Hey you guys (whoever you are),
I have moved, I found a better place to put my blog. I didn't like how difficult it was to post my pictures and how badly pixelized they turned out to be, so until I find a solution, my daily blog will be here:
http://exploringtheordinary.tumblr.com/
Please drop by :D
Day 5
Today, I had:
- Vocal lessons from my host brother and sister... my host sister said I was corrupting Arabic and for me to leave the house (jokingly); i hurt her head too much
- A wonderful luncheon with family = more foooooood
- A HAIRCUTTTTT (4 JD only)
Also, loving the randos that come by to our home. So far I have already met two cute men ;), one Turkish and another German. They are both new to Jordan and my host brother invited them over to our home for conversation and tea. Both are very wonderful men.
But a strange thing happened yesterday. I was having a very wonderful conversation with the Turkish man and he was being quite cordial. Very friendly/nice and in school to be a doctor. Then something bad happened. He was checking his next destination, because he was to stay with another man on his couch, when he realized that this man was Homo. He became traumatized and decided to book a hotel... that or sleep on the desert ground.
Why...? It pains me to see this.
Day 4
So I am all moved into my new host family....
The question persists in my head.
How can I experience, truly experience, my life here in Amman while recording it? I do not want to spend my hours behind the lens of a camera or a laptop... but if I do not write it down my qualifiers will eventually become reduced to "Oh, I had a *good* time in Amman"
I want proof. But how do you balance living that proof while capturing it?
Day 3
Is out.
Also had the greatest food EVER.
20 different plates to share between 4 people = happiest stomach in Jordan.
Day 2
Times past : times present
Hours are forced and pushed and made
Sleep short
Hooka and smoke
Beer and wealth
Slash always ask prices before you end up buying a 8 JD (12 dollars) can of Heineken.
Day 1
The saddest day in my life summed up:
10 kilograms deleted
+ 22 pounds taken
+ 6 kilograms forgiven
- 2 kilograms hidden
+ 3 pairs of shoes discarded
+ 2 pairs of jeans erased
+ 20 assorted items (coffee/creams/potions) obliterated
+ 1 book chucked
+ 1 small bag left
+ 1 coffee mug abandoned
+ forgotten items deserted
= me walking through airport check-in while wearing 4 coats, 1 scarf and 2 pairs of jeans.
This is what happens when you do not double-check information given over the phone. I had 41 kilos walking into the airport and they wanted 25. So today, I discarded ~25% of my belongings… 10% of it went directly to the man watching me throw them away. It is difficult not to feel disappointed though I know that material items are things and we buy/sell/barter/trash things. I know I’m supposed to be above them but when you spend years of your life accumulating things with limited budget… it’s easy to feel a little pain when you see them go.
Was it ignorant/unkind/shallow to think about the need for the airport to implement new weight rules? All of the baggage + passenger’s weight = total allowed. If they really want to keep the plane light and conserve fuel, why should I (@120 pounds) have the same limit as someone twice/thrice/half my weight?
Day 11
Hey Paris,
You have time to talk? How are you doing? Good, I’m glad. So listen. I think we need to talk. Yes… that talk. Just listen will ya. We have had some really great times. Amazing and unforgettable moments that shared, like watching the train conductor warily shake her head in judgment as she watched a crew of metro-ers fight/force the door open and do you remember that time when I ate your baguette? You remember it haha… yah that time, it was quite enjoyable. Just thinking about it now makes this even more difficult than it already is, but this definitely needs to happen. I know, but I think this needs to be done.
Because on top of all the greats things, we had some pretty rough moments too. Like when that boy spit on my face and, lets face it, you’re a pretty expensive hoe. I can’t seem to go out with you without burning a hole in my wallet. My bank account reminds me every time I see it. I know it isn’t your fault. Stop it and don’t look at me like that. It’s just that you enjoy a different lifestyle than I do and I can’t keep up anymore. And. you’re also kind of a bitch. Like sand in your hooha type of bitch. That one is your fault. Wait, I’m not done yet, stop trying to cut me off. Like sometimes, your super clean and beautiful... and boy do I enjoy those times. But there are parts of you that could use a little scrubbing with steel wool and Clorox. It might just help with the smell down in your metro. I’m just saying… And last but not least, you have been with way too many people/men/women/things. Like everyone I know either wants to be with you, or has already been with you. And all in less than a month! I guess I didn’t last a month either (three weeks), so I’m not one to talk. But damn. You could be a little less accommodating and put out so much. I guess I’m just not that comfortable when you are with so many other people when I’m with you. I feel kinda used. And in the end, I think I have better things for me out there. You have been great. I mean I really did love you, and in a way I still do, but I’m ready to move on. I hope you understand.
Anyway, we are still friends right? I would love to bring my friends/family here and let you show them a good time, but for now, I need my space. I actually have to go now, yah I have that meeting with that person, I didn’t tell you? My bad, but I need to head out. Like now.
But I’ll call. I promise. Bye…. and take care of yourself will ya. I’m here when you need me. All right, bye.
Oh, it wont be awks when I see you next time right?
