All Good Things Must End...

I am missing this place even though I'm not technically gone yet.

Today was really difficult. It's so complicated, my head. Thinking about the future, thinking about the past, the things I did, the things I learned here...

I read a really useful article about breaking up recently. It made me feel a little bit better about this whole situation. I don't know how to explain this, but I feel like not only did I break up with a dear friend, but this whole country.

The worst part is that I haven't left yet. It's like going through a giant ceremony over and over and over. I've never done anything remotely compared to this before.

When I left France, I was extremely excited. The excitement and shock completely overshadowed my pains and grief over not seeing people.

This time, I fell in love with a culture, a people, a religion, a boy, a way of life - it would be so much easier to just think that, "Hey, I came here to meet these people and become one of them." But that's not true. I will marry in the temple. I will not settle for anything less.

It's almost comical, every five minutes or so, one of my arab sisters takes me in their arms and hugs me, in tears. I cried in my Arab mom's lap last night, and in Sanaa's today. Everybody is being extra-special nice these days.

It will be fun to go to Lebanon, but this parting, this saying goodbye, this breaking apart totally completely sucks.

It doesn't matter that we only have one bathroom and nine people. It's not the bathroom that makes a home, or the culture, or the language - I feel so completely overwhelmed. It's pretty much guaranteed that there will never be another person out there who will fully get this complicated emotional mess of a brain...

Follow Up on the House Servant

I was too chatty with her, and my Arab family got mad.

My Arab Mom said: "She's not on the same level as you. She's here to work, and that's it."

This is something beyond cultural misunderstandings. It goes against every single thing I have ever been taught. People are people. Human beings. I can't treat her as if she were an object. I felt so bad for her that she had only been able to talk to her family once since being here, that I gave her 10 JD's, the equivalent of $15. Except it's actually worth a lot more here, you can buy a lot of stuff.

Imagine what would have happened if my Arab Mom knew THAT...

This place is definitely crazy and it's not just culture shock!

Every day I do something completely stupid and somebody in my arab family gets mad, or laughs. I usually resort to laughing, unless I'm really stressed out.

I am recovering from a 3 day stomach sickness. It was probably food poisoning, because it happened all-of-a-sudden, and involved two places of exit.

Malek was amazing. He got me the complete third season of 24 on DVD and delivered it to my house, so I wouldn't be completely bored out of my skull inbetween trips to the bucket and the bathroom.

However, the rental place was a little bit like car test-driving; he had to leave his ID there. Because of the riot that happened on Thursday, he would need to have his ID today, Sunday, the first day of school in the week. So he had to come back and pick up the DVD's to be able to return them. (Don't worry, I illegally copied them onto my computer with ease, they being illegal copies anyway. And mom, I will erase them when I am done watching them.)

Everybody was in the living room talking when he called to tell me he was outside. So instead of interrupting the conversation, I just walked outside and handed them to him. I was outside for literally 2 minutes when my Arab mom came running out, greeted him, he left, and she turned to me and said the equivalent of, "Why the crap didn't you tell me he arrived!??!?!"

"Sorry, I thought you were busy...it's not a big deal!"

She didn't say anything. I think the fact that I went outside by myself at night scared her. Yes, this place is definitely crazy.

The other supporting reason for my thesis "Jordan is INSANE" is the medicine they gave me at the pharmacy. I went with my Arab mom. We both explained I needed medecine for istifrigh and ishaal, vomiting and diarrhea - it was very clear to the pharmicist what I needed. When I got home and read the information that came with the equivalent of two dollar medicine, my level of nausia increased. "There's nothing WRONG with my vagina. Why the crap did she give me medicine for Vaginitis????!?!?!"

The crazy part was when we called the number on the pharmacy bag, and my Arab mom spoke with her, she defended her case, that it contained the same active ingredient as immonium, and was suitable for my problem. Moonasib. Yeah freaking right.

The craziest part was that I took it.