Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Train Rides, Amusement Parks, and Graveyards

For the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Adha, we had a week off of classes, which obviously translated into a week to do as much travelling as we could. My destinations of choice: Cairo, Egypt, and Jerusalem, Israel.

I went to Cairo by myself, but met up with my friend, Matt (apparently I am only friends with people named Matt) who is studying for the year. He spent a year in Yemen living with the rural bedouin tribes, so the big city life isn't really his thing. Hence his suggstion that we travel south along the Nile Delta. He originally wanted to take a midnight train to Luxor (12 hours south of Cairo) but I was a little sketched out by the whole midnight train thing, so we decided to leave in the morning and go to Minya, a four hour train ride from Cairo.

 The train was at 10, and we arrived to Ramsees Station at 9:55...after literally running through downtown. We asked three people in uniform if we buy our ticket in the station or on the train, and all three said on the train. So we rushed onto the train and miracuously found 2 seats next to each other. Since it was Eid, seats were hard to come by because a lot of people were travelling home to be with their parents. We settled in, but all of a sudden at the second stop, a woman came up to us and said we were sitting in her seats. We must have looked confused because she pulled out her tickets to show that she had seats 16 and 17, so we gathered our stuff and stood in the already crowded aisle. We soon found out that you could buy your tickets at the station to reserve a seat, but you can buy your tickets on the train for standing room. And the standing room tickets are more expensive!!

About an hour into the ride, a guy sitting next to me offered me his seat. I did the whole "three time refusal rule" (an understood cultural rule) but accepted on the fourth time. Ahhh, the occasional advantages of being a girl. I was sitting next to a woman named Warda and her three month old son Yousef. Across the aisle sat Warda's brother and sister in law. When Yousef woke up about halfway into the train ride, he was the center of attention, and everybody wanted to hold him. Somehow our little row started playing "pass the baby" and literally every five minutes Yousef was in somebody else's hands. It's a miracle he didn't end up back with the people in seat 16 and 17! Yousef spent a good amount of time on my lap, given that I was sitting right next to his mother, but in all the passing and shuffling, not one did Yousef cry! Impressive.

Literally the second Matt and I stepped off the train, we were the center of attention. Apparently Minya was not a tourist town, which might explain why there is only one hotel in the whole town. But it was actually really nice; we even had a view of the Nile from our balcony. We put our stuff down and decided to get lunch, but lunch turned into dinner as we spent 4 hours looking for Mataam Khalil that everybody raved about but nobody could give us exact directions. It wasn't even that good.
 Then Matt and I stumbled upon "hadiqa dowlia" which translates into "international garden." The one string of blinking lights drew us in. It was on the outskirts of town, and we have no idea how it stays in business. The entrance fee was 1 Egyptian Pound (about $.15), and it was literaly dead. Nobody was there. The only way to describe it is like a scene out of a movie. It was a deserted amusement park, perfect for a scary movie. There was only one ride running- a carousel from the 1980s. Nobody was on it. It was possibly one of the most bizarre places I have ever been.
 
The next morning I woke up at 5:30 to the call to prayer. It was louder than usual, maybe because our hotel right next to the mosque. I heard cheering and yelling and honking in the streets, so I walked out to the balcony to see what was going on. Since it was the morning of Eid, the streets had been transformed into a mini mosque. The streets were blocked off and rugs were laid down, and people were lining up in the streets to pray. Such an intriguing sight.
 
Matt and I were leaving later that day, but we had some time to visit a graveyard about 20 km outside of the city. It was a Muslim graveyard that was like nothing I had ever seen before! Every grave was a little room, a place for the coffin (covered in cement) and a room for the relatives who could sleep with their family members on occasions such as Eid. Each grave had a dome ceiling--typical in Islamic architecture. As we walked around the cemetary, two old bedouin women greeted us. They invited us into their father's grave, and showed us where they were sleeping. They had travelled from a village a little further south to spend Eid with their father. They invited us to stay for tea, so we had to accept. There we sat, two Americans, a taxi driver, and two old bedouin women drinking tea in a graveyard. What a way to spend Eid!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Random Short Story Part Deux

Kirsten and I were walking down to catch a taxi from the main road near our house when two girls and their grandma come out of their house and say hello to us.  We stopped to say hello, and they asked us where where we were from.  Once we said America, the grandmother litearlly started listing off all of her relatives that lived in the US. I don't know if she expected us to know them, but she not only did she tell us their names and life stories, we also were invited in to see pictures.

We were on our way to meet a friend for brunch and tried to refuse, but that never goes over well with Arab people.  So we went into their house and looked at all the pictures, pretending to be interested all the while American style pancakes were in the back of our minds. Then she offered us coffee which we graciously took and sat down and had a conversation with the girls.  They were too scared to speak English, so it turned into the grandmother telling us out how well the girls did in school. After about 15 minutes of talking to them, we said we had to leave but that we would be back.

In any other country, this situation would have been completely bizarre, but for some reason in Jordan it's completely normal. It didn't even phase us that strangers invited us into their house for coffee on a whim.  Only in Jordan.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Random short story that doesn’t really fit into any other blog post

Our flight back to Amman from Beirut landed at 11:15 pm on Saturday night.  We wanted to take advantage of all the time we could in Lebanon, hence the late flight.  Kirsten and I decided to book it off that flight to be first in line at customs, and we did just that.  I got up to the desk, only to have the man say that my visa isn’t valid. 
He obviously can’t read because it says in both English and Arabic that it’s valid until January 4, 2012.  And if I remember correctly, it’s still only 2011.  So, umm, yeah, it’s valid.  But no matter how much arguing I did, he told me I needed to go buy a new visa.

I walked over to the visa purchasing desk, slammed down my passport, and said “I need a new visa” in a very stern voice (as my dad would say, my tone was like a sword). Not that he deserved it, but the situation called for it in my opinion.  So he gave me a new visa that cost me 20 JD (which is just unnecessary and upsetting only because I already have a valid visa)., and I walked up to another empty customs desk. 

This time the guy takes my passport and starts asking questions: “Where are you coming from?” “Why are you in Amman?” “Where are youstudying?” “What are you studying?” etc. But then he asked me for my phone number.  I asked why that was necessary, and he said he needed it to input it into the computer.  I was skeptical, but I gave it to him anyway because that was the only way he would let me through.  He stamped my passport, and as I walked off he yells out “Call you tomorrow.”  Classy, really classy.

The next day, I went home right after class to take a napbecause I was so exhausted but an hour into my much needed nap, I get a phonecall from a number that I don’t recognize.  So I ignore it. The phone rang again 5 minutes later so I answered this time.  This is how the conversation went:

            Me: Hello.
            Customs guy: Allo
            Me: Hello?
            Customs guy: allo
            Me: Helloooo?

I mean in a typical phone conversation the guy calling is supposed to have something to say or at least a reason for calling, neither ofwhich he had.  So I hung up right away.  Even though I didn’t have any confirmation that this was the same guy, I was 150% sure.  There was no way it could have been anybody else.  Well, he proceeded to call me 9 other times that day, all of which I rejected on the first ring.  So you would think that a normal person would take a hint, but he persistently kept calling. Some calls were back to back, others were spaced out.  I got the feeling this guy was not going to stop, and what scared me even more was that he had access to all of my information from the customs computers. Who knows what he could have done!

So the next day I told the head of the program (a Jordanian man) and he took care of the situation. He called the guy and made it very clear that if he even so much as thought to call me one more time, bad things would happen.  And I have yet to receive another phone call! 

And I’m sorry, but really?! Your way of picking up women is threatening to deny them entry to the country unless they give you their phone number? Umm tactless and desperate much? I would say so.  The sad thing is that this is the second time this has happened to me. The first time I ever ventured to the Arab world at age 16, I was at the customs desk in Rabat, Morocco, and the guy asked me out.  Thank goodness I didn’t have a phone number to give him!