Budapest (Hungary)

I wanted to show Terry Budapest after Prague so we boarded a flight for Hungary. Our hotel in Budapest was significant historically. During World War II, while Nazis committed atrocities against innocent Jews, Raoul Wallenberg, a Swedish diplomat posted in Budapest, quietly went about printing diplomatic identity cards ("shutzpasses") he used to save thousands of lives. Our hotel used to be the factory that printed those life-saving passes. We put our bags in our room and left to explore the Hungarian version of a Christmas market, differentiated from Prague's by local crafts and foods. We had hot fruit punch and huge potato pancakes (used as plates to hold beef or stuffed cabbage). I thought it was too cold for my wife to enjoy a walking tour so I hired a private guide and car and we spent the next day exploring what felt like every street and building in Budapest. We saw the (huge) Parliament, crossed the Danube, saw Margaret Island, drove to the castle on the "Buda" side of Budapest, saw Fisherman's Bastion and Matthias Church, and stopped at Gellert Hill for the panorama. Then we crossed the Elisabeth Bridge and went to Heroes' Square on the famous Andrassy Avenue (akin to Paris' Champs Elysees). Our guide's grandfather was a Communist so we got a firsthand taste of life under Communism and the ramifications when it ended. We toured Franz Liszt sites, Rubik's (yes, Hungarian!) cube sites, and the second largest synagogue in Europe. As we continued, my wife saw something and asked to disembark. It was the wall of the Jewish ghetto from which 600,000 people perished at the hands of the Nazis. The inscription asked for all who read the words to pray for the dead, which we did. Hungary, an ally of Nazi Germany, protected its Jewish population until Germany invaded in 1944 after which deportations to concentration camps began. Interestingly, last year a controversial Holocaust memorial was erected. We drove past and noticed a demonstration; apparently Hungary still struggles with its role in World War II 70 years afterward. Our guide took us to the outskirts of the city where we saw Communist era housing juxtaposed with Roman ruins and aqueducts. The original Hungarian tribes, from over the Urals, developed a society ruled variously by Rome, Arabs, the Ottoman Empire, Nazis, then Communists. The next day we strolled along the Danube, crossing bridges, up and down hills and boulevards. When our trip ended and we boarded a plane back to Amman (by way of Paris) we had a lot to talk about; especially you readers (and emailers) from all over the world, to whom I wish a Happy New Year.

Christmas in Prague (Czech Republic)

Terry was going to lecture in Prague, then Budapest, but universities close for Christmas. We decided to go anyway because I was in Prague in 1991 (after the Velvet Revolution sent the Soviets packing) and have been eager to show it to Terry ever since. The flight was through Paris and the airport filled with the smell from huge baskets of freshly baked croissants (we of course sampled them - delicious). At passport control Terry voiced regret over recent events and said "Vive La France!" to the inspector who replied (in halting English) "God Bless America!" It was a small but touching exchange. Our hotel dated from the 1200s, just off Old Town square, and epitomized the city's grandeur as our room was entered via an anteroom, had soaring ceilings, huge windows, and a large sitting (living) room. There are few sights in Europe to match the architecture of Prague. Spared from destruction in World War II it is a medieval treasure (and protected UNESCO site). We began with a city tour. We explored new and old Prague by minibus, walking, and a river cruise. We toured Prague Castle high on a hill overlooking the Vltava River, then cruised down the river before a walking tour of the old Jewish Quarter and Old Town. Our guide was great (smart, funny).

The evening was a highlight because I had emailed the local Internations chapter and was invited on an evening walk through Prague. There were about 15 of us from the US, Australia, Russia, Ghana, UK, Slovakia, Germany, Macedonia, and the Czech Republic. For over 4 hours we walked 10 kilometers over hill and dale, both sides of the river, through parks, around and in the castle, and over bridges. There was plenty of time to get acquainted. A more welcoming group you couldn't possibly find so the evening will always be a favorite memory. The walk's goal was to visit 5 Christmas markets (they are wonderful), the largest of which was by our hotel. Christmas markets are clusters of tiny wooden huts, each selling a different local product. The traditional Christmas cookie, a sugared dough baked like a rotisserie over a fire, causes the air to smell like warm cinnamon. Christmas day, after walking across the incredible Charles Bridge with thousands of others, we had a traditional Czech Christmas meal of carp and fish soup. On a cultural note, Czechs share their carp with the poor just as Jordanians share their lamb with the poor at Eid. Our similarities transcend religion or country. But I digress. In the center of the markets were tall Christmas trees, decorated dramatically, and the beautiful operatic music that filled every restaurant and store also filled the Christmas markets. We sampled cider, mulled wine, a hot pear drink, grog, a cherry drink, the famous Pilsner beer, and a chocolate drink so intense it was like a liquid candy bar. The weather was brisk but warm for the season so we were mostly comfortable. The people were friendly and stylish. Another cultural note is the prevalence of marionettes. When dominated by the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the late 1800s, the Czech language, though suppressed, survived because itinerant puppeteers went village to village performing in Czech; thus there is much affection here for puppets. Although away from family during Christmas, we were in a beautiful city, where we walked for hours, grateful for our many blessings.

Goodbye Parties

The last few weeks were a whirlwind. Terry taught at the university, edited research for professors, dissertations for students, guest lectured throughout Jordan, and fulfilled numerous volunteer obligations while completing university and community projects. Not too shabby for someone who doesn't need to work. It was no surprise that no fewer than eight good-bye parties honoring my wife were given. There was a real outpouring of affection and appreciation. In one 3-day stretch there were breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, one after another. One interesting cultural note we learned was if a guest reaches for water after eating it signals "not enough to eat." This explains why hosts kept bringing me food when I asked for a glass of water. I also learned a slight wrist turn with a cup stops coffee refills. (I'm putting these in the "better late than never" file.) There was a faculty reception honoring Terry and I was invited and thanked for my State Dept. article about Jordan. It was a beautiful reception with heartfelt speeches, tears shed by some faculty (not Terry, but she was emotional) and a presentation to my wife of a "thank you" plaque in an elaborate velvet-padded box. After eating the most amazing foods we had to leave because another reception for Terry was being held. And we aren't going home until next month.

There were several student celebrations, one because of me, because a student remembered an offhand comment I made about wanting to try a nargilah (also called hubbly-bubbly, sheesha, or hookah). University students got together and took me out (the first time my wife was the tag-along!). We went to a restaurant with tables in the center and couches in the corners, where we sat as a group. The students insisted I order coffee and dessert, the "right" way to smoke a nargila, so I ordered coffee and apple pie (because nothing is as American as apple pie with...a nargila). The smoke comes in "flavors" and they ordered a combination of watermelon and mint. There was a young man whose sole job was to place hot coals over the flavors and start the ball rolling (and keep it rolling, every 10 minutes, for an hour). He removed the mouthpiece from a sealed bag (to show it hadn't been used) and then came the moment of truth. Everyone, including my wife, turned to watch me. I must have passed the test because I didn't cough and the students all laughed. We spent an hour sitting in a fog ("tabob") of smoke, the students asking about family life in the United States, and explaining details of family life in Jordan (including family dynamics with two wives - really interesting). It was great fun.

One of the receptions included adult children (of colleagues), possibly the most astute political observers I've met here. On a cultural note, it is always interesting to see how women who are covered head to toe manage to eat. All of the meals were very elaborate and delicious. To my unpracticed eye it seems like meals begin with appetizers of hummus, salads, and bread. Then large platters of rice appear and on top of the rice are either mounds of lamb or chicken. Most dishes are topped with roasted nuts and served with a yoghurt-based gravy.

At one party I (unthinkingly) ate with my left hand and was gently chided by someone whose spouse teaches Sharia (Islamic religious law) in Saudi Arabia. I have gotten pretty good at eating with my right hand. Another party for Terry was held at a five-star restaurant built to resemble a giant Bedouin tent in an oasis with fountains, low tables, a Bedouin "kitchen" for photos, and mounds of delicious food. The students at that party, who enjoyed a great mutual bond with Terry, gifted her with an intricately hand-embroidered floor-length Jordanian dress with headdress. The students really wanted Terry to take her gift for a test run, and she agreed, so they helped her slip the dress on over her clothing and fasten the headdress. Then, similar to weddings in Mexico, the bride (that would be Terry) was taken from place to place to be photographed. We now have a collection of photos of Terry, standing and sitting, all over the restaurant. Another class hosted a potluck because they wanted Terry to try their homemade specialties. They could have fed 100 people. The food was spectacular, homemade, and they had a custom cake that said "We will miss you, Dr. Terry" with a picture of her face on it! The only thing that could top that was when they lit "candles" that turned out to be giant sparklers. The (female) students gave Terry many hugs and kisses, took many pictures, and sang her praises to the Dean (invited as a sign of respect). The bond she formed with these students was obvious. They gave her an ornate memory book inscribed by each of them and perched on an olive wood stand with a pen and pencil holder engraved with her name on one side and embroidery on the other. The big surprise was that they presented me with a plaque, a relief map of Jordan inscribed to "Mr. David." I was very touched. We have a few more dinner invitations for our last weeks but the parties are over. I am touched by how my wife was appreciated and by the kind, intelligent, generous people I met here.

Cairo (Egypt)

With some reservations but with Terry's encouragement I flew to Cairo. Some Middle Eastern countries are off limits to Terry as a Fulbright Scholar (for security reasons) but not me. Otherwise I wouldn't have considered going without my wife. Security in Egypt is on the minds of many here. Many Egyptians work in Jordan so my early morning flight was filled with young men snapping pictures of each other in the waiting area. They said the overland bus route through Sinai is too dangerous, so many workers are flying for the first time. While waiting I met a man similar in appearance to me, holding a Canadian passport and looking Western in every respect. Appearances here can be deceiving. Come to find out, he is Iraqi, a mushroom farmer with a doctoral degree. But I digress.

I was met at the Cairo airport by a tour guide offering "stopover" tours. We went to the Egyptian Museum and saw all the mummies and other antiquities you could ever hope to see, over 250,000 pieces. Soon to be constructed in Giza by the pyramids is a new museum, largely funded I understand by USAID, which will double the size of the exhibits. Cairo is an enormous city, the largest in Africa, with 22 million residents. It dwarfs even Istanbul. The traffic is incredible. Lanes are only a vague suggestion. I saw an Egyptian woman covered from head to toe pushing some kind of cart in a traffic lane on a major street as though she belonged there with cars weaving and honking to get around her. We drove to a Christian area where we toured two churches, one full of religious relics (essentially body parts of long dead saints and martyrs covered in ornate cloth and religious jewelry) and the beautiful Coptic St. George's Church. Then we went to Giza and the pyramids. The pyramids are on the periphery of Cairo (Giza) so the view is of the huge city in one direction and Sahara desert in the other. As we approached the pyramids a small storm brewed up, first with sand then rain, adding even a bit more drama with people, horses, and camels scattering. Then we were off to visit the Sphinx, my favorite. Legend has it that Napoleon's artillery took target practice on the Sphinx and blew off its nose in 1798. Then we had lunch at a nearby restaurant with many Egyptian foods served on small plates to be eaten with flat bread followed by mixed grill of lamb and chicken with rice. Over lunch we discussed how recent terrorist activity in the Sinai Peninsula has affected tourism in Cairo. For example, last year my guide was booked every day in December but this year I am his only booking for the month. After touring Old Cairo with its narrow streets and scenes straight out of biblical times, we headed to the airport, satisfied from a wonderful day. At the airport I had some extra time until my flight so I took in an amazing array of people and national costumes, from all over the Middle East and Africa. It was a people watching experience beyond compare. I arrived home tired but very happy Terry had encouraged me to go on this adventure.

U.S. Department of State

I would like to share some good news with you. The United States Department of State Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs selected my blog, Fulbright Husband in Jordan, to publicize the Fulbright Scholar program internationally. The post I wrote for them, which they titled "The Fulbright Family" on its website, can be accessed from http://www.cies.org/article/fulbright-family. It's been great fun writing the blog. I've received responses from readers all over the world and it will be a good way for Terry and I to relive the highlights for years to come. Thanks, everyone.

Paphos (Cyprus)

Terry's lecture at the University of Nicosia was very well received by the students and faculty. Prior to her lecture we toured one of the 24 picturesque historic neighborhoods being renovated. We also toured what local's call "Beverly Hills." At the university the first of "it's a small world" coincidences occurred. First, my wife's faculty contact in Cyprus is the good friend of Terry's colleague in Jordan. Next, at breakfast the next day we met a couple from Lebanon and the wife attended the same law school as Terry - and they have mutual acquaintances. The last coincidence involves the Cyprus Fulbright Center, located in the UN buffer zone, with checkpoints, guard towers, barbed wire, and the friendly (from Glasgow) UN soldiers with their light blue berets who cautioned us against taking photos. The coincidence was that recently Secretary Kerry was across the street from our home in Jordan, visiting the US Embassy, in Istanbul when Terry taught there, then on his way to the office we were visiting in Cyprus. We quickly left before streets were sealed (for security) and us with it. We needed to board the bus to Paphos, a city on the other side of the island.

The two hour bus ride was thoroughly enjoyable. The scenery of Cyprus, a country about as large as the big island of Hawaii, and one tenth the size of Jordan, has mountains and lakes, arid areas juxtaposed with farmland. Paphos, on the Mediterranean coast, is chock full of Roman ruins. We saw a castle, early churches, an open market and an amphitheater. The intricate Roman mosaics are similar to those in Madaba, Jordan. The ruins are adjacent to tourist areas and easily accessible along the pedestrian promenade hugging the coastline. The day was warm and sunny so we strolled the promenade, deep blue crystal-clear Mediterranean on one side, outdoor cafes (and famed fish restaurants) and ruins on the other. Spectacular. We stayed in a luxury hotel on the water but we had the place to ourselves (who could have imagined such weather in December?). We left the beaten path to explore other ruins, including an ancient church then descended into catacombs housing the remains of an early Saint. At the entry were hundreds of pieces of cloth tied to tree branches. A passing woman explained the local custom of those who offer prayers to tie pieces of fabric on the branches to represent their prayers. On a cultural note, in all of our travels this was the first place I was mistaken - several times! - for a local. A British local (must be the hat). The British influences of this former colony are pronounced. The day ended with a two-hour taxi ride to Larnaca, completing our full circle tour of Cyprus. Each of the areas we toured had completely different influences, from Greek to Turkish to British, reflecting the interesting history of this beautiful island country and its resilient and friendly people.

University of Nicosia (Cyprus)

Yesterday a holiday was declared in Jordan to ensure compliance with the first computerized national census. Classes were cancelled and museums were closed. We are using these few days for Terry to lecture at the University of Nicosia in the island country of Cyprus (south of Turkey, west of Syria). Our flight was less than an hour to the closest point in Europe to the Middle East: Larnaca, Cyprus. Here euros are currency and, since Cyprus had been a British colony, driving is on the left. Last year's experience in England was enough to persuade me my driving-on-the-left days are over. I hired a driver for the ride to Nicosia, the capital. The ride across the island reminded me of the terrain near our California home, a patchwork of green farms and brown mountains. The bed and breakfast (B&B) is located in Old Town (a protected World Heritage UNESCO site) and I had a moment of concern (and a twinge of panic) after our driver left us at the hotel - except it was a cafe. Confusion written on my face, a waiter beckoned us in to an unmarked door (in the cafe) leading to the B&B. Utterly unique. Max, a charming young Brit, is as unique as his top-ranked B&B ("The Sandstone") he owns and runs with his Cypriot wife. We immediately presented Max with challenges: First, our phone doesn't work outside Jordan and in my brilliance I left my coat on the plane. He called Royal Jordanian and arranged for it to be sent to Nicosia. Next, Terry teaches tomorrow at the University of Nicosia and needed to contact her hosts. Max again obliged. Finally, I wanted to eat at Trip Advisor's top restaurant and Max came through again, providing directions and suggestions.

Then we were off. We ordered "shared grill" and just about any animal with 2-4 legs made an appearance on the platter brought to us with grilled vegetables (eggplant, peppers, and more), and Greek-style grilled potatoes. I swear the platter was more like a trough. Our waiter took a shine to us and brought a complimentary dessert (a translucent white jelly-like ball of sweet milk covered by a rose water-cherry sauce). Exotic and delicious, it was one of our favorite restaurant meals and we needed to walk it off. Our leisurely walk on a perfect sunny day through the pedestrian-only streets of Old Town ended with us crossing a border! Nicosia is the only remaining divided city in Europe. The dominant population here is Greek with a significant Turkish minority. Talk about a fault line of cultures. In 1974 Turkey invaded to protect the local ethnic Turks after a coup led by Greek hardliners displaced Cypriot President Archbishop Makarios. Eventually the United Nations brokered a ceasefire. Now the demarcation (called the "Green Line") runs through the center of the city so we started our walk in Greek Nicosia and ended in Turkish Nicosia. Between the two is no man's land (called "derelict zone") filled with bullet-pocked abandoned buildings. This buffer between the two sectors is marked by barbed wire, sandbags, and (incongruously) a line of potted plants down the middle of the street to guide pedestrian traffic (into Turkish Cyprus on the right, return to Greek Cyprus on the left). Terry wanted photos of the pedestrian border, with passport controls for pedestrians, but changed her mind after I pointed to signs threatening would-be photographers with a night in jail. Access between sides had been severely limited but since tension eased locals (and tourists like us) are now able to walk across the border. We had been warned to ask Turkish Cypriot passport officials not to stamp our passports or we wouldn't be allowed to return to the Greek side. The passport officials readily agreed. It was strange to walk past the once grand architecture of crumbling buildings in the buffer zone, riddled with bullets, abandoned, and frozen in time. We walked through the Turkish side's narrow winding alleys to the Buyuk Han and the Selimiye mosque, then returned to the border and crossed back into Greek Cyprus. A long but interesting day drew to a close.

Thanksgiving

There's nothing like a holiday to turn thoughts to home. This is particularly true for me this year. We realize how privileged we are to be on such an assignment and we are grateful for so many things; for our health and that of our families', for the prosperity that allows us to come here, for the political stability in America that allows citizens to disagree in safety, for each other. As you know the politics of this region are complicated. My wife, as one of the only Americans some of these people will ever meet, gets asked a lot of questions about our country. Because Terry is approachable, people feel comfortable telling her their views of the USA and it can be overwhelming. Fortunately, my wife's week ended on a nice note. On Wednesday we went to the Binational Jordanian-American Commission (Fulbright) for a Thanksgiving celebration. There were about 50 people and it was great to catch up with friends. On Thursday we were invited to the home of US diplomats for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. We have been far from home before, and we've worked through holidays before, but in this day and time in history, and after this week in particular, it was a great comfort to be with Americans. The day ended with a "skype" visit from my family in Florida then from our daughter and her family (including her wonderful in-laws) in California. I want to tell you, family and friends, how thankful we are for you. The hundreds of supportive emails you've sent while we are so far from home, the news you share, the prayers you send, keep us going. Happy Thanksgiving.

Bosphorus Strait

The Bosphorus Strait is the narrow water passage dividing Europe from Asia, similar to how the Panama Canal connects the Atlantic to the Pacific, but the Bosphorous is not man-made. We had a great cruise that began after the hotel breakfast (European and Turkish foods; delicious breads and grilled vegetables, homemade jams, local cheeses, several types of olives and fish and meats). Before we boarded the boat for the cruise we toured the Rustempasha mosque, built in 1560, and covered in famous Iznik tiles. On a cultural note, we learned that tulips, indigenous to Turkey, are the symbol of Islam here because in Arabic the word for God, Allah, forms the pattern of a tulip. And, speaking of Allah, we were gifted with an English language Koran. We then made our way past the freely roaming tagged dogs (tags prove spaying and shots) and entered the famed Spice Bazaar. The stalls displayed colorful pyramids of freshly ground spices, very exotic and fragrant. I really liked walking around, sampling candy and drinking pomegranate tea. When we exited the bazaar my wife noticed a man and his wives who appeared to be wearing the headdress of Jordan. She greeted them in Arabic and they lit up and all started talking at once, a regular family reunion, except they were Syrian refugees, not from Jordan. After heartfelt good-byes we were driven to the boat. This was our first organized tour group but it was small and intimate and guided by a young Turkish woman who confided to my wife she felt unsure of her English (Terry quickly reassured her). The Bosphorous connects the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea so you can imagine its strategic significance. Roughly one mile wide, it is the only warm water access to the high seas for several Black Sea nations, notably Russia. Both sides have broad hills that slope down to the water. The hilly topography provided good views of the Dolmabahce Palace, the Beylerbeyi Palace, and the Ciragan Palce, which reminded us of Russia's St. Petersburg. We drove through Ortakoy, then saw it from the cruise, an area home to Turks, Jews, Greeks and Armenians. There were religious structures of every stripe. We cruised passed the Rumeli Fortress, built in 1452 by Sultan Mehmet II, the largest and most impenetrable of the Middle Ages fortresses, and it looked it, dominating the Strait. The huge fortress was a real contrast to the modern architecture around it (and very dramatic). Tomorrow we return "home" to Jordan where Terry has very busy weeks ahead. In addition to teaching at the University of Jordan, she will lecture throughout Jordan's universities and high schools in honor of International Education Week.

Sultanahmet (Turkey)

Today was a day to tour Sultanahmet, the ancient heart of Istanbul and the Ottoman Empire. We saw the pillar erected by the Romans to mark the center of the city from which mileposts were measured (mille passuum). The city was named Constantinople (for Roman Emperor Constantine the Great) until 1453 when it was conquered by Muslim forces. Our guide's name was Ghenghis. He proudly informed us his son's name is Khan. He began by showing us a large map of Turkey which reminded us of how many ancient sites are here, from Troy to Thrace to Ephesus to Cappadocia. Only three per cent of Turkey is in Europe which ends at the Bosphorus Strait in the middle of Istanbul. The first stop on today's walking tour was the sprawling Topaki Palace complex, home of the Sultans. Just inside the palace walls was a large fourth century church. After the conquest of 1453 AD most churches in this area were converted to mosques. This one, however, was converted into an arsenal instead because in Islamic tradition all are equal before God and mosques are open to all. This would have posed an unacceptable security risk to the Sultan. His security was a recurring theme today for good reason. Palace intrigue and violent death were commonplace. Messengers from foreign lands brought into the Sultan's presence were required to lower their eyes and were restrained on each side by palace guards. If the Sultan didn't like the message the messenger was beheaded and his head returned to sender, preserved in a jar of honey. To this day Turks have a saying that a recipient of bad news "received the honey jar." The Sultan had over 300 concubines and 100 children. Fratricide was common as sons competed to become the next Sultan. Next stop was the Hagia Sophia, a third century church rebuilt twice into an enormous domed cathedral, turned mosque, turned museum. Its current iteration dates from the 1400s AD. Since Islam prohibits depiction of the human form as a guard against idol worship, we are fortunate that the mosaics depicting Jesus, Mary, and the Saints were merely plastered over rather than destroyed, thus preserving them. Then we were on to the underground cistern made (more) famous by a scene in Dan Brown's book "Inferno." Lost for centuries and rediscovered in the early 1960s by a curious British tourist poking around who stumbled upon it, this has become a major tourist attraction, made more so by the book. A movie version of the book was filmed here and is due out next year.

Then we went across the street to the Blue Mosque, the seventeenth largest mosque in the world. It's exterior is strikingly beautiful and dominates its surroundings. Upon going inside Terry received a light blue head covering as a loaner, we all took off our shoes of course, then marveled at the interior. We learned the patterned carpet is a guide to worshippers as they know where to place first their feet, then knees, hands, and forehead all according to the pattern. After the Blue Mosque we had lunch at a local restaurant serving traditional Turkish fare of grilled vegetables and meats/fish. This part of Istanbul has a very cosmopolitan feel. It is a cafe culture with diners spilling out of restaurants to streetside tables, similar to Paris. The foods displayed everywhere were colorful and showed a big city sophistication, not surprising for a city of over 14 million. Finally we were off to the Grand Bazaar which boasts being the world's oldest and largest market dating from 1453 AD with over 4,000 stalls. As expected in such a place the merchants (all men) were quite energetic in asking us to come into their stalls. Terry needed some leather gloves and our guide told us to haggle, a skill seldom used by Americans, but we were game. The merchant's opening price was 120 Turkish lira (around $40). After some back and forth Terry headed for the exit. That did the trick and the purchase price was 50 Turkish lira (around $15), not bad for black leather gloves. By this time we had parted company with Ghenghis so we walked back to our hotel on a perfect sunny fall day having gotten our excercise by walking for six hours in one of the most amazing cities I have ever seen. We stopped in a pastry shop we couldn't resist and bought a sweet resembling baklava on steroids filled with pistachios and honey. We made it back in time for afternoon tea which made my wife very happy.

University of Istanbul (Turkey)

Well faithful readers, it's been eleven days since my last post. Our time was filled with activities that now pass as routine. Terry's Fulbright duties include teaching graduate students at the university. But going above and beyond she uses her "off" time to lecture at universities and high schools all over Jordan on behalf of the US Embassy. She also gave a writing workshop for university students, attended committee meetings, and provided career counseling to students from all over the university who heard her background and sought her out. She edited faculty research and doctoral students' dissertations (that they write such complex things in English is very impressive), and helped a military colonel with a paper. And in the little time left we were guests (lunches and dinners) of her generous colleagues.

Yesterday we flew to Istanbul, Turkey, because (as I wrote in a previous post) Fulbright encourages scholars to lecture throughout the region. After we landed in Turkey I had the same sensation as when we lived in Alaska and visited Hawaii in the winter: It was nice to see greenery again. We are staying in Istanbul's historic district and had a "hotel orientation" by an enthusiastic young man named Ufuk (no kidding). I've grown so used to using Arabic words I kept saying "shukran" and "afwan" ("thank you" and "you're welcome" in Arabic), despite the fact that Arabic isn't spoken in Turkey! I'm guessing it will be some time before I stop including Arabic words in my speech. Young Ufuk told us he lives across the Bosphorus Strait, which means he goes from Asia to Europe, and back again, for work every day. After an elaborate tea at the hotel, and trust me, Turkey lives up to its reputation as a foodie paradise, we walked the cobbled, narrow (and clean) streets of the old town (a UNESCO world heritage site). Each block is more colorful than the last. The skyline is dominated by the enormous Blue Mosque. The bazaar we entered had high end Turkish products such as leather goods, hand woven rugs, ceramics, antique jewelry, and Turkish delight, the famous jellied candy.

This morning a doctoral student from the Florence Nightingale School of Nursing at the University of Istanbul brought us to the university for Terry's lecture. The reason a Turkish school is named after a British subject is because Florence Nightingale, known as the founder of modern nursing, came to prominence in 1854 during the Crimean War and British war casualties were brought to Istanbul, so it was here she did her work. We were greeted by members of the school's international committee and given a tour. It is the largest nursing school in Turkey with over 2,000 students. At one point someone mentioned my wife would be speaking to students who knew no English. While I thought the pucker factor on that was pretty high Terry took it in stride (she told me later that happened before in Cambodia). It turns out they understood her just fine. It seems obligatory for schools and students to modestly downplay their English skills when there is really no need. Before the lecture we were treated to Turkish coffee, for those who don't know a very thick coffee one drinks down to the grounds. Then we were treated to a local custom, the reading of fortunes in the coffee grounds. Among the many good things about to happen to us, it turns out we are going to enjoy a family celebration so happy we will all "hold hands and dance." We were pleased to receive positive fortunes (Whew!!). The lecture went well and Terry was very well received as always. Afterward the students and faculty gathered around for photos and Terry was presented with a certificate of appreciation and a handcrafted wooden box filled with, you guessed it, Turkish delight.

Abu Dhabi (UAE)

We toured 6 of the 7 Emirates but I'll highlight Abu Dhabi, the capital. The largest Emirate, it comprises 87% of the UAE. Oil, discovered in the early 1960s in the "empty quarter," transformed Abu Dhabi into an economic giant. We hired a private guide and headed south for 90 minutes. Along the way we passed a future Bollywood picture studio and theme park. One of my biggest surprises is the extent the country is populated by Indians and Pakistanis, who form a majority. Our guide gave us a little flavor of life here for many. They are on two year work visas, renewable on good behavior. He said citizenship for South Asians is out of the question, even if born here. The majority of laborers are men who leave wives and children behind to live communally and send money home. During summer months tourist traffic dries up in 120F heat so they go home to see their families. On a cultural note, he said we don't see beggars because it's not only illegal, but within minutes of begging the police will pick them up and put them on the first plane out "with or without a passport." But I digress.

The moment we crossed the road into Abu Dhabi the highway changed. On both sides were miles of many varieties of green trees. It was a striking contrast. Our first stop was the parking lot of the Sheikh Zayed Mosque. We met with our Jordan driver's son there. Terry invited our Jordan driver to tell his wife we'd deliver goodies from her. There is nothing as universal as a care package. Anyway, the late Sheikh, ruler of Abu Dhabi, conceived and financed the mosque. A Muslim who helps build a mosque receives special dispensation, kind of like brownie points, for paradise. Construction was completed in 2007 and the Sheikh, who died in 2004, is buried on the grounds. It is the eighth largest mosque in the world, over 40,000 worshippers can pray simultaneously, and the word "spectacular" does not begin to describe it. The floors were priceless, the jewel-encrusted chandeliers enormous, the hand woven carpets like nothing imaginable, even the walls were amazing. Terry fit right in because, as is required, she was covered head-to-toe in a black abaya (yes, I have pictures). We then spent many hours touring, everything from the wharf to the fruit markets to a Heritage Village with craftsmen demonstrations and ancient homes. In the city itself, like the rest of UAE, architecture was modern, sleek, innovative. A building in the shape of a cobra, another built like an enormous coin, a mall designed like a huge Bedouin tent, too many unique designs to capture in words or photos. The "normal" suburbs, restricted to Emiratis, were streets lined with enormous mansions the size of a city block. Another cultural note is that in the Emirates Palace Hotel (across a lagoon from the Royal Palace) has a lobby, separated from the cavernous main lobby, empty because it is for the sole use of royalty - no proletarian rear ends parked in those chairs. We saw the royal yacht and, from afar, palace entrances. On the city skyline we saw three towers, all the same height, but designed to be an optical illusion. When we were in one neighborhood, the first building looked the tallest, in another neighborhood the second looked the tallest, and so on. We saw where horses race, camels race, cricket is played, polo is played. We passed an impromptu car show on the side of the road and I took pictures of a Lamborghini, a Delorean, a Ferrari, and cars I didn't recognize. Our impression of Abu Dhabi was favorable; how could it not be? It was spotlessly clean, no garbage anywhere, surprisingly green, with pristine beaches where water was so clear it was like glass. I entered tourist attraction after tourist attraction but paid nothing because the government pays all entry fees - for everyone. The crime rate is LESS than one percent, largely because there is no tolerance for it. The oil money opulence, as I wrote, is hard to describe. You need to see it, to experience it, to understand what it means. I am now recuperating from a medical condition my wife calls "acute jaw drop."

Dubai (UAE)

Today we played tourist. We hired both a driver and a licensed tour guide to help us understand Dubai. We spent a thoroughly enjoyable day in the city, and its outskirts, but instead of detailing our every move - we saw and learned a lot - I'll limit my descriptions to the highlights. Dubai is modern, wealthy, and spotless, much like Singapore, but it comes at a price. Cameras are everywhere and, we learned, punishments range "from high fees to death, and are enforced." Another interesting cultural note is that landscaping is used to engineer pedestrian movement. For example, median strips of boulevards are lined with miles of beautiful plants, all hooked up to efficient drip-system irrigation, and the city is slowly adding high see-through fences along the routes which has the effect of forcing everyone to cross in a crosswalk or be stuck in the middle of the boulevard with no way to get to the other side. Anyway, there's so much more to Dubai than the world's largest shopping mall (yes, it's spectacular and, yes, it really does have ski slopes, waterfalls, and a zoo) and the world's tallest building (yes, again, to "spectacular"). Dubai Creek (actually a river) flows by gold and spice markets and has an efficient water taxi system similar to Baltimore's Inner Harbor. The Heritage Village and Diving Village, similar to Detroit's Greenfield Village, are lifted straight from a different era. The Jumeirah Mosque is spectacular, as is the nearby beach (populated today, a Friday and first day of the weekend, by Westerners wearing Western bathing suits). From the beach the Burj Al Arab (a hotel in the shape of a sail set on a private island) is visible. Just as in Las Vegas, visiting the different hotels yields interesting sights. For example, the Al Qasr has a huge garden in front filled with life size horse statutes - made of 18 karat gold - and the only parking lot I've seen where the Bentleys look cheap by comparison to the other autos. One of the more interesting things we toured was Palm Island, actually a series of man-made islands built in the shape of, yes, a palm tree. The tree trunk had condos and the 16 fronds (separate islands) had private mansions (each with its own private beach) priced around $5 million USD. At the apex of the island stands the Atlantis Hotel with one of the world's largest indoor aquariums. Again, the day was long and there's no need to bore you with more details, but I must add seeing the outside of the palace of His Highness Sheikh Mohammad bin Rashid Al Maktoum, and his brother's palace across the street, was nothing short of amazing (each the size of a city in its own right). But the best part? The traffic circle between the two palaces. The traffic circle - and that was its only function - had huge vases and urns --- made of gold! The urns were surrounded by flowers and plants. And that's what a traffic circle looks like in Dubai.

Khasab (Oman)

Since we're in the region we thought a side trip to the Sultanate of Oman was called for. In the early dark dawn our driver picked us up for a three hour drive to Khasab, Oman. Khasab is the principal town (make that the only town of any size) in Musandam Governate, part of the Arabian peninsula that juts northward toward Iran and forms the southern boundary of the Straits of Hormuz. The two border crossing facilities befit the seventh richest country in the world (UAE) and the twenty second richest (Oman) (according to Global Finance Magazine). Both were large, lavish, and mostly empty. In both there were many friendly, uniformed men who seemed to have little to do. Maybe it was our timing but given he remote nature of where they're located, it may be a local jobs program using oil money. In the UAE building we were there long enough to observe three or four Emiratis in traditional white robes appear suddenly one at a time from the second floor, make the rounds of the uniformed officers, shake each person's hand, then disappear just as quickly. Within two minutes another white-robed Emerati would appear, make the rounds shaking hands, then disappear. And so on. We could only wonder. It isn't that anyone seeking a visa was delayed as we were the only ones there. Our driver had our passports and was in deep conversation with an officer at the time. As an aside, I'm always queasy when I'm required to hand my passport over to someone such as our driver or at a hotel. The Omanis were careful to look at every national stamp in our passports. We had been warned that passport stamps from certain countries would be grounds for them to refuse us entry.

Immediately after the border crossing the terrain became very mountainous, remained so throughout Oman, and reminded us of Palm Springs. And goats were everywhere, in the streets, on the mountains, running wildly. We rode on a highway hugging the mountains on one side with the Persian Gulf on the other. We could see oil tankers heading toward the Straits of Hormuz. The rare populated areas we passed looked prosperous. To our eyes it looked incredibly remote yet it is the center of the universe for its residents. After another hour we reached Khasab, a quaint fishing village where dhows, ships inspired by ancient designs, ferry laborers to work and tourists to the fjords. When we arrived our dhow had not so we were driven to Khasab Castle for a tour. It was built by the Portugese in the seventeenth century to control trade and pirates.

Then on to our dhow trip. There are no seats on the dhows. In keeping with tradition, after we removed our shoes we lounged on cushions placed around the perimeter of carpeted decks. Fortunately for me, there was plenty of shade. Fortunately for all of us, we were a small group of 5 on a large dhow so we could spread out. The crew was an Omani in traditional robes assisted by an Indian fellow who, every few minutes, offered us sweet tea with rose water, coffee with cardamom, and fruit. The fjords were dramatic, the atmosphere peaceful. The scenery was beautiful, a little like Lake Mead in Las Vegas, and dolphins swam alongside us. I took a video to show our granddaughter of Terry waving to the dolphins (who I named Flipper and Sushi) as they seemed to follow her waving hand pretty closely. Bedouin fishing villages hugged the shore. The villages had around fifty people each. They are so remote the Omani government ferries their children to school for the week, returning them on weekends, and supplies the villagers (who lack electricity) with fresh water. We were warned against taking photos of the village women and were asked to remain modest "in behavior and dress" when visible to villagers. The dhow stopped near a fjord in crystal clear water that we thought dropped more than 20 feet. We were offered snorkeling gear but passed. We thoroughly enjoyed relaxing on the gently swaying dhow in the most remote area we have ever been (yet roughly a mere 40 miles from the Coast of Iran). We threw bread to the fish and watched the schools gather. There were beautifully colored fish in crystal clear water. On the quiet return to port, and just in front of us, our captain (probably in his sixties) pulled out his prayer rug and, facing west, completed his prayers, touching his forehead to the deck several times(some Westerners think Muslims face east to pray but it is always in the direction of Mecca, in this case due west of Oman). When I see this I am struck by how deep religious devotion is in this part of the world. No doubts, no embarrassment, no explanations for public prayer. I am also struck with the contrast to trends in the West, for better or worse. The day was far more relaxing than we expected but after a three hour ride back to Dubai we were glad to see our hotel and enjoy high tea that included Arab and English influences.

RAK Medical & Health Sciences University (UAE)

We didn't plan on being in the United Arab Emirates (UAE) this week. That said, here we are, where we plan to tour all 7 emirates (an emirate, ruled by an emir, is like a kingdom ruled by a hereditary monarch) and the Sultanate of Oman, a neighboring country. Fulbright Scholars are encouraged to lecture throughout their regions and since Terry had been asked to lecture here, we scrambled to rearrange our plans. Our base while here is Dubai, home to the tallest building in the world (the Burj Khalifa, 160 stories, equal to 2,716 feet) which we can see from our deluxe hotel suite. Why deluxe hotel suite? Because there was an error that the hotel remedied in a very, very generous manner. The UAE reminds me of Singapore: modern and spotlessly clean. Emiratis are a minority in their own country comprising about 13% of the population, with the bulk of the labor force from India, Pakistan, and the Philipines. Emirati men can be seen wearing traditional white robes and the folds in their white headdresses signify which tribe. Most wives wear flowing black robes and some also cover their faces.

This morning a university driver picked us up for the 90 minute ride to the northernmost of the seven Emirates, Ras Al Khaimah (RAK), for Terry to present a lecture to graduate students and an in-service "teach the teacher" to the professors. As the skyscrapers of Dubai gave way to rolling sand dunes and camels, the desert changed from white sand to light gold. The dunes gradually had more patches of vegetation, then trees, because we were approaching an area that receives more rain. We were warmly greeted at the RAK Medical & Health Sciences University by the Vice Chancellor of the University and the Dean of the College of Nursing. Terry lectured for several hours and I did something I normally don't do - I stayed to listen. She had them eating from the palm of her hand. This was my first time seeing my wife in action in her field. She was amazing. The subject matter requested by the university was dry but she brought it to life - even for me and I have no interest in these topics. When Terry finished, and after everyone clapped, a phenomenon occurred that I've seen before - they asked her to pose for selfies! Completely unexpected, the Dean then conducted a mini-ceremony, replete with a photographer, in which Terry was presented with a beautiful carved wooden box containing an engraved plaque thanking her for her lectures. The photographer then took a group picture and I scrambled to get one, too. After the award ceremony a luncheon was held in Terry's honor and it was quite elaborate. There was Arab food, Indian food, and Chinese food. The junior faculty introduced themselves to Terry and asked many questions. Before we left the university we were taken on a tour. If ever there was a doubt as to what oil money can purchase, this set it to rest for me. The university had every technological advancement known, including what looked like a real hospital with each bed filled with a simulated patient that could be programmed to bleed, speak, and have breath and heart sounds. They even had "patients" who gave birth. There were also glass walls in the "hospital" for teachers, or other students, to observe how the students handled their "patients." We were told that Emiratis receive full college tuition, room and board, every other expense is paid, and they receive a (very) generous spending allowance just for going to school.

After the university tour the driver was asked to give us a tour of local sights before returning us to our hotel. We drove along the Persian Gulf, saw the beautiful huge mosque, and toured the pre-oil discovery areas of old town. The whole experience was fantastic. I got to see my wife at her professional best and how those she teaches respond to her. We headed back to Dubai with much to discuss.

Petra

Go to Petra. It is one of the 7 modern wonders of the world, and a UNESCO World Heritage site, for a reason. But our day didn't start out there. After more dining as guests of Terry's colleagues, we rose early because instead of going to Petra on the highway we took the morning-to-night meandering old route to visit ruins, churches, the University at Madaba, Wadi Al Mujib, Karak, the national military academy, Dihbahn, a brass quarry, the "Mommy Feed Me" restaurant, Al Mazar, Dana Nature Conservancy, more ruins, a crusader-then-Mamluk castle, 2 different dams, the guns used against Israel in 1956, more ruins, and the river where Moses smote the rock (Exodus 17:6; Numbers 20:11) and water flowed. It was a long day but the "Petra at night" walk by candlelight awaited and we didn't want to miss a thing. (An aside to readers: If money is a concern, you may want to skip the walk - it is just that - but for those like my wife who dreamt of seeing Petra, don't miss this beautiful walk ending with Bedouin music, tea, and storytelling in a dramatic setting.)

Petra is spectacular. Inhabited before 300 B.C., Nabateans made it their empire's capital (the empire included Jordan, the Sinai, parts of Israel, Syria, and Saudi Arabia) around 168 B.C. These were advanced people whose engineering knowledge astounds. But because of earthquakes and drought and trade route changes Petra was abandoned and the entrance hidden by overgrowth for hundreds of years. Petra became a myth ("The City of Red"), a legend. In 1812 Swiss explorer Johan Burckhardt was exploring artifacts in Egypt when he heard about Petra. Convincing local Bedouin he was Muslim and wanted to see the tombs, Burckhardt became the first European to see Petra. Tourism began soon after. In recent years Jordan worked with American civil servants (USAID) to use Petra to provide jobs, housing, schools, and hospital services for locals. USAID helped build the visitors center in a successful partnership to create a tax base for the local economy. Our hotel (interestingly, with part entirely in a Nabatean cave) was next to the entry so we got an early start the next morning.

We walked about an hour through the once overgrown and hidden entry, the Siq. The Siq is a spectacular narrow gorge (featured in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade) with carvings high up in the mountain and an ingenious cistern and aqueduct system. We slowly walked along the many twists and turns, and were eventually funneled into a huge open area, a world of bright colors, sounds, and smells. In front of us was the Treasury, an enormous building carved into the red mountain. Surrounding us were donkeys and camels and horse drawn carriages and brightly clothed Bedouin offering guide services and selling trinkets. Spectacular! We spent time exploring and eventually continued on.

Terry had read and enjoyed a book called "Married to a Bedouin" about New Zealand nurse Marguerite van Geldermalsen's summer adventure that ended in an amazing life of service (and marriage and kids) to a Bedouin in Petra. My wife spotted a group of Bedouin women drinking sweet tea around an open fire and walked over to ask them if they knew the Kiwi and whether she ever returned to Petra. Then it got interesting. I was standing at a distance so I couldn't hear but I saw them offer my wife tea then begin what looked like animated conversation. A man, who turned out to be one of the husbands, went to see what was going on and immediately turned around, walked swiftly to me, and offered me tea. It turned out my generous wife, after introducing herself, was addressing their concerns ("Would a goiter make me infertile?" "Why do I have skin discoloration from using bleach?" "I was born with a lump on my back 70 years ago, should I be worried?"). When the women were finished with Terry she asked whether she could have a photo and they agreed. One woman pressed a gift on my resisting wife, and afterward Terry showed me a small heart shaped container handmade of tiny beads and shards of glass. They hugged my wife, said good-bye, and Terry and I walked in the direction they pointed to see if we could find Marguerite. Terry did, in fact, meet (and visit with) Marguerite and I took a photo of them.

We continued exploring the huge preserved city, dodging camels and donkeys and enjoying one of the most exotic days of my life. Before I end this post I want to mention another good book, "Skeletons of the Zahara" by Dean King, the re-telling of Connecticut Captain James Riley's memoir (which greatly influenced Abraham Lincoln). It is the story about his shipwreck, subsequent capture by slaving Arabs in Africa, and his eventual freedom by ransom in 1815. The book is filled with adventure, suspense, and everything you'd ever want to know about desert survival - and camels. If anyone reads and likes it please leave a comment.

Diplomatic Bazaar

This morning I was battling a cold but didn't want to miss anything, so we got in a taxi and went to Sports City, the athletic (stadium) complex in Amman, for a charity event. Every year the diplomatic community in Amman hosts a fundraiser called the Diplomatic Bazaar. Open to the public, everyone was greeted at the entry with a tiny cup of sweet Turkish coffee as a gesture of welcome. Over fifty embassies had booths where they sold national crafts, clothing, and other products imported from their countries. We walked from booth to booth, examining spices from Kuwait, towels from Turkey, perfumes and soaps from France, silk products from Thailand, some type of conical oven from Morocco, wooden dolls from Indonesia, and on and on. I realize I've written about food in my blog but this was particularly interesting because outside the cultural booths area, in a large open air food court, was a mini-United Nations. Each embassy had tables staffed by their embassy personnel dressed in their national clothing and selling their national foods. We began with my favorite, Thailand, and had Phad Thai and dumplings. Then we wandered over to Pakistan to try potato samosas with sweet sauce. Bangladesh had interesting orange-colored cakes we tried and still can't decide whether the cake was orange or carrot. The Sudan offered sweet fruit drinks, one purple, one cream-colored, but we don't know what we drank because no one spoke English. We stopped at the Ukraine area because the cream-filled layer cake coated in chocolate had my name on it. On our way out Yemen gave us samples of their raisins and almonds and The Netherlands gave us samples of their licorice candies and their cookies made from caramel waffle. We bought tiny walnut and date filled cookies from Iraq to take home. The food area was about as interesting as it gets. People walked around in native costumes, sampling the foods, listening to music. You know you've been living in a place for a while when you start bumping into friends in public places and sure enough, we ran into one of our friends from the U.S. Embassy, cranking out exotic American foods (hamburgers and hot dogs) to feed those interested in trying American food. We chuckled over the Australians, singing (shouting) raucous Aussie cheers as they cooked. The different embassies provided entertainment under a huge tent and we watched dance performances from Indonesia, South Africa, and Brazil. This is the 51st year of this one day event which packs in visitors by the thousands, all for a good cause, a home for orphans in Amman.

Hashemite University (Jordan)

My wife is a featured lecturer in the United States Embassy's American Speakers Program. This week she was asked to address a topic requested by Hashemite University: Hispanic Heritage Month, outside her usual lecture topics but, willing (as usual) to help, she prepared accordingly. This morning we went to the main gate of the U.S. Embassy and were met by an embassy escort and a driver in an armored vehicle. The SUV weighed twice as much as normal, had bulletproof windows two-inches thick, and armored plating around and underneath. Opening and closing the door was difficult even for me because of its weight. Hashemite University is in Zarqa, over an hour east of Amman, where the desert transitions into brown, rolling hills and sparse vegetation; a rural and conservative area. The university was named after the royal family's dynasty and is the second largest university in Jordan with over 30,000 students (drawn from the surrounding small towns and villages). Very few foreigners are seen in this area yet the openness and warmth with which they welcomed my wife, and me by extension, was typical Jordanian. About 65 students were present and Terry began by answering what everyone (whether here or in the U.S.) asks: "Why Jordan?" Then she described how the varied immigrant population in Jordan is similar to the United States because "Hispanic" is an umbrella term. She explained that American Hispanics range from European (Spain) to Caribbean (primarily Puerto Rico and Cuba but more) to Latin, Central, and South America. The students were lively, polite, and asked Terry intelligent questions about Hispanic literature, political impact, and personal questions about living in a state heavily influenced by Hispanic culture. My wife-the-trial-lawyer was in her element fielding questions. After the lecture students clustered around her, taking her picture and asking questions. Customary in Jordan, as guests we were served 3 standard drinks: coffee (here, the thick sweet Turkish coffee), water, and fresh fruit juice. On a cultural note, I appreciate this because even after living in deserts in Arizona, California and Nevada, it's hard to imagine how dry the climate is here and how welcome drinks are. A university administrator asked Terry to return to present a lecture for the faculty. The Chair of the English Department thanked Terry and told her, after she said the students knew English well, "education is our oil." I include that phrase because it captures what I, as an outsider see often: Jordanian students respect education as key to their futures. This is not a rich country but these scrappy people are determined to live in peace in a region in turmoil, get along with their neighbors, and better themselves through education. Jordan's population is young (about 70% are age thirty or younger) and as I wrote in a previous post, education is not a right, it isn't taken for granted, and people sacrifice to attend university. As I experience the Fulbright (as a dependent), and the (very) hard work of our United States Embassy personnel, I am aware (and now appreciate) the impact educational and cultural exchanges have on international relations.

Arab Wedding

We were sitting quietly, admiring the elegant surroundings, when suddenly there was a flurry of movement everywhere and loud music filled the room. Guests started clapping because the bride was coming. What a night! The wedding invitation was a small booklet with a padded cover and a tiny amulet hanging from it with Terry's name; of course I accompanied her. The invitation was engraved in gold Arabic calligraphy on white satin, which according to the translation we received later had the location (a hotel), time (8 p.m.) and a blessing. Not wanting to miss anything we arrived promptly at 7:30 and the wedding began promptly.... at 9:30. We lived in Mexico for a while and are comfortable with cultural differences regarding time so we settled in, enjoyed the fresh fruit juice we were served, and noted cultural differences like ash trays and bottles of water on tables. This wedding was an event and the word "elegant" is apt. Suddenly everyone rose and started walking out, signaling us to join them. A band of musicians in long flowing robes and Arab headdresses, playing traditional musical instruments like flutes and drums (and a bagpipe!), serenaded the bride and groom. Then the musicians danced the couple (who like all Muslims married earlier in the day in private) down the grand staircase. Everyone clapped. There was ululating (a trilling sound made with the tongue and common in the Middle East). The bride and groom, without a single break, danced until after 11 p.m. with everyone gathered around them clapping. I didn't expect to see the bride wear a modern sleeveless white wedding gown as her mother was covered all but her face. When the music stopped, and lights came up, the bride and groom left (we learned later they eat the first meal alone). We were escorted to an outdoor atrium holding a large buffet. There were several types of salads, Italian food (pastas, lasagnes), beef stew, an entire roasted lamb which a chef cut and served, different types of Arab breads, vegetables, and fish. The sweet table had small squares of cake, something similar to bread pudding, creme brûlée, jello, German apple strudel, a variation on cheese cake, chocolate mousse, and a chef cutting kanafeh for the guests. The wedding cake was 7-tiered and had white whipped cream as frosting with fresh peaches between white cake layers. Then the lights dimmed and the musicians, playing traditional drums but in different flowing robes, danced the groom in from one side of the room while a group of young women danced the bride in from the other. The men in the room danced around the groom and the women danced around the bride. Throughout the evening guests stopped by to welcome us, which was consistent with how we've been treated since our arrival. The big cultural surprises, aside from the bride's gown, were that covered women danced, there were no dancing breaks until we ate, we ate close to midnight, and that, frankly, we even got to experience an Arab wedding in Jordan.

Circassians

Since writing about the Royal Automobile Club of Jordan I learned about other country clubs based on religion or nationality. For example, the Orthodox Club (near us in Abdoun) caters to Christians. The Al-Ahli Club caters to Circassians, a national group originating by the Black Sea with 180,000 members in Jordan occupying a unique niche. Descendants of the Cossacks, Circassians are ethnically more European than Middle Eastern, which caused my surprise to see so many blue-eyed, blond-haired people here. In 1717, during the Ottoman Empire, large numbers of Orthodox Christian Circassians were forced by Turks to convert to Islam at sword point. Subsequent war with (and genocide by) Russia dispersed this population throughout the Middle East. Amman was little more than a Circassian village for decades. King Abdallah (the late King Hussein's grandfather) relocated here (from Saudi Arabia) at the end of the nineteenth century. He was exiled by war but welcomed by the local community. The Hashemite dynasty traces its lineage to the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) and, being devout Muslims since their conversion, the King was held in high esteem. A cultural note is that after written reference to the Prophet, even in newspapers, (PBUH) or "Peace Be Upon Him" is added. For over a century the Circassians have formed the palace guard, protecting the Hashemite royal family the way Swiss Guards protect the Vatican. Occasionally on the news they are seen in the Royal Palace wearing Cossack-style uniforms, an unusual sight (especially in the Middle East). They occupy many positions of responsibility here beyond their numerical representation in the country.

Royal Automobile Club of Jordan

Today was a fascinating day. It began by accompanying my wife, who was invited to observe the International Association of Women Judges Conference, accomplished women from the Middle East and North Africa succeeding in male-dominated societies. Terry used my iPad to take a photo of a new friend, Parliamentarian (Hon.) Senator Taghreed Hikmat, Jordan's first female judge, soon to be appointed to the Jordanian Supreme Court.

Afterward we headed to Sufara, one of Jordan's most famous bakeries. In Jordan grocery shopping is done by men, the place was packed, and the smell great (everything fresh-baked). Shoppers point to what they want and gloved teenagers wrap the goods in plastic. We bought small pastries filled with strawberry, honey-glazed croissants, bite-sized savory pastries filled with either cheese, potato, spinach, or spices we couldn't identify. Then we walked to the 6-story Galleria Mall but as it was Friday, Islam's holy day, stores opened late (after the noon sermons given at mosques) so we had time to relax with a cup of coffee and enjoy some of the fresh pastries.

We shopped, caught a cab home, and were settling in when the phone rang. A Jordanian attorney I corresponded with from home, but hadn't met in person, invited us to The Royal Automobile Club of Jordan, one of the most exclusive country clubs here. He said membership is after 2 members vouch for candidates, an enormous admission fee is paid, and after a lengthy wait that could be over 3 years. The Club was large and elaborate, with tennis and squash courts, miniature soccer fields, swimming pools, bowling alleys, a go cart track, children's play areas, prayer areas, a display of items owned by the late King Hussein, and a massive outdoor restaurant under the stars. Families eat dinner late in Jordan and it was in full swing. Many enjoyed nargilas, the local water pipe, with dinner. Some played cards. After our friend gave us a tour of his club we settled in on the patio for a night of conversation and lemonade with mint. He attended university in Aleppo, Syria, and was wistful describing how safe and beautiful it had been, now a thing of the past. He and Terry traded observations about being attorneys and he mentioned his extended family's palaces, which can be seen on the internet if you look up Abdul-Hadi palaces. Tonight we engaged in our most wide ranging conversation thus far about the Middle East and I said the biggest benefit of coming to Jordan is that we get to experience Middle Eastern culture in a safe and friendly country. After several hours we went home, tired but happy after a day that went from female judges to bakery goods to drinks under the stars. Tomorrow we are meeting an entirely different group of friends, mostly locals but a few here on business from all over the world, for brunch. The adventure continues.

A Day in the Life

Years ago, when Terry held her Congressional Guide Service appointment, and I parked our car in the Senate parking lot to wait, tourists took my picture and asked which state I represented. I had some explaining to do. Today it was time to do some more explaining when a group of Terry's students came to her office to meet her for the first time and asked me, "Dr. Fulbright?"

Well, classes started and I'm enjoying the campus while Terry teaches. As we pulled up, the Vice Dean grabbed Terry and off they went to the welcome reception. My wife described it as the deans in a receiving line and as the faculty made their way through, the men kissed the men, the women kissed the women, and those who were religious smiled warmly with their right hands over their hearts. Typically thoughtful, she brought me pastries, which were delicious. As we sat in Terry's office the students came by to welcome each professor individually, with more coffee and delicious Jordanian dates. As if that wasn't enough, a faculty member stopped by to escort Terry up to the third reception of the day and again I was the lucky beneficiary of... coffee and pastries. Terry taught her first class and said she was touched by "the strength of the bright and shiny female faces peeking out from behind layers of fabric."

Attending university here is a privilege for which much is sacrificed and students don't take it for granted. Speaking of sacrifice, you all know Terry and I constantly hold hands. Not anymore. At least not here. Public displays of affection between men and women are culturally unacceptable (although we saw hand-holding once). On the other hand, men greet men with kisses on the cheek, as women do with women, and men walk around holding hands with other men, as do women with women. We really stand out here anyway (men I've never met take one look and say hello to me in English) so we are careful not to offend and will save our hand-holding walks for another time and place. I estimate 80% of the women in our upscale "Western" neighborhood cover their heads (but not their faces - maybe 5% do). This is a sure sign of conservative religious practice. There are many Saudis here so it isn't unusual to see groups of women in black abayas (their faces covered by a niqaab) shopping in the most expensive stores, presumably to buy clothing to wear at home (cultural note: we take escalators, not elevators, because of their extreme discomfort when in proximity to unrelated men). Saudi men wear white flowing robes and headdresses and, to our surprise, eyeliner. Wearing shorts in public is like walking around in underwear. Other than a (very) few tourists, it isn't done.

Anyway, on the way home from the university our driver asked if we'd mind if he picked up one of his regulars. Of course we agreed. She was an Iraqi refugee who spoke impeccable English and works for the United Nations. She was quick to offer us the ubiquitous snack of raw dates (delicious, yellow, and crunchy - my in-laws ate them here in Amman years ago). She amiably discussed life in Iraq and the museum antiquities being held, until peace reigns, in countries such as the USA. She bonded with Terry and we were sorry to say good-bye. We then went to eat dinner at a Jordanian restaurant. We had shawarma (lamb roasted on huge revolving skewers) and it was delicious. What we didn't expect to see on the menu were lamb testicles (Pass!). And that was our day: Hugs, kisses, coffee, pastries, fresh plump dates, crunchy yellow dates, interesting people, and great food (but no lamb testicles).

Eid Mubarak!

Anyone who knows my wife knows she has real presence and is extremely smart. Two qualities of hers I most appreciate, however, are her kindness and generosity. She became a nurse to serve and serve she does - whether it's in the jungles of Vietnam, a hospital, teaching in universities, or the many colleagues and students and Jordanian locals she helps - never taking credit, never taking a penny. Today I had the unique experience of wishing a huge extended family "Eid Mubarak" ("Happy Holiday") thanks to my wife's generosity. The family she helped insisted she (and by extension, me) become a part of their family for this important feast day. I can't believe this incredible adventure we're on. Wednesday was the first day of the four day holiday in Islam commemorating God's test of Abraham's devotion. After God ordered Abraham to kill his only son as proof of sincerity, and Abraham didn't hesitate, an angel stepped in to stop the son's slaughter and told Abraham to slaughter a lamb instead (Genesis 22:2).

Prior to our arrival, the men of the family went to morning prayers, then stopped by a large outdoor gathering of sheep herded into the city by Bedouin. The patriarch did the honors, selecting the perfect sheep, which was then slaughtered according to Halal laws, which engender a merciful death for food animals that occurs as swiftly (and thus painlessly) as possible. The sheep was skinned, cleaned, and quartered, with a portion given to the poor, all to commemorate the test Abraham passed in proving his love of God (Abraham is recognized as a prophet in Islam). By the time we arrived the sheep had been magically transformed into Mansef, the Jordanian national dish, consisting of chunks of mutton served over a bed of rice and sprinkled liberally with toasted almonds. Goat milk is used to make a quasi-yogurt sauce which is used like gravy. The entire dish is covered not with aluminum foil, but with a large covering made from a type of bread rolled out so flat and thin it is almost transparent. After some socializing with Arabic coffee, but before sitting down to a wonderful feast, Terry was whisked away to the kitchen where the women presented her with an extravagant gift of hand embroidered items. She told me later she was shown how the meal was prepared. Slowly the different families comprising the extended family entered. Everyone was in a festive mood. I was seated with the men of the extended family and we talked about Jordan and the region. The feast was, well, amazing. One culturally noteworthy incident during the meal was when I was asked whether I needed more food. I indicated I was full, but would accept a very small additional portion (I didn't want to be rude and refusing food is considered rude), one of the men immediately stood up and put 3 heaping serving spoons of rice on my plate and then topped it off with a huge chunk of mutton. The food was delicious. After the meal we retired to a sitting room where Arabic coffee (cardamom and cloves)and small cakes filled with pistachios and figs (made by the women of the family) were served. The extended family was all there including a passel of little children of all ages who really livened up the party. Terry kept the conversation moving through a discussion of Arabic words and customs. Another culturally noteworthy moment was when I whispered to Terry to switch hands because she was drinking her tea with her right hand and eating the little cakes with her left, a big no-no here. Terry's efforts generated much respect, a few laughs at her Arabic pronunciation, and great goodwill. She is a wonderful ambassador for the United States.

The Hajj is observed as part of this holiday in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. All Muslims pay attention to news of the Hajj from Mecca, so the television was tuned to a Saudi channel. Unfortunately, there was a stampede killing over 700 (as of this writing), an incident that was somewhat sobering since the family's patriarch plans to go to Hajj (one of the 5 pillars of Islam) next year, as they say "Inshallah!" ("God willing!") Every Muslim who is capable of doing so is obligated to make a pilgrimage to Hajj once. Saudi Arabia, keeper of the sacred sites, sets national quotas each year to keep the numbers of pilgrims in check. The numbers are still in the millions. Jordan allocates slots with preference to the elderly. Our host will qualify for the Hajj next year and his wife and oldest son may accompany him as his helpers. After many more rounds of Arabic coffee, tea with nana (mint), and small cakes, we departed to hugs and kisses from the women (for Terry) and solemn handshakes from all of the men (for me). Our hosts were extremely welcoming and insisted we return soon. Inshallah!

Classical Music

Tonight we were invited by locals to a classical music concert sponsored by the American Academy of Jordan. it beats watching tv in Arabic, whose channels include stations from Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Oman, Libya, Bahrain, and other Gulf Region countries. Tonight's concert featured a violinist, a cellist, and a pianist; three young Korean-American women trained at Julliard. Each of the three wore a gown in a color of the American flag, red, white, or blue in keeping with the American theme for the evening. The concert was held at the Al Hussein Cultural Center in downtown Amman, a large dramatic building. The tickets cost 10 JD, a bargain at roughly $14 U.S. The concert hall was nearly filled with the local Korean community and Americans of every stripe, some overlapping, and many Jordanians. I had the urge to ask the Americans "what's your story?" as one does not just happen to be in Jordan; interesting roads lead here. The Jordanian National Anthem had us quickly and respectfully on our feet. An undentified man gave what seemed like a friendly speech in Arabic. It wasn't translated but he did ask at the end, in English, to turn mobile phones to vibrate, some things don't change. The musicians were very friendly and informal. Their comments were translated into Arabic for the audience. They were superb. After more than an hour their encore was as unexpected as the Jordanian National Anthem. They played Amazing Grace. It was at first surprising and disorienting to hear. This society is so overwhelmingly and visibly Islamic it's easy to forget there is a sizable minority Christian population. Though proselytizing is illegal, Christian churches can be found and the attitude toward them is one of tolerance. Of course Amazing Grace can be performed. It was just unexpected.

Upon returning home the evening was unusually cool so we decided to walk the half mile to nearby restaurants. The Arab cuisine is delicious, and I've become adept at ordering my favorites, including rice-filled grape leaves, but longing for a taste of home I ordered a hamburger with fries and a diet soda. Terry and I sat on an open balcony in the restaurant and enjoyed the cool night air. For cultural reasons, waiters, like taxi drivers, only address me, not my wife. Nargilas, or hookahs, water pipes full of sweet tobacco with as many flavors as Baskin Robbins ice cream, are smoked in restaurants but it still surprises me to see all the covered women puffing away. Similar to England, traffic control is accomplished through the use of round-abouts, or traffic circles, so often there are no lights to wait for when crossing the street to go home, so we have to be bold. Returning home we usually pass the U.S. Embassy, down the street from the Kuwaiti Embassy, with the Libyan Embassy on the nearby traffic circle. Around the corner from our apartment is the residence of the Ambassador of the Sultanate of Oman, whose huge home looks like a palace straight from the Arabian Nights. In the driveway of a similar palace-like house across the street is a Lamborghini, its poor cousin, a Maserati, relegated to being parked on the street - We're sure it's because we're new in the 'hood that they haven't offered us a lift.

Mt. Nebo

To cap our busy day we ascended switchbacks through desert mountains keeping the Dead Sea in view far below. Along the way we were stopped cold by a herd of goats ambling along the road. Three Bedouin herdsman soon came along to clear the way for us. This was after Terry jumped out of our cab, running after the herd taking pictures. Two Bedouin were on donkeys and the third on foot giving orders to his herding dog. We got a close look at how any goat that got out of line was quickly retrieved by the dog. As a cultural note this was only the second dog we've seen in Jordan. The other was dead in the road on the way to Jerash. Islam does not favor dogs as they are considered unclean. We do see many feral cats. While on the subject of animals, our driver screeched to a halt because on the hill just above us grazed a huge white camel, its Bedouin owner nowhere to be seen. Camel milk is considered particularly nutritious and can be bought in our supermarket. Outside of the city of Madaba, Jordan, known for its ancient mosaics and majority Christian population, we reached our next destination, Mt. Nebo. This mountain has been famed since biblical times as the place where Moses died after looking out over the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 34:1). Mt. Nebo is a narrow mountain with an abrupt drop off that, as you would expect, commands an amazing view past the Jordan River and Dead Sea to West Bank cities, Jerusalem, and beyond. At the summit is a Franciscan Roman Catholic church and small museum telling the story of Moses and displaying the mosaics for which the area is also famous. As at the baptismal site the experience of standing in these places from the Bible is very moving. All my life I heard of these places and now I see them in person. We stopped at an interpretive museum (dioramas) before heading home after a long and emotional day.

Floating in the Dead Sea

Let's be clear about one thing. Floating in the Dead Sea is a very strange experience. Everything you think you know about moving and surviving in the water is turned on its head. But I get ahead of myself. After we finished at the baptismal site we arrived at the Dead Sea and marveled at the view. There are many luxury hotels along the main road perched on the hillsides overlooking the water. We decided against booking a room in one because we are only an hour from Amman. One thing that surprised me is that both sides of the Dead Sea are mountainous, much like Lake Tahoe in California only with desert coloration. It's the lowest place on earth, quite a claim to fame. Because of the elevation, and the salt content of the water, the air has a kind of haze. Supposedly this filters out the UV rays from the sun making it a safer place to sunbathe; a claim I will not test. Since we were day trippers we sought out the nicest of the day spas, a resort called Oh Beach. It has all the amenities of a resort hotel minus the rooms. Upon entry we walked down many flights of stairs past the restaurants and infinity pools to the main attraction - The Dead Sea. It was exceedingly clear with a rocky bottom that quickly dropped off in depth. To enter we used the pontoon pier like everyone else. The bottom mud is renowned for its ability to beautify anyone. Many people at the pontoon pier side were smeared head to toe with this pitch black mud. Having no need for such beautification myself, I proceeded carefully over the side with Terry hovering, IPad at the ready, to record whatever might happen for posterity (posterity being our grand daughter, who in a few years will be ready for a few cheap laughs at Grandpa's expense). Remember at the beginning I said it was a strange experience? Well here's why. Whereas sea water is roughly three per cent salt, the Dead Sea is thirty per cent salt, ten times greater. The water is thick like syrup. You can't swim, you can only float. The water forces you to float. Floating is effortless. It's moving around that is difficult. My legs just would not help me move. After being duly recorded by my (chuckling) wife, I was ready to get out. I struggled to get turned around so that I could use my arms to swim (really float) backward to the pier. At times I wondered what would happen if in my struggle to move I flipped over on my face. A side note, any cuts, abrasions or openings to the skin really talk to you while in the water. Thrashing about that results in water in the eyes is a very bad idea. Maybe if I wanted to spend more time in the water I would have learned how to manuever around. It was a once in a lifetime experience in a beautiful setting - and it gave me something cool to write about.

Bethany Beyond the Jordan

For a Christian the most meaningful biblical site in Jordan is Bethany Beyond the Jordan, the authenticated Jordan River site where Jesus Christ was baptised (John 1:28) by John the Baptist. Given its religious significance to Christians, churches were built near the site, monks lived in caves nearby, and pilgrims visited. This tradition continued until the 14th Century when the power of the Crusaders vanished. East of the Jordan River was no longer a safe place to go and the site was lost over the centuries. In 1897 a scholar from Jerusalem found a mosaic map of the site in Madaba, Jordan, and interest was renewed. However, for most of the 20th Century the area was off limits due to war. The 1994 peace treaty between Jordan and Israel changed everything. The area, which had been a militarized zone, was cleared of land mines and archaeological exploration began in earnest. In the short time since 1994 remains of five churches, a large monastery, a vast water system, and three pools dating from the Roman period were found. The website baptismsite.com provides more information for those interested. Historians and archeologists confirmed this is the baptismal site with such certainty that all three (Roman Catholic) Popes visited in the past 15 years. Because of its significance to Christians, many new churches were built within a short walk of the site including Coptic, Armenian, Ethiopian, Syrian Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Anglican, Russian Orthodox, Lutheran, and Baptist denominations. The site is a little less than an hour from Amman going downhill through beautiful desert mountains. It is roughly 300 ft below sea level so this time of year one plans for heat. We bought tickets for a shuttle bus to drive us 15 minutes into the military zone because the Jordan River is the border. On the ride the West Bank city of Jericho was visible. After the bus stopped we had an escorted ten minute walk to the baptismal site. It is not in the Jordan River itself but in a side pool. This would have been a more manageable site for baptisms since the Jordan was then subject to severe flooding. Remains of a church are next to the pool with ancient floor mosaics about all that is left. It is quite a moment for any Christian to be there and consider the significance of the baptism to individual faith for nearly 2000 years, and to world history. From there we walked to a new Greek Orthodox church built on the riverbank and toured it. A short walk down some steps to the river revealed an amazing sight. The River Jordan here is only about twenty feet wide, if that. Jordan and Israel both have stairs leading down to the river. Soldiers from Jordan and Israel stand on their respective sides less than about 20 feet from each other as literally hundreds of people on both sides make their way to the water, wave at each other across the border, and wade into the Jordan where Jesus once stood. Visitors can and did talk, laugh, and take pictures of each other and the scene across this international border, the lone soldier on each side guarding against anyone who might try a foolhardy crossing. If not for the soldiers crossing would be effortless since the yellowish-brown water is calm. On the Jordanian side a large stone urn contains river water and many visitors baptized themselves Catholic style on the forehead before leaving, as did I. This will be one of my life's most memorable experiences.

Visas and Groceries

Today we renewed our visas. So off we went with our Fulbright minder to the appointment at the police station. The bureaucratic low point (but actually funniest moment of the day) is when we were questioned about our apartment and didn't know the name of our street. The police officer, a woman covered head to toe, questioned us as to landmarks and nearby streets since we still don't know the name of our street (although we did finally find out our apartment number). We were fingerprinted then taken to the women's restroom to wash the ink off of our fingers. We were left to wait in a small room for our new visas. The problem was the heat since the building was not air conditioned and Terry, who is usually pretty good with heat, nearly fainted. Keep in mind that for cultural reasons we both wear long sleeved shirts and long pants. We are eager for cooler weather as everything from touring to shopping to just getting around our neighborhood is affected by the intense (frequently over 100 degrees) heat.

After getting our new visas we were off to shop at a large supermarket, a French chain, some distance from our apartment. Large grocery stores in Amman are located in the basements of large malls. The malls here are huge and very modern. We had our driver wait for us. We aren't really set up in the apartment for serious cooking, especially since the oven is in centigrade and we have yet to figure out some appliances. Many of the convenience products we're used to at home aren't available here, which is not an issue since we are enjoying trying the very unusual and tasty local foods, but we needed to get many grocery bags full of water and soft drinks up through the mall and into the taxi. Getting to the taxi afterward up two floors in the mall, then to curbside with our full shopping cart, then loading the groceries into the taxi, then up the elevator at the apartment, was an adventure, like the foods we bought. We bought fuzzy basil seeds suspended in an apricot drink, salad with rice wrapped in grape leaves, small cakes filled with everything from dates to orange jelly, and salads made of ingredients we are still trying to identify. We also bought nuts. Every grocery store has a kiosk inside with many varieties of fresh roasted nuts. Likewise, spices are sold from large bins and put into small plastic bags. When you buy produce you wait in line for a produce person to weigh the produce and put it in a plastic bag before you continue with your shopping.

Terry, who is becoming active in the Jordanian Nursing Council and Sigma Theta Tau, the honors society for nurses in which she holds membership, just found out Fulbright ordered business cards for her but I've had my quota of taxi rides for today. I will add I am getting braver on campus, meanwhile, and instead of sitting in Terry's office when she attends faculty meetings and luncheons, I have been walking around outside the enormous campus, getting coffee at MacDonalds (no kidding - a little guilty pleasure from home) and enjoying our adventures here in Jordan.

Expat Life

For years I wondered what expat life would be like. We got a small taste in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, a few years ago but for me this is a first. We've been here about a month and what follows are superficial background descriptions of some of the interesting people we've encountered:

1) An Austrian who moved to Amman to open a bakery. 2) An Uzbekistani Jordanian with a dog grooming business. 3) A Canadian Jordanian software engineer. 4) A Bangladeshi American studying the Holy Koran. 5) A black Kuwaiti gym manager. 6) A French American born in Morocco and raised in Korea. 7) A Cuban American literature instructor. 8) A prosperous Palestinian family expelled from Kuwait after the Gulf War. 9) An American woman raised by expat parents in Mexico. 10) A knighted Jordanian medical doctor who turned to full time social activism. 11) American diplomats with amazing and varied backgrounds. 12) A British nurse, a convert to Islam, who became Jordanian, raised a family here, and is now a grandmother. 13) A European-American couple, both physicians, who retired to Amman to be near their daughter and her family. 14) A Jordanian commodities trader living in London but visiting home. 15) An American lawyer working for an NGO, shuttling between Amman and Rabat, Morocco.

All of the above people are impressive. All have fascinating stories to tell about their careers, families, and the journeys that brought them to Amman. To say we are enthralled would be an understatement. And this is before Terry really gets started teaching at the University of Jordan with all the possibilities that entails. I'm sure the fact that Amman is the national capital plays a role in this variety if for no other reason than the presence of embassies. Jordan, a crossroads in this region, is as I described in an earlier post, the "eye of the hurricane."

We have much to learn about expat life. Of course living in the expat enclave of Abdoun softens what could otherwise be overwhelming culture shock. Our recent trip to downtown underscored that reality. What is really nice is that Jordanians are extremely hospitable and probably overlook our cultural shortcomings by the bushel. The expats we've met go out of their way to be helpful. When Terry isn't working we both attend and host gatherings almost daily. There's something about shared experience that creates an immediate bond.

Taxis and Traffic

By far the biggest challenge we face is transportation, particularly since we are used to having a car at home with all the freedom and convenience that brings. Amman is a huge city with dense traffic. Don't think of it as some small town where everything needed is close at hand. We either walk in a city where public walking is not the cultural norm, or we have a driver on stand-by for the smallest of errands. Also, we chose to live in an expat friendly suburb where the tradeoff for Western style amenities is greater distance to those amenities, something we didn't fully appreciate from afar. Being a pedestrian here also requires extreme attention to traffic since the norms we are used to at home don't apply. We are often a spectacle walking along very carefully, often on the shoulder of the road, with every passing taxi honking to signal availability - and those that don't honk probably wondering why the heck we are out walking in 100 degree heat to begin with, a question I sometimes ask myself (of late we do most of our walking at night on a safe back route to the Taj Mall area). Getting into those taxis is quite an experience given my tall frame. As a cultural note, women always sit in the back seat so Terry sits in back and I sit in the front with the driver. Also, I'm guessing most of you do not know that Jordan is a cash society. That means everything from rent to groceries to cab rides are paid for by cash. The practice here is to tip by rounding up so a taxi ride - or restaurant bill - of (for example) 2.5 JD (Jordanian Dinar) would be rounded up to 3 JD and would be the amount paid. There is no additional tipping, in cabs or restaurants, though we sometimes give more.

Sandstorm

We woke up to find that the beautiful view of East Amman from our terrace had completely disappeared. A few times each year a sandstorm blows in from Saudi Arabia and plays havoc here. This one made international news and is causing problems all over the Middle East. There have even been deaths in Lebanon from the storm. Our terrace is covered in a fine layer of sand and it's difficult to keep it out of the apartment. When we did venture out it was an other worldly experience peering through the brown haze. Soon we retreated inside after learning about health warnings and that all Ammani school children were issued masks today. The storm is due to last another two days so we will play a lot of Scrabble until then. Our plans to visit Petra will have to wait.

Dinner in a Jordanian Home

Before arriving in Jordan we read that a highlight is dinner in a local home. Our guidebook "The Rough Guide to Jordan" goes on at length about what to expect and how to behave on such occasions. We thought this would be for later on once we had been here for a while. Were we ever wrong! Terry was asked by a local to help him with his doctoral dissertation. Typically Terry, she agreed to help without hesitating. He asked us if we would be willing to come to his house to work on it. Again, typical of my wife, she agreed without hesitation and before meeting him in person. He picked us up and drove us some distance to a suburb where his extended family was waiting with an elaborate Arab meal. We met his parents, wife, and children. There were apologies because uncles, aunts, and cousins couldn't make it. The family hails originally from Hebron and Jerusalem. For years they lived and worked in Kuwait before being expelled following the First Gulf War because they were foreign born. Their home was beautiful with ornate furniture. After Terry provided dissertation suggestions dinner was served. It was huge. It was a real feast of rice with a colorful covering of meat and vegetables and delicious roasted almonds, a host of unique salads we have not yet identified, stuffed grape leaves, grilled chicken, stuffed pickles, yogurt dressings, juices and flatbread. The helpings kept coming. And coming. And coming. A cultural note here is that many of you know I am left handed. Eating with one's left hand isn't done here as it is considered unclean. So tonight was the first meal of my life eaten with my right hand (I don't recommend it). After dinner we retired again to the living room with Arabic coffee which contained cardamom and other unknown spices. Delicious. Then the fruit course followed. More coffee and tea. Then a chili-infused jello was served. More coffee and tea. We experienced sincere hospitality like no other. Another cultural note is that several times during the evening people excused themselves one by one to go pray. The parents and wife and children of our host were all present and equally welcoming. Three of the four children were presented including a four year old boy full of himself, a sweet seven year old girl, and a ninth grade boy who proudly showed off his very good English skills to his family by speaking with us. To top it off, they presented Terry with a beautiful gift of Dead Sea products and when it was time to go Terry was passed amongst the women so they could hug and kiss her. Jordan continues to amaze.

U.S. Embassy

I've said before I have a very impressive wife. Today she was a guest of a high ranking U.S. Embassy official and, in my role as hanger-on in chief, I was lucky enough to be allowed to go with her. The purpose was to introduce her around and discuss her participation in the American Speaker's Program sponsored by the Embassy and hosted all over the country. I'm happy to say my wife wrangled an invitation for me also because this experience, in a U.S. Embassy, ranks up there with my favorite travel experiences - ever. Just being processed through all the levels of security was extremely interesting. Foremost was passing the manned armored personnel carrier complete with machine guns at the main entrance. We had to produce our passports several times at each checkpoint. We went through the now ubiquitous metal detector, we were searched, they removed and kept my cell phone while we were inside, they kept our passports, and we had to wear loud red badges that said we must be under escort at all times while in the Embassy. We were escorted in by a staff member who guided us through what seemed like a labyrinth, then we were greeted by our host. He gave us a brief tour, answered questions, and explained many things about life in an Embassy. There are hundreds of Americans stationed there and many Jordanians employed. The Ambassador lives in the Embassy, which is not often the case. Then we were off to lunch at the restaurant inside. Later we were joined by the official who heads the Speaker's Program. They were very impressed with Terry (did I say my wife is impressive?) and asked her to be one of their keynote speakers around the country. They will provide a driver and escort to each speaking engagement and, to my good fortune, agreed to Terry's request that I accompany her. The purpose of this program is a people to people exchange so Jordanians can interact with Americans, hopefully to mutual benefit. Terry will be a great voice in the program with her energy and goodwill. A cultural note: for the second time since we arrived we stopped in our tracks to avoid walking in front of a man kneeling in prayer. The reason we stopped, and did not cross in front of the man praying, is because when Muslims pray they touch their heads to the ground. It would be a gross breach of etiquette to walk in front of a person in prayer and thus give the impression the man was bowing to us. In this case it was a Jordanian soldier beside one of the personnel carriers. After kneeling several times and touching his forehead to the ground he finished, folded his prayer rug, and returned to duty. When we eventually resumed our walk he made it clear he appreciated our cultural sensitivity. We are on constant alert not to give offense here, the least we can do as guests of Jordan.