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.