing that the cable cutting was a premeditated act by the Americans and Israelis designed to target Iran. But how? Why?

"As it happens, the US Navy has for decades had special operations teams that go out on submarines and deploy undersea, on the seabed itself, specifically for cutting or tapping communications cables...It may be that this is what the beginning of a war against Iran looks like. Or maybe we are merely seeing a dry run, a practice run, for a planned, upcoming war against Iran. The cables that have been cut are among the largest communication pipes in the region, and clearly represent major strategic targets."

Sounds like this guy should be ghost-writing for Clancy...


**Update (4 March): Looks like the Iranians are already two steps ahead of the U.S./Irsael--

"Iranian Internet users face blockage during coming election"

"The Iranian government might block private access to the Internet for the general legislative election on March 14...Several million Iranians follow political news on the Internet, and political parties have their own active Web sites."

Update: Coffee Cultures

Day 174

Last November, I wrote a post about my program of study at Yarmouk, including a sample article I wrote for Journalism class on globalization and converging Eastern/Western coffee (and cafe) cultures.

Although the article was a general comparison of Jordanian and American coffee cultures, my focus within each culture remained on recent changes in consumption patterns. In my piece, I noted an increasing divergence in the coffee preferences of Jordanian youth and their parents' generation and linked it to globalization as much as to changing tastes.

Yesterday I stumbled upon an editorial in Ad-Dustour newspaper taking a stab at the same topic. Written from the point of view of a father bemoaning his children's taste for American coffee, the author also likens the growing trend to a loss of heritage and a casualty of Western cultural imperialism. Hmm, maybe I should have shopped my article around to more than just my prof...

*note: this particular editorial, entitled "Default Country" begins a wider condemnation of Western culture imposed through globalization with the following lament of his children's denial of traditional Arabic coffee. His focus later shifts to the perils of longing to belong to an alien culture that actually wreaks havoc (from his point of view) on one's native culture. As such, even the coffee section in the introduction is filled with some polemics.

أبنائي مغرمون بالقهوة الأمريكية. ولقد باءت بالفشل جميع محاولاتي لإقناعهم بعربية القهوة ، فلم ينبهروا بحقيقة أن كلمة موكا أصلها مُخا ، الميناء اليمني الذي صدّر أجود أنواع القهوة لأوروبا على مدى ثلاثة قرون ، فلا القهوة العربية ، ولا حتى التركية ، تولد لديهم أي شعور بالانتماء كالذي ينعمون به وهم يحتسون قهوة باهتة في مقهى عالمي يعلمون أن مؤسسه رجل من أكثر الصهاينة الأمريكان تأثيراً في العالم.وأبنائي في ذلك يشكلون ظاهرة مع أترابهم من مختلف البلاد العربية ، الذين يجلسون بكل اعتزاز على (القهاوي) وكأن الشعار المطبوع على كوب القهوة الورقي هو إذن بالمواطنة في العالم الجديد. ولسان حالهم يقول: انظروا إليّ ، أنا احتسي القهوة كأي مواطن نيويوركي أصيل،سؤالي دائماً لهم: ماذا لو كان ثمن هذا الكوب طلقة تزرع في قلب طفل فلسطيني؟

"My children are fond of American coffee. All my efforts to convince them on Arabic coffee have failed, for they don’t seem to realize that the word Mocha comes from Mokha, the Yemeni port that exported the finest varieties of coffee to Europe for three centuries.

No, not Arabic coffee, or even Turkish coffee, stirs in them any sense of belonging as much as they enjoy drinking lackluster coffee in an international café knowing that that its founder is one of the biggest and most influential American Zionists in the world [he is referring to Starbuck's founder Howard Shultz, widely known in the region for his financial and political support of Israel]. Thus, my children, along with their peers from various Arab countries, form a phenomenon of sitting proudly in Al-Qahawi with the logo printed on the coffee cup and being, therefore, citizens of the new world.

They say: ‘Look at me, I drink coffee like a native New Yorker.’ So my question to them is always: ‘What if the cost of that cup of coffee is a bullet planted in the heart of a Palestinian child?'"


Tellingly, he goes on to condemn Oprah, obesity, and American acceptance of homosexuality...Yikes.

'Weird News' Volume 2

Day 167

In this second installment of 'Weird News,' I bring you a real gem I found a month ago--during President Bush's regional peace tour--on another Jordanian electronic news site, Saraya News online. Surprisingly (...), to my knowledge the story was not picked up by mainstream international media.

"Bush drinks too much alcohol at Olmert's house: Rice tells him 'Shut your mouth and don't talk'"

















The article claims an inebriated Bush confessed his inability to understand the complexities of Israeli domestic politics, before telling a room full of the party leaders of Olmert's fragile coalition that they should continue to support the Prime Minister and sustain his term. Apparently Rice, embarrassed by the diplomatic gaffe of a visiting world leader's attempts to comment on/interfere in the host nation's domestic politics, passed the President a note instructing him to shut his mouth and stop talking. At which point--and this is the best part--Bush smiled and read the note aloud before the whole room had a good hearty laugh.


It's real. This stuff is out there. And actually, for that day it was the lead story on the Regional/International section.

New Look!

Day 167

Time for a change.

I updated the layout and structure of the blog today--more color and lots of new features: cityscape header, real-time weather, a 'check it out' section where I will post some (English) news stories from Jordan that are worth a quick look, links from my research (many in Arabic), and finally a short list of GoogleNews stories on Jordan.

*IMPORTANT: if the changes aren't showing up, make sure to use http://www.fulbright-jo.blogspot.com/ (i.e. there should not be a ? mark at the end of the link).

The content update is a couple posts back...

Getting Old(er)

Day 167

Thanks for the many happy birthday wishes and mail I received.

I had a quiet (23rd) birthday: took the day off of work to sleep in, saw the other Fulbrighters at a town-hall meeting, ran 16 miles, and had a full course dinner & drinks, and relaxed at the apartment with friends. Perfect.

Quiet was just what I was looking for. And anyway, there is a less low-key occasion slated for Friday...

Dispatches from...err...Amman

Day 160

*note: this post is experiencing some formatting issues...

Well, it’s been just over a month since I returned to Jordan; a hectic month, but a good one. While I came back to the same country, I also moved cities—leaving behind dusty, conservative, at times boring Irbid for the (well, relative) bustle and culture of the capital Amman.

New Digs

Unfortunately I hadn’t really figured out my living situation before I left for the short holiday break, so I spent about 10 days crashing on very generous and welcoming friends’ couches. Like a lot of things in life, the best leads (and especially in the equivalent of the apartment hunting off-season here) came by word of mouth. Eventually I heard about an ex-pat flat with an extra BR. Of course, after over a week on couches—in sometimes drafty Jordanian buildings—I also had a pretty bad case of the flu to show for my efforts. Sickest I’ve ever been. Ever.

Worth it? Yep. I’ll play real estate agent for a second…The charming apartment is nestled in Jabal Al-Luweibdeh, a quiet residential neighborhood often tagged as the French and art quarter of Amman: French Cultural Center, Parisian café and bookshop, plus modern and fine arts galleries. The apartment shares half of an older building with an NGO, Handicap International. A 3 BR with high ceilings and two small balconies, it came furnished (and decorated) courtesy of the French NGO Acted, which uses the place as an ex-pat employee pad. Thus, not having to track down a bed or desk for my room was a big plus, and the price was right (less than half of what I would have to pay if I had settled for a single BR apt.).




















I tried to dress up my bedroom but will admit to not being very creative or willing to spend money to do so. The essentials, the (queen) bed and desk, take up most of the floor space anyway.


















The biggest draw, though, are the roommates. And we are a motley crew:





Lynn
A 20-something from the Czech Republic (don’t you dare call her Slovak), Lynn works for NCCI, an umbrella NGO coordinating international organizations’ operations in Iraq. She enjoys vodka and Red Bulls and cares little for the techno that has invaded most of the club/bar scene in central Europe. Her beau, a Frenchman named Bestien, is our apartment’s tenuous connection to Acted, and comes back every other weekend on breaks from his relief work in Irbil, Iraq. Fun fact: Lynn will out-skate and outscore you in ice hockey, and speaks about half a dozen languages.

Mozzy
Mozzy is our apartment IT guy, and works as a local web developer. He’s part German, part Palestinian, 100% good-natured. Never seen him not smiling. Mozzy and I usually enjoy a couple Amstel’s a night (did I mention the apartment is 20 ft. from a liquor shop?)—although he will never understand my habit of drinking them Mexican-style. Unfortunately for him, Mozzy’s girlfriend, the charming Italian Francesca, just wrapped up two years in Jordan working with Lynn at NCCI, and has moved back to Italy to pursue graduate studies--although Venezuela may in both of their near-futures. Mozzy is responsible for at least half of our group collection of around 300 DVDs, including some hilarious B horror movie classics.

Tiger, Mommon, Mommonette (clockwise from right) Lynn rescued a one-eyed street cat, Mommon, who gave birth to two cute terrors Tiger and Mommonette about 3 months ago. Mommon is a loving if exhausted mother, who, as you can see, provides a warm pillow for catnaps as often as she plays a disinterested spectator to frequent wrestling matches between her kittens. Tiger has a habit of attacking your food and Mommonette has a habit of attacking your feet. No one is safe.

Working Man

I officially started my research on Jordanian news media about 4 weeks ago. It's a comparative study of how traditional daily papers and emerging electronic news media (internet news sites and blogs) represent American Foreign Policy in the Levant region. Classes at Yarmouk U up in Irbid were a good prep and things are going well, but it wall progress a lot more smoothly when we figure out some regular internet service for the apartment. Oh, and look for the second installment of 'Weird News' next post...

Eventually the research will include some interviews with media professionals as well as a (very) rough gauge of how public opinion matches up with trends I identify during the research. To that end, I’ll probably saddle myself with 2-3 days a week of Arabic private tutoring to build up better speed and vocabulary in the dialect Arabic.

I am also one week into an internship (3 days/wk.) with a Jordanian political think-tank, the Regional Human Security Council. Jointly funded by the Canadian and Jordanian governments, the Council conducts research and hosts forums and conferences on regional political issues with a humanitarian focus: reconstruction, refugee movements, conflict resolution, etc. I will be only loosely affiliated with their mission as a ‘visiting affiliate,’ but will pitch in however I can in from time to time in exchange for the office space and services they are offering towards my own research.

Runnin'

I was originally dreading the move to Amman from a runner's standpoint. Getting in the miles in Irbid was hard enough (aside from a total lack of quiet running space, I once had a carrot thrown at me), so I couldn't imagine having to trek outside city limits everyday to find some quiet dirt road for runs. Fortunately, I discovered the massive 'Sports City' complex in Amman--an assortment of stadiums, gym and sportsmed facilities, athletic fields and courts, as well as a 2K walking/running trail. The path is hard-packed dirt and snakes through a large swath of pine trees, making it ideal (if boring) for accumulating laps and miles. The asphalt access roads linking all these facilities also make for good loops and add-ons, so it's not too difficult to get in 10-15 miles between the two.

I have my sights set on a half marathon at the Dead Sea in mid-April, and am still in the base mileage phase of training for that. In my first week or so back, I had been frequenting Sports City in the a.m. where I would occasionally meet the guys from the Amman Police Department running/racing team for some miles or a workout. They are in decent enough shape and made for good company (and some good practice getting my Arabic running vocab. straight). Since having switched to afternoon runs, I have met several members of Jordan’s top running group, the pool from which the national team is selected and many of whom enjoy sponsorship from the MidEast Fed-Ex equivalent Aramex.

I wanted an indoor alternative for when the weather would turn ugly (and it did), so I joined a gym about a block from the apartment. It’s a small space with a clientele who all know each other, and who now all know me as the token foreigner. Gyms can be a status symbol for the upper crust and some ex-pats in Amman, but I shied away from more lavish locales and opted for something close and close-quarters. Aside from the weight equipment—which is the draw for everybody else—‘Paris Fitness Center’ (…French quarter…) also has two treadmills. I’m pretty much the only person ever on one. While I generally dislike the kind of manufactured feeling a run can take on when it’s indoors and on a machine, it does the trick when scheduling or the weather necessitates an alternative to Sports City. Still, I can’t take it after about 12 miles on the thing, so hopefully those days are few and far between.

Finally, I was also kind of talked into running a ultra-long distance team relay race called Dead to Red (Dead Sea to Red Sea, or just south of Amman to the port city of Aqaba). It’s a 150 mi. day and night adventure, during which you and 9 teammates can switch off at whatever distance intervals you like. The top teams in the past couple years have traded off every 500m to 1K, in which case the whole event takes about 16 hours. My team is mostly embassy staff and military personnel, with the odd ex-pat and University of Jordan track runner thrown in here and there. Our strategy involved two team chase cars of five runners each, switching off at Ks, and lots of high-sugar foods, fruits, and electrolyte-laced fluids. Actually, I should have run the race last weekend, but it was rescheduled for the 21st of February on account of…

Snow

Yes, it gets cold in Jordan in the winter. The previous few weeks had seen highs in the low to mid 40s with temps approaching the freezing mark at night. A week or so ago, however, it got markedly colder and wet, resulting in about 3-5 inches of, yes, snow. Things got a bit ugly when it switched over to a cold rain on the third day and then everything refroze overnight. Plus, the roads (and especially those drivers crazy enough to be out on them) during snows of any real accumulation here are pretty treacherous. And suffice it to say there is no snow removal equipment, of the vehicular or hand shovel variety. As such, pretty much everything shuts down. No school, no government workday, and, for most, no private sector jobs either. Made for some good house parties, though. The citywide snow days generally send many people (young and old) out into the streets and small city parks for massive snowball fights. I went trudging through the slush to buy a paper (unsuccessfully as apparently paperboys also take snow days), and got into no fewer than three snowball exchanges on the way back. Let the record show I was unscathed and took out a young gunslinger in the back of a roving snow-filled pickup truck.

Ok this post is getting long. Suffice it to say things have settled down and I am settled in. خلاص.

to 'Moots'