Ismee Ju-Ju

I've had almost two full weeks of Jordan now, and I've been away from home for two and a half. To be honest, my favorite part of being in Jordan so far is class, which takes place Sunday through Thursday from 9am-1pm. Within those four hours our heads are crammed with more Arabic knowledge. When I come home to my host family in the afternoon and eavesdrop on their conversations I understand more and more. Conversations sounded like a stream of jumbled sounds with no meaning when I first arrived, but now I am separating the words in my mind. I can pick out the subject and I know where the verb is, and I definitely can tell when people are talking about me. The key words are binaat (girls), ingleezy (English), and Michael (the name of our Resident Director).

Like Spanglish, Arabeezy exists. I hear it in conversations between native speakers, like when the word "training" popped up in my host brother's story about his work. It's also my crutch when talking to my host family. Before mealtimes, which still seem completely random to me, my mama will say "inti (you, singular, feminine) eat now?" It seems that the only words I know in Arabic are words that my mama knows in English, but I'm working on it!

After school every day, we have time to explore a little mall before coming home, stocking up on notebooks that open from right to left for when we continue with Arabic at home and shampoo from the Dead Sea. Sometimes we have excursions, too, such as calligraphy class, falafel class, and visiting the Roman amphitheater and Temple of Hercules. I have better pictures on my camera still, and insha'allah I will upload them at school on Sunday.

Calligraphy class

Usually in Arabic I spell my name like Beige (بيج) but this time the calligrapher spelled it like Peesh, borrowing the 'p' sound from Farsi پِ and ending it in a shiin ش and not a jiim ج.

Names are weird when transliterated to Arabic. Sometimes we'll sound something out in class, struggling like "Woo-sheeen-toon" and our teachers will flatly tell us, "It's 'Washington.'" Our own names aren't hard to pronounce; they just don't fit well in an Arabic sentence. At first my host mom called me "Baesh" or "Baej" or something dangerously close to the "b-word." Now, she calls me Ju-Ju and my roommate, Sydney, Su-Su.

Moments here are either crazily adventurous or dull, and it's during those lulls that I feel the most homesick. I miss my bed and flushing toilet paper. I miss not feeling guilty for hiding in my room to watch Netflix. I miss my giant stuffed bear and I miss my dog, Scout. I miss the smooth, American coffee that my parents make. But I'm also loving my time here in Jordan, where everything is interesting because it's in Arabic and where the traffic law is every man for himself. I haven't worn a seat belt since America.

Roman Amphitheater

Falafel and Hummus Class

Hummus