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.