What’s on in Amman
Exhibitions
Self Expressions of the Orient — Exhibition by Zeina Barhoum andDiana Hawatmeh at Foresight32 Art Gallery. Until August 15. Tel: 556 0080
Oriental Letters — Exhibition by Rasmi Jarrah at
Culture Street Shmeisani Gallery. Until August 15.
Group exhibition at Zara Gallery. Until August 20.
Tel: 465 1433
Jerusalem… The Capital of Arabs — Exhibition byMohammad Hanoon at Cairo Amman Bank Art Gallery, Wadi Saqra – Zara Centre. Until August 21. Tel: 500 6000
Dreamscapes — Photo exhibition by Jan Kassay at Nabad. Until August 26. Tel: 465 5084
60 Year of Art — Exhibition by Rafik Al Lahham at the Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts. Until September 23. Tel: 463 0128
Heard in Beirut
That’s right; people converse in three languages in the same conversation, sometimes in the same sentence: English, French, and Arabic.
Cab drivers seem to prefer Arabic, but the one who’d been a hairdresser in France for several years spoke decent French.
I love speaking French!
Seen in Beirut
Beirut has scooters! They remind me of Europe.
When I arrived in Beirut, in a taxi, from the airport, traffic was gridlock. Drivers honk their horns in a more angry way in Beirut than in Amman. Here it’s almost a form of communication; cab drivers say hello to each other this way and people honk to notify other drivers they’re changing lanes, coming around a curve, etc.
In Beirut it’s more like “why am I stuck in this stupid traffic jam?” protest-like honking.
As I was sitting in the back of the taxi that had first driven me to the exact opposite of town from where we had agreed at the airport, I saw a guy on a scooter, typing a text message into his phone, WHILE navigating his scooter through [stopped] traffic.
“Give me your tired, your poor…”
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
This quote from Ellis Island or the Statue of Liberty reminds me of what Jordan has done for Palestinians: accept them when they were displaced from their land and grant them citizenship (not all of them were tired or poor, clearly, but some of them are now).
Tempered by this news today from the Jordan Times:
Around the World in 48 Hours
Or halfway, at least.
Continent count for my journey from San Francisco to Amman on June 10th:
1. North America (SFO, starting point)
2. Europe (Heathrow airport, change planes)
3. Africa (Cairo airport, change planes)
4. Asia (Amman, Jordan; final destination)
If only I could find an excuse to visit Australia or South America on the way back…
When is a Taxi not a Taxi?
When it’s a “service,” of course!
A service (pronounced “serveece”) is halfway between a bus and a taxi, although it’s an actual car. There is more than one passenger, unlike a taxi, and you will be dropped off near your destination, if not at it, and it’s therefore cheaper than a taxi. Sometimes your ride will be longer or less direct than in a taxi.
The company, unfortunately, is often as cheap as the fare…some weird guy with a cowboy hat paid for my fare and tried to ask some inappropriate questions. It was not his lucky day, however, and he was left holding the bag, so to speak.
Hezbollah, Party of Three
A crazy weekend was had by all in Beirut, except perhaps for me, in comparison to what my travel companions experienced!
I thought that talking to a Lebanese soldier next to a tank was exciting, but my friends actually ran into a Hezbollah children’s camp in the woods. They were taken in and fed by some women, and the leader drove them back to town. It was the best part of their ill-begotten camping experience, they said!
Where the Sidewalk Ends
In Beirut I would catch myself walking along the side of the street, rather than on the sidewalk.
Is this because Amman isn’t big on sidewalks? Have I gotten that used to weaving through the semi-traffic along the side of the road as people try to park and un-park without looking? Or have I given up on the quasi-, semi-, not-really sidewalks that pass as sidewalks in many parts of Amman?
For the record
The visa for Lebanon [for Americans] is free, but how much do I love being mistaken for French when I inquired about it?
The visa returning from Jordan is good for only one month even though I had it extended to six months before leaving!
On the Obama campaign I saw how pathetic the media is at covering domestic news, and here in the Middle East I see how pathetic they are at representing what happens overseas.
Beirut was so humid that my medication literally crumbled in my fingers.
A Study in Contrasts
There is a cynicism divide between East and West that’s difficult to put my finger on. There’s kind of a purity of spirit and belief in Jordan that has been lost in the outside world, but a concomitant lack of vibrancy that a thriving economy and freer social mores bring.
There’s also a vibrancy divide. Beirut is perfectly situated to be the cosmopolitan city it is, sitting on a peninsula in the eastern Mediterranean. Europe is close, the rest of the Mediterranean and Turkey are close, and the Persian Gulf is close enough that there are many elegant Arabs vacationing here as well. It’s like a mini Istanbul in that sense.
People literally speak three languages all the time, and there’s a savviness, a broad awareness and high cultural literacy that landlocked Jordan lacks. Beirut’s been a city of thousands of years while Amman didn’t put itself on the map, so to speak, until millions of Palestinians showed up almost overnight.
There’s more freedom to dress and behave how you want but less respect accorded by men, in the West.
More constriction but more respect in the East.
Being in Lebanon is like exhaling. You can wear what you want and say what you want without fear of people emerging from the shadows.
There are so many different cultures here that I wonder if diversity creates vibrancy. There’s a stillness and a seriousness, almost a gloom, in Jordan that is absent here. That gleeful, omnipresent happiness that Americans exude is much more noticeable here, if tempered by a maturity and worldiness that Americans often lack.
The police here are different. There is the occasional tank, but many fewer soldiers than in Jordan. The soldiers here have longer guns (?) and look a bit more serious; the armed men in Jordan have smaller guns and stand around listlessly outside whichever ministry or random sidewalk they’re guarding. Lebanon seems much more prepped for battle, not surprisingly.
Some of those soldiers, though, get corralled into traffic control at night for the expensive cars and glamorous nightclub set and don’t look at all pleased about it. I came across an army barracks yesterday and had a chat with some of the soldiers. One of them proudly informed me he was Delta Force, which kind of defeats the purpose of Delta Force, doesn’t it? At least in the states they’re supposed to be totally invisible, I think.
I really wanted the chance to visit south Beirut but I just don’t have the money for a taxi, and Ying and I are going to the airport tonight so I’ll need to pay for that.
I miss Jordan even though it’s a relief to be here. I miss Garden Street and Rainbow Street and my Jordanian friends.
The air conditioning in Beirut is much better than Jordan! The overall infrastructure here seems much stronger. Sadly, one way to avoid urban decay seems to be having a war every few years. No one I’ve spoken to expects the peace to last.
As Dr. Woodrow says, “there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” so there’s a sense of check-and-balance between cultures. Yes, there’s more freedom in the West but they free market also creates more poverty.
The police state (of sorts) in Jordan deters criminals, who have no rights and fear being imprisoned indefinitely in unfavorable circumstances. In the US, though, the accused have so many rights that people seem less afraid to commit crimes.
So it’s like you can’t have less crime without decreasing civil rights and freedom of expression. Women can’t have more freedom without losing some of the respect and care shown them in the more homogenous Muslim societies.
For all the religiously-inspired violence (I swear religion has caused as much misery as it abates) in Beirut, it’s a secular country. People don’t greet each other with “salaam alaykum” and “al hamdu l’illah” that is ubiquitous in Jordan. I literally do not know which language to use when approaching someone new, nor would I presume to know which religion they are.
Today I met a woman who demonstrated the Sunni/Shia animosity in a way I’ve never seen in Jordan. My [Sunni] Muslim friends are basically neutral and indifferent to the other sect, but in Beirut there is lots of bitterness and rancor. This woman was adamant about being Sunni and criticized the Shiia for being so crazy and wrong.
A Piece of the Puzzle
One of the many challenges facing the Palestinians is the lack of viable leadership. Palestinians not living in Palestine cannot vote in Palestinians elections and many are totally stateless, living in camps without citizenship or the ability to work.
There is so much unused human capital and manpower in the camps; I met with someone who works in the camps last week to brainstorm about what we can do. I want to approach organizations like the Clinton Global Initiative and the Gates Foundation to see if we can’t get funding for job training.
As much as I love my Jewish friends, Israel was not invited into the region and the effects of its behavior cause immeasurable suffering among good people who just want good lives. I was talking to Mohamad about this, and we agreed that having just enough money for a good life is enough.
We went out with a local Beiruti on our first night, and he told us some wild stories about the 2006 war. Journalists would pay him $500 to drive them down to the war zone. He and his friend would take photos of dead bodies and sell them to journalists. His house was bombed and his friend lost some relatives.
Blogging Beirut
Beirut is much more expensive than Amman–more like Palo Alto or SF.
I’m feeling a bit more normal today; traveling can be stressful and I’m getting more anxious as we approach the 22nd (my travel day back) as I worry about what my next step is.
Beirut is absolutely fascinating. It’s a walkable city, unlike Amman, and I’m out of shape! Plus the humidity here is miserable, and the heat, so I’m literally drenched in perspiration and have taken refuge in an internet cafe.
I feel quite safe. There’s a big difference from a place like Oakland, where you can just sense danger, to Amman and Beirut, where there’s no sense of danger. I even chatted with a Lebanese soldier about Facebook! He was very welcoming and said they’re happy to have me in Beirut, that we “are friends” and there is “no problem.”
I’m leaving tomorrow at 10pm; I hope to share a cab with Ying but she and her friend April decided to go camping while I wanted to stay in the city.
It’s just amazing–there are mosques and churches dating from the Crusades right next to each other! You can hear the church bells and the Muslim call to prayer at almost the same time! The people are as beautiful and sophisticated as I imagined, and the sense of French colonialism is very strong.
There are bombed-out buildings with shrapnel right next to fancy new apartment buildings with Mercedes parked out front. There are Roman ruins right next to an Ottoman-era square. It’s just fascinating.
I met a French student who is doing his PhD on the resistance movement in Beirut–the nature of Hezbollah, what they’re doing and what they stand for. He said they’re very friendly and welcoming and love it when Westerners genuinely want to listen to them. According to him, Hezbollah and Iran have not been in cahoots for quite some time, that Hezbollah sees its role as defending Lebanon against Israel’s behavior.
They are also the only organization providing infrastructure such as schools and hospitals to the people who live in that part of town.
I purposely got lost today, wandering into whichever neighborhoods looked the most interesting. I literally cannot tell whether to speak French or English to someone, or to try my fractured Arabic. The educated class literally speak all three languages in one sentence. It’s amazing!
The neighborhood I’m currently in feels a lot like Amman–Turkish coffee, Arabic music, and women wearing hijab. The architecture is distinctly French, though, and feels a bit like New Orleans.
There is still evidence of the war–parts of buildings haven’t been razed and still show the pock-marks of shrapnel and shelling. I can’t imagine what life here must have been like then.
For Palestine 