Tag Archives: Middle East

Israel-Palestine Conflict 101

Jordan borders Palestine and Israel to the West.  Though I don’t live in these countries, their politics are impossible to ignore.  I’ve read statistics stating that Jordan is comprised of anywhere from 60-75% of Palestinian refugees and their descendants.  In a sense, Jordan is a Palestinian state.  Queen Rania is Palestinian.  Jordan has interesting identity issues — the original inhabitants of Jordan, previously nomadic desert-dwelling Bedouin people, comprise a minority, while their Palestinian neighbors from the west make up a majority of the population and lead the economics of the country.  Amman, the capital, has mostly sprung up as a result of the influx of refugees from the foundation of Israel and the following wars.

With this in mind, I thought I’d share with the ten or so readers of this blog a great introduction to the issue I found on the web here.  I have copied the text below.  Read, learn, enjoy!

Queen Rania of Jordan

Queen Rania of Jordan -- considered one of the most powerful women in the world

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not in kansas, part i

Sometimes I forget how far from home I am.  I walk around and feel as though I could be in Indianapolis, if you turn a blind eye to some of the more glaring differing details.  I think a lot of west Ammanis, and west Amman establishments, appreciate and strive to assimilate to many things American.  Sometimes I tell my friends they are more “American” than I am – reminding me, in near-perfect English, that the Grammys are on tonight as we sit at Burger King eating Big Macs wearing Gap.  Have you seen Avatar in 3D yet?

I think this is actually in Saudi, and most signs in Jordan are in English

Often my life in Amman feels like I moved to a new American city, rather than abroad.  I suppose a lot of this sentiment comes from having living in Yemen for a stint, which, quite the opposite, makes one feel as they had moved to another century on another planet.

I’ve lived here for over 6 months now, which means I’m probably just so accustomed to this place that it feels “normal” to me.  Throw me in Chicago or San Francisco and my jaw might drop at the ‘craziness’ of it all.

Then, I get messages like these from the Embassy.

Subject:   Tawjihi Celebrations – February 6, 2010

On Saturday, February 6th, the Jordanian Ministry of Education intends to release the interim results of the high-school exam (the Tawjihi).  Families throughout Amman often celebrate when the results are announced, and for some the celebration is exuberant.  Groups of young adults may drive around in cars blowing horns, and some individuals may shoot into the air.  The direct threat is minimal, but traffic can be congested.  Please do not be surprised if you hear shooting.

Wait, am I in the Middle East, or is this just another one of those family vacations in Arkansas?

this blog is cold

Let’s warm it up a bit!

I believe that when many people unaffiliated with the Middle East conjure up a mental picture of it, they see arid deserts, maybe an oasis here and there, a bunch of camels, and dark men in turbans.  This isn’t a post  listing and  breaking all the stereotypes of the Middle East.  This post will address just one of them: the weather, and more specifically, the temperature.

Jordan is a desert.  It’s the fourth water-poor country in the world, according to some documentary I watched here a couple of months ago.  There is a lot of sand.  There are cacti and little scrubby greens gripping pebbles hoping to eke out an existence.  Despite this desert, I am freezing my toes off at the moment.  It is snowing outside, has been since I woke up, and should be snowing until two days from now.

I didn't take this. Thanks camelsnose.wordpress.com, whoever you are.

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mother of the world

Cairo is known as “Um al-dunia” – mother of the world. It’s not hard to realize why. Cairenes inhabit a space present in millennia of literature. They live amongst the pyramids, the only remaining ancient wonder of the world. Glorious empires sustained themselves on the riches of the fertile Nile valley, a sliver of abundance on a map of hostile sand. Cairo served as a metropolis of learning and culture, the seat of empires, and today, is home for anywhere from 20 to 30 million people, depending on who you ask, depending on the time of day. I’ve heard 5 million people enter each day as they commute to work.

Karnak Temple

The city doesn’t sleep. While there, we got swallowed up in the excitement, and often crashed well after the sun had risen. When crossing the road, I can’t tell if it’s better to do so with your eyes open or closed. You literally have to walk into oncoming traffic if you ever hope to cross. The pedestrian crossing lights show a little green man running for his life. Amazingly enough, Cairo has a metro system. You need to position yourself in the middle of a wave of people, and shove your way onto the car. The smog is so thick it soon forms a blanket on your tongue.

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pyramid scheme

Behind us lay labyrinthine, garbage-strewn alleys through which we had just maneuvered the beasts. Ahead of us, the the flickering lights of a bonfire, the desert’s own lighthouse. And to either sides, no one knew.

“Don’t worry, Cate,” I offered to she who had just observed that falling off the horse would ensure certain death by trampling, “if your horse took off into that dark unknown,” I pointed off to my left, “I’ll chase after you. I was a horseman last summer, don’t forget.”

The horse was so enthusiastic, my saddle so improperly fitted (my knees sometimes bumped into my chest), and I’m such an amateur that I rubbed part of my ass raw riding to The Pyramids at 4am that one fateful morning. Then again, a horsewoman at Yellowstone told me once, “If yer not bleedin’, yer not ridin’ hard enuf.”

Sarah’s mom actually warned Cate against this. “Sarah’s going to try to get you to ride horses to the pyramids late one night.” As if it’s something we had to be persuaded to do, something to avoid?

Howdy, pardner.

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Booted from Petra

We weren’t sure of the path.  The hiking guidebook we were using provided gems such as, “At the big rock, go around.” Or something similar.  We followed the stairs, which appeared to be new but styled to look ancient.  We passed our yoga studio, dipped into a valley, and climbed the side of the mountain once again.  We came to a huge shelf of sorts overlooking endless valleys below and for as far as we could see.

Who's comin' up around the bend?

The ancient Bedouin didn’t so much appear to us.  He was just, well, there.  “Would you like some tea? Maybe a hand-made necklace?”  I can’t decide if his business plan is genius or slightly insane.  Of course we had tea.  We hardly refuse it. I call this moment, “The Tea Sipped at the Top of the World.”  The sweet, sage-infused tea shared among friends grounded us atop this mountain.  We might not be following the guide book anymore, but it didn’t matter.  We had a Bedouin guide confirm we were on the right track.  He also knew where we had camped, that we had a fire late into the night, that we were American, and where we had hiked from.  News travels fast, and we weren’t exactly quiet.  After charging us one JD ($1.41) for each cup of tea, I noticed other hikers far behind us on the same route, and decided this old man’s business plan was genius. Continue reading

penultimate eid

Deep valleys and steep mountains lay before and behind us – and we zoom around the curves, gripping the sides of the bed of the truck for dear life. I find it difficult to light my cigarette in this wind, but I prevail with a little help from my friends. Mohammed, an army officer and friend of our driver joins us in the back. I keep staring at the door of the bed, wondering how tightly secured it is, and how long Mohammed would tumble down the mountainside before coming to his final resting place. Thankfully this leg of the trip was without incident, save for Mohammed’s questioning as to why I’d allow my wife to so bluntly engage in conversation with such a strange man like himself. “She’s very independent. She has her freedom.”

The camel of modernity

We went to a castle, and it was really old. I feel jaded. I’m saddened to say that the sense of wonder that once welled up inside my chest upon facing an ancient site no longer wells, but remains placid and deep inside me. So, the castle was old. I hardly took any pictures of the site itself, but instead tried (failingly) to capture the magnificent view from atop the mountain. I positioned myself in a watchtower and tried to imagine defending the castle as invaders scrambled up the hill, but even this musing failed to stoke my passion. Instead the thoughts of violence intensified the suns rays upon my frail face, and I was ready to get back into the truck. Continue reading

Eid trip — still…

Operation: speed through the rest of the trip. First of all, it feels like years ago. I hardly even remember anything. It’s as though I heard a story of someone else’s awesome trip and I’m just giving a second-hand retelling. Second, I’ve done some awesome stuff I want to eventually get to on this blog. For example, I went to Jerusalem, Ramallah and Tel Aviv last weekend. I’m going to Egypt this upcoming week. So, with that, let’s try to conclude my eid trip as quickly as possible.

The next day we walked up a valley. It took us all day. It was beautiful – there was water in this valley, and hence lush vegetation everywhere. It was surreal walking from an arid desert into a valley oasis, replete with swimming holes for children, palm trees, fresh springs (I drank the water trickling out of a spigot – a whole 3 liters of it, and I live to tell the story). Often we hiked shin-deep in water.

Lushy lush

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eid trip #1 – we are indiana jones, we are macgyver, we are in search of Adventure and we’re on the right track

Wow, this life is exhausting.

First I had a three week vacation to Yemen. I spent my time chatting and smoking shisha and drinking tea and going to coffee & chocolate shop grand openings and magazine launch parties and cultural debates and wandering around and taking pictures of rainbows and sleeping away the Ramadan daytime. It’s not a pretty life, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Then I was compelled to sit through a grueling week-long orientation in Amman. I was forced to listen to presentations on security & safety, foreign travel, insurance plans, research clearances, how to get paid, establishing residency visas, renting apartments, signing up for classes, and other such nonsense. For four hours a day! How was I supposed to feel rested for nights on the town if I had to wake up at 7am every day?

Then I had a whole week of classes. I was pretty sure I’d be fluent by the end of it, but it turns out I have a lot of work to do. They placed me in an advanced level where the textbook answer key I brought with me from home no longer applies. We only read the newspaper and short stories, but thank God for Google translate.

Just as I thought I’d be crushed by the weight of all these responsibilities, the holy month of Ramadan ended and eid al-fitr began. Without nine days off, I don’t think I’d have made it this far in the whole “immersion abroad” thing.

To maximize cultural exchange, myself and eight other Americans grouped up for Travel ™! You should have seen us, all gussied up for Nature. Our titanium-alloy-spined backpacks were stuffed with GORP and our Kleen Kanteens swung lazily as we departed.

My friend’s sister joined us for the trip. Meet Sarah, a five-foot two-inch ball of intensity. I gave her slow instructions on how to get from the airport to the mall near my house, including such gems as, “If you ask nicely, someone will probably let you use their phone, or you can find an “ItiSilAt, which means “connections” or “communications” – a phone place, get it?!” Her flight arrived at 9am, and I started to wonder about her come noon. She calls. “Did you make it? Did you find a bus?” No, she’s waiting for me at the mall already. I walk up and she steps out of a Mercedes, smiles big and hugs me. “If we want to go to the Dead Sea or to Aqaba or Syria, Mohammed here says he’ll take us. I met his mom, she made me some great snacks. Thanks Mohammed!” Mohammed doesn’t speak English.

Sarah never takes the elevator, is a Northwestern triathlete, and gently comments upon your lifestyle: “Oh nice! I haven’t listened to English music since coming to the Middle East, let alone country western!”

She’s been in Egypt since June, and speaks better Arabic than I do.

The following day we show up at the bus station for the beginning of my much-needed recess. I don’t know why the price is suddenly double what it should have been, and I never found out why, because Sarah took care of it before I could even inquire.

A couple hours later, we’re at the outskirts of Dana, the largest nature preserve in Jordan, which is run by the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RSCN). Citrus and olive trees join 600 other species of plants alongside 45 species of mammals, 25 of which are endangered. The beautiful stone village of Dana, dating back to the 1400s, is largely uninhabited now, because this generation a cement factory was built. The residents left the historic village on the cliffs for a new one closer to the factory. Six-thousand year-old copper mines are dotted along the reserve; they were the largest metal smelting operations in the area and are even mentioned in the Bible. (Anyone who has read Lonely Planet: Jordan will see that I am borrowing heavily here.) There are a 100 different archaeological sites in the preserve, many of which have yet to be excavated or explored. Man, without this guidebook, for me Dana would have remained just something stunning to look at and walk through.

Even though we were planning on walking five days all the way to Petra, when the bus driver asked us if we wanted to be dropped off at our camp site or if we wanted to walk there, we of course wanted to walk. We stepped lightly despite our heavy bags, fueled by the self-righteousness in knowing that our $55 spent to sleep on a mattress on the floor in a stylized Bedouin tent was going to support the Conservation of Nature (TM).

startoftrip

Here we are, start of the trip, fresh off the bus.
(Left to right: Alex, Ali, Judith, Allison, Caroline, Regina, Me, Sarah.  David, not shown, took the photo.)

This was not about finding an authentic experience. Had we wanted to experience Dana like many Ammanis with disposable income, we would have rolled up in a BMW 4×4, seen the provided tents, noticed the fact that the entire place (including their hot water) was powered by solar panels, gotten back in our SUV, cranked up the AC and some bumpin’ Arab pop music, and sped directly to the Dead Sea Ritz Carlton for a night of all you can eat buffets served next to three swimming pools, followed by his and her facials given by Thai massage therapists. So, in this sense, thankfully for this trip we marched to the beat of our American drum. We are Indiana Jones, we are MacGyver, we are in search of Adventure and we’re on the right track.

It was the last day of the holy month of Ramadan, wherein Muslims fast and nothing passes lips from sunup to sundown. Fasting is a reminder of the plight of the poor and hungry, an emptying exercise widening one’s communication channel with God. Sprinkled throughout the month are devotional prayer sessions, and plenty of time for reflection and renewal. For non-Muslim foreigners, Ramadan is marked by dragging hard and fast on cigarettes behind buildings, enjoying secret lunches seasoned with guilt, and thoughts of, “Man, this would be so much better if I just fasted too.” Not wanting to appear inconsiderate during this last high holy day, we strayed off the path as we neared the campground to have a hidden lunch. The camp manager eventually pulled up in his truck and asked why the heck we felt the need to hide. He was waiting to orient us with the site.

A cluster of permanent sleeping tents hug the cliffside, and large open shade structures border the area. Using the phrase shade structure makes me think of Burning Man, but there were no flame-throwing three-story elephants marching through this desert. Shame.

Tents at Dana
(Photo Courtesy of Sarah?)

Still amped up from our first week of class and still fresh from only a bus ride, we flipped flash cards and drilled each other on new vocab as we relaxed through the hottest part of the day. A few hours before  sunset we hiked up a trail to check out stunning views from the valleys below.

Dana Shade Structure
(Thanks Sarah.  Daoud?)

Ali Overlooks(Thanks Daoud)

That night they served us an awesome dinner, and shared stories and sage-infused tea over a campfire. Apparently Jordanians never smile, an Egyptian will try to convince you the empty bottle of Coke is actually full before selling it to you, and Syrians speak excruciatingly slowly. We learned of a honey thief and and lies and secret passwords, and how neighbors solve problems without violence or angry confrontation. Why take things to the courts when cunning and guile get your honey back?

I sleep early and hard, and thus ends day one of my backpacking trip.

For a compilation of photos from the trip, click here. But check back, because people still have to upload their photos (Guilty.).