The Good Life

...and then...

Thanksgiving came early in the Middle East. Last Thursday was the Islamic new year (according to their calendar it's only 1434!) so we decided to celebrate Turkey Day a week early. Also, on the real Thanksgiving, all the students will be volunteering at a Syrian refugee camp... Anyway--- the wives were in charge of preparing the feast for all fifty BYU students. We divided up the duties: mashed potatoes, stuffing, cobbler, pies, sweet potatoes, green beans, carrots. The ovens in our apartments are large enough to squeeze one 9 X 13 pan- and I was prepared to cook all forty sweet potatoes in that measly contraption. Luckily, we have some friends from church who happened to offer their huge, American-sized oven and enormous kitchen for all my baking needs! Kyle and I packed a suitcase with the ingredients, pots, baking dishes, as well as some laundry to do in their big, beautiful washer and dryer, and taxied over to the embassy housing. Kiya and I did our thing in the kitchen while our husbands played with London and talked about Arabic. What would've taken me all day took only two hours, AND Kyle and I went home with FLUFFY laundry! It was glorious!

Thanksgiving dinner was actually kind of perfect. We even had a turkey, which was completely unexpected and insanely delicious. London tasted jello for the first time, and it was by far her favorite part of the meal! Afterward, our friends invited us back over to their house to watch Lord of the Rings and eat pumpkin pie. Sitting on that plush couch, eating our pie with real ice cream, and watching a movie on a big screen TV,  Kyle and I felt like kings.

London "helping" me bake.

That night, the protests broke out in Jordan. We stayed in our apartment for the rest of the weekend because even church was cancelled! We entertained ourselves by baking zucchini bread and online shopping for Christmas presents. On Saturday, we planned a getaway to watch Breaking Dawn Part 2, but London broke in a molar and we couldn't leave our sweet girl. Maybe next weekend!

With her Gorilla Munch- happy as can be!

The girls I tutor know I'm leaving soon. I wish I could take them with me- away from the nuns and the rules that lock them in. Children don't belong in orphanages. They belong with families and with mothers who will kiss them goodnight. I love those girls.

New Perspectives

It's freezing here! And by freezing, I mean, it's in the 50's. One day it was 81, and the next, it was cold and rainy---like Portland, but without the redeeming pine trees. We celebrated the onset of winter with large, plastic tumblers of Mexican hot chocolate. The look on my sweet child's face for her first taste (more like chug) of frothy, cinnamony goodness told us that her whole universe had just been rocked--milk AND chocolate together!?!?!?!

Anyone who has lived in a foreign country for more than a month knows what it's like to miss American things. Kyle and I watched a youtube video of a guy "rating" a cheeseburger from Five Guys and nearly crawled/swam back to the homeland. The following day, we learned about a place called Feel Burger, whose customers promised the most Americanesque burgers in all of Jordan.

I'm happy to report that our cravings have been seriously satisfied.

The cold weather also awakened my creative side, and I am now knitting hat #2 for London. She likes to sit by me to try on the fraction of hat, and she always makes sure Dad is watching so he can comment on how cute it looks on her.

London likes to put out milk and wait for the kitten while she eats breakfast!

This week, while shopping at the supermarket, we were stopped by a family who wanted to play with London. This is a common occurrence, but this time, the father asked Kyle, "Please, would you come to our home? My wife will make you a meal! Please, would you follow us to our home?" Kyle looked at me, certain that I would graciously decline the invitation. But in the three minutes I had spoken to this man and his wife, I felt divine intervention, and I was prompted to accept. We followed the man, his wife, and their child in a stroller, to an apartment building a few blocks away. [It was midnight before we checked our watches and realized we needed to get to bed!] The night was full of laughter, stories, questions, and fabulous Iraqi food. The family was from Iraq, but had fled the destruction and unstable conditions in Baghdad and started a new life in Syria. When violence broke out in Syria, they escaped here, to Jordan. 

I am telling you- no amount of books you read or news stories you watch will ever compare to the account given by these absolutely wonderful people. Everywhere they have ever called home has been bombed and shelled to ruins. And yet, their perspective on the purpose of life and the love in their family inspire me to be a better human being. 


Their youngest child was a 4-year-old boy named Yusuf. He was the one sitting in a stroller, holding a soccer ball, when we first met. When we got to the street where the family lived, Yusuf jumped out of his stroller and starting running up and down the street, but with a severe limp. Kyle asked his father why he was limping, and he explained that Yusuf has a malformation in his hip that makes one leg longer than the other. They have been trying to get a visa for Yusuf to get surgery in the United States since he was born. All the red tape and security checks that they have to go through have taken up the last 4 years--seemingly with no end in sight. The parents told Kyle that Yusuf loves soccer, but will likely never be able to play soccer like a normal kid. At the end of the evening, they walked us home, and the dad begged Kyle to help in any way. He said, "I would give all the money I have for my son to get a visa." It is these kind of experiences that make me so grateful for all the things we have in America that we take for granted: clean water, medical care, safety. Our prayers were extra long that night, but Kyle and I can't help but feel so helpless. I hope with all my heart that they will someday be able to get their little boy the treatment that he needs.

For date night, we doubled with Carrie and Jeremy, and London was the fifth wheel. I was feeling under the weather, so we decided on a leisurely stroll through King Hussein's Auto Museum. 

It was actually cool! And I don't use that word...

I feel---different-after living in Jordan for three months. There are so many things I thought I knew or understood about Islam, Muslims, and the culture in general, before I came to live here. The kindness we experience every time we step outside of our apartment has forever changed me- for good.

Carving a Mountain

The trip of all trips began before sunrise on Saturday morning. We loaded on the bus, guided by a very nice Jordanian named, you guessed it, Muhammad. We made three stops that day: Kerak, Shubak, and Little Petra. Kerak is a ruined crusader castle with remnants of a kitchen and a church. London ignored the tour and collected as many rocks as her dainty hands could carry. Shubak, another ancient fortress, was slightly more memorable...




Muhammad told us about several hidden tunnels, famously chiseled through Shubak mountain, just in case the castle were to come under siege. Our program director asked us to gather at a certain time so that we could all use our flashlights to climb out a tunnel together. He had done this before, and apparently had forgotten how grueling the hike was. [Afterward, he apologized profusely] Imagine walking through a black tunnel, whose slippery steps were carved in sand a thousand years ago, twisting and winding for miles through a mountain, down, down, down---- then add a 15 month old baby on your back. By the time we reached the bottom and climbed up the escape ladder, my legs were shaking and my whole body was spent. 



At the final stop of the day, Little Petra, Kyle, London and I recuperated on the bus and actually fell asleep! We arrived at our hotel just a few blocks from the mouth of the Petra canyon just before 6 pm, ordered room service, and packed our things for the following day.

The whole countryside surrounding Petra looks surprisingly like southern Utah, with huge wind-eroded mountains of sandstone and slot canyons. The canyon leading to Petra winds down for several miles, where on both sides, there are water channels etched in the cave walls.

And then, around a corner and through a small opening, one giant rusty-colored pillar carved in the rock comes into view.  The magnitude of the treasury carving isn't visible until the slot canyon ends in a huge open space. 

I have never seen anything so unbelievable!

We recovered from our initial shock and headed out to see the rest of the city, but not before London stopped to play with a domesticated cat and her kittens.

On our way to the top.

Me, Kyle, and our friends Drew and Casey then hiked all the way up to the top of the highest mountain, the High Place of Sacrifice. 





When the afternoon set in, we made our way to the burial tombs of the kings. Every building is so intricate and perfect and----amazing! I was so happy to be there, with the donkeys and the camels and all of the middle-aged Europeans in their tube-tops and booty shorts, just soaking up the architecture and the warm desert air. 

There is only one way in, so the hike out is all uphill! 

London hoarding jewelry

We barely made it back to our beds, covered in a fine layer of powdered red sand and insane amounts of sweat. Kyle and I rewarded ourselves for surviving with the most fabulous ice cream I have eaten in my lifetime, and this is NOT the Hartwell exaggeration in me talking. It's called Movenpick, and I am positive it's the only ice cream they serve in heaven.

The following day, we took a ride in the back of Bedouin trucks out to a desert village for a feast of ethnic foods.

 For the final leg through the desert, Kyle and I rode--------------CAMELS! Riding a camel is like riding a gigantic horse who only trots. The best part is when they stand up and sit down, and let out this earth-shattering moan. London rode with me because I was worried the camel might scare her, and I'm the only one capable of calming her down. She basically went back and forth between laughing and crying until the rocking of the giant camel steps put her to sleep in my arms.

And finally, we enjoyed a relaxing day on the coast, in the port city of Aqaba. It was so strange because everyone on the beach, with the exception of little boys, was clothed from hair to toe. I opted not to let London play in the sand, which made her seriously upset, because there was so much trash. I mean, millions of cigarette butts. Instead, we took a glass-bottom boat to look at shipwrecks covered in coral. Our boat driver was infatuated with American music from the 90's, which made the venture all the more entertaining. Before we boarded the bus back home, we each had a final scoop of Movenpick blackberry ice cream.

At the rest stop halfway between Aqaba and Amman, a man asked Kyle for permission to marry London, in 17 years. He said, "Your daughter is so beautiful, she is worth waiting for!" He gave her candy and a key chain, adding to her collection of free things. On this trip alone, London was also gifted three beaded necklaces, two chocolate bars, and a pastry. She blows all her admirers kisses and flashes her baby teeth, before hiding in my shoulder.




Everything about the trip was wonderfully, once in a lifetime, exhausting. Kyle and I decided not to go on vacation again for at least a month.

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?