Since I have nothing to better to do right now because of my horribly crappy day, I thought I would tell you about my horribly crappy day. Now that I'm done with school, everyone is already off traveling, and i'm literally the only American left in Amman, my days of being an only child and entertaining myself for hours are paying off. Today's big excursion consisted of going to the gym (which, if you read my "brown goop" blog post, is quite a great experience). My luck started going downhill when I was changing in the locker room after my glorious shower and accidentally sprayed perfume in the Jordanian woman next to me's eyes. You can only imagine the dramatic, over-kill reaction when the woman began pacing the locker room while 20 Arab woman gathered around her as she said "the foreigner sprayed me" in Arabic...cue all faces turning and looking at me like I killed their first son. Sorry for the lack of precise aim from YOUR Jordanian perfume made from YOUR Jordanian workers using YOUR wide angle Jordanian sprayer which clearly was made to spray a windshield wiper instead of your wrist. After drama queen calmed down and realized that she wasn't in fact going to die from a slight misting of perfume on the face, I got shwarama to take to ACOR to take an Arabic placement test for next semester. If I haven't mentioned ACOR in a previous post, it's a research center where Americans take advantage of a quiet library and free, unlimited coffee. The only downside to ACOR is that it's located in the top of a freakin mountain, so you can either hike up (it's literally a hike, half of it is a dirt road) or you can try to persuade a taxi driver to drive up there. Seeing as how my day was going, I wasn't about to hike up a dirt road. The taxi driver dropped me off right infront of ACOR when the security guard was saying something to me I didnt understand. I nodded my head like an idiot (yes is the right answer 50% of the time even if you have no idea what they're saying), and went up to the door. Of course, ACOR happens to be closed 2 days (today included) for the 5 freckin Christians in Amman. Of course at this point the taxi was long gone down the mountain and I'm standing there on a dirt road, 50 pound backpack, stranded, like a scene in Breaking Bad, while the security guard is chillin in his stand laughing. So here I go, making my way down the dirt road, wearing black leather boots with the traction of a banana peel. You can probably imagine what happens next: Proud of my achievements of making it down the mountain, I'm almost to the road, pass a cafe with a group of men outside...while my boots fail me and I slip and eat shit. Wonderful. Used to my bad luck at this point, I wave down a taxi, preparing myself to get an asshole taxi driver who thinks i'm a tourist and tries to rip me off until he realizes I speak Arabic. I get in a taxi and make my way to a cafe, thinking of my limited options due to the fact that my computer charger is on the brink of death, and only works in certain outlets, with a sweatshirt piled under it to prop it up. I decide on one which I remember has more outlets than a Best Buy...the odds are in my favor, right? No, indeed they're not. I spend a half hour playing Cranium with my sweatshirt, trying to mold it into different shapes and trying every damn plug in the cafe. Just as I was about to chuck my computer out of the window, the technology gods blessed me and the guy sitting next to me offered me his plug to use. First good thing that happened today. I decided to start my test, which like I said, is an eighty minute, intense Arabic writing exam. 40 minutes in, the internet in the cafe cuts out and I lose everything. I'm too used to my bad luck at this point to emphasize how pissed I was by using caps lock, or exclamation points. Not only did I spend 40 minutes writing about how to exercise (something I wouldn't even be able to explain using English), but everything was lost, and it's a one-time-only test. At this point, i'm going to go home, eat some chocolate, and watch some Homeland...because those two things can make any horribly crappy day significantly less horribly crappy.

The Stinging of the Sea

Jordan is like the Dead Sea; It appears to be rather plain and simple, but when you delve in and explore what it has to offer, you experience things that are sometimes painful and uncomfortable, but in the end are rewarding and worth the experience. Upon coming to Jordan, I didn’t have any expectations for how much I would enjoy it, be comfortable in it, or be able to adapt to its environment. From the surface, Jordan appeared to be simple, boring, and too homogenous for the kind of adventurous study abroad experience I was looking for in the Middle East, yet I have come to learn that quite the opposite is true.

When you first enter the salty water of the Dead Sea, it stings and is uncomfortable, but once you allow yourself to let go of the discomfort, one is able to float and enjoy the experience, similar that of the Jordanian culture. One of the most difficult things that I have had to learn to adjust to in Jordan is the stigma that is attached to being a foreigner, especially being a woman. Woman are perceived as easy, and I feel that there is a huge lack of respect given towards foreign women. Even if you are dressed conservatively, and try to behave as a Jordanian woman would (looking down, avoiding eye contact, and hiding your emotions in public), you will still receive constant cat calls, animal noises, and other disrespectful behavior. It’s degrading, exhausting, and some days extremely frustrating. Now that I have learned to except the reality and not take their actions personally, I am able to ignore the initial discomfort, let go, and float.

The Dead Sea connects two regions which are vastly different in language, culture, and values. The same can be said about Jordan, which appears homogenous but in reality homes bedouins, countryside people, city people, Syrians, Palestinians, Egyptians, and other minorities. All speak varying dialects of Arabic, and live greatly different lives influenced by history, tradition, and culture. While they may be connected by geographic borders and close proximity, there are clear divisions and discriminations between these groups, just like the regions surrounding the Dead Sea.

The hot, thick Dead Sea mud at first seems dirty and smothering, but upon staying on your body, becomes somewhat of a comfort blanket, and once washed off reveals a new layer of skin that you didn’t know existed. I never realized how attached I was to Jordan and Arab culture until I went to Israel over Eid break. Being Jewish, and having lived in Israel for five months, I have always considered Israel my second home, and Israelis my people. When I went back, I was confused as to how I felt more comfortable speaking Arabic than I did Hebrew, and felt an instant connection when I saw and interacted with Arabs. I faced an internal struggle, and clash of identities. I had the realization that Arabic is now my comfort blanket, revealing a new part of myself that I didn’t know existed.

While the discomfort doesn’t disappear, and you still feel the stinging of the sea every time you encounter a new experience, you learn to adapt and accept things how they are. You are left with an experience that constantly challenges your Western beliefs and values, is often frustrating and incomprehensible, yet some how makes its way into your heart, and will always remain there.

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Brown Goop & My Bucket-less shower

I'm not quite sure why blogging sounds appealing at times when I should be taking advantage of a quiet house and sleeping, but here I am, with motivation to fill you in on the last month [I know, I know] of my life in Jordan. I've come to realize that things seem less blog-worthy to me now that i'm becoming used to life in Amman. Things that seemed gareeb [weird, strange] are now 3adee [normal, it is what it is]. Regardless, i'm going to start off by telling you about my day, since conquering the last month is sounding a tad overwhelming and un-amusing. It's finals in Amman, which unlike the US, means that you're going to study your ass off and still get a crappy score because Arab teachers are the hitler of grades...Imagine the motivation there. I had my first final today in fusha Arabic, and decided to reward myself by getting a gym membership [sarcasm]. Four months late is better than never, right? All the falafel, 7alaweyat [Arab desserts], and shawarma are overstaying their welcome. I joined a women-only gym, which serves not only as a social place for Jordanian women to dress freely without the hijab and get their nails done, but occasionally they work out. It looks exactly like a gym in America, and people wear shorts...SHORTS! Remember those? The only difference is they blast Arabic-European music and play Turkish soaps on the TV instead of Real Housewives of Orange County. Forget my workout, the important part of this story is my shower. Today was the first time in 4 months that i've taken a comfortably hot, bucket-less, long shower. A little background info: Now that it's winter, we have to boil a big pot of water on the stove, mix it with cold water from the shower, and proceed to bathe by taking a bucket and attempting to wash your hair with one hand while dumping the bucket over your head with the other. I've mastered the art of bucket-style showering by now, but my near hypothermic showering experience last weekend put me over the edge...thus, the purchase of my gym-membership. And let me tell you, my shower today was worth every single dinar. I could actually wash my hair with two hands while a constant stream of hot water hit my body! At one point I was so excited, I moved it like Bernie [Youtube it]...It was glorious. Aside the fact that I forgot shower flip-flops and got death glares from all the Jordanian women (feet are a super touchy subject here, and instead of saying something, people will show their disapproval of your bare feet by bluntly stopping what they are doing, and staring), a gym membership was definitely in the top 5 best decisions i've made thus far. After the gym, I proceeded to pamper myself and get my lawn-length leg hair sugared for 6 JD [now that I can wear shorts and wanted to feel like a girl again]. Sugaring is a natural form of wax, which looks like a blob of something you'd make in 5th grade science class. I was expecting somewhat of a US salon experience where they lead you into a room, tell you to undress, go under a blanket, they knock on the door, come in, etc...nope. I was led to a room with half of a room divider up, barely separating me from people getting pedicures, and the Arab woman looked at me like "c'mon white girl, strip!" So there I go, takin' off my pants in front of 6 Arab women, while she says something that can closest be translated to, "Oh God, OH GOD, your legs are like my husbands." Well, I hope your husband has nice legs. I awkwardly laid on the table with 6 Arab woman staring at me while the woman [Salima was her name], rubbed this brown goop on my leg. Without warning, Salima ripped [I don't know if the word 'ripped' gives justice the amount of force used] the brown goop off of me while I instinctively used her arm as a stress ball. Experience #500,042 that makes me wish I was a guy. The whole time I was picturing my mom saying, "beauty is pain!" and trying to calculate which falafel place was cheapest by the time I took a taxi there...anything, to keep my mind of Salima and the damn brown goop.

I'm going to try and post more frequently! Be sure to leave a comment down below...it makes me ibtesim [smile :)] (See earlier post for easy instructions on how to post a comment)

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New video! What's in My Travel Makeup Bag?

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5 Things I Wish I had Known

I thought i'd take this moment to go through the difficult task of copy-and-pasting my homework assignment, turning it into a quick blog post, since midterms are here and i'll most likely be MIA for a little. These are 5 things I wish I had known about Jordan. Enjoy! Also...don't forget to leave a comment because i'm needy and need to feel appreciated. Just kidding. But really, leave a comment.

1. Jordanians Don’t Run

Growing up, I was always taught to look right, look left, and look right again when crossing the street. I imagine that children growing up in Jordan are taught to either a) sprint across the street b) avoid crossing the street, or c) look right, look left, look right, look left, look right again, look left again, and than proceed to decide between option A or option B. Considering that i’ve never seen a child, teenager, adult, or anyone but a foreigner frantically run across a street, i’m guessing that the Jordanian-nonchalant-walk across a highway is an acquired talent. In addition to not sprinting across the street, in general, running in Jordan is fairly non-existent. I realized this when I went to Israel over Eid break and found myself in sheer awe at the amount of people moving their legs. This could be due to the fact that sidewalks in Jordan are rare, and when they do exist, various trees are planted down the middle. If someone is seen running in Jordan, you assume that they are either foreign, being chased, someone stole their falafel, or all of the above.

2. Saying No to Food is Not an Option

It would’ve been great if my program told us to pack another stomach, some stretchy pants, and be prepared to come back a little larger because for those of us in host families, saying no to food is not an option. The first hour I was in my host families house, I managed to eat more food than I would normally be able to digest all day. What I thought was a celebratory, “let’s feed our guest and show her how much food we can afford” kind of day, actually foreshadowed the rest of my semester. Not only is it seen as rude to turn down food in Arab culture, but once it’s on your plate you’re expected to be a member of The Clean Plate Club. I learned to simply copy my host sister and reply with a stern “walla, ma bidee” (I swear to God, I don't want anything) when asked if I want more food, which works only because one cannot lie and say “walla”...so my host mom believes me.

3. Unnamed due to the fact that I don’t know what to title this without it sounding awkward and uncomfortable.

Either Jordanians are blessed with extremely large bladders, they don’t ever drink water, or they strategically plan their day around which restrooms to use (the latter seems highly unlikely because planning something in Arab culture is a prolonged process which may or may not happen). In the two months i’ve been here so far, i’ve never seen a Jordanian girl actually use the bathroom for any purpose other than re-adjusting her hijab, spraying massive amounts of perfume, or gossiping with friends. The fact that 99% of bathrooms in Jordan don’t have toilet paper and are literally porcelain holes in the ground may contribute to this, but my theory is applicable to my host family as well, where we have packs upon packs of Fine tissue, running water, and actual toilets. Riddle me this.

4. The Science of Hijabis

You can tell a lot about a girl by the size of her Hijab. No, she most likely wasn’t blessed with thick, voluptuous hair, there’s a whole bouquet of flowers under there. Hanging in almost every store window you’ll find little bouquets of flowers that look like hair scrunchies from the ‘80s. As explained by my host sister, the Qur’an instructs both men and women to dress modestly, so the girls that wear makeup, tight clothes, and have hijabs the size of Texas are usually wearing it as more of a fashion statement, rather than a religious one.

5. Who run the world? Girls

Being a woman in Jordan is a lot different than being a man. This isn’t heading in the secular-feminist-rant direction that you probably predicted, but instead the i’m-rather-shocked-and-impressed approach. Coming from the West, we have the idea that wearing the hijab is oppressive, and that women in the Middle East aren’t respected by men. While i’m only speaking from my experiences in Jordan (obviously women in Saudi Arabia or Iraq are a completely different story), women are idolized, powerful, and in most cases, the head of the household. Wearing the hijab is seen as more respected, but is not mandatory, and is often more of a fashion statement than a religious one. In my host family, i’ve seen how huge the woman’s role in the family is. For lack of a less-cheesy description, she’s not only the main decision maker, but she's the glue that holds the family together.

Sorry if that got increasingly un-entertaining. That's what happens when you try to do your homework assignment in the middle of the night after spending 8 hours crossing the Israeli-Jordanian border.

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A Day in the Life [Cliche Title for the Win]

I thought i'd take this moment to walk you through a day in the life in Amman, because contrary to popular belief, I don't ride a camel to school nor do I live in a dirt cave. My day begins by pressing the snooze button 10 times, waking up 30 minutes late, having my host mom try to feed me either a) Cake b) Betengan (pickled eggplant with various spices that should not be digested before 11 am) or c) pita with cheese, zatar, and olive oil. I usually go with option C, but option A is rather tempting. I then get a ride to school with either Ziad, or Ahmed, both my host brothers, but one thinks he's on The Fast and the Furious [and by that, I mean he will drive on the wrong size of the road instead of waiting to turn left, while simultaneously cutting between cars with one inch on either side]. I wish I were exaggerating. Once I get dropped off at the UJ campus, the staring begins. We have devised a walking system to avoid "the tunnel of doom" and other crowded spots on campus, because the amount of cat calls and stares one receives on a daily basis is comparable to how I imagine Shamu feels on Kids-go-to-Sea-World-for-free-day. The fact that i'm empathizing with a whale is probably a sign that I should be in bed right now. I then have 2 and a half hours of Modern Standard Arabic in a room that makes you feel like you're getting interrogated yet has some character to it, and is in good location for listening to Jordanian girls gossip outside. Depending on the day I have 1-2 more classes, none of which are interesting enough for me to talk about right now. After class, I'll usually go to an internet cafe run by a guy from LA, where they make the best $5 milkshake and $3 cup of plain black coffee you've ever had...but hey, the internet's fast, and you can find really interesting people there [aka, people holding hands, kissing, and doing other haram things that is way too amusing not to watch]...you know you're in the Middle East when seeing people hold hands turns into a rare and exciting experience. After being less-than-productive in the cafe, I usually venture back home and share a taxi with the American who lives next door. Taxi riding in Amman is an experience that deserves it's own blog post, but to say the least, there is never a dull moment...ever. I get dropped off at the bottom of a steep hill everyday and walk up to my house, burning off half a falafel ball. Greetings are a huge part of Arab culture, so as soon as I walk in the house I go through the routine, Marhaba! Keefik, al hamdulilah...and wait for my host mom to tell me to eat [go figure]. My 13 year old host sister will come out, and we'll usually lip-sync Taylor Swift or random Arabic songs in which she'll laugh at my accent, or we'll watch an episode of Spongebob in Arabic [listening to Spongebob say inshallah (god willing) is one of the greatest things ever]. Once all of my host brothers get home from work, there will be endless games of Fifa, talking on the phone to the family in Syria, and drinking mint tea on the patio. Life in Jordan is good, الحمد الله

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Coffee Poisoning

I feel that the best way to procrastinate doing my shit ton of Arabic homework would be to tell you about my could've-been-potentially-life-threating-but-is-now-a-funny-story experience. Upon having a some-what rough day, I met a friend that night at Jebel Webbdeh (a nice neighborhood with amazing views of Amman), to sit and gossip about my "I love you but I want to kill you right now" moment with my host mom...[nothing major, just an extreme lack of independence as i'm used to in the US]. So Samantha and I are sitting on what we think is a public wall, overlooking the city, when a nice looking family with 4 kids comes out of the car and the following occurs: They start speaking to us in Arabic, we stare blankly back at them, they start speaking to us in English, they invite us in for coffee [totally normal and non-creepy to do here], we politely refuse, they invite us in for coffee again, we politely refuse again, they invite us in for coffee a third time, where at this point, my instincts were to get up and walk away, when Samantha replies with a peppy, "sure!". We proceeded down the stairs with this random family [for some reason the fact that they had children was reassuring that we weren't walking to our death bed], when we walk into their house, or lack there of. Like I said in a previous post, cleanliness is a huge deal here because guests come over unexpectedly, all day long. The fact that they didn't have a clean house and there was massive amounts of crap piled on their couches, probably should've been red flag #1. We sat down when the dad told one of his sons, in Arabic, to go get us coffee, while the mom [the only one who spoke good English], started off by telling us that her and her husband our divorced, one of her sons mom is from Venezuela, and than asking me whether Venezuela is in America. We then got the FAQ's like, "what religion are you" [answer: always Christian], "what does your dad do for work", "everyone in California is rich, right?". At this point, 10 more guys came into the room all introducing themselves, while we received multiple marriage proposals [rather tempting, but just had to refuse]. This is sounding a lot less creepy and a lot more inviting than it really was. The son came back into the room with 2 cups of coffee, one for me and one for Samantha, while him and the dad exchanged some sort of look and whispered something in Arabic [like we could've understood it if they yelled it]. Apparently Samantha was oblivious to this odd encounter between father and son, and proceeded to drink the coffee, while I tried to figure out how to discreetly make the coffee disappear from my cup. They began to ask us strange questions while the boys were trying to look us up on Facebook. Samantha and I non-verbally agreed, "this is creepy as shit, this coffee is most likely poisoned, and we should probably run out of the house now". When the mom started explaining that when they saw us, they had just gotten back from the police station because they were arrested for getting in a fight with their neighbors, we took it upon ourselves to abruptly and awkwardly leave, and speed-walked out of their house waiting for a Dexter-like scenario to happen. We're now basically running up their stairs outside of the house, and the whole family comes outside looking up at us confused, while the sons are yelling "goooood biiiyyee preeeety laydieees". We walked down the empty non-lit street, and I found out that Samantha was oblivious to the fact that there was something weird going on with the coffee situation. The walk back to the main circle was spent trying to convince Samantha that she won't abruptly die, and that they weren't extremely creepy-letspoison2americangirls-type of people. Good news: Samantha is alive.

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Wadi Rum, Aqaba, & Petra!

You know that moment when someone says, "The Middle East" and you think of a person aimlessly wandering the desert on camel? Well, that happened. What they don't tell you is that camels hurt like hell. Boys, I'm truly sorry...jock cups probably should've been on our packing list. 130 of us rode on camels through Wadi Rum, led by local bedouins who didn't understand our Arabic but knew how to say "picture" and "you're from America?"...think they get tourists often? After trying to get comfortable for a half hour I accepted the fact that camels are not comfortable creatures, and enjoyed the absolutely breathtaking view of the Wadi. I also learned some bedouin language, which consists of a bunch of hissing and strange clicking noises that I'm convinced only they are capable of making, and only camels are capable of understanding.

That night we stayed in a bedouin camp, which was more like a motel in the dirt, than a camp. It was fully equipped with cots, showers, toilets, AND TOILET PAPER! A luxury in Jordan. There was a huge buffet and barbecue, followed by dancing and music all night. Our tour guides [a group of 10 attractive, young Jordanians] taught us the Dabke, a traditional Lebanese circle dance, and thoroughly enjoyed watching us fail. Once the lights went out at the camp, they brought out the arghellah [which btw, 90% of Jordanians smoke, and no, it's not weed...google it] while we enjoyed the stars. The next day we left early for Aqaba, which is basically Jordans version of Hawaii. We were taken out on a super nice boat and spent the day snorkeling, swimming, and tanning [or in my case, remaining white], with a staff that waited on you like you were Queen Rania. Sounds rough, right?

Back on the bus, we made our way to Petra. That night we stayed in a hotel [again, toilet paper included], with European-style showers that turned our bathroom into a swimming pool and ate the traditional Jordanian dish called Mensaf. Mensaf is by far the funnest food to eat. It's like Kindergarden art class but you're able to eat your creation. The server showed us how to properly roll the chicken, rice, and sauce into a ball like a true Jordanian. I think we got a little to into this experience, because there were a group of Jordanians gathering around our table both praising, and taking pictures of our "art" [aka Mensaf snowman].

Feeling like Queen Rania was short-lived. The next morning, we walked [keyword: walked] to Petra. In 110 degree heat, the best way I can explain Petra is donkeys, heat, rocks, and more rocks. At this point, we were all so exhausted that I would've rather ate the rocks than walk on them. I'm planning on coming back to Petra when its cooler, and I can actually appreciate what I'm looking at. 7 hours later, a group of 4 of us decided we'd rather not have heat stroke, and walked back to the hotel where we crashed on the lobby couches and talked to the guy working at the front desk, who turns out to be a really interesting guy. We got his email and are having coffee with him when he's in Amman next week [a totally normal, non-creepy, encounter to have with a Jordanian].

For those of you wondering how to leave a comment [please do, it makes me happy knowing that people actually read my clusterfuck of a blog], all you have to do is the following:

1. Click the Comments link below the post

2. Type away

3. Where it says "comment as" select "anonymous" from the down bar

4. click "publish"!

السلام عليكم

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Holy Shit, I'm in the Middle East

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My Big Fat [Arab] Wedding

Well, I officially hit the host family jackpot. The best way I can think to explain the extent of their amazing-ness [yes, that is now a word], is by picturing My Big Fat Greek Wedding... Arab version. I have a 13-year old host sister I share a room with who thinks I look like Taylor Swift [don't ask] so she refers to me as "too too", 4 brothers in their twenties [who happen to be extremely good-looking tall, dark, funny Arab men], and a host mom who is the sweetest, funniest woman and will shove anything down your throat that can be digested [mostly consisting of Syrian food, zatar, and pineapple juice with the highest sugar content possible...so I'm not complaining]. The most useful word I've learned to say so far is "ana shaaebana" meaning I'm full, which Arabs interpret as, "ok ok I will get you tea and ice cream." As far as the house goes, you could literally perform surgery on the floor it's so clean [mom and dad, you have competition]. Having a clean house is a sign of hospitality since Arabs have unexpected guests nonstop. And by unexpected guests, I mean within 20 minutes of sitting on the couch, the cousins, second cousins, third cousins, and neighbors brothers uncle will have all come over, and if the house wasn't clean, all of Amman would hear about it within about 15 minute upon leaving. All of my host brothers and sisters speak English which is nice since my Arabic is lacking in the conversation department, but we try and use mostly Arabic. My host mom [who will here on out be referred to as Mama], knows three words of English: sit, eat, and "you like?" so we communicate using a mix of Arabic and charades. The brothers and cousins are all extremely outgoing and hilarious and have shown me a side of Amman that I definitely wouldn't see other otherways. Last night we went to a hookah bar [correctly known as Marghelleh or "hubbly bubbly"] that looked like it would be a high-end restaurant in New York or San Francisco, overlooking East Amman. They ordered me a Mexican beer, which is Red Bull, limon, some other unknown substance, and absolutely no beer involved whatsoever. I'm going to cut this short because Mama is yelling something at me in Arabic. Maasalama!

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Arriving in Amman

Well, my airport journey was some-what entertaining. My morning started off puking at home [don't take Zicam on an empty stomach, ever] and barely making it through security without hurling in a trash can. It would just be uncharacteristic of me if my journey started off on a normal note. Once on the airplane, I attempted to lift up my 50 pound carry on [no literally, it was 50 pounds], into the overhead compartment. Imagine a 4'11 girl trying to lift a huge ass bag with a line of antsy New Yorkers behind her. That happened. Luckily, a flight attendant and huge guy (pretty sure he was a MMA fighter, if not, sir, you should definitely consider a career change), hoisted my bag into the overhead. I heard the guy sitting next to me speaking Arabic, so I started up a conversation with the fellow, turns out he's the Air Force General for Saudi Arabia...no big deal. We had a good, long 5 hour conversation covering pretty much every topic from how his wife and daughters send him a Victoria's Secret shopping list when he comes to America, to how I should watch out for Moroccan men, because they like to party [Note to self: go to Morrocco]. I attempted to speak Arabic with him, but it pretty much failed until i'd write it down and he'd say something like, "Ahhh, you Americans and your pronunciation!" At one point he told me that the Americans stole the number "0" from the Arabs [which to all my non-Arabic learners reading this, the only number that looks somewhat relating to the number 0 is about a third of the size of the English 0 and looks like a donut hole]. I have no clue who first came up with 0, but I nodded my head and said "waaallaah?!" (meaning something along the lines of: really?! holy shit!) After the 6 hour flight to JFK, we said goodbye and he offered to take me to my terminal (the mans landed here over 500 times), but I politely refused. Dumb decision. I wandered JFK for about a half hour before getting into the Admirals club to ask where the hell I am. I knew I was in the right place when there were a group of men reciting the Muslim call to prayer at the gate. The flight from JFK to Amman was surprisingly somewhat uneventful. Consensus was that the Jordanian flight attendants were the most beautiful group of women we've ever seen. I popped a NyQuil and passed out for the majority of the flight, best decision I made all day. Arriving in Amman was easier than I expected, but I immediately realized how shitty my Arabic is. Customs were a piece of cake, he asked me something I didn't understand in Arabic, I nodded my head, and he let me through. Don't know what happened there, but hey...it worked. After getting my bags, I walked out of the baggage claim area where about 200 people were waiting for their guests, found my program director, and chilled in the airport for 45 minutes waiting for other people to get their bags. We all then piled into 10 different vans, and it became apparent to me how absolutely insane Jordanians drive. Picture the worst driver you know, take away the fact that lanes and speed limits exist, and walla! There you have a Jordanian driver. They take #YOLO to a whole new level. To my surprise, we arrived at the hotel in one piece [which, may I add, looks like a metropolitan, 4 star hotel you'd find in New York or San Francisco]. We went through routine, orientation type things, none of which are mildly entertaining, or blog-worthy.

الصور [pictures!]

My Horribly Crappy Day

The Stinging of the Sea

Brown Goop & My Bucket-less shower

New video! What's in My Travel Makeup Bag?

5 Things I Wish I had Known

A Day in the Life [Cliche Title for the Win]

Coffee Poisoning

Wadi Rum, Aqaba, & Petra!

Holy Shit, I'm in the Middle East

My Big Fat [Arab] Wedding

Arriving in Amman

Study Abroad Update: The shopping has begun.

NEW LIMITED EDITION Maybelline Color Tattoo in Barely Beige Swatches!

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Cutefinds.com Review, Coupon Code & Giveaway!

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الصور [pictures!] attack("sum362895836936286767","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/12/pictures.html")

My Horribly Crappy Day attack("sum5598737226700496484","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/12/my-horribly-crappy-day.html")

The Stinging of the Sea attack("sum6647329241414317043","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/12/the-stinging-of-sea.html")

Brown Goop & My Bucket-less shower attack("sum1399086986880690013","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/12/brown-goop-my-bucket-less-shower.html")

New video! What's in My Travel Makeup Bag? attack("sum3526296703814738837","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/11/new-video-whats-in-my-travel-makeup-bag.html")

5 Things I Wish I had Known attack("sum4836826721005083383","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/10/5-things-i-wish-i-had-known_29.html")

A Day in the Life [Cliche Title for the Win] attack("sum2449086362171767402","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/10/a-day-in-life-cliche-title-for-win.html")

Coffee Poisoning attack("sum3999343588914068988","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/10/coffee-poisoning.html")

Wadi Rum, Aqaba, & Petra! attack("sum3852170768318336170","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/09/wadi-rum-aqaba-petra_2078.html")

Holy Shit, I'm in the Middle East attack("sum7985295587538946437","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/09/holy-shit-im-in-middle-east.html")

My Big Fat [Arab] Wedding attack("sum1243867705031534900","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/09/my-big-fat-arab-wedding.html")

Arriving in Amman attack("sum2445850280224555293","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/09/arriving-in-amman.html")

Study Abroad Update: The shopping has begun. attack("sum8398403448268443812","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/08/study-abroad-update-shopping-has-begun.html")

NEW LIMITED EDITION Maybelline Color Tattoo in Barely Beige Swatches! attack("sum3954246338653929905","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/08/new-limited-edition-maybelline-color.html")

And the winner is.... attack("sum4846783541126838289","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/08/and-winner-is.html")

Cutefinds.com Review, Coupon Code & Giveaway! attack("sum1990994593341849391","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/08/cutefindscom-review-coupon-code-giveaway.html")

FOTD: Copper eye attack("sum7319864385902988607","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/08/fotd-copper-eye.html")

8/20 Face of the Day attack("sum1215245658569878419","http://www.thataylaa.com/2012/08/620-face-of-day.html")

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Blog Archive

الصور [pictures!]

My Horribly Crappy Day

The Stinging of the Sea

Brown Goop & My Bucket-less shower

New video! What's in My Travel Makeup Bag?

5 Things I Wish I had Known

A Day in the Life [Cliche Title for the Win]

Coffee Poisoning

Wadi Rum, Aqaba, & Petra!

Holy Shit, I'm in the Middle East

My Big Fat [Arab] Wedding

Arriving in Amman

Study Abroad Update: The shopping has begun.

NEW LIMITED EDITION Maybelline Color Tattoo in Barely Beige Swatches!

And the winner is....

Cutefinds.com Review, Coupon Code & Giveaway!

FOTD: Copper eye

8/20 Face of the Day