I don't know, nor do I care- it's my blog, I'll blog as I like (those are the rules, right?)
Anyway, readers beware (and I'm not being sarcastic this time), should you only vaguely know me, not care enough to hear the nitty gritty details of my life, or simply don't want to be weighed down by the crappiness of the world, don't read this blog post. I'm serious. I'm normally funny (and quite flippant), but I'm serious this time. If you like happy things, like flowers, puppies, bluebonnets, cherry pie (that's just almost not sweet enough), and believing that Pangloss was right when he said this is the best of all possible worlds, STOP HERE!
If you're otherwise inclined, or bored really, continue reading at your own risk.
I haven't blogged for a while and for that I apologize, you've missed a lot dear readers. I made mansaf with my academic directors family for our final arabic project (Megan and I had a silly awesome time, as always expected when I'm with her) and it was all around a lovely experience. His family is so adorable and his kids are amazing. Then there was a night when Megan and I went riding around with our mutual friend from a coffee shop we frequent through some protests (in retrospect, probably unsafe but great fun). And then there was Southern Tour 2011, which I just returned from this night.
On said Southern Tour, all SITers were scheduled to have our last hurrah of fun before ISP period really starts and we have to buckle down (I'm terrified) and go together to Dana Nature Reserve, Karak Castle, Wadi Rum, Petra, and Aqaba. Basically, southern Jordan. Needless to say we were all very excited.
First stop was Dana, and Karak. Dana was beautiful. I had a little bit of an anthropological crisis because one of the information plaques on the wall said something along the lines of, "we forced the people who were living here to move out when we decided to make this a reserve and relocated them". I still haven't thought through how I feel about this one. Being partially Native American, it sounds a little too icky, but, I can see where they're coming from, I think... Anyway, I would need more information to make judgement anyway so I shouldn't even be talking about it really, I have no idea what those people were doing to the environment before they made them leave. Maybe they really were very destructive to the natural plants and animals. Should've asked more questions, I suppose. Too late now.
Karak Castle was so fun, mostly because of the distinct difference of museums and historic sites here. There are rarely fences and no guards to yell at you and generally you can climb all over everything. Basically an archaeologists worst nightmare. however terrible it was of me I suspended my archaeological preservation worry and just decided to clamber around the castle with the rest of the SITers. It was worth it.
Then came Petra. Okay seriously, if you're still reading and you are a happy person, stop now. Up until here I've given you time to turn back and you've hit the high points. Last chance!
Oh Petra. I was most excited for Petra because I'd been before with my Badia homestay family so now when I went I could chill out a little and just wander through the place. Also, my advisor back at school told me before I left that it's always been her dream to make it to Petra so I figured it's pretty awesome and I should take full advantage of something she's wanted to do for a very long time.
We get to Petra and start walking (sack lunches in hand) and Megan and I make a point to split off from the group. Love them to death but the amount of tourists there was just too much to handle and Megan and I made an unspoken mission to find a nice quiet place and eat our lunch in peace! After walking quite a ways and going past multiple languages, nationalities, and tour groups in general we find a little spot with some stone steps to climb. I'm quite certain it's okay to climb these steps because I did it with my Badia family. We climb up and start eating. A nice bedouin boy selling postcards climbs up and I talk with him a bit and offer him my date cookie for which I am given a set of postcards (the only thing I brought back from Southern Tour in the end). He leaves with a couple of "Yalla Bye's" and Megan and I proceed to eat lunch when an officer shoos us off our encampment because it's not allowed. I was fairly surprised but had sort of expected it so off we went. Wading through tourists again (though i was too really, I shouldn't be so mean when I'm one of them) we find a little spot on the side in the shade and sit down.
Our newfound friend sees us again and gets some of his older friends whom we speak with for a bit before they offer to be our Bedouin guides to Petra, no charge. Who could complain with that? Megan and I warily look at each other warily but end up going along because it sounds like an adventure. We start off on our journey with our 17 and 16-year old guides who speak surprisingly good English and are quite nice. We head up towards the Monastery which is apparently 800 steps away form the Treasury or something. Always up for a challenge we're off at breakneck speed up a whole bunch of stairs.
We meet halfway up a friend of our two new friends who's on a donkey named Monica and they start up with us on our trek. We reach the top and go for some free coffee and tea with our new friends whereupon we talk about a variety of subjects and meet another older guy. Pretty good time. I accidentally wake the baby with my laugh and the men start yelling fairly loudly about something that Megan and I can't discern (turns out they're talking about us) and then we are told that it's time to go.We set off with the two younger guys and get to the Sacrifice Place. We're told here it's for human blood too. I don't believe this, more research is needed.
At the Sacrifice Place we see the two older guys and are promptly told we're going a different way than they are by our younger friends. Hmmmm. Before I know it, I get picked up by one of the older guys (he who shall not be named), thrown on a donkey and we're off, Megan on a respective donkey (named Michael Jackson). This is where I lose track of where we're going and Megan stays on the ball and still could tell you now. But this is my story- read her blog for hers here --> 101 Arabian Nights (I promise it will be good and it's not even written yet, Megan has a way with words).
This is also where my story takes a turn for the 'not blog appropriate'/Sad Southern Tour. Friends, readers, siblings, parents, random stumblers, I was sexually assaulted. Ick, typing it out makes it sound so bland and jarring at the same time. And also so foreign. And also makes me want to hit the backspace button a lot. Alas, I've decided blogging about this, however awkward for you as well as for me and what could possibly construed as a pity post (even though I promise it's not), will be good for me. So you're going to have to deal.
Anyway, Megan's guy and he who shall not be named end up doing a good job of separating Megan from me and me from Megan. In the middle of the desert. On donkeys (which neither of us have ever ridden before). Without water or phones (Yes, judge away, it was stupid). Needless to say I learned a lot about myself I guess and about assault victims. I actually used to be a little jaded about this sort of stuff and thought to myself, "why don't these girls fight back? Why don't they do something? They're not powerless and know it's wrong!" So I always thought, should the situation occur, I would throw some punches and put my karate background to some good use. This was not the case. I was a listless fish. Like those betas that have water in their stomachs just sort of floating at the top of the tank a little glazed looking.
This needs some explaining. It's not like I wasn't vocal about my discontent with the situation. Believe me, I was. But there's this thing that I only really realized after the fact had so subtly occurred that made true anger virtually impossible. he who shall not be named and I had established this tone of joviality which meant, should I violate the norms of our rapport, and gotten violent in response, things could have:
1) actually stopped (at which point I probably would have been left in the desert and had to yell to get Megan to run back to find me and we would have to pick our way back as best as possible)
2) escalated quickly into something worse than what had already happened (if you know what I mean)
Without knowing it, I had made a sort of weighted choice that in order to not take the chance explained above, I would instead operate with the status quo and become a dying beta fish. Listless is the word for it. Listless... what a wonderful word under other circumstances. Anyway, sparing you the nitty gritty details (they're just not necessary for a general audience) that i'll tell you in person if you care to know enough to hunt me down somewhere when I'm home, let's continue.
Megan and I are finally reunited near the exit and we hurriedly walk away from our friends turned captors to the exit of Petra. We stop at a bench, collect ourselves and leave. I take a miniature shower (as much of one as possible) in a port-a-potty because it feels necessary and we're outta there.
Back at the comfort of our Petra hotel, Megan and I talk it over, resolve to forget it then somehow end up talking it over with a few other SIT gals at which point I'm advised (note the technical term here) to report it. We tell staff and then call the police. It's pretty late now. Anyway, we forge ahead, sleepy and tired of the story. Cops come faster than I thought possible, first lieutenant, in fact. I give my statement with Megan at my side and a girl possy a few feet away (that I couldn't have been more grateful for). And after all of my "tolds" have been changed to "advised to's" and clarifications are made between the word 'forced' and 'unwilling participant' (I'm not good at understanding cop lingo) and my sixth recounting of the story, we all take a giggle filled trip up the elevators to our rooms. There was a lot of laughing this night. One would think this was not possible but it was both predictable and necessary. I also have learned I not only laugh hysterically when things are funny but also when I'm extremely uncomfortable. Helpful, right?
Megan and I crash at about 4 in the morning.
I'm fairly certain the next morning Megan and I laugh a little before saying one word to each other.
This day is a visit to a special needs center in a city where one of our coordinators is from and from there we go to Wadi Rum. Recounting this whole day would just make this post unbearably long. Needless to say, at three in the morning he who shall not be named was picked up and is now in jail. (Thank you for the advising on reporting friends, it was the last thing I wanted to do but this day and every day since ad I'm sure for a while, I'll be very glad for it). And I didn't see the special needs center really, because this was a moment where I just decided to cry. So i went outside and laid on the ground next to a bush of rosemary with Megan and Sarah. And cried. And giggled, cried some more, got told to go inside by some people who just don't understand my need to be outside and promptly went a little crazy in a room of death and then ran away like pre-teens and cried some more. It was necessary. And will probably be necessary for a while. Who knows, not me. I've decided to go with the flow.
Then came Aqaba. Oh but before then, I rode a camel. and barely slept in a tent in the wadi where it was so cold I left even my shoes on to sleep. Which is so out of character it's scary. And we took a pretty sweet jeep tour and watched a beautiful sunset. It was a gorgeous day actually. Marred vaguely by previous Southern Tour happenings but beautiful nonetheless.
AQABA. the ocean. Southern Tour's redeeming day. I was on a boat the whole day in the ocean. we went snorkeling. I dove, saw fish, watched the waves go by sitting on the edge, feet dangling over getting splashed every so often. It was amazing. and sunny. i wish i could create a new adjective to describe how perfect this was. just in general and for me at the time. But I'm no Webster and I probably couldn't make a good enough one anyway.
And then home. I could ruminate about this for eons on this blog and I'm sure I will come back to it in the next couple of posts. But in general, I've begun to contemplate how many camels I'm worth, reconsidered how I feel about assault, unhealthily compartmentalized, contemplated emotions and relationships and how emotional intimacy relates to physical intimacy, or doesn't, wondered at the speediness of the Petra police force, appreciated my friends (both home and abroad), and appreciated the ocean more than I thought possible. And developed a newfound love for Cat Power. Who knew I even had her on my iPod? Not me! But then again I don't know much in general and even less these days. But it's been a pretty okay day so I can't complain. and I have amazing friends and amazing coordinators here. and my parents are pretty great too.
I'm also alive and like to think I'm fairly well adjusted so, can't complain.
Anyway, love all of you readers, wish me luck as ISP officially begins and I have TONS of work to do. I'll post some photos soon. In the meantime, sorry for the more depressing post, and here's to hoping you'll get yourself to an ocean as soon as possible. It's gotta be the saltwater or something.
<3
Anyway, readers beware (and I'm not being sarcastic this time), should you only vaguely know me, not care enough to hear the nitty gritty details of my life, or simply don't want to be weighed down by the crappiness of the world, don't read this blog post. I'm serious. I'm normally funny (and quite flippant), but I'm serious this time. If you like happy things, like flowers, puppies, bluebonnets, cherry pie (that's just almost not sweet enough), and believing that Pangloss was right when he said this is the best of all possible worlds, STOP HERE!
If you're otherwise inclined, or bored really, continue reading at your own risk.
I haven't blogged for a while and for that I apologize, you've missed a lot dear readers. I made mansaf with my academic directors family for our final arabic project (Megan and I had a silly awesome time, as always expected when I'm with her) and it was all around a lovely experience. His family is so adorable and his kids are amazing. Then there was a night when Megan and I went riding around with our mutual friend from a coffee shop we frequent through some protests (in retrospect, probably unsafe but great fun). And then there was Southern Tour 2011, which I just returned from this night.
On said Southern Tour, all SITers were scheduled to have our last hurrah of fun before ISP period really starts and we have to buckle down (I'm terrified) and go together to Dana Nature Reserve, Karak Castle, Wadi Rum, Petra, and Aqaba. Basically, southern Jordan. Needless to say we were all very excited.
First stop was Dana, and Karak. Dana was beautiful. I had a little bit of an anthropological crisis because one of the information plaques on the wall said something along the lines of, "we forced the people who were living here to move out when we decided to make this a reserve and relocated them". I still haven't thought through how I feel about this one. Being partially Native American, it sounds a little too icky, but, I can see where they're coming from, I think... Anyway, I would need more information to make judgement anyway so I shouldn't even be talking about it really, I have no idea what those people were doing to the environment before they made them leave. Maybe they really were very destructive to the natural plants and animals. Should've asked more questions, I suppose. Too late now.
Karak Castle was so fun, mostly because of the distinct difference of museums and historic sites here. There are rarely fences and no guards to yell at you and generally you can climb all over everything. Basically an archaeologists worst nightmare. however terrible it was of me I suspended my archaeological preservation worry and just decided to clamber around the castle with the rest of the SITers. It was worth it.
Then came Petra. Okay seriously, if you're still reading and you are a happy person, stop now. Up until here I've given you time to turn back and you've hit the high points. Last chance!
Oh Petra. I was most excited for Petra because I'd been before with my Badia homestay family so now when I went I could chill out a little and just wander through the place. Also, my advisor back at school told me before I left that it's always been her dream to make it to Petra so I figured it's pretty awesome and I should take full advantage of something she's wanted to do for a very long time.
We get to Petra and start walking (sack lunches in hand) and Megan and I make a point to split off from the group. Love them to death but the amount of tourists there was just too much to handle and Megan and I made an unspoken mission to find a nice quiet place and eat our lunch in peace! After walking quite a ways and going past multiple languages, nationalities, and tour groups in general we find a little spot with some stone steps to climb. I'm quite certain it's okay to climb these steps because I did it with my Badia family. We climb up and start eating. A nice bedouin boy selling postcards climbs up and I talk with him a bit and offer him my date cookie for which I am given a set of postcards (the only thing I brought back from Southern Tour in the end). He leaves with a couple of "Yalla Bye's" and Megan and I proceed to eat lunch when an officer shoos us off our encampment because it's not allowed. I was fairly surprised but had sort of expected it so off we went. Wading through tourists again (though i was too really, I shouldn't be so mean when I'm one of them) we find a little spot on the side in the shade and sit down.
Our newfound friend sees us again and gets some of his older friends whom we speak with for a bit before they offer to be our Bedouin guides to Petra, no charge. Who could complain with that? Megan and I warily look at each other warily but end up going along because it sounds like an adventure. We start off on our journey with our 17 and 16-year old guides who speak surprisingly good English and are quite nice. We head up towards the Monastery which is apparently 800 steps away form the Treasury or something. Always up for a challenge we're off at breakneck speed up a whole bunch of stairs.
We meet halfway up a friend of our two new friends who's on a donkey named Monica and they start up with us on our trek. We reach the top and go for some free coffee and tea with our new friends whereupon we talk about a variety of subjects and meet another older guy. Pretty good time. I accidentally wake the baby with my laugh and the men start yelling fairly loudly about something that Megan and I can't discern (turns out they're talking about us) and then we are told that it's time to go.We set off with the two younger guys and get to the Sacrifice Place. We're told here it's for human blood too. I don't believe this, more research is needed.
At the Sacrifice Place we see the two older guys and are promptly told we're going a different way than they are by our younger friends. Hmmmm. Before I know it, I get picked up by one of the older guys (he who shall not be named), thrown on a donkey and we're off, Megan on a respective donkey (named Michael Jackson). This is where I lose track of where we're going and Megan stays on the ball and still could tell you now. But this is my story- read her blog for hers here --> 101 Arabian Nights (I promise it will be good and it's not even written yet, Megan has a way with words).
This is also where my story takes a turn for the 'not blog appropriate'/Sad Southern Tour. Friends, readers, siblings, parents, random stumblers, I was sexually assaulted. Ick, typing it out makes it sound so bland and jarring at the same time. And also so foreign. And also makes me want to hit the backspace button a lot. Alas, I've decided blogging about this, however awkward for you as well as for me and what could possibly construed as a pity post (even though I promise it's not), will be good for me. So you're going to have to deal.
Anyway, Megan's guy and he who shall not be named end up doing a good job of separating Megan from me and me from Megan. In the middle of the desert. On donkeys (which neither of us have ever ridden before). Without water or phones (Yes, judge away, it was stupid). Needless to say I learned a lot about myself I guess and about assault victims. I actually used to be a little jaded about this sort of stuff and thought to myself, "why don't these girls fight back? Why don't they do something? They're not powerless and know it's wrong!" So I always thought, should the situation occur, I would throw some punches and put my karate background to some good use. This was not the case. I was a listless fish. Like those betas that have water in their stomachs just sort of floating at the top of the tank a little glazed looking.
This needs some explaining. It's not like I wasn't vocal about my discontent with the situation. Believe me, I was. But there's this thing that I only really realized after the fact had so subtly occurred that made true anger virtually impossible. he who shall not be named and I had established this tone of joviality which meant, should I violate the norms of our rapport, and gotten violent in response, things could have:
1) actually stopped (at which point I probably would have been left in the desert and had to yell to get Megan to run back to find me and we would have to pick our way back as best as possible)
2) escalated quickly into something worse than what had already happened (if you know what I mean)
Without knowing it, I had made a sort of weighted choice that in order to not take the chance explained above, I would instead operate with the status quo and become a dying beta fish. Listless is the word for it. Listless... what a wonderful word under other circumstances. Anyway, sparing you the nitty gritty details (they're just not necessary for a general audience) that i'll tell you in person if you care to know enough to hunt me down somewhere when I'm home, let's continue.
Megan and I are finally reunited near the exit and we hurriedly walk away from our friends turned captors to the exit of Petra. We stop at a bench, collect ourselves and leave. I take a miniature shower (as much of one as possible) in a port-a-potty because it feels necessary and we're outta there.
Back at the comfort of our Petra hotel, Megan and I talk it over, resolve to forget it then somehow end up talking it over with a few other SIT gals at which point I'm advised (note the technical term here) to report it. We tell staff and then call the police. It's pretty late now. Anyway, we forge ahead, sleepy and tired of the story. Cops come faster than I thought possible, first lieutenant, in fact. I give my statement with Megan at my side and a girl possy a few feet away (that I couldn't have been more grateful for). And after all of my "tolds" have been changed to "advised to's" and clarifications are made between the word 'forced' and 'unwilling participant' (I'm not good at understanding cop lingo) and my sixth recounting of the story, we all take a giggle filled trip up the elevators to our rooms. There was a lot of laughing this night. One would think this was not possible but it was both predictable and necessary. I also have learned I not only laugh hysterically when things are funny but also when I'm extremely uncomfortable. Helpful, right?
Megan and I crash at about 4 in the morning.
I'm fairly certain the next morning Megan and I laugh a little before saying one word to each other.
This day is a visit to a special needs center in a city where one of our coordinators is from and from there we go to Wadi Rum. Recounting this whole day would just make this post unbearably long. Needless to say, at three in the morning he who shall not be named was picked up and is now in jail. (Thank you for the advising on reporting friends, it was the last thing I wanted to do but this day and every day since ad I'm sure for a while, I'll be very glad for it). And I didn't see the special needs center really, because this was a moment where I just decided to cry. So i went outside and laid on the ground next to a bush of rosemary with Megan and Sarah. And cried. And giggled, cried some more, got told to go inside by some people who just don't understand my need to be outside and promptly went a little crazy in a room of death and then ran away like pre-teens and cried some more. It was necessary. And will probably be necessary for a while. Who knows, not me. I've decided to go with the flow.
Then came Aqaba. Oh but before then, I rode a camel. and barely slept in a tent in the wadi where it was so cold I left even my shoes on to sleep. Which is so out of character it's scary. And we took a pretty sweet jeep tour and watched a beautiful sunset. It was a gorgeous day actually. Marred vaguely by previous Southern Tour happenings but beautiful nonetheless.
AQABA. the ocean. Southern Tour's redeeming day. I was on a boat the whole day in the ocean. we went snorkeling. I dove, saw fish, watched the waves go by sitting on the edge, feet dangling over getting splashed every so often. It was amazing. and sunny. i wish i could create a new adjective to describe how perfect this was. just in general and for me at the time. But I'm no Webster and I probably couldn't make a good enough one anyway.
And then home. I could ruminate about this for eons on this blog and I'm sure I will come back to it in the next couple of posts. But in general, I've begun to contemplate how many camels I'm worth, reconsidered how I feel about assault, unhealthily compartmentalized, contemplated emotions and relationships and how emotional intimacy relates to physical intimacy, or doesn't, wondered at the speediness of the Petra police force, appreciated my friends (both home and abroad), and appreciated the ocean more than I thought possible. And developed a newfound love for Cat Power. Who knew I even had her on my iPod? Not me! But then again I don't know much in general and even less these days. But it's been a pretty okay day so I can't complain. and I have amazing friends and amazing coordinators here. and my parents are pretty great too.
I'm also alive and like to think I'm fairly well adjusted so, can't complain.
Anyway, love all of you readers, wish me luck as ISP officially begins and I have TONS of work to do. I'll post some photos soon. In the meantime, sorry for the more depressing post, and here's to hoping you'll get yourself to an ocean as soon as possible. It's gotta be the saltwater or something.
<3
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