7 Wonders of the World

Sarah

First, my apologies for not being a big contributer to the blog. It's hard to compete with the intellect here! I know I promised many of you a post on feminism and women's empowerment in Jordan, and it's in the works. Check back soon.

In the mean time, I want to share some pictures and stories about nationalism. Sam is probably better suited to write on this topic, but it's not hard for anyone to see it in Jordan. Flags in every taxi, on the sides of buildings, pictures of the His Majesty, and national songs playing on the radio.

As a global representation of this pride, the Jordanians had recently been pushing everyone to vote for Petra as one of the New 7 Wonders of the World. My traveling companions and I had the (good/bad?) fortune of being in Petra on the day in which the voting ended. Things looked a little different than they had the last time I was there...





It looked like Indian Jones 4 filming was underway. Beyond the treasury, however, things were like always. Camel rides for tourists, over-priced water, and little bedouin children offering to take you for a ride on their donkey (or sell you "interesting artifacts"....)

Again, I'm not expert in nationalism or national expression. The Jordanians seem to have it down, though. With such a love for their country- even by the very large Palestinian population of this country- it is understandable how important it would be for them to gain international recognition of their history. Before the voting ended, there would be a constant barrage a questions "Did you vote for Petra yet?". The University of Jordan even opened up a voting center near the main gate, so people had no excuse not to vote.

Though the voting has ended, there's no stopping that persistent question "Did you vote for Petra"?
I'm not about to complain about answering that questions 10x a day though, it's about time Jordan got it's day on an international stage.

I want to speak beauty salon arabic

First, an introduction.
I’m Sarah Grossblatt, a rising senior International Studies (Middle East) & Public Policy major. After a year of Arabic classes with ustaz Nasser and a summer study abroad program in Jordan, I’m back in Amman working on some independent research, interning with Sharakah, and taking Arabic classes at the University of Jordan.

Despite my (limited) previous exposure to Arabic, this year has presented yet another round of language obstacles. And I might have found the solution: the beauty salon.

The beauty salon? Sarah, you just want excuses to indulge in a 5 dollar pedicure.
Not so, my friends! And now allow me to explain. Amman has quite a fair share of tourists here, especially in the summer, meaning that English is widespread. From the grocery store to the taxis to the internet cafes, more often than not your funny sounding fusha or not-quite-there ammiya will be interrupted with a “Speak English?”. This, in fact, is one of the things I find most frustrating about foreign travel in general. How are we supposed to be practicing our language skills if at every corner there is a Jordanian with a healthy knowledge of and urge to speak English?

Answer: get off the beaten track. While the tourists use the internet cafes and taxis, I bet not too many of them want to spend their vacation time getting a haircut. And this is where the salon comes in. I was on a mission to get some beauty “services” when I encountered this lovely phenomenon. None of the women in the salon spoke English. So I was allowed to struggle all I needed to in my fusha/ammiya combo to ask my questions, and learn that I would have to go elsewhere. Same result at the second salon, but being turned away was less disappointing when the conversation leading up to it was held in Arabic. Third try’s a charm, and I’m in the chair ready to go. The stylist doesn’t speak English, so the entire 40 minutes I’m in the salon is a personal one-on-one chat in Arabic.
(Side note: Besides the Arabic, beauty salons are especially interesting for girls. No windows and no men means that as the women come inside they strip off their hijabs, bearing the forbidden fruit of their Arab hair. I felt like a spy, infiltrating a secret territory).

So girls, if you need to work on that Arabic, sign yourself up for a manicure. Nothing wrong with killing two birds with one stone.