Today’s morning consisted of a financial fiasco - my ‘rent’ was due today and none of the banks were accepting any of my travelers cheques. Apparently, Jordan had stopped taking them a year ago. Who would’ve guessed? My land lord was not pleased and yelled with displeasure that she asked for the money in cash, not cheques! Her anger was accentuated by her dramatic make-up, which seems to be a theme for women in the Middle East. I personally love it. Anyhow, I told her I would have the money by tonight - how I would manage that, I did not know.
I escaped my raging landlord and took off into the streets that afternoon for my first day of work. I hesitantly raised my arm to signal a taxi, feeling like some ridiculous New Yorker from Sex and the City as I did. The fact that I decided to wear a black poka-dot top to work didn’t really help the situation. I did not speak Arabic and had to call up Diala, my contact at the Research Center, to give the cab driver directions. How I hate this constant feeling of dependency! I am so used to maneuvering my way around unknown situations through communication. I was counting on that to be my savior on this trip and confidently planted myself here under that notion. I had no idea (naively so) that English was not the regular language of people in the capital city.
The center is gorgeous and I think this more than anything saved my mood today. Its entrance has a beautiful garden that leads into a building with high ceilings, walls made of coffee colored marble, and glass or dark wood accents. The icing on the cake was the traces of Islamic architecture (minarets) embedded into the design. Of course, who could forget the beautiful courtyard and birds, that left a gentle chirping sound in my office. I can’t wait to take my laptop there and just write.
As for my colleagues, I feel as though I am infringing upon a tight knit family that all speak the same language and have the same kinds of lifestyles and backgrounds. These people are all in the age bracket of 25-35, have had ‘Western’ educations, and belong to the rich of Jordan. Their manners are polished, their dressing impeccable, and yet all of their conversations are in Arabic. I sat for an hour over lunch, listening to the rise and fall of Arabic around me, without anyone giving me so much as a smile. I concluded they don't really like me very much.
I felt awkward (more than the regular amount, which for me, is saying something) and oddly out-of-place, not only from a cultural point of view, but as a scholarship student, even from an economic point of view. This feeling was furthered by the fact that the Queen and King of Jordan showed up a talk at the center today, and were on first name basis with the crowd.
I felt like a complete alien, and not the cuddly kind either. I wish this ET could phone home right now. She's in desperate need of a pep talk.
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