The Java and the Omega

I love salmon.
I love it grilled, love it in sushi, and even love it out of a can. (salmon croquettes, anyone?)

I love coffee.
I love it brewed, percolated, boiled, topped with froth or frothless, hot and smooth and bold and rich.

Perhaps my love for both salmon and coffee are proofs as to why I am such a clear-headed deep thinker.

Ha!

Sawdust Special

Once again, why can't these confections taste good? I mean, it is a wedding, after all.

This time I did not even try the cake. I've learned the hard way.

In America a cake this size would cost a fortune. I remember the cakes from Klingler's European Bakery...oh my, they were delicious. And costly. And worth it.

The groom was so happy. We're so happy for him. He didn't care much about the cake.

The Best Part of Waking Up...

is, well, just waking up. I'm increasingly thankful for each day that comes, by Allah's permission.

The second best part of waking up is (non-coffee drinkers, you are excused from reading further) : coffee.

Especially the kind brought to us by traveling friends from afar, who made room in their luggage for 1.49 kilograms of ground delight.

And yes, it's Folger's, so you can sing that little jingle now.

Regalito

I am not sure if I can call what happened to me yesterday serendipitous, because it wasn't really a discovery.

I suppose it was just a heartfelt surprise gift.

I am waiting for something to happen to me that can be termed serendipitous, because I like the word. It can be its own line in a Haiku.

Anyway.

My friend picked me up to go to a lesson yesterday morning, and handed me a card she'd been waiting to give me for a week. In it was a little note, basically telling me that I work too hard and to take time out for myself; along with the sentiment was a gift certificate for a massage, and an offer to drive me to massage venue if necessary.

I love her!

Daughters Marching

Those little girls I used to teach have grown up.

From me they begrudgingly learned about the Great World Wars, latitude and longitude, the capital of French Guiana, how to take notes while listening to the teacher speak, and the lunacy of Henry VIII.

Do all kids innately detest Social Studies? If they hated it when they came to my class, I think they left liking it, just a bit.

I miss those days--those pre-9/11 days when we viewed and lived in the world differently. I miss sharing funny stories with my class; I miss clutching the podium while standing before them, wanting to shout to the rooftops, encouraging them to change the world with their words and actions, to not miss opportunities to learn, to travel, to experience.

I've already attended the wedding of one of my special girls from those days long gone. I'm invited to another wedding this summer in Beirut, Lebanon. Another one of them is landing in Amman tonight, and I can't wait to see her. I used to sit and grade their reports, correct their ESL spelling and grammar tendencies, and think, "What is going to become of them?" By the grace of God, they have come into their own, found their ways, made their marks, marched on.

I have three biological daughters but I had many, many more back there, in that little school I poured my heart into. I still have the trophy they gave me when I left the school, the one that reads, "You have taught us more than you will ever know."

The same goes for you all, my daughters.

Halal Gumbo

I love these young Muslims in America who are making waves and who can write coherent paragraphs!

I found this new site, (new to me), Egyptian Gumbo. Check it out. She's a Louisiana gal, too. I loved this hijab challenge she started on the LSU campus, and I love the enthusiasm that her words carry.

Go, girl, go! Keep on writing.

Aqaba Bullets

My kids found coral everywhere.

It's a bulleted list! Contain your excitement.

• Aqaba, like so many places in/parts of Jordan, has great unreached potential.
• One should not hop on a bus during a three-day weekend in Jordan and assume he will find a hotel room for a family of six once getting off said bus in Aqaba.
• My concept of what hotel room prices should be is stuck back somewhere in 1982.
• The calamari in the Floka Seafood Restaurant was not fresh. But the shrimp was.
  
• The water was more brilliant and clear than I ever could have imagined.
  
• Shoes must be worn when entering the water; otherwise, one will surely step on an urchin, starfish, piece of coral, or get tripped up on the slimy sea lettuce.
• Sea lettuce is everywhere. I could not find any sea cucumbers to go with, however.
• The Mövenpick hotel was calling my name. One day, inshaAllah, one day.
• Three days of irregular coffee drinking habits (i.e., deprivation) did a number on my digestion. It was only when we pulled away in the bus to return to Amman that we spotted Gloria Jean's Coffee, after being disappointed in finding a closed Cinnabon. Why would a Cinnabon close down in the center of a bustling touristic city?
  
• No good places for breakfast; this is an idea that needs exploring. All of those German and Italian tourists we saw surely want more than a falafel sandwich in the morning. Oh, unless they're staying at the Movenpick. That must be it. Buffets and all.
  
• Aqaba needs more fun evening activities for children, or am I thinking too much about Destin or Ft. Walton Beach, or even Cocoa Beach? Go-carts, anyone?
  
• For the children to truly be able to swim in Aqaba, they need a pool.
• There is no greater satisfaction than taking a nap on the shore while the wind sweeps over you and that salty-fishy-coastal air moistens your lungs.
• I need someone who is willing to snorkel with me in hijab to accompany me next time.
• I think I could make that swim to Palestine and/or Egypt from where we were sitting. (You can see the city of Eilat, Palestine, and Taba, Egypt, from Aqaba. Amazing!)
  

The Smell of the Sea

I did not make it to Damascus this weekend, but made it here instead.

I just finished washing all of the formerly living sea creatures and uninhabited shells. I was amazed at the abundance of tide pools in Aqaba, and my children were delighted to play on the shore for hours on end, collecting all sorts of items.

I have lots to say about Aqaba but will save that for tomorrow. I'm a little sun/wind burned and ready to put my head on a soft pillow.

Hajj got rhythm

Here is a video that accompanies the song Labbayk, from Native Deen's newest album. Filmed entirely by group member Abdul-Malik Ahmad.

Zam Zam!

Simbiosis and Bring on Da Friends!

This is from Umm Zaid's new post about ex-pats in Jordan--something I've been pondering for quite some time.

I think of our cozy community of 1100 and think, “That is more than enough space for friendships.” Because back home your community was “make do.” You might have one friend out of an entire local Muslim community. Or you might be the only one of your ethnic and language group, and so on. Here, you can meet people with similar academic interests, or spiritual interests, or life experiences (you’re married to a guy from Salt? me too!).

I love this post because I am ecstatic about how far our community in Amman has come. My first two years of living here were a crash course in the art of [forced] isolationism. After the end of the second year, I was ready to pack up my bags and flee. I lived in an area of town where I rarely saw a Westerner, was up to my elbows in dealing with life here, alone with the kids, while my husband was still able to frequent all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets or have a Chic-Fil-A chicken biscuit in the mornings on his way to work. I harbored resentment, and as much as I tried to be happy, I realized I was sorely missing something: a life.

I had to blaze my own trail and find connections. I had to move out of the neighborhood I nicknamed the ends of the earth, where taxis would refuse to go because they knew they could not get a return fare. (Hey Umm A.R., remember that time the taxi driver tried to charge you 7 JD for that ride to my house? And that was in 2002?!)

Happily, I started meeting wonderful people. Sometimes geography can really contribute to a change of heart and mind. I found my niche, my spot, my groove. And it didn't stop with the wonderful friends I met who live just blocks away from me, but continued on to the K-Town Klan, partially because of the innovative blogosphere. I started wanting to seek these people out, these ball of energy sorts who were moving over to this side of the pond. I knew we could all benefit from knowing one another. So, I showed up at Umm Zaid's door, bearing socks.

Since that time (nearly three years ago) I've continued to meet the loveliest of the lovelies. My posse is now so big I can hardly keep up with everyone. I have a kilometer-long list of people I need and want to visit. If we all tried to have a gathering, we would need to rent a stadium. (I can see that idea going over well at Sports City)

But my linking up with all of these great people does not stop with the Muslims, and this is an exciting reality, one that probably would not be realized back in the states. I have many non-Muslim friends in the US, some of whom I've been friends with since elementary school. I treasure those relationships. Meeting ladies like MommaBean, with whom I share a very similar upbringing, not to mention home state; and Kinzi, whose philosophies on so many subjects are carbon copies of mine, has been just wonderful. I'm blessed, blessed, blessed, and I need these interfaith connections.

So to prevent myself from breaking into a Barbara Streisand Funny Girl classic tune, I'll leave it at that.

Bello

This is my eldest nephew.
I remember when he was born.

His Dad is Italian, his Mom is my sister. We gals went for the Mediterranean types, and with good reason. I love this guy, and although I have not seen him in years, and my own son barely remembers meeting him, I know that my boy and his cousin are very much alike.

Above all, they are kind individuals.

I am proud of my nephew and I wish him all of the blessings and happiness in the world.

Buenas Noticias

Well, after reading Kinzi's post today, I thought I had better share the fact that I also won a prize in Viva's March Madness Giveaway. Hurrah!

I won a spa treatment from Kinda, which includes a full body massage, manicure, pedicure, and a fancy term for pulling out my underarm hair--a term which escapes me now, especially since I am from those ladies who just use a razor. All of this, plus a bag of goodies, including nail polish, which came at a great time. I had promised my four year-old who used to bite her nails down to nubs that if she would stop, I would buy her some nail polish. She stopped, her nails "growed," and nail polish just walked right into our door yesterday, courtesy of Viva.

Today is my son's first Little League practice. He has never pitched a ball or caught one in a glove in his ten years on this earth. We are excited and hope that this is something he will love doing. I am happy about the prospects of introducing good sportsmanship and real teamwork to my son. Little League is not a hot shot free-for-all-kick-you-in-the-teeth to make it to the goal, unsupervised, unguided series of soccer games. While he has learned much from the school of hard knocks/soccer at school genre (i.e., survival), we are pleased he will be entering a new realm of physical activity. I am, once again, going to be a Diamond Girl.

Grazin' in the Grass

So yesterday I got a wild hair and started cleaning out the back 'yard.' I was pulling weeds and trimming rose bushes and cleaning up a bunch of filth that had been deposited by weeks of rain--oh, and a big slushy snowstorm. Spring is around the bend.

Today I woke up with my eye sealed shut with gunk. I apparently got into something out there that my eye and mucous membranes aren't happy about. It happens every year; allergies go with the territory of being a gardener wannabe.

While resting a bit today I just started humming this tune, Grazin' in the Grass. My kids thought I had made it up, thought that mom's Claritin had perhaps kicked into overdrive. So in order to prove to them that I was alright and pretty sane, I did a little search for the tune. Here is a cover band's "old man" version, which I find to be pitifully hilarious. Have a laugh.



And here's the original version, by Friends of Distinction. I love the band's name, and that song sure makes me smile.



Here's to grazing in the green, green grass. Can you dig it?

Viva Helado

My husband used to be a dishwasher at a Mexican restaurant in a small Alabama town. Later, he was promoted to Chip Master. (he fried the chips and kept them in a warmer) While working at el restaurante, Señor Abu Farouq learned all about pico de gallo and salsa picante and my favorite, fried ice cream. I have not thought about fried ice cream in years, until I read this post on Outlines' blog.

I am one of those wives who can get away with making chicken quesadillas or open-faced taco salad for dinner, and serve it to her very Palestinian husband, who will look up at her with a grin. He loves Tex-Mex, Mexican, and what I now have to call "Aramex," (ha!) which are the variations of our favorites, but with little Arabic twists. (zabadi cream instead of sour cream, foul muddamas on the taco salad instead of refried beans, etc.)

Anyway, here's to multicultural food exposure at a young age. And here's a recipe for fried ice cream. Sahtain wa A'afiyah.

Fried Ice Cream Recipe courtesy Emeril Lagasse, 2001 Show: Emeril Live Episode: Ice Cream Rules
1 quart vanilla ice cream 1 cup crushed frosted cornflakes 1 cup sweetened coconut flakes, or 1 cup chopped walnuts, or 1 cup cookie crumbs 2 large eggs 2 tablespoons sugar Vegetable oil, for frying Hot chocolate sauce, optional Whipped cream, optional With an ice cream scoop, form 4 large balls of ice cream. Place on a waxed paper lined sheet and cover with plastic wrap. Freeze for at least 2 hours. In a bowl, combine the cornflake crumbs with either the coconut, walnuts or cookie crumbs (or any combination). Spread the mixture in a shallow dish. Dip the ice cream balls in the crumb mixture and freeze for 30 minutes. In a bowl, beat the eggs and sugar. Dip the coated ice cream balls into the eggs, then roll in the crumb mixture, coating completely. Freeze for 1 hour. (If necessary, or for a thicker crust, roll again in eggs and crumbs until the balls are completely coated.) Heat the oil in a large pot or fryer to 400 degrees F. One at a time, lower the balls into the oil and fry until golden brown, about 30 seconds to 1 minute. Remove from the oil and place in a dessert bowl. Drizzle with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, as desired. Repeat with the remaining ice cream.

Something Good

There is something about the rejuvenation of springtime that never fails to infect me. March is almost here and things are looking new and green. Yesterday was one of the foggiest, dreariest days I have ever experienced; the fog did not lift until around 1 p.m. The fog and cold did not stop me, because I know that Spring is around the corner. I had the rare chance to have a car for the day, so I took advantage and ran necessary errands. I also made a carrot cake, which I do believe is the perfect breakfast food. You have your veggies (carrots), fruits (crushed pineapple), dairy (egg in cake and cream cheese for icing), and carbs (wheat flour). It was so good yesterday, I ate it again for breakfast this morning. Sorry, I do not claim to be a photographer, and I still fumble with the close-up mode. It's my shaky hands.

After breakfast I drove straight to the Post Office to pay bills. One can check his mail at the Post Office, but it is most known for being a bill-paying center, where electricity, power, and phone can be paid off in one fell swoop. I also paid a neighbor's bill, which was a whopping 192 JD, because she only had an electric heater in the coldest parts of last month. Ya Allah. The BEST part about the Post Office visit was NOT the clerk exclaiming, "192 JD! What kind of bill is that?!" but rather finding a slip of paper in my box, announcing that I had a parcel. A parcel!

Dear sweet Umm Bilal from Al Miskeenah sent me a parcel of goodies. Lovely, lovely things, mashaAllah, one of which I wore around my shoulders last night in the moist night air. It took its sweet time to arrive and we both wondered if someone was running around Amman reading a book and wearing a scarf intended for me, but yesterday's arrival put our fears aside. Alhamdulillah.
Third stop was to drop off a second parcel included in my parcel that was addressed to Umm Zaid. Embarrassingly, I got lost trying to find her office from the place I was, so I dropped it off with her neighbor.

Fourth stop was to pick up my new spectacles. (This is going to be a PLUG for my favorite Optikos center and eye doctor.) This place, Semiramis, is owned by the family of Dr. Hammouri. Dr. Hammouri's office is in Sweifiyeh and he is the best eye doctor I know. He actually got my oldest daughter out of glasses. Semiramis had a huge sale several weeks ago in which all frames, and I mean 175 JD Fendi frames, were 10 JD. All sunglasses were 20 JD. I sent everyone I knew to their store. I got myself the ones pictured below with a special glare-resistant coating, as well as the prescription sunglasses pictured on the far back left. Two pairs of custom-made, designer glasses, and I paid a total of 57 JD, or around $80 US. Now find me that deal somewhere else, please. Hurrah for the Hammouri family.
Hurrah for the coming of Spring.

Porque soy tan blanca

This is a scientific approach to highlight and explain stuff white people like. They are pretty predictable.

I'm sitting here contemplating my race, and having giant belly-laughs doing so. Anyone who takes this to heart is certainly one of the A-type easily offended, who does not belong in my circle of friends anyhow. Funny stuff. Thanks for pointing this out, Baraka.

Impressions

photo courtesy of this site

I am an incessant poll-taker when it comes to gauging others' impressions of Jordan. Maybe they are coming for a quick business trip, or are living here transiently until having the opportunity to 'move on'; maybe they are tourists from Slovakia or Italy, like the ones I've helped order shawerma sandwiches at the 2nd circle in Jabal Amman. Maybe they are pilgrims who want to breathe the air of this pivotal location or walk on the land once tread by the Prophets of God. Whatever the reason for visiting, I always want to ask people what they really think about the land and the people, and what they will tell others once they have returned home.

Today I had an opportunity to read several posts by an American gentleman whose daughter lives here in Amman. His posts, although short, really manage to paint a realistic picture of life* here in Jordan--funny, sad, sometimes absurd, invigorating, heartwarming, and always challenging. I hope that my friends and family back in the US will read his posts and immediately start saving their coins to buy a ticket to come see me. If no coins are available, I believe I have a little glass jar at the top of my closet I can dip into.

Jordan awaits you.

*the posts run from last to first, so if you want to read in order, scroll down to the bottom and work your way up

Once Again, a Plug

This stuff is gold. I read it back during the Brass Crescent Awards but I am reading it again now. I have tears streaming down my face (nothing unusual) but please, go read The Islamicist's Weblog.

an excerpt, if I may:

We had a small focus group brainstorm. I thought of ‘Down with the Imperialistic West with its Military-Industrial Complex and Authoritarian Hegemony! Up with the All-Encompassing Benevolent Muslim Theocratic Superstate with Armed Citizen-Militia and No Standing Army! That didn’t scan well, the group agreed. The chair of the focus group then decided on ‘Putting the phat in Caliphate’ for that streetvibe connecting with the youth thing. We were tired, and brother chicken and chips wanted to get home, so we agreed.

Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Antioxidizing

The slams against coffee I have heard and read lately trouble me. I love coffee--the way it tastes, the way it smells, the way it wakes up my senses in the morning, no matter what the temperature outside. I drink the stuff in moderation and am not the kind who, in Ramadan, cannot even get out of bed the first few days because of headaches or general grumpiness. As much as I love it, if I wanted to quit I believe I could. I'd switch to decaf, because it's really the taste and comfort of coffee that I love and crave.

I can blame and thank my mother for introducing me to coffee, sitting at a Waffle House, trying to rejuvenate our driving capabilities, while on a road trip many moons ago. The following year I went off to college with a Mr. Coffee 4-cup coffee maker, which really produces a mug and a half. I am a confessed procrastinator extraordinaire and a sometime overachiever wannabe. My first semester I took an overload of difficult classes (trying to prove what? I still am not sure) and I became known in my hall for staying up all night to type out the multiple papers that would be due at the same time. Mr. Coffee sat by my side throughout the ordeal. He never failed to brew on command.

It disturbs me to hear my children, who love to watch cooking shows, refer to any foods they see others eating or drinking as being nasty. I like to consume many things that perhaps are not mainstream American foods (or mainstream anyone's foods) , and am offended when someone says, "How could you eat that nasty stuff?" as if I am eating refuse. I won't chastise the Mongolians for sitting down to some steamed mutton dumplings that I may find repulsive. It's what they know, it's what they like, and who am I to try to survive a harsh winter out on the steppes of outer Mongolia, munching on caesar salad? Survival of the fittest, it is. The Mongolians know what they need to keep on ticking, and if that means drinking tea with curdled yak's milk and mutton fat, so be it.

In my reality, coffee helps keep me ticking, on both physical and emotional levels. Don't dis me coffee, chaps. If it's not your cup of tea (ha!), I surely respect that.

Here are some articles on the health benefits of coffee. I'm feeling persuasive.

Coffee and Antioxidants

Coffee, the New Health Food?

Coffee Perks

Those yet-to-be-found beneficial compounds in coffee

Moderation, Moderation

Don't Delay

Read this, now.

Mother Tongue, at Baraka.

Just beautiful.