Cairo Disposable Camera Pictures

Cairo, Egypt

A few days ago I returned from a 4 day long Egypt excursion. Ali and I took the long route to Cairo which entails catching a bus from Amman to Aqaba then a ferry (at 1 in the morning) from Aqaba to Nuweiba (Sinai Peninsula). We decided to go to Dahab (another Sinai beach town) for a night and then traveled on to Cairo by bus.

I was actually really impressed by Aqaba but maybe that's just because I was able to sit by the ocean. The beach was quite lively late into the night, with shabab and families lounging on the sand. The city was warm and breezy and I appreciated the more modern design of the streets and sidewalks. While sitting on the beach, a little boy came up to me holding a very small infant (probably the cutest baby I've seen in my life). He hands it to me and, confused, I shyly accepted the gift. I look around me to see who's abandoning their small child to a foreigner and spot a group of veiled women sitting several feet away from me. They are smiling at me and nodding as if to say "go ahead, get some practice in, you're bound to have one of your own in no time".

Dahab was a nice vacation area but at the same time had the creepy feel of being solely a tourist spot. The town was small and consisted of shore-side restaurants (all complete with a bedouin-style lounges where we ate a ten accompanied by ten or more cats) and souvenir stands. When we walked outside of the town it was soon apparent that it was only uninhabited desert.

Cairo was great, although I know most would disagree with me who have been there. Most say it's too crowded and too smelly. However, the crowded streets didn't bother me at all (they're no worse than Manhattan) and I thought it smelled ten time better in Cairo than in Amman. Amman never cease to smell like pollution and car exhaust whereas Cairo had beautiful, fragrant trees and flowers that overpowered any other smell. The only complaint I would have about Cairo is the heat in the summer, at one point it was 120 degrees farenheit. But other than that, the Egyptians are more welcoming to foreigners practicing their Arabic and I could tell it would be easier to learn the language there than in Amman.

We met up with my friend Ellie from college and her boyfriend/her boyfriend's brother and toured around with them most of the time, doing the standard touristy things like riding camels around the Great Pyramids and visiting Saqqara. We also traveled a lot in Cairo, visiting Islamic Cairo and various neighborhoods where we would sample whatever restaurants our guide book recommended.

Arab Wedding!

After finally finding the wedding hall (after many mixed up directions), our mixed boy/girl group got separated into two different spaces. The girls went up stairs to where the bride was and the guys got put in another room. After the wedding, it was reported to me that the guys' half of the party was not very fun. They expected dancing and celebration but instead sat around eating cake with the Arab men and repeatedly saying their "mabruuks" to the bride's father. The ladies' half of the party, however, was fairly entertaining. Although it was a lot more conservative than I had expected, us American girls were encouraged, by the sister of the bride, to dance if only because it's not against our religion/customs. The older women dancing were surprisingly pleased to have us there, as were the women with children who sent their toddlers to dance with us.

All of the women in the wedding hall did not at all remove their hijabs, only the bride was "exposed" in her white wedding dress. This is because the husband was often present in the females-only hall so he could tend to his new bride and the others had to maintain their modesty. They also did not dance, only the family members and the bride danced, and of course the token Western girls at the party. After the event, I had one girl come up to me and effusively praise my dancing. I thanked her and told her she should have come and joined us. She just laughed and shook her head "no, I am not allowed to do that!"

Henna Party

Last night I attended my first "henna party" here in Jordan. A henna party is comparable to a bachelorette party. My cousin told me that it would be a time where all of the women would remove their abbayas and hijabs and let loose because men were not allowed at the party. However, upon arrival I realized that this was not altogether true in this henna party's case. Most of the women (who, granted, were mostly older) did not remove any of their coverings the entire two hour event. Some of the younger girls removed their coverings and had short dresses (but with leggings) underneath but most remained modest.

The party was set up somewhat like an arena. There were plastic chairs set up facing a small dance floor and the bride's throne. Yes, she had a throne. The bride was in the most flashy and revealing outfit. She was wearing a big, poofy pink princess prom dress (alliteration!) and had sparkly ringlets, pink flowers in her hair, pink eyeshadow, pink lips, and her entire body covered in translucent powder. Oh, and a fake hummingbird tattoo on her breast. Quite glamorous.

The entire party was just me observing the culture quietly and then the occasional Arab dancing when we were pulled up out of our seats by the older women and forced into the middle of a circle to dance with the bride-to-be.

Tonight is the wedding! Woooo!!

First Trip to the Dead Sea

Moroccan Couscous and Chicken Balls

Last night, we decided to host four people over for a "dinner party." At David's urging, I decided we should try to make Moroccan-style couscous and koftit ferakh (or...chicken balls!). Ali and I went shopping in the souk for vegetables and we went to the squeaky-voiced, ultra Christian butcher for chicken. Ali converted lbs and kilos wrong and we ended up with four kilos of ground chicken meat. Way more than we needed. We've decided to make chicken burgers for lunch/dinner for a few days to get rid of the meat.

My mother gave me a Middle Eastern cook book that was given to her by my grandmother. This is where we got the recipe for the couscous and chicken balls. I wish I had remembered to take a picture of the beautiful buffet. It was splendid, I dare say.

Syria: Denied

So this morning Ali and I made the trek to the Syrian border in hopes of experiencing the many wonders of Damascus and the Old City. We were so very excited and every time we successfully proceeded through another checkpoint at the border, our little hearts filled with an overwhelming optimism. I had heard stories from other Americans who had traveled to Syria that it was tough, they held Americans at the checkpoints for 6 hours just to spite you. However, I was determined to get through it efficiently and politely.

We reach the last checkpoint, the Syrian immigration office. We confidently fill out our immigration forms and stride up to the desk labeled "foreigners". The immigration officer took our U.S. passports and immediately informed us that we need to get a visa from the U.S. embassy in order to enter Syria. You've. Got. To. Be. Kidding. When we're going back through the border into Jordan, the Jordanian immigrations officers told us that this policy was new and was being implemented as of yesterday.

So, we head back to Amman. Well, actually we head back to the city of Irbid in a taxi with a mother, her two wild toddlers and one collicky, fresh-out-the-womb infant that she liked to carelessly shove over to her three year old daughter when she was busy.

Then we headed to Amman from there.

Waaaater...please!

So I arrived in Amman and discovered that there was no water at the apartment. I don't know what else to say about Jordan at this point, my lack of personal hygiene has been dominating my thoughts. Today was the first shower I've had in about four days. It took place at the local gym showers where the shower stalls were so short, I'm fairly sure I exposed my entire top half to the rest of the women in the bathroom. I think these shower stalls were made specifically for Arab women, seeing as the other women fit perfectly in them.

In other news: Syria tomorrow! :D

It's Official!

Since returning to New York from Amman, Jordan in January I have been piecing together a summer that I feel will be the most beneficial to me. Originally, I was supposed to return to Cape Cod in the summer and work at yet another clam shack serving tourists and being surrounded by fried seafood all day. However, I decided to try my chances at having a more "alternative" summer, one that would offer me a relevant experience to what I want to do in the future and enhance my knowledge of something I'm interested in.

I applied to two internships located in Amman but I wasn't so optimistic about them due to my age and my lack of knowledge of the Arabic language. I was sure that the competition consisted of grad students and fluent Arabic speakers. Sure enough, I was denied both opportunities.

However, I also applied to a Arabic language school in Amman called Qasid which I was (just a few days ago) accepted to. So, I am officially going to be living in Jordan this summer! I am especially excited at the thought of exponentially improving my Arabic due to the 4 hours a day/5 days a week regiment.

I'll be in Jordan from May 21st-August 26th. So much better than having to deal with a "wicked summer". ; )

República Dominicana-Spring Break 2010

Two of my roommates (Caroline et Laura) and I just came back from a week long escape to the Dominican Republic, where Caroline comes from originally. For the most part the trip consisted of chilling out, relaxing on the beach, eating massive amounts of food, and going out at night dancing.

We started off the trip in Santo Domingo which is the capital city and the location of Caroline's primary residence. We spent only two nights there and got to sample lots of Dominican foods and nightlife spots. We also visited a lounge/restaurant in Boca Chica where we went banana boating and sunbathed. After Santo Domingo, we traveled to Caroline's beach apartment located about two hours from Santo Domingo. We spent about three nights here relaxing on the beach, eating delicious food at the restaurant, touring on Caroline's stepdad's yacht, going parasailing, swimming, and getting massages (I got the lymphatic drainage, hah!) To say the least, it was quite a luxurious experience, one that we don't get to experience much in grimy New York City.

We also traveled to Caroline's country home which is located in La Cuaba (I think?) up in the mountainous region of the country. We only spent about 5 hours here relaxing and enjoying her pool when we realized we wanted a more high energy environment and decided to return to Santo Domingo. We experienced many unique things including going to a strip club where I was forced to receive a lap dance from one of the heavier set dancers (not the most pleasant experience, I still don't understand the appeal to men) and going out to a restaurant called Adrian Tropical where we ate large quantities of fried salami, mangu de yuca, and fried plaintains. Fried, fried, and more fried. Although I don't regret it, I am now in intense detox mode.

Editing this later with roommate's help...hard to remember specifics en espanol.

Laptop is quite the conversation starter

So I got my ass up out of bed at 5 in the morning and proceeded to the Medellin airport to fly back to New York. Except for I only got so far as Miami. My travels seem to have a recurring theme: delays and cancels. And missed flights. And pretty much everything that could go wrong with international air travel. It's times like these where I have to keep my good humor and just laugh at the fact that I was so happy that today's school day (wednesday) was cancelled and I would only have missed one day, but now I'm going to miss ANOTHER day. Ah well.

So I'm in the Miami airport and I'm thinking "Shit, what the hell am I going to do in Miami today?" Then I remembered, a friend of mine, Andrew, has been asking me over and over to come visit him since he's moved here. And look at that, here I am, forced to stay the night. So I call him and he's at the Miami Boat Show doing his thing and says he'll pick me up later when he's off of work. So I go to the Starbuck's (another recurring theme, seeking comfort in brand name espresso) and sit, open my laptop, and settle in for the long wait. I'm used to traveling alone by now, and the waits never seem as long as they are.

All of the sudden, a tall man with protection glasses on comes over and, noticing the Obama/Biden campaign sticker on my laptop, practically screams: "Hey! I'm from Texas and I noticed your sticker. You must be politically active. Were you shocked at Steve Brown's win in Massachusetts?!" Everyone's looking at us in the cafe. I look up at him and, taking in the whole picture, practically burst out laughing. Not only is this man screaming in a Southern accent, not only did he mess up the new Senator of Massachusetts' name,.... in addition, he's excitedly waving his stumpy arm. While he goes on about how Martha Coakley is an idiot because she didn't know what sports team the Red Sox were (further confirming the stereotypes about Southerners) he's at the same time pointing his stump of an arm at me and putting it in the air to emphasize his points. I could barely talk politics because of the distraction, so I resorted to only smiling in an effort to conceal my laughter, and nodding at times where he seemed serious. He then asked me where I was from and I said, Massachusetts. His face lost expression and he picked up his things and trodded on. I feel like I'm back in New York already.

I look around and people are just smiling sympathetically at me as if to say: "We know how it feels to be pin-pointed by an insane, Republican Texan with a stump for an arm. We know."

Luxe Colombia

Today's shoot went very smoothly. I was quiet most of the day only because everyone seemed to only want to speak Spanish and not spend so much energy on speaking in English. Which I was fine with but at times I felt lonely and isolated.

After a day of shooting, the ladies took me out to an Italian dinner where we shared a pizza. It cracked me up that they ate their pizza strictly with forks and knives while I picked mine up American-style. After finishing our dinner, (accompanied by 4 shots of Aguardiente, which tastes just like Araq, from the Middle East!) we proceeded to a friend of the producer's restaurant. The restaurant was extremely fancy, especially for Medellin, and was owned by an older man who appeared to be very wealthy. We sat around a table, drinking fancy martinis, conversing, and sharing laughs. Then it hit 12:00 p.m. and everyone decided it would be best to go home (especially since I have a to get up at 5 in the morning!) so we parted ways.

Everyone on this trip has been really kind and invested in showing me around whenever they ca in order to give me the "Colombian experience." But I never forgot that what I was experiencing was the "high-class" Colombian life. The one where everyone has a maid and a cook and a nice home and a well-paying job. There are many parts of Medellin I did not see where the people are not so well-off or luxurious. That might be considered by many the "true Colombian life".

Well, I should go to bed seeing as I have to get up in 4 hours...hopefully the servicio publico taxi does not leave without me if I wake up a bit late. Although the ladies did say they would adopt me if I missed my plane and said they almost wished I would miss my plane so they could show me around some more. If only a little thing called "school" didn't exist...I would spend my life traveling about with different people from different places.

I'll miss bonita Colombia!

The Colombians sure love thongs...

So today I woke up a bit late (as in, I had set my clock an hour late for Colombia time) but I made good time anyway. I got to the location which was a beautiful home with courtyards and fountains and small ponds and breeze ways and everything you would think to find in a tropical home.

I only modeled lingerie today which went surprisingly well. At first the thought of my not-so-model-sized butt in a thong (which almost every set of lingerie included, I was delighted when I got to the boyshort/bikini style panties) was daunting, but once I put on the underwear and everyone seemed pretty accepting, I became comfortable with the idea that I was in a Hispanic country, and they were not as obsessed with weight as Manhattan was. But my efforts a week before this shoot paid off, especially with regards to my stomach which was hard as rock (100 something crunches a day, thank you).

The poses were sometimes awkward and required a lot of energy (twisting to get certain angles, constantly sucking in, etc.) but all in all, I think came out well. The sets were fun (me encircled by pillows laughing, me laying on the ground surrounded by leaves) and the people are really nice! Although sometimes I feel left out because I literally know NO Spanish (except for "el nina beben" which I learned from my short time on Rosetta Stone for Espanol.) they often briefly translated what they were saying and gave me an idea of what their subject of conversation was. Many of the set crew knew no English but there were a few I could converse with.

After a whole day of shooting, a few of the ladies who spoke the most English took me out to a fancy dinner (we laughed at how small the portions were in an effort to be "chic"). After they drove me around a bit through some interesting parts of Medellin. One place was Zona Rosa (Rose Zone) where all the nightclubs and bars/restaurants were concentrated. I could tell from the neon lighting and the many restaurants/bars with their outdoor terraces that it would be quite the place to party on the weekend. They confirmed this belief and told me all of the young people flocked there on the weekends but on Mondays, it was quite dead and most places shut down early.

Time to pass out. Hasta manana!

No longer a war zone, now a tropical paradise.

The plane ride from Miami to Medellin seemed rather short, but I dozed off through most of it (until I dozed off too much and almost hit my head on the beverage cart as the flight attendants rolled by.) As we landed, the elderly Colombian lady sitting next to me crossed herself and whispered a prayer and I felt especially jaded and impious that I had thought nothing of landing safe and sound.

I stepped off the plane onto the tarmac and was instantly encased by warmth. I could not have been more relieved, as I thought it would be a bit chilly here. Such a nice break from the frigid, windy weather of the tunnel-like avenues/streets of Manhattan.

Colombia is rather different from what I had pictured. Because of Medellin being known for having been one of the most dangerous cities in the world in the 80s, I thought it would be poverty-stricken and destitute. However, I found the opposite. I have also been to Ecuador and Peru before, and considering Colombia is situated right above these two countries, I thought it would be the same. While they do share some similarities, Colombia is much more beautiful. It's more lush (I'm told by a native that this time of the year isn't as lush as it usually is!) and colorful. There are trees with bright colored flowers on them (for some reason, tree flowers are very unique to my senses. I guess I'm used to seeing flowers on the ground) and the landscape is amazing. Medellin is situated in a valley between the rolling, green Andes mountains.

I was picked up from the airport by a wife and husband who are producing the shoot. They were extremely friendly and hospitable and brought me to a Colombian restaurant that one of their friends owned. We ate empanadas and these little fried balls of potato with different spreads (the owner laughingly told me that "everything in my this country is fried!" Which I didn't find as funny as he did seeing as I have to model lingerie tomorrow.) So, I didn't over indulge myself in the tasty food but I did try a bit of everything.

I checked into the hotel a bit early because I haven't had a full night's rest in two days and I might just look like a zombie. Which won't look so great in a picture.

Now I must do homework. I am the ultimate in multi-tasking.

MIA

Bienvenido a Miamiiiii.

Miami International Airport and I, of course, found the Starbucks. Success. It's near painful sitting here at the gate for Medellin, and looking outside. The skies are clear and the wind is low and I overheard someone say it was in the 80s. And I'm stuck here.

I'm also getting A LOT of stares from all of the beach goers returning home due to the fact that I'm walking around "Miami" bundled in a scarf, boots, and a winter coat. Meanwhile, tan little girls dart around me in short shorts and sandals and old men shuffle by in hawaiian button-up shirts and loafers. As they stare I just want to scream "I'm from New York City ok?!? This IS an international airport."

As always, the person sitting next to me on the plane was interesting. She was definitely older but you could tell she did not want to be. Her crazy long fingernails with swirly designs and tight jumpsuit led me to this conclusion. Scary. And I had to listen to her talk to me and the other person sitting nearby about how "they better not have so and so store in Turks and Cacaos, otherwise she's going to go crazy spending and not be able to control herself." She also bragged at length about the size of her suitcase and how much clothing she brought, ending with the "joke": "People must think, 'that chick is high maintenance!'" As if.

Boarding in an hour.

South America-bound.

Hola!

I will soon be flying to Medellin, Colombia for a money job (no, not in the cocaine business. In the fashion business!) This will consequently enable me to pay for airfare this summer if I decide to go abroad. Bliss...

My mother had just finished lecturing me over vacation about how she could not foot the bill on my preconceived travel plans. I came back to the city with every intention of getting a job where I could save up enough money to travel. However, lacking work experience and jobs being so scarce anyway, I had been failing miserably. And then God sent a miracle.

I booked a random job shooting in Colombia in which I will work for two days (missing a couple days of school) and be paid enough money for my airfare! A rare occurrence, I must say. I would even go so far as to say it was...an omen!

And now, I'm sitting here in my room, across from my sleeping friend and thinking about how anxious I get when I think about traveling alone. Part of me loves being independent and self-driven. The other part of me is scared shit-less that I'll miss my flight, or mistake which terminal I should go to. I couldn't suffer the embarrassment of either situation.

My flight is at 6 a.m., which means I must leave here at 3 a.m. Being the lively, energetic young person I am, I will be staying up all night until I depart at 3. This might be hard.

Hasta la vista, babehhh!

Adventure Camping in Petra/Wadi Rum Pt. 2

Going into Petra.




"You want to ride camel?!"


Just a cheesy picture actually, please.




Intense hiking.


And me dying after.


Camp that night.

Adventure Camping in Petra/Wadi Rum Pt. 1

Hiking on the "Ibex" trail (we saw NO ibex) the first day.



View of the Dead Sea.





Campsite the first night.

Insomnia

I'm still up at 5 am. Listening to the adhan, lying in my bed without a chance of falling asleep. I thought this would be the perfect time to update.

Today, (or yesterday, but let's pretend) I woke up rather late. We went to lunch at a restaurant affiliated with the nature center here in Amman. It was quite a Westernized restaurant which was especially apparent in its many mottos written on the menu including "be naughty", "be wild", and "be cosmopolitan." Hm. But the food was amazing (spicy chicken curry. I wimped out on the spicy though and let Ali choke down the chili pepper.)

After this we drove to the outskirts of town where the Palestinian refugee camp that Ali's cousin and his family live in. It was considerably different from the rest of Amman just because the buildings were much simpler in their structure. Ali's cousin and his wife were extremely hospitable and good natured. Their children were adorable and charming. We drank sage tea with sugar (which was yummy!) and yellow cake and fruit. It was a relief that we did not receive too much food as we had just eaten.

After this we went to the local mall which was like any large shopping mall in the States. Bought some food and supplies for our camping trip (which took quite a bit of time considering Daoud and Ali's attention to detail) and were on our way.

We came back to the apartment and now here I am. Being a complete insomniac.

Camping trip tomorrow that I'm psyched about. Hopefully we get some great pictures.

Quote of the day...

As Abe is smoking hookah:

David: "This will make our house smell like a Bedouin tent. And that'd be really cool." *chuckle*

Brilliant insight, Daoud.

Amman, at last.

Today, as expected, I arrived in Amman at around 7:30 p.m. After exchanging my money and getting my visa, I walked out of the terminal and found my cousin David. We took a cab to his apartment building which is built just off a rotary circle (one of I think eight in Amman) where I met Ali, David's roommate and Abe, Ali's brother.

The city is built on seven hills "like Rome" (whatta cliche I'm told). If you go to the roof of the apartment building, you can view practically all of Amman form the Citadel to the large (very large, actually. world record) flag pole flying Jordan's banner. Very cool.

We started out the evening by going to a restaurant called Jafra where we ordered a couple of dishes to share like hummus, chicken livers, and fried cheese. If I could remember the names I would write those instead but for an American reader, this is what they essentially were. We smoked hookah while eating which I discovered is common practice in Jordanian restaurants. We sat on the terrace overlooking downtown Amman which was basically two streets intersecting each other.

After dinner we went to another restaurant where we drank beer (not my favorite, I had to pour half of mine into Ali's glass) and discussed politics and diplomacy. Most of the conversation centered around the ethics of intelligence gathering and how the government acts on that intelligence. I opted out of the conversation half way through, as did Ali and we sat and watched David debate Abe for quite a while. Quite entertaining. We brought the beer party back to the apartment where we sat on the rooftop and chatted about various other things, thankfully NOT related to politics.

Now it is about 3 am in Amman and I really should go to sleep...sleeping pill now.

The French do love their designers...

I just realized there's a Hermes, Bvlgari, and Estee Lauder store in the Air France terminal at JFK. I have never seen so much upscale designer presence in an airport. The wall clocks at the gates are even Rolex.

Tres chic.

En route Pt. 3 (is that french or latin?)

As expected, I was kicked out at 2 pm from the good ol' holiday inn. I then proceeded to order a taxi and make my way to Queens Center or something. It's just some generic, large mall in Queens but it was the only place I could kill time. I had about 7 hours to waste and I was absolutely determined. I walked slower than I have EVER walked. I browsed through men's tuxedo stores and ate at the food court for a whole hour (chewing at the pace of a sloth and pretending to do things on my cellphone between bites.) I even indulged one of those kiosks with allowing them to give me their demonstration. Which consequently (due to the sales lady's aggressive nature) led to a purchase. Oops.

After three hours, I couldn't take it anymore. I had done all I could do and I decided to just make my way to the airport early. First thing the ticket worker says to me in the terminal: "Well, you're here uber early." Now I am sitting in the Air France terminal, watching an enormous amount of French individuals board a flight to Mexico City. Oh, and a guy that looks just like the actor from a funny spy movie is sitting across from me (the name escapes me right now, suggestions?).

I'm charging my phone at a little "phone charging station" which I am sitting right across from. People walking by stare at it longingly thinking that no one is around, and for a minute I think they are going to snatch it. But, they walk on, I guess their morals getting the better of them. But pretentious, bold French men keep walking by and pretending to take it to which I retaliate with an angry glare. A haughty laugh and they walk away...

At 11:35 pm, the next step in my journey begins. I fly to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris where I will then catch a flight to Amman. Good thing it stopped snowing.

Au revoir!

En route Pt. 2

So herrrrreeeeee I am....in......the holiday inn express on Long Island?

After three snow delays, over 6 hours of waiting in the Boston terminal, and an angry exchange with a taxi driver, I have only come so far as New York. The flight between Boston and New York seemed to take 5 minutes by the way. My flight to Amman won't be for another day and I am taking up residence in the holiday inn until I am kicked out at exactly 2 pm tomorrow by Jorge, the "friendly" concierge. He told me I could spend the day in Manhattan while I wait for my plane. I guess that would be enticing if that wasn't where I just lived for three months straight.

I had plans to stay with my roommate on Long Island but those fell through when she found out that my plane was leaving in the PM tomorrow, not the AM. C'est la vie. So for now, I am in New York, with no baggage (it will be meeting me in Amman, I am told) and a long wait ahead of me. Tomorrow, at 7:10 pm I will be in Amman.

Insha' Allah.

En Route Pt. 1

So far, it has been snowing non-stop here in Massachusetts and my flight has been delayed to 6:30 p.m. Gr-eaaat. I'm here waiting in Logan airport at gate A2, one of four other waiting passengers. In a couple of hours I'll be flying to JFK-New York (which is located on Long Island, my roommate recently informed me. I was not aware of this fact) and then straight to Amman, the capital of Jordan.

Many people have been inquiring as to why I have decided to travel to Jordan. The common perception seems to be that it is dangerous, far too risky for an 18-year-old Caucasian girl to be traveling to. In truth, they may be right. It sure took some convincing for my parents to let me buy a ticket! I received an invitation from my older cousin, who is on a Fulbright scholarship in Jordan doing research. I've always been interested in the Middle East, the politics, culture, and language, and an opportunity to travel there at such a young age and at such an early stage in my college career would be invaluable. I AM a Middle East Studies major after all. So here I am.

I've only been studying Arabic for a semester. I have to trust my cousin to use his skills to translate for me. We'll see how well this works out. At least I'll be able to say things such as "peace be upon you" (a common greeting in the Arab world) and thank you. Oh, and I'll be able to read the alphabet.

I want to travel to the most places I can in a lifetime and return to the places I feel the strongest connection to. I have a list of places I want to travel to in the Middle East, and Jordan seems a good place to begin. It's safe enough to convince my parents and culturally rich enough to interest me. Maybe AFTER Jordan I can introduce the idea of Syria to the rents.

Off to read Cosmopolitan, before I travel to a Muslim country. At least I also have Queen Noor's autobiography on hand (thanks Bianx!)

Ma'as salaama!