Jerusalem Center People

The BYU Jerusalem Center organized a field trip to Jordan for their students. They arrived in Amman three days ago, and today is there last day.

I suppose it had something to do with honoring their long journey, or recognizing that they too are part of the Mormon minority in the Middle East - honestly, there didn't seem to be much purpose for the Al Husn Branch youth to make an activity out of going down to meet them.

Two weeks ago, I was counting down the days until I could see the 44 Americans. I ended up laughing, talking, and enjoying myself more with the Jordanians.

The best part of the trip (by far) was the ride to and from. President Dew had hired Omran again - he had driven us to Amman a week before on the Seminary Opening-Activity trip to the Royal Car Museum. Omran is 23, skinny, and somewhat shy. He's not the worst driver in Jordan, but both times I've gotten into his bus, I've thought about how I haven't written my will yet.

His "bus" isn't really a bus, but a van with ten seats. Because the engine is weak, and with ten people crammed inside the van is nearly twice as heavy, we would average around 10 mph uphill, and 90 mph downhill.

Omran got pulled over by the Public Police three times total, which involves a guy dressed in bright reflective gear waving a big stop sign-looking thing at your car from the side of the road.

He had gotten a ticket on the Seminary Opening Activity trip, but because he had connections w/ the police, he didn't end up paying.

This time, they wanted his license, and the licenses of two other people in the car. They asked us where we were going, where we were from. I don't think they stopped us because we were going too fast, in fact, I never figured out if there was a reason at all.

The final time he was stopped, the policeman asked him if the girls in the car were "passengers" or "family."
"Family."
"The right answer tonight was 'passengers' - get going!"
We all laughed, and turned the Amr Diab back up to its rock-concert volume.

I talked to Tamr and Majdee most of the ride. It was the second or third conversation I've had in Arabic where I haven't thought about "language." He told me some stories about a loch-ness type monster in a lake in Russia. I told him about the witch grave at Camp Moses, and made up a scary story that involved me and Cindy walking there at midnight under the full moon.

The topic of conversation changed to witches, magic, and "gin". The English word for "gin" has a weak connotation - "genie" makes me think of Robin Williams, "How 'bout LADI, do you smoke, mind if I do?"

"Gin" here is a powerful word. Everyone in the bus listened to people tell stories. Chilling, exciting - magic is real here.

Jordanians are expressive when they talk. They thrive on wit, word plays, and making people laugh. Jordanian culture is about language.

The Americans were boring. Will it be like that when I get home?

Last night, instead of falling asleep listening to American music, I listened to Arabic music.