Missing In Action

Oooh! How cute are the camels at Petra?!? (photo by Grace Peacock)

Sorry I've been M.I.A. I was off work nearly all of last week: took Monday off to spend with Allison (who was visiting here but is now back in the U.S.), had three days off for the Eid-al-Fitr holiday, and Friday and Saturday were the weekend.

I feel a little daunted by the amount of information I want to share. I've been to Petra and back. To Aqaba (again) and back. To Ramtha and Irbid, oh my! I'll do what I can, since the alternative (and what I'm tempted to do) is not write at all.

Last Sunday morning I had an interview with a Jordanian that took me to downtown Amman. After I found a taxi in Hashmi Janoubi (this is where I live), I called Ghazal, my friend and translator at the paper, gave the phone to the taxi driver, and Ghazal told the chauffeur where to go. I hate being stupid and mute, I think I've already mentioned, but c'est la vie. The driver deposited me on a traffic island, across from a mosque in busy, bustling downtown Amman. Ghazal sent a text to let me know he was on his way, and I held that traffic island like Leonidas at Thermopylae. I stood there like a champ, ignoring the stares and playing Snake Xenzia on my cell phone.

He arrived and we met our interview subject (who shall remain nameless) in a second-floor apartment called the Duke's Diwan, where the duke (not a real duke, but someone nicknamed the duke by King Hussein) exhibits art and photos and handicrafts made by Jordanian women. It is a gathering place, an altogether pleasant place to have free mint tea and knaffe (a dessert with a "white cheese" bottom and crunchy orange top) from the sweets shop downstairs (except during Ramadan).

This is the balcony of the diwan. The lovely turquoise paint on the window trim continues on the bottom of the walls inside. My camera is broken, otherwise I would have my own photos to share. Instead, I borrowed this from Humeid on Flickr.com.

Our interview subject was gracious and erudite and spoke perfect English. I forgot it was Ramadan and accepted the tea he offered. He had a cup too, but Ghazal declined because he was fasting.

Interviewee told me it was an honor for me to meet him. I was taken aback, but Ghazal didn't seem to be. He then told us that the diwan was for everyone to enjoy. He said people could come and look at the art and experience the old part of the city from this refuge. I was a little seduced by this, I have to admit. He spoke mostly in English, breaking off into Arabic to Ghazal only every now and then. His grey eyes seemed grandfatherly and sincere. The diwan is lovely (think shabby chic) with plenty of sunlight and fresh(ish) air flowing in through french doors that open onto three separate balconies.

Later, I was informed that the grandfather, in his Arabic asides, was making nasty comments of a sexual nature, even suggested that the diwan would be a nice place for a young man to bring his girlfriend. Hint, hint, nudge, nudge.

Several lessons learned here: People are usually not what they seem. And, learning Arabic is a must. I have another story that drills this last lesson home, but unfortunately it will haveto wait. I've exhausted all the time I set aside for blogging today. Tomorrow inshallah.

In the meantime, check out Grace's other photos from Petra. I didn't go with her, but she also went over the holidays.