Meow.

Don't judge me. 

                                          We have a stray cat.




It all started when a frightening black cat with a crooked head started sleeping under our meager bush of a tree to escape the heat and the killer cats by the dumpster. It made London so happy whenever she would wake up from her nap and see it out our window. The cat started napping there more frequently, and now it spends most of its day in our garden. Tonight we put milk out for the first time. It makes me wonder lots of things... Mostly--how does a cat get a crooked head? And--what will my sisters think of me?

Saturday we were invited to a Halloween party at our church. Halloween this year was completely off my radar because they don't celebrate it in Jordan. I neglected to consider the twenty embassy kids who go to our church and had their hearts set on dressing up like storm troopers and super heroes. London had absolutely nothing to wear! I found a brown onesie and leggings in her winter clothing collection and determined that I had some hope of turning my child into, what else, a kitty cat. We went to the mall down the street where, in one of the hokey beauty stores, I found slap bracelets wrapped in faux fur. 




I cut one up and sewed the pieces on a headband, and sewed another bracelet to the seam in her leggings to make a tail. Maybe it was the combination of that button nose and her curly red hair that pushed her whole look over the edge. She was just perfect! 


Next year I'm hoping she will be less horrified by the decorations and actually go trick-or-treating with the big kids. 


Our internet went out this week. The only way I could get a connection and watch the presidential debate was to leave my apartment and sit in the hallway. So I waited for London to take a nap and I faithfully fulfilled part of my American duty. As I was sitting there, one of our neighbors, who just happens to be Russian, came home. She almost had a heart attack when she saw me. Now, they just moved in a week ago, and I assumed she didn't know that we were neighbors. I did my best to explain that I was trying to get a better connection in the hallway, and pointed to where I live. In her broken English, she cried, "No, no, no. Very bad! No sit! You go. Very bad!" After a few minutes, I just got up and turned the corner because I was clearly failing at explaining that I wasn't dangerous. 

It's a good thing my husband is so wise in the ways of world culture. It turns out, Russians think that if a woman sits on the ground, she will become infertile, or as this blogger puts it, her ovaries will freeze. The poor woman was trying to save my fertility, and I was talking about internet connections.

The most important news of the week: Taylor Swift's new album came out today and me and London haven't had this much fun in months.

Next week, we are spending 4 days in Southern Jordan. We'll be visiting Petra and riding camels, among other once-in-a-lifetime adventurous things. Knocking things off our dream board one weekend at a time... 

Our Little Archaeologist

Our flower beds, once full of cigarette butts, soda cans, plastic bags, and 6 foot razor-thorned weeds, have begun to sprout flowers and beautiful green plants. London and I water them every day, until our meager tank drips dry, and they are looking fabulous. Being out in our "backyard" is finally the pleasant experience I imagined all those weeks ago. It makes me want to do something crazy--like buy a bird feeder or invite everyone we know over for a barbecue.

We took another Jordanian bus out of the city on Saturday. The trip was an organized event, and about 2/3 of the BYU students came. An hour an a half on the windy roads of the King's Highway, a hike up one desert mountain, and we finally reached the Machaerus Palace (where John the Baptist was imprisoned and beheaded). The palace lies on the top of a mountain overlooking the Dead Sea. Most of the structure has been demolished from centuries of conquests, but the foundation remains, so you can see the outlines of all the rooms. I bet it was quite the palace, 2,000 years ago. 

Before the hike- you can see the ruined palace pillars and the Dead Sea.

A few of the single girls planned a "seductive dance", imitating the evil daughter of Herodias. London heard the word "dance" and ran up to join them. She was so proud of herself. When the music started, it was actually the Hokey Pokey, and London ran back to me, crying. London thinks "dancing" is something you do only to Taylor Swift songs. 

Afterward, the bus took us to see the most famous mosaics in the entire country, and I honestly bet, the whole world. Just don't ask me to pronounce the name of the place. It's an old Byzantine city where every inch of the church floors are covered in tiny colored stones and shells, 1 cm X 1 cm. 

We spent almost two hours walking in the ruined city and taking pictures of the artwork. It was all so beautiful! The workmanship was remarkable. I can't even imagine the hours it would take to complete all the churches in the ancient city.

Rock in hand.

Sweet London wanted to pick up every rock she saw and carry it with us. The best part was watching her pick which ones she would let go of in exchange for ones she thought were better. Everyone said she is destined to be an archaeologist. 

Meanwhile, helping at the orphanage remains the highlight of my weeks here. I'm tutoring two 11-year-old girls who remind me of darling Maeci. This week, they wrote me notes in English saying, "I love you so mush". Through my laughter, I told them I love them too.

Today, Kyle and I had our first "I miss America day". Nothing a trip to buy fresh persimmons can't remedy. *Sigh*. We like it here...

Bread Buns and Baby Buns.

Suddenly, it's fall. There are billowing clouds in the sky and a constant breeze that brings down the temperature a cool ten degrees. And in the evening time, the weather is perfect enough for me to almost open a window. Key word there being almost. It seems like London can tell a difference too. She discovered her drawer of winter clothes and, naturally, wanted to try everything on. The pink coat is her favorite.

I've been wondering lately: Is my child this girly because she was born that way, or because I happen to rub off on her, considering we are together every minute her perfect blue eyes are open? If it's the latter, our boys are doomed. 

We spent Saturday in Amman, visiting local handicraft shops that provide work opportunities for women. The first shop was exclusively pottery, and I wanted to buy everything I saw. I settled for a picture of my favorite bowl, and the promise that if we had money, Kyle would definitely buy it for me. The next stop was olive wood carvings. A husband and wife run the small business on the top floor of an apartment building. They employ men and women who are blind, disabled, and handicapped. Kyle and I walked around, visited with the women who were cheerfully sanding their figurines, and took a tour of the piles of curing olive wood.

The program director and his wife then took us to their favorite restaurant and bakery. The bakery seemed like it was the length of an entire city block. Kyle and I walked back and forth, eyeing all of the sweet warm bread, croissants, and pastries. We finally settled on one large, chewy pastry, soaked in some sort of silky honey-maple reduction. 

We got in to the taxi to drive home from our adventure, the taxi driver took one look at the pastry in Kyle's hands, and said, "That will make you fat." Everyone in our taxi burst out laughing, and we proceeded to pass the pastry around for everyone to enjoy. Kyle and the taxi driver were off to a playful start, and they had a solid flowing Arabic conversation for the next ten minutes. Out of nowhere, the taxi driver blurted in English, "NO WAY, MAN! I thought you were 42, or 78!" Apparently, Kyle had told the taxi driver his age. This prompted another round of laughing out loud. It was my favorite taxi ride yet. 

On Sunday, we ran out of diapers thirty minutes before the Carrefour (our local grocery store) opened. This left us in a predicament: Either let the poor girl walk around in an overflowing diaper, or take the diaper off and let her wander around the house as a half-naked baby. It was an easy choice!  The slap-slap-slap of her baby feet on the tile was somehow even cuter that morning.

Love Story

There are so many things I take for granted. Probably the greatest thing I take for granted is the relationship I share with my sweet husband. We are genuinely happy together, and we chose each other not just because we were in love, but because we are perfectly matched.--- 

This week, I went to a beauty shop to get my hair trimmed. The woman who came to the door didn't speak a lick of English, but told Kyle that there was a girl inside who was studying English at the university who would be able to translate for me. With that, Kyle left to put sleeping London to bed (our apartment is only 1 building away). The second I sat down, the three women who work there swarmed me and began asking a hundred questions. The first thing they wanted to know was if Kyle and I were related to one another. So--in the Middle East, there are basically only arranged marriages; and it's not uncommon for you marry a relative (a cousin), who also happens to be ready to get married. There is no such thing as dating before an engagement. The father of the groom asks the father and mother of the bride, a contract is signed, and the two are, for all intents and purposes,"married" before they are ever allowed to spend time alone (a chaperon is almost always present when an engaged couple is together). When I told the ladies that we were not related, they went crazy! They asked the university student fifteen more questions- before she asked me, "So, you fell in LOVE?!" "Yes!" The women all gasped, beamed, looked up dreamy-eyed, gathered themselves, and fired questions, one after another, after another. I told them all about how we met, that we only intended on being friends, and then, fell in love, and were married in a white castle a year later. I sat in the chair for over an hour, just answering their questions, and they looked at me like I had told them the most beautiful story they had ever imagined. The women were so kind and told me, "We love you! You are welcome here! Please come back and see us! We love you!" I left the shop, so happy to have made new friends, and so sad that they will never know what it feels like to choose the person they want to spend the rest of their existence with. Granted, it is a very good thing I didn't marry some of the people I fell in love with---but a marriage that begins without any of those wonderful feelings of utter bliss that only comes because your whole soul is consumed by the way you feel about your spouse, just makes my heart ache! And that is all I have to say about that.

About a 45 minute bus ride from Amman lies the ancient city of Jerash, with the most complete remains of a Roman city anywhere in the world. This was our choice for a field trip this week. The ruins are surprisingly complete, with roads, a colosseum, a hippodrome, temples, fountains, and a city-center surrounded by columns. I guess the climate here is perfect for freezing time. Kyle, me, London, and three of our friends, spent the day marveling at the beauty of the city. It was like being in Rome, without the smog and tourists.

We were invited to the home of a Jordanian family on Friday afternoon. The wife is an American who is related to someone who knows Kyle's favorite aunt. (See if you can wrap your head around that!) The family was lovely! We were able to experience a day in the life of an American who made her life in this country and is trying to find the balance between both cultures.



There are so many wonderful things about life here: 
     The hospitality of the people    is unmatched. 
     Virtue is prized above all else. 
     Family is central to the society. 

And then there are the negative things: 
     Women have no rights.
     Religion is forced upon you from the time you are in grade school. 

We had the most fabulous time, and I really hope we will spend more time in their home!

Afterward, BYU hosted an alumni dinner at a swanky downtown restaurant. All of the Jordanian graduates were seriously classy. They are all related to people in power, like the prime minister and members of parliament. I guess Jordanians appreciate the honor code at BYU and feel comfortable leaving their children in the care of Mormons in the little-known-American-state called Utah. The meal was six courses of delicious food unlike anything I have eaten before. [I love how you can go to another country and discover amazing new flavor combinations!] My favorite was fried balls of goat cheese with a blueberry spread. Heaven! 

Kyle has his first midterm tomorrow- and I'm sure he'll get at least a 99%. He is learning new words and phrases every day, but my favorite things he learns are in his issues class. Hearing about problems in the Middle East from an Arab is eye-opening in a way that CNN will never be able to match. 

She looks so much like Taryn in this picture!

London got her 6th tooth this week, which suddenly means she can make new sounds. When I tell her to say "snake", she makes the "K" sound, and when I tell her to say "tiger", she makes the "T" sound. She then claps for herself and says "YAY!" London cheering for herself might even be cuter than the sounds she makes. She is such a little lady--she wants to wear my jewelry constantly, pick out my clothes each morning, and sit on my lap when I do my make-up. Have I ever mentioned how much fun it is to be her mother?