Yes, I am actually in Jordan

It occurred to me recently that I have been in Jordan for a little over a week and I have not posted anything about it. Since I started this blog because I was on my way here, I guess it is more than fair that people should expect me to write a little something substantial about my "life experiences" and not just ramble on about serial killers on the sides of breakfast foods.

Well I guess I can start off by saying it is incredible how at home I feel when I am surrounded by white people in an Arab country. It also helps that this group happens to be a fine collection of young individuals. I think that the combination of 19 girls and 8 guys in a country where displays of public affection and intimacy are frowned upon will make for quite a drama-free, celibate semester. With the exception of one couple, who were engaged before they got here, I will be surprised if anyone gets laid.

Having said that, my experiences with my Jordanian home-stay family remind me quite a bit of Juliette Lewis in The Other Sister. For those of you who have never seen this movie, The Other Sister is the reason that I can never take Juliette Lewis seriously ever again. In the movie, she plays a mentally challenged woman who wants to go live with her even more mentally challenged boyfriend and there is a lot of weird dialog between her and Dianne Keaton about sex. Here is the IMDB synopsis: "A mentally retarded girl proves herself to be every bit as capable as her 'perfect' sister when she moves into an apartment and begins going to college." I've seen the movie several times because it used to come on Super Movies almost every day and when you are addicted to television, you will watch pretty much whatever is on including The Other Sister for the second or eighth time even though you know it makes you wince when the two retarded people start mouthing "olive juice" to each other. But lets not get into that.

I am basically the other sister in my Jordanian family. They talk to each other in this super-speed, hybrid version of Arabic then sometimes my host mother turns to me and asks me a question very, very slowly. I then give her a blank stare and I laugh and I look around to see if someone will translate for me and no one will so she repeats the question even more slowly as everyone stares at me to see if I understood "Do you want to more food?"
I then form a reply something along the lines of "I am good.. from fish?" and everyone has a good laugh at my expense and goes on with their conversation, which is probably about me.

Sometimes I catch the words "American," and "Saudi Arabia" as my family tries to explain to other people that yes, I did grow up in Saudi Arabia but no, I do not speak Arabic. I get a lot of disapproving stares because of this, which, lets face it, I probably deserve. But nevertheless, it adds heaps of extra, unnecessary guilt to my life (I'm Spanish, I'm all set on guilt, I've been collecting it for years).

In many ways I am also lucky that my family speaks English far better than I will probably ever speak Arabic, and to top things off I might be the only student who has internet access at home (suck it bitches). Still, aside from the slow boyfriend who wants to get it on to marching band music, I feel for you Juliette Lewis. It does seem at times like I am progressing way more slowly than I thought I would. Of course I've only been through one week of Arabic classes. Maybe things will improve once the second or third month is up.