Saturday, February 23, 2008

Home is Where NPR is

Listening to National Public Radio is one of my greatest pleasures in life. Lucky for me, all of their programs can be accessed over the internet and listened to at any time. I've come across a lot of great stories that I feel are relevant to my experience here, and I thought it would be worthwhile to share them. If you look to the lefthand side of the page, you'll see an "I LOVE NPR" link list. The first piece I have put up is "Iman's Wife A Bridge Between Two Worlds", which recounts the life of a young American woman married to a Muslim leader living in Virginia. She calls herself "a walking anti-stereotype", and I think her experience highlights some the surprising intersections between culture and religion. Some of what she says about the perception and reality of Islam resonated with my experience in Jordan thus far. (Except the parts about actually converting to the religion!)

I also put up "Fortune Cookie Offers New Taste of America", an interview with a Chinese-American food critic about her recent book chronicling Chinese food in America. The discussion focuses on the fact that fortune cookies are exclusive to American take out and not actually Chinese. Like the piece on the Iman's wife, this story discusses the multifaceted nature of cultural identity in modern America. Listening to this was fun, interesting, and delicious!



Please also note my "Side Routes" link list containing other websites of interest. Be sure to check out Stephie's "Exploring the Unreal City" blog about London! It's excellent (and updated much more frequently than mine).

Friday, February 22, 2008

Because You Have to Start Somewhere

When I wrote the London blog it was hard for me to stop writing because at that point I already had so much to say about Jordan. I’ve been waiting a bit to collect my thoughts. Also I’ve been busy with class, and well, LIFE!

Walking off the plane into the airport was a euphoric experience. “I’m here!-I’m here!-I’m here!” I thought with each step. The Amman airport is about the size of a gas station and reeks of stale cigarettes. This, I would later come to discover, is pretty much the way it smells everywhere. Everyone’s a smoker and non-smoking areas are really hard to find. Seriously, you walk through a mall and people are just puffing away. A pack costs less than $2.00 and carries a detailed (but apparently ineffective) picture of a black lung. So let’s play a little “Guess Which Country Manufactures the Product” based on their government mandated labels. Product: Marlboro Lights. Choices: The UK (“Smoking Kills”, see previous post), Jordan (an illustration of cancer), the United States (“Surgeon General’s Warning: Smoking May Complicate Pregnancy”). Thanks, Mr. Surgeon General, for looking out!

My cab driver from the airport was very friendly and spoke fantastic English. He even helped me form a complete sentence: “English easy, Arabic hard.” Even though there is no verb, it’s grammatically correct because there is no to be verb in Arabic. That little rule is actually pretty helpful for me as I'm still learning how to conjugate verbs. I have class five days a week at the Language Center at the University of Jordan. I’m in the beginner level and we’ve spent this last week going over the alphabet. It’s a little frustrating for me right now because I’ve already learned this, but luckily we’re moving quickly. My teacher, Hadia, is a wonderful instructor and makes a point of telling us so multiple times a day. Her English is great but has a little bit of foreign awkwardness that I find highly entertaining. Sometimes I have to stop myself from imitating her too loudly.

On Thursday she showed us a Sesame Street style video review that was made fifteen years ago. “The next alphabet I am going to teach you is Haa. Note the difference between this alphabet and the alphabet Ha. Here is some vocabularies using these alphabets.” Of the twenty seven letters (or should I say, alphabets), eight of them have no English equivalent. Some of these are easy, like a heavy “T”, which involves placing your tongue farther back along the roof of the mouth than an English “T” (where the tongue stays at the front). Others, like “kh” require the speaker to produce a sound that is a delicate combination of coughing up a hairball and choking. Maybe that’s why everyone’s a smoker, it makes it easier to pronounce some of the letters.

For the past year I’ve spent a lot of time imagining how much fun it would be to keep a blog of my experiences in Jordan. The reality is that it’s harder than I thought to take the time to sit down and write. Putting up a post that really honors my experience is overwhelming, and I’ve been procrastinating. The more time that passes (and I keep sending e-mails saying “I’m planning on putting something up soon!”), the harder it gets. So I’m biting the bullet and just putting this up for now even though there is so much more I want to talk about. Sit tight, it’s all on the way! Shwayay, shwayay (little by little) as they say here.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

London Calling

London was an absolute blast. Stephie was a wonderful hostess and I had a great time dropping in on her London life and getting to know her Australian roommates. My initial arrival was a little rough as I had to haul my weight in luggage up stairs, down stairs, and through the rainy London streets all by my lonesome. A lucky break came when I found an abandoned shopping cart in the street to throw all of my bags in.


One of the wheels was a little off, so it was a challenge keeping the bugger straight. I was gross and unkempt from travel with frizzed out hair from the rain, showing my true colors as a scraggly vagabond bag lady.






During the day, I did my tourist duty by visiting all the iconic London spots (Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Thames, etc.) and feasting my eyes on all the fantastic art the city had to offer. It visited the National Gallery and the Tate Modern to see some of the works which had fascinated me in my Art History classes.





It was truly moving to see such significant and beautiful masterpieces come to life before my eyes. I was especially excited when Jason took us to Christie’s (his place of employment, the lucky bloke) to see the exhibition of the upcoming “Post-War & Contemporary Art” auction. This was a real treat, as it was unexpected and all the works were completely new to me. I was familiar with most of the artists, but the auction house had a fresher feel than a museum. How thrilling to know that I was amidst the actual art market and perhaps even surrounded by potential buyers and collectors!





Most of the works had price estimates posted, and since I was with insiders (Stephie also works for Christie’s), I found out the predicted values of the the show’s featured (and thus most expensive) pieces. I love art, but it is a little sickening to think about the millions upon millions (upon millions, ad nauseum) of dollars that are thrown around for something that will hang on a wall.

It’s hard not see those prices without remembering the little indigenous kids of south Quito whose parents could barely afford a four dollar textbook. The world economy is clearly a lot more complicated than that simple juxtaposition, but it’s still an important paradigm to consider.


The exorbitance of the art market is, in fact, a common theme of post-modernism itself. An interesting piece I saw at Christie’s was a simple photograph of the price tags of two works sold at another auction. This image derived its value by highlighting the specific nature of art as commodity. Since the work was on display at an important sale by a major auction house (and for a pretty penny, I may add), it naturally implicates itself. This then questions the entire art market and perhaps the very meaning of Art.

Does value have to be sanctioned by a prestigious institution? What is the difference between something that is merely beautiful and something that is officially labeled ‘art’? What does the buyer of this piece have on the brain? Does he/she realize the irony in spending thousands on something that mocks (or applauds, who knows?) such astronomical prices? How should the general public read this work? It does bring us back to the question of how to rationalize the billions of dollars that are spent on nothing more than improving the aesthetic experience of the rich. But where would we be without art? Thinking globally, what does all of this say about our financial framework of extreme haves and have-nots? Food for thought, I say. (Jason, this digression is dedicated to you. Thanks again for Christie’s!)



The following day, Stephie and I visited Southall, a section of London that is sometimes referred to as Little India. I had read about the area in Brian Keith Axel’s The Nation’s Tortured Body when I was the Asian Religions teacher’s assistant at Tech. The book explores the historical and political contexts in which a Sikh identity of surrender and displacement was constructed. Axel makes interesting commentary on the role identity (racial, ethnic, etc.) plays in the concept of nationhood.


Southall is a prime example of an “ethnic” community, and I thought it would be fascinating to see it firsthand. Many of the men and women sported traditional Indian garb and spoke little English. We had some delicious curry and I bought a scarf, a pair of earrings, and some rockin’ Punjabi hip-hop. It really whet my appetite for Jordan and the chance to experience another language and culture. I even learned the Punjabi word for “thank you” (Shukreeya), which is very similar to Arabic (Shukrun).



Despite being excited for the Middle East, I was very sad to say good-bye to Stephie and my new Australian friends. We had a ripping time (thanks for the new slang, blokes) boogying down to live music at two great clubs. FM was full of Filipinos and featured an awesome band covering Rhianna’s “Umbrella” and that self-righteous ‘when you practice what you preach’ Black Eyed Peas song. We got crazy at the Walkabout, drinking and bathing in “snakebite”, some sort of Aussie potion that tasted like a mixture of beer and jungle juice. I was delighted to see the fun life Stephie had built for herself. It made me proud of her and extremely excited for my own impending journey. Thanks again, mate!


I spent most of the flight to Jordan in a state of shock, unable to comprehend that my long-held dream was finally happening. Nonetheless, as the lights of Amman became visible from the plane, my excitement grew and I was reminded of all the other significant plane landings in my life: San Salvador, Barcelona, Fresno (before going on to Yosemite), Mexico City, and both times coming into Quito. I define myself by these experiences. Finding myself on the brink of another one, I was filled with an electric energy incomparable to anything else. The second the wheels hit the tarmac, every cell of my body smiled, “YES!” and I knew all my anticipation and preparation for this trip were well worth it.