amman

Hey guys,

So internet in Jordan is pretty expensive and hard to find, but before I leave this hotel, which will have some of the best internet I'm going to get here, I wanted to just put up some pictures yesterday from the Roman ruins of Amman.  These are of the Citadel and the Roman Theatre, back from when Amman was Philadelphia.  I'll try to post more later, including stories, but in the meantime, know that I am well, orientation is boring, but when I'm free to taxi through the city it's great.  Especially because Jordanian is much closer to formal Arabic than Moroccan, so by virtue of geography, my skills have become radically better.  Anyhow, enjoy.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2097552&l=9b1ba&id=1013451

on the road again...

Well, that was a much-appreciated short break, but, equally thankfully, I am back to the traveling game.  Now, Jordan.  But first, I'd like to just put one post-Morocco thought in here.  After finishing up with my Critical Language Scholarship, I have to say that while the program was a rather odd experience to go through, I really got a lot out of it.  I feel that my Arabic skills are vastly improved, and all for free.  So if anyone out there from the program is reading this, expect to see my application again for next summer.  To anyone interested, apply, it's great.  Just don't steal my spot.  Now, seriously, Jordan.

Stories about getting here.

1) In the Toronto airport, the news was playing a story about a new crime epidemic to hit our north-of-the-border neighbors: someone keeps stealing exotic animals from zoos and returning them several weeks later.  Currently a snake is missing.

2) Frankfurt airport is obsessed with the Finnish air guitar olympics.  I am sick of seeing that clip repeated at me for 8 hours.

3) Customs are oddly semi-optional in the Amman international airport.

Stories about being here:

1) After really not sleeping for the night (I got here at 2 in the morning, in bed by about 3:30, asleep by about 5, then up at 8), went to the center of the city this afternoon.  Amman is very-modern city wrapped around Roman ruins (everywhere) and is horribly hilly.  I have to say that the hardest thing about getting around, other than not being on the top of my game, is that I kept beginning to speak in Moroccan colloquial whenever I opened my mouth.  However, despite this slight hesitation whenever I started speaking, after a conversation or two I significantly improved at reverting entirely to speaking in formal Arabic.  So, I may have sounded like a dubbed cartoon or Mexican soap-opera, but at least I figured out the language.  I can't wait until I can get some Jordanian colloquial down and speak like a foreigner, but at least not a television personality.

P.S.  For any of those concerned/ out of the know, my sister, Krystyna, is about to start her first triathlon.  Just a reminder to anyone interested to make a donation that goes towards curing cancer (what a good cause) as well as helping her out.  Check it out: http://pages.teamintraining.org/nca/nattri08/kwamboldt.

show's over.

That's it folks.  Show's over.  Go home.  That's what I'm doing tonight.  Been a pleasure entertaining you all this summer, but we're done.  See you all in person soon.

Tune in next week for...

-Readjustment shock.

-Packing, the remix.

-The Arab East.

more photos.

The last photo album has been slightly updated.  It now even includes photos of the olive man hamming it up for the camera.

grande finale of a weekend

For those of you who are unclear as to the exact details of my summer stay here: recap.  I leave Morocco on very late Friday night for Denver, before I continue on to Jordan on August 21st.  It's sort of shocking to me that my time here is already almost up.  I'm excited to see all of you guys, but there's plenty more for me to see and do here I feel.  For instance, in the Tangier medina, through some of the narrow, twisting alleys that often become narrow, public staircases winding around buildings, there is the Prince's Center for the Blind.  If there is any one building in Morocco that I would love to become my thesis, it is this center.  What do they do?  How do the blind even find it?  Mental note to return.

Moving past this nostalgia for a country I have yet to leave, let me reorient this back to physical things that I have done, not those I don't have time to discover.  For this weekend, Joe and Daniel convinced me (thankfully) that I should leave Tangier for Chefchaouen.  Good idea Joe.  While it took us about 3 hours worth of sitting in the backs of stuffy, hot, crowded shared taxis to get there (always more taxis), once in Chaouen, I realized what a special place this one little mountain town has become for me.  In our two days there, it seems less like we did anything that we wanted to do, as opposed to just bouncing in between conversations with locals and being drawn into discussions and activities before finding another.  Seeing the sacred spring where locals still come to wash out their laundry and rugs, then hiking up to the now semi-ruined Andalusian mosque's minaret in the mountains above Chaouen, looking down on a city that seems bright blue close up, and deep orange from a distance, or even just having someone explain how Berbers write through carpets to us, I realized how much I really have been able to see while here.  As cheesy as it may sound, thanks Condi Rice.  Seriously, this trip, by being oddly well-funded, has really just let me use my own money to wander around, and try to exploit my free plane ticket to the extreme.

As a final thought, whenever I travel, I always have semi-obsessive thoughts about how I'm portraying my country abroad.  Can I break the stereotypes of the loud, obnoxious, blundering American and their dominating viewpoints and politics, or on some level, are all of my actions either just a drop in the bucket, or, even worse, actually conforming to this view?  In some small way, this exquisitely blue city gave me a little view into what I'm actually doing here.  Before leaving Tangier, Emily asked me to visit the Hat Man one more time for her to pick something up, so we found ourselves on Friday night back in that narrow cave of a store, lit entirely by candles and the glow of the hash-pipe of its proprietor.  When I walked in, and greeted him in Arabic, the first thing he asked was, "Are you American?" clearly not remembering me from before.  I answered, and inquired as to how he knew.  "Americans, when they come here, they always speak Arabic.  Just, oh, maybe three, four weeks ago, there was an American man like you and a woman who studied Arabic in Tangier, and they spoke amazing Arabic too."  This story oddly resonated of a description of Emily and I (although I believe he gave our linguistic ability more credit than mine at least deserves), however, my point being, that even if in the mind of this delightful, if drugged, man, Americans are now the tourists who speak Arabic, that's doing pretty good for changing stereotypes.  At least, with that anecdote, I feel a little better about what I've been up to here before returning to Colorado.

Also, pictures:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2094563&l=98d33&id=1013451