July 5, 2007

Disclaimer: By continuing reading this day's post, the reader agrees to not worry, fret, nor get angry, upset, nor chastise the subjects of today's post. Breaking of this contract will result in a fine of 1 apple pie, 6 brownies, 2 cheesecakes and 1 of Grandma Lovell's cake with pink frosting (Travis has the recipe for anyone who doesn't know how to make said cake)—payable to Travis and Tianna Lovell.

Good morning from Petra! In my groggy state, I was confronted with a small shock. Yesterday morning I had noticed that my right leg was covered in bed bugs. And when I say covered, I mean I counted at least 30 from my knee down. This morning I realized that my left leg mirrored the right. So, on my two legs, from the knees down, I had 60+ bug bites. Yick. I think it must have been from those nasty beach chairs that I fell asleep on multiple times. Especially since Travis didn't have any. Actually, he discovered later that he had a few. Maybe 3 or 4. Which is nothing compared to mine. And he did sit on one of the beach chairs for a wee bit. Well, anyway, Travis took a picture so anyone who disbelieves me can have proof.

Downstairs, I flicked a mosquito off Travis' neck in front of Naser, the hostel owner. Travis looked at me funny, so I explained what I had done, and I thought Naser was going to have some type of fit. Apparently he hates the stereotype that hostels are filled with bed bugs, so if he even sees one in his hostel, he'll close it down to spray, and he had quite recently just had a spray down. Travis and I independently decided to keep our mouths shut about my legs, since we were pretty sure the bites came from Egypt, not from Petra. I just hope I didn't bring any with me.

Breakfast was consistent with most of our breakfasts... not much that I wanted to eat. It consisted of thin, hard pita, butter, cheese, jam, and eggs. Oh well. We ate it anyway. Then, Naser was incredibly kind and gave us a ride down to Petra. We walked in, then realized that we had passed the ticket office and had to backtrack to find the ticket office, then were appalled to see how expensive it was! It was 31 Jordanian Dinars (JD) per person! So total, we spent about $90 on entrance fees alone. It was disgusting. Even better, they only accepted JD, which we didn't have yet, so we had to go trade money, which the rate at tourist spots isn't the greatest. But oh well. Finally, we entered Petra!

Travis took beautiful photos all the way down the gorge that leads the way to the main tourist attraction. I believe the attention he drew with his big, old-fashioned camera (complete with bellows), with a black cloth draped over his head and camera can be summed up with a comment Travis made, "You know it's bad when you're a novelty to the tour guides."

We got to the place pictured in the majority of pictures y'all have seen of Petra. It will hereafter be known as the Treasury... because that's what some little boys told us it was called. Who knows if that's right or not. Travis took some pictures, but we didn't stay long because the light isn't what he wanted. We continued on, stopping whenever his artistic eye caught on something. Which, quite honestly, were spots that I never would have seen, but really were beautiful.

We ended up on a path above the main path, leading from the Byzantine church down to the restaurant. Along the path was a little shop. (They are all along every path. They all sell the same things and have all the same catch phrases, "One dollah!" "No charge for looking." etc.) As we approached the shop, this little three-year old girl (named Dima) came running out to us. When she got to us, she immediately started exploring everything with a zipper. Finally satisfied that we were appropriately interesting, she grabbed my hand and dragged me into her mom's tent and made me sit down. Not wanting to stay long, since we had limited time as well as limited money, I only squatted on the ground. At that point, she found the nipple of my Camelbak and became very curious. So, I showed her how it worked and she fell in love. She probably ended up drinking half of our water by the end of it. Travis decided to buy some pretty rocks from them, so as he picked them out, I went over to stand by him. Dima crawled up on top of the rocks and flung herself on me. I picked her up and laughed as she drank more of my water. Then she started giving me kisses. It was really cute. Her mom, however, like most moms, was embarrassed by her daughter's behavior. So she took her from me, apologizing profusely. I told her it was ok, but she did it anyway. About then, Trav and I decided it was time to go. By then, Dima had reattached herself to me, so we had to literally pry her off of me. She was not a happy camper about me leaving. She cried and cried as we walked away. It was sad and cute at the same time. I miss small children.

We got to the restaurant just as the Camelbak ran dry. It was lunchtime, so we decided it was as good a time as any to stop and eat. Mmmmm.... still good food! We couldn't sit inside this time, however, because there was a Chinese group of 120 there! And I thought our 88 was large. At one point, one of their tour guides, a girl about my age, came out and sat at our table. She didn't actually seem to keen to be a tour guide for this group. She just seemed... exhausted by it all. Plus, she seemed way too excited to tell us that inside was full, so she would simply have to sit outside. Oh darn. Haha! After awhile, though, another guide came out and told her that they had saved a seat for her. She sighed then turned to me, "I guess I have to go in..." Poor girl.

Travis paid with his credit card, but I guess they have to take it outside of the park to have it approved, so it took 15-20 minutes to run it through. Haha! We decided to take it as a bit of R&R and just dawdled a bit. While Travis was in the washroom, a lady sitting at the table next to me asked if she could smoke. Not registering what she was asking, I waved her on. When she lit up, I regretted it, but then realized that even if I had registered what she was asking, I probably still would have told her to go ahead. Something is wrong with that. I should work on that. Anyway, after a moment, when I looked back over, she pulled out her box of cigarettes and offered me one. I politely declined, then realized, I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've ever been offered a cigarette. Weird.

From there, most people ride a donkey up to the monastery, but we started looking at time and realized we simply didn't have time to go up and back. While we were trying to tell the donkey drivers no, one of the donkeys with a man on it started acting up, enough that I was very glad I wasn't on it, so I said so. The donkey driver in front of us said, "Nono. Donkeys are very safe. That one is a mule. But the donkey is safe." At which point I laughed and said, "Oh yes, no mules. Last time I was here, a girl in my group got bucked off a mule. No mules for us." His eyes got really big and said, "That was your group? I remember that group. A bunch of Americans, right?" Wow. He remembered our dear, sweet Hilary. Poor girl. Either way, we decided not to go up. Instead we turned back and got a bunch of pictures of places that we either hadn't seen on our way in, or simply had much better light then (i.e. the Treasury). It was great. The only bad part of Petra was that I sunburned my neck—the first time I've gotten sunburned this entire trip.

At one point, we realized that we were late for our taxi to Amman, so we picked up our pace. At the gate, we decided to grab a taxi back to the hotel. Best purchase of our trip. Neither of us had realized how far away the hotel was until that drive, but there is no way we would have made it back in time walking. We had a few minutes upon arrival, so we checked email. I finally got an email from the job I'm hoping to get, telling me that there is for sure a position opening up and wanting me to schedule an interview! Happy day! I was getting slightly worried because I hadn't heard from them for so long.

Soon after, Fares showed up and we started our drive up to Amman. One of the reasons we had decided to keep him as our driver was because he had told us that he could take us to a Bedouin tent owned by his family, and Travis really wanted to get a picture of one for his project. (Y'know, "My father dwelt in a tent"). Upon arrival, we started attracting all sorts of attention. Fares and his brother who had met us followed us around for a bit, but then, getting bored, they took off, leaving us with the Bedouin boys that had gathered round, intrigued by Travis' camera. I pulled out my camera to take a picture of Travis taking pictures and one boy, Facer, got really excited. I let him take pictures with it... next thing I knew, he had run off with the camera, taking pictures of everything he could find, including the women in the Bedouin tent, who actually seemed to like having their pictures taken. I was a bit worried for a moment that I had just lost my camera, but for some reason, didn't feel scared that he wouldn't bring it back. And I was right—he was very good to my camera. When we were done with pictures, they brought us back down to the tent and we went inside, trying to communicate w/o talking, since none of us spoke the language of the other.

Finally, Fares and his brother showed back up. His brother was supposed to be taking us the rest of the way to Amman, hence why he was there. Fares started looking over at the sun (which was about to set) and started commenting about how late it was and how late we were going to get into Amman. Then he suggested that instead of going all the way up there that late and making his brother drive all the way back that late, perhaps we could just stay the night at his house and drive up in the morning. A little stunned by this, we didn't know what to do. We first declined, saying that we already had a reservation at a hotel. He told us he'd let us use his phone to call and cancel for the night. We hemmed and hawed a bit, but I got thinking about it and realized that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I said a quick prayer, and, feeling no ill feeling about it, I told Travis that I thought it was a good opportunity for us to really live the Jordanian life. So, after a bit more hemming and hawing, we accepted. At which point, Fares rushed us into his car to drive us back to his house so we could have time to take pictures of the sunset from his roof.

Quite honestly, the view from his roof wasn't what either of us would call spectacular, but Travis took pictures anyway. At one point, I happened to look up and saw the taxi we came in drive away. Suddenly I got a bit fearful. Most of our luggage was still in that taxi. What had we done? We were now on the rooftop of a stranger in the middle of a foreign country and our bags were driving away. But, within a half mile, the taxi stopped at the local mosque, and I suddenly remembered hearing Call to Prayer just a few minutes prior. I guess I've just become so accustomed to hearing it that I didn't register that perhaps Fares would want to go pray. As soon as I realized that's where he'd gone, all fear fled and I went back to feeling ok with where we were. After a bit more on the roof, Travis enjoying the breeze, me starting to get goosebumps for the first time in months (or at least since the last time I had entered the forum which was always freezing), we decided to go downstairs.

Fares had not yet made it back, so instead we joined his wife in the living room where she was watching a soap opera in her full Muslim get-up. Black veil covering her face as well as her head and all. She didn't speak English nearly as well as Fares did, so she didn't say a whole lot, but she did ask if we wanted tea or coffee. We politely declined and enjoyed watching the soap opera with her until Fares came back. He explained to us where he had been (I was right about the prayer thing) and offered us tea or coffee. Humored glances were exchanged between Travis and I, and we again declined. So instead, they brought us out some orange Tang, which was delicious.

Next was dinner. I really don't understand the middle eastern concept of dipping breads in dips as a full-fledged dinner, but ok. Whatever makes them happy, I suppose. Needless to say, our dinner consisted of pita and this other thin tortilla kind of thing and a large platter filled with various dips and jams, as well as rice wrapped in grape leaves (mmm) and some other wrap that I loved and ate most of, particularly since I was avoiding much of the other stuff. I won't miss most of the native food, that's for sure.

After awhile, Fares' niece and nephew found their way over, the niece being just between an infant and a toddler. She was scared to death of me and Travis, which was rather sad. Fares and his wife spent a lot of time trying to get her to come to me. The end result consisted of the wife throwing her cell phone across the room, then telling the wee babe to go get it for her. (Yes, we played Fetch with a barely walking baby.) Every time she threw it a little further until finally I would pick it up and put it on the couch next to me, or under my leg. It took awhile, but finally, the girl got brave enough to retrieve it from me and run back to the wife. I learned a new Arabic word—hot. (Though, I have no idea if that's how you spell it.) It means "Give me." So I was constantly saying "Hot! Hot!" Trying to get her to give me the phone.

At one point, Fares decided it would be great fun to see Travis dressed as a native. I have been convinced from the beginning that given Travis' skin color and dark hair, he would blend in quite well with the natives. (Though, typically his wide-brimmed hat and many cameras give him away as a tourist.) Fares apparently agreed with me, because he brought out a robe and a hat-like thing (the red cloth with the black band around it) for Travis to wear. When he was satisfied that Travis looked good, he decided to take us over to his brother's house. Apparently his brother, a few years ago, just fell down unexpectedly and has never been the same sense. I'm guessing he had a stroke or something. He left a young wife and I think 2 small children. He's better now, they say, but he's just this tiny man, super skinny, laying on a mat on the floor. He can't talk, but he can understand what you say. So, Fares decided to take him some entertainment—two Americans who can say three things in Arabic: Thank you, Give me, and Let's go. Surely, we could make the man laugh.

Ok. Have you seen My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding? You know how her brothers are always teaching her boyfriend how to say things in Greek, but they always have him say bad things? I had this fear through the next little bit of the night. As we walked over, Fares taught Travis an Arabic phrase, but not what it meant. He made Travis practice it over and over again on the walk over, telling him to say it to his brother when we walked in. Travis, feeling rather stupid, I'm sure, walked into the house and said, "Hasea Fasea!" (Again, no promise on the spelling.) The man on the mat smiled widely, the rest of the entire family that took up almost every seat around the living room (yes, the entire extended family almost was there!) started laughing. Travis and I took our seats on the amazing little couches.

Let me take a moment to describe these "couches." I love them. I want one for my own. Really, think of a couch. Now, take off the bottom. No legs, no springs, just the couch cushions, arm rests, and backs. Now you have their furniture. It's nice, because it's low to the ground, so you can stretch out your legs. The arm rests are movable, so you can be comfortable anywhere. There are no springs, so kids can jump on them all they want. Trav and I agreed that they'd be perfect for a kids playroom.

We spent the next hour or so repeating Arabic phrases that made all the girls giggle and Travis and I feel stupid. (Well, for the most part it was Travis... but then I must have made fun of him a bit too much, because then they rounded on me, making Travis feel a bit better about himself.) At one point I mentioned My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding to Travis and how I felt as if we had entered it. Fares, I think caught on to the reference somehow and suddenly turned all serious, assuring us that they would never do anything to make us feel stupid nor would they have us say inappropriate things. Which, in turn, made me feel a bit sheepish for saying it.

It didn't take too long after our arrival before the girls of the group decided to congregate around me. One in particular girl (Thana? Thinea? I don't remember her name) sat right next to me, trying to work on her English. It would have been much easier to help her out had she not been wearing the full-face-covering headdress. Turns out, being able to see someone talk is a vital part of understanding... especially when they don't speak English well. So, most everything played out more as charades, guesswork, and making Fares interpret. Some things were rather easy to figure out. Like when she brought out a headdress and put it on my head. Later she told me that I looked much better with my hair covered. Haha! Granted, that was right around the same time that they ranted and raved about how beautiful my hair was...

At one point, the girls decided that they wanted to show me their hair. This would be quite scandalous with Travis in the room, so we became all giddy and girly and ran back to their bedroom... but it didn't have a real light, so we moved instead to the more formal sitting room. (Which still had the amazing couches.) With the door firmly shut, the three teenage to young twenty year old girls removed their headdresses. (Only one had been wearing the full face one, the other two only had their hair covered.) Then, the worst happened. They lined up in front of me and asked, "Which of us is the most beautiful?" Uhhh.... How do you respond to that?! I laughed and told them that they were all beautiful. They weren't fooled. "We just want your opinion. We will not be angry with what you choose. What is your opinion? Who is the most beautiful?" I tried everything I could think of to get out of this conversation. I suddenly understood what it must be like to be a guy trapped with the question of, "Does this dress make me look fat? No, really, I want your honest opinion." If I ever ask that question, please remind me of this event to snap me out of it.

Somehow, finally topics changed. It ranged everywhere from them wanting my opinion on Arab women, to education, to hair and makeup, to coffee vs. chocolate. That last one was actually rather entertaining. Thinea, or whatever her name is, was telling me how some days she is just very groggy and meh in the mornings, but then she drinks her coffee and is peppy and happy and alert! (Please picture a Muslim girl saying this while jumping and shouting at every word.) She asked if I felt the same way, so I told her that I don't drink coffee. You would have thought I had announced that the world had ended by the look on her face. "How do you make yourself happy when you're feeling meh?!" (You're missing a lot by not seeing her actions...) "Well," I replied, "I eat chocolate!" Her eyes got wider, if that was possible. "Oh, I can't eat chocolate." It was my turn to be shocked. Was this some new Muslim kosher law I wasn't aware of? "Why can't you eat chocolate?!" "It makes my face... [insert Arabic, actions and some guesswork at translation] break out. Zits. Pimples. My doctor told me no more chocolate." So there you have it, folks. Chocolate is to me what coffee is to a Jordanian girl... and vice versa.

Through this entire girl-talk session, one girl on either side of me and one in front of me, they all insisted on touching me and trying to focus my attention on them. It's hard to focus attention on three different girls on different sides of me, all saying different things. The one to my left kept grabbing my hand, but is studying to be an English teacher, so I understood her most of the time. The one in front of me kept pulling my face towards her and saying things in a mock-sultry voice and laughing. I think she was still trying to prove that she was the most beautiful. (She was also the youngest and a teenager.) The one to my right, Thinea, was the most demanding and kept asking me all of the questions.

Then it came back. Who is the most beautiful? Ahhhh! Are you kidding me? How did we get back to this? By this point, another small child that actually let me hold her earlier had joined us and was making a point to pull all the wooden tea cups off the coffee table. So I made my executive decision. Small crawling girl was the most beautiful. They all laughed and sort of accepted my decision. Until conversation picked back up. For awhile I thought they were trying to get me to sleep with them that night instead of over at Fares'. Still not sure if that's what they were saying or not... Anyway, partway though the conversation, teenage girl in front of me picked up small crawling baby and put their faces side by side facing me. "Does she look like me?" Uh-oh. I saw where this was going. So I told her they had the same eyes. Which was true. Immediately girl on the left stole small crawling baby and held her up. "What about me? Does she look like me?" Oh my... what did I get myself into?!

Meanwhile, Travis was out in the front room with all the boys. I'll let him tell his own story. I would promise to keep this short but it's too late. Basically when the girls left Fares looked at me and rolled his eyes and said “women!” I asked him, “So they are the same everywhere?” His reply was, “Yes. Everywhere.” He wanted to talk politics so we began to talk about the war. He tried to explain the reasons why the Muslims were fighting each other. After a while we had a quiet time while we watched a small boy playing with Fares’s brother. Fares then looked at me seriously and said, “If there is one gift I can give you it is for you to remember that Muslims are not bad. There are bad Muslims, yes, but they choose to be bad. They are not bad by birth or by religion. I also want you to know that there are Muslims that love Americans. I haven’t met an American I haven’t liked. Of course if I met Bush that would change, but overall we think Americans are great people. Take my gift to you home and share it with others.” He finally said we should go see the women but forgot to mention this to the women. I turned the corner and the first face I saw was one I did not recognize. She had the expression and reaction as if I had walked in on her while she was naked. After a few more minutes of waiting for the girls to get their head coverings on then I proceeded to spare Tianna from any more of her torments.

Finally, it was decided it was bedtime. The girls and I promised to swap email addresses through Fares (we had his card with his email address on it) and to write. Then we all left the house and trooped back over to Fares' house, where we were again offered tea and coffee. We again declined, "We don't drink coffee or tea." "Really? Never?!" "Really. Never." Haha. We stayed up for a bit more, watching TV mostly. I tried as hard as I could to look sleepy so he'd let us go to bed, seeing as how it was after midnight. He finally took the hint and we made beds for Trav and I out of the couch cushions.

I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and was immediately surprised. The house was nice. It was new. It looked like Fares did pretty well for themselves. So I wasn't expecting to see a squatter instead of a toilet. Even more, the squatter didn't flush—it had a pitcher to fill with water and just pour down the hole. And there was no toilet paper. I had just entered public restrooms in Egypt again. What had happened?! They even had shoes to slip on when using the bathroom so you didn't have to step on the floor. Honestly, if you have to wear shoes to enter the bathroom, there's a serious problem. shudders

Finally, we were able to drift off to sleep after a very long and eventful day.