The Ugly American

Over my travels I have wondered why Americans have a bad reputation for when they travel. Yesterday, I met that monster in the face and I need to share this with you so that you can watch out when you go on a vacation to not be the (drumroll please) (insert really deep voice)....................UGLY AMERICAN.

I would like to keep the identity of these subjects anonymous, but I will tell you their situation. They are just out of high school, taking a gap year, and they are volunteering in Israel. Anyways I had just retrieved my hat from the desert and I was coming over the dune to walk down to camp and I knew they were American. All the girls had on sweatpants (some with things written on the butt) and sweatshirts. That is a number 1. I walked down to camp and we got ready to see the sunset. They were sitting up on top of a rock (with their sweat suit ensemble). They were talking sooooooooooooooo loud. You could hear them from the other side of the camp. That is number 2. Once the sunset was over (they actually went in before the sunset, weird) they all started to go to the communal tent. They walked past me and I stood up and introduced myself, but they seemed a little closed. I did some things around the camp and went into the tent. They had taken up the entire bottom by the fire and did not leave room for any of the other guests to sit. One guy offered to let us sit, but we said no thank you, hoping he would move over for the other guests. The food was all set up and we said for people to go and eat. The Americans got up and got their food, but they were coming up for seconds before other people had eaten!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not cool. After we ate my mom and I decided to strike up a conversation. My mom asked them "Where are you coming from?" They all just turned around and stared. A French lady said in French to us "I guess they don't speak English." The problem with them was that they were still in high school, they gave the dirty smug to anyone who was not in their group, they acted like a clique. I asked them "So what are you guys doing in Israel?" A girl said, "Volunteering." There was a pause and I just looked at her waiting for her to finish and asked "What are you volunteering there for?" The other example was when I asked "Where in the states are you guys from?" They just said, "All over." I waited and then did a hand motion and said "And where in the states...?" I was experiencing the Ugly American reputation. I had met plenty of Americans here that were so friendly and open, but these were very stereotypical and were very closed. I gave up on trying to make conversation after the girls insulted me by saying in a valley girl voice "Like, what do you actually do here?" I replied very politely our daily duties and all I got was sour faces. I decided to go and talk to a girl from American that lived in boon, NC. She was so open and friendly, because I was done with that group. So I will do a quick rundown of what not to do when you travel, so we can together beat this reputation.

1. Don't talk extremely loud
2. Don't wear sweatpants, it looks sloppy
   
3. Offer others seats before yourself
   
4. Always be aware of your surroudings so you can be polite to everyone in your area
5. Don't go up for seconds when some people haven't eaten
6. Engage in conversation and be open to all sorts of people
7. Don't make rude remarks at what others say
8. If you think you are acting like a "typical ugly American," STOP!

Sorry, these people got under my skin, and I felt that It was the right thing to do to share this experience so we can get rid of this reputation.

self-conscious

Today I am feeling insecure about my writing. I feel nervous and uninspired. I believe the reason is because of the counter on my blog. I know it is something interesting to look at, but it is also making me feel self-conscious. My mom has over 100 more views that I do and it makes me want to just quit, and give up. I am jealous and I don’t know why. This blog feels like it is becoming food for my ego, when people write comments about how they like the post, I get booted up. I need to continue to do this for me, and to provide people with an understanding of Jordan, and the Bedouin people. I have lost this. I feel as if I am floating in a fake High School world, where I need to know if my outfit is cute enough to let me climb the social ladder. I need to stop this because it is ruining my days here and instead of being inspired by things, I feel as if I have been searching for them. My friend James wrote me a comment on how one of my posts inspired him to read the Middle Eastern section of the newspaper and gave him strength. I need to read and re-read this because it is inspiration that fuels me. Sometimes, I wish that I had a little secretary inside of my brain that could write down poems, thoughts, or whatever came to my mind, when I got inspired.
I was discussing the other day with my mother, how the arts affect people. We will take writing for instance. When you read, you are in a personal space, weather you be reading out loud or along with someone, it’s in you. Writing is powerful. It persuades, inspires, makes you sick, gives you nightmares, educates you on bed bugs, tells of distant lands, it does everything! Sometimes, I wish that I could just be put in a room with a laptop for a day, and just write everything that came to my mind. Writing is the way that I can be an artist (and it is why I need to stop searching for peoples approval). I don’t know how to paint, make a sculpture, balance ISO in a photo, but I can write. It is simple, but it is the brush with which I paint. Or if you have seen Juno, “The cheese of my macaroni.” I don’t think like a scientist, even though I love science, I don’t live in numbers but in my imagination. I feel bad for people who have stashed away their imagination, in an attempt to grow up. I love to observe human ways and I look at adults and pity them is some ways. Growing up is something entirely different and in an attempt to “grow up,” some have lost their imagination to their jobs, pushed away their dreams because of others, or some that wish to explore the world, but are bound by their own minds. I want to keep my imagination and try to use it everyday, weather it be looking at rocks and finding a funny face, playing a story through my head all day long, or writing. I must keep my fire alive. I can’t have my creativeness and my imagination get smoldered by this counter. This is my creative outlet and I have to remind myself of this or the breeze will snuff my rawness and honesty. Take my writing however way you want it, it is in your personal space. You may exaggerate my feelings; find inspiration in my words, or just curse at my views. Do it! I encourage you to access that special place inside of you. We admire children because of their creativity and their ability to love (and many more reasons), but they also don’t have a tainted imagination. They don’t laugh at each other’s imagination, if they want to imagine an underwater city in their tree house, or see a dog in the way the clouds billow, they are free. Keep this in mind, because you are your imagination and don’t let that light get extinguished. Burn baby burn!
Bisous,
Bailey

Let it fly

Well it was just another day. I am sitting next to the middle son and he is playing around with pictures on the computer while singing. One thing about the people in Wadi Rum is that they are not afraid to sing and dance. (Wooohooo!) I woke up at the camp and had a breakfast of warm pita bread, cheese, pineapple jam, Hulawah (sugary thing), and some sesame paste. I always love eating up at the camp because it is the wonderful little buffet of good food and good tea. I have also become addicted to the tea they drink here. It’s a black tea with tons and tons of sugar in it. However, you only drink small amounts not big huge cups. The tea is always delicious and takes the place of desert after dinner. I feel like answering some questions about things that have happened since we have been here.

Camels.
They are amazing animals that sound like monsters when they talk. The reason that we hurt so badly was because of the way we were sitting. To sit comfortably, you must swing your leg over the camel and ride a type of side saddle. We were riding it like you would a horse, with our legs on both sides. The saddle of camels are not like that of a horse because you ride on top of the hump. (haha, funny animals).

The man slapping me.
It was a bop. It was a playful smack, not a “Oh my god I hate you,” kind of smack. It did hurt though and left a bad taste in my mouth. Don’t think that if you bring your children to the Middle East, they will all get smacked. This is a rare breed.

Eating.
I have no idea what is in the food, but it sure is amazing. They hardly use a refrigerator and all the food is fresh. They use spices, yogurt, vegetables, rice, and a little chicken

Now for random thoughts.
Today I took a nice shower, scrubbed off all the grime. (Yeah, grime, that’s the word.) Everyone that knows me would be very taken a back at my appearance. I take a shower every 3 –4 days, don’t shave (what’s the point if your covered up? Gosh I wish I could see your faces!), no make up what so ever, I wear the same 3 outfits, wash my clothes every 2 weeks, and when I wash my face I turn a different color. But I don’t care! I feel great not having to keep up my appearance, because these people don’t shower every other day, and don’t change their clothes almost all week. That is how the rest of the world lives, and I feel happy to do the same. Even though, I feel so gross sometimes that I have to take a shower in the next 5 minutes. Okay. Well after my shower I pampered myself with some lotion, cleaned my fingernails, and changed into fresh new clothes. I feel good. Earlier today after my hair was dry, I let my hair down. I keep my hair up in a bun or in a ponytail everyday and I was ready to let it fly. I walked up to the mirror and took a step back at the person staring back at me. Who is she? I don’t recognize her? I looked different and I felt different. I have not given myself a good look in the mirror since we have been here. I stood there and looked at my eyes, my nose, my hair, and my whole face. I felt different. This was me, no make up, no thoughts, and no feelings, just me. I looked different. I felt like I had stripped away my teenage hormones, my care for what people thought of me, my fake makeup, etc. Just, Bailey Marie-Francoise Theado. I just hope that I can stay this way, and the aggressive people in France do not corrupt me. (You can probably hint at my feelings towards the country =] )

Well the situation in the house is doing great. I think that a little aunt named “Aunt flow,” might have taken a visit into the house. It was a full moon a couple days ago, and if you have no idea what I am talking about I will just come out and say it. I think that the women in the house may have had their period because the full moon was out. There. I took matters into my own hands; I slept more, and just moved slower. When I would do dishes, I take my time. I just turned my “work” knob to slow, and I feel a lot better and more relaxed. I am going to go chill in the hostel and maybe sleep or play a round of cards.

Coals

Her eyes stung from the smoke of the fire as if the smoke had engulfed her vision and she only had a few minutes of sight left. She calmly unbent her knees and weakly stood up and stretched. She had been kneeling for the past 15 minutes on her little mattress next to the fire in the communal tent, and was ready to move. She excused herself and walked on the cool sand of the tent, pushed away the heavy carpet door, and stepped out into the moonlight. The ripples in the sand glistened in the luminous moonlight that lit up the sky like the sun. She walked across the sand away from the tent, her eyes coming back to life. The cool desert air felt moist and fresh compared to the stuffy smokiness of the tent. She walked up the small rock cliff and stared out at the moonlight desert. The camp was situated in the conversion of the red desert, white desert, and the black desert. In the moonlight they swirled together in different shades as the towering rock cliffs loomed above. She took in every moment of her quiet minute in the desert. Her eyes took in the inspiring sights like a telescope sucks in light. A gust of wind signaled that time was up and she wrapped her scarf up tight around her face. The smell of the scarf was a mix of fire smoke, shisha, and cigarettes, and she wished she could wash it in perfume. She looked down at her clothes and saw the sand stains on her pants, the slight brown tint of her jacket, and she then felt her face and the smooth yet grittiness of the sand on her face. She walked over to the communal tent and glanced up and saw that the tourists had gone to bed and sighed. It was time for her to enter the eternal darkness of her dreams and she was ready. Her body was sore, knuckles sunburned, hair messy, clothes dirty, and her mind tired. She pushed open the door of the tent and walked inside. She made her way to her mattress that was piled with 5lb blankets and struggled to lift them up. Once she was snug in her covers her whole body relaxed. Ferris went out to turn the generator off and the soft buzzing in the desert was gone. Everything quiet. He came back into the tent as the moonlight burst though the door as he pushed it aside. She was quite scared the sleep in the desert because this was her first night being away from her mother in Wadi Rum. That anxiety drowned quickly in the sleepiness of her eyes and the darkness of the room. Sara, Ferris, and Ziad whipped their cigarettes out and searched for a hot coal. Then, Ferris prodded the coals and swished them around and they became alive. She imagined them like sleeping maggots in a vegetable, then some visitor comes and opens it up and they start moving and fighting. The coals laid on a bed of gray and the darkness of the room erupted with a quick glow of orange light. The light of the coals pulsated like drums and together they formed a band of beating light. She tried to comprehend this simple thing that was occurring, and she remembered her Christmas tree in North Carolina. They had gone to Lowe’s and picked up a fiber optic Christmas tree that throbbed with light just as the coals were doing right now. Her mind was wrapped in this simple yet magnificent moment. Ferris, Sara, and Ziad dipped their cigarettes into the sea of coals and lit up. In the air it looked like tiny orange balls of light that would occasional turn into a blaze and reveal a face. She rested her head on her pillow and was unexpectedly happy. She was calm, perfectly content. She wished that every night would be peaceful such as this one. Even if they did not, she would always remember this moment as an amazing simple night in her life. Thank you universe.

Yikes!

Well I seemed to get a lot of responses to my blog post "Bad Vibrations." I would like to respond to Kris's comment about if I get satisfaction from my work. I do get satisfaction from my work. However, sometimes it feels like a drag (like any job =]). When I look at how many mattresses I sewed, I have to find that inner appreciation. It just doesn't feel very satisfactory when I have to do a lot of things that someone in the family could be helping out with, and not just telling me to do it. I think I need to explain the situation because I get the feeling that people are reading into the post way too much, looking for some hidden meaning. I was very vague on my post because I did not want to get into the situation and just talk about how I was feeling. So here I go.

I think that anywhere you go and live with other people, problems are going to happen. Thats what living together and being a family is! I know that things cannot always be great, thats life. Wadi Rum is a very slow village. People drink tea, watch tv, and relax. That does not mean they don't work, it just means that they have lots of time to chill out. Now as helpers, we want to make this place the very best it can be, just at times I feel a little taken for granted. There is always that language barrier, but I don't take it very kindly when someone will say "You make tea now?", or "Wash this.?" I forgive them for the way they communicate because they are not used to it (but one day I will probably meet my limit). When I say I don't feel appreciated or they think we are not working, it is just the vibrations I get in the house. It is hard to describe but something just changed. Another reason why there is a little tension or they do not think we are working is perhaps the difference from Mohammed's view and the daughters and mother. They daughters and mother do no go to the camp and see us working, and talking with tourits (which is very tiring). They see us only in the house and could be a reason why they don't feel we are working, which is understandable. I think that I will just see how the situation develops and maybe be a little more firm on when I can do something and when I can't.

The trip to Aqaba was very tiring. We got our Visas extended very quickly and did not know what to do with our time. We made our way down and found some fast food chains. The burger king and McDonald's is understandable because they are rather global, but Quiznos, Popeyes, and Pizza Hut!!!!!!!!!!!! Crazy. We ended up having some delicious fries, chicken sandwich, and a coke at Burger King. (To get our fix of American food.) We then walked down into the market and bought some toys for the kids, and just some random things we needed. I had 2 very strange incidents happen. My mom and I were sitting eating some cookies when a policeman took a picture of us with his camera phone! I saw him take it out and aim it, then i would look at him and he would pretend to clean the screen. Then he finally took it! Very strange, so we left. I also bought a book to learn Arabic in a shop and got slapped by an old man! I went inside and my mom was standing with her back to me reading a book. I asked him if he sold any books to lean Arabic and he said yes. Then there was a pause. I asked, "where", then he moved. He asked me if this was my sister and I said no it was my mother and he slapped me! Pretty hard too! I didn't smile at all after that and he said something that I was always supposed to say she was my sister. In the middle east, it is okay to smack the little kids and is customary, but he was just a weird Jordanian. I have never met anyone like him and he was very unusual. He then continued to question my mom if she was married and showed her a book of a Kiwi girl that married a bedouin man and Blah blah blah.

We are staying here for 3 months to experience all aspects of the place. That means the good and the bad. I am also 15 years old. How many teenagers work all day for their food and lodging and do school. I think I have a little reason to complain. (Even just a teensy weensy bit) Last week, I was wearing rose colored glasses. This week I feel like I am focusing on the bad, when so many great things have been happening! I think it is just my tiredness kicking in that makes me a little grumpy. In addition to that, when I am tired I am a bag of giggles. I need to focus on the positives and take a walk in the fresh air. That would do me some good. Good things: Yesterday in Aqaba, we got oriental rice mix (my favorite!), and got this HUGEEEE BAR OF CHOCOLATE WITH HAZELNUTS! Yesterday, me, Sarah, and my mom joked up on a rock and watched the most amazing sunset. We did funny voices, and planned on cooking the family a meal. We were thinking about making pasta then I remembered that there is only one fork between the hostel and the house. So we imagined us all picking up spaghetti with our hands and having it hang in the air, trying to eat it! We also danced around in the tent with the family (which is always fun). The best part about it is that the Bedouins cannot keep time, at all! They just kind of kick up their feet and bop around . It is always hilarious to try to imitate them. You look like a dying fish flopping around kicking up your fins! Well I have to go do some math homework! Only 2 more questions left on my speedback! Lots of love <3

Bailey

Analysis

My last post was more about what I felt at school, but now I would like to go into the facts and differences. It was a strange experience that I will never forget, and it is a lot different than school in the states.

1. The culture: I believe that there are 3 cultures in the Middle East. There is the womens culture, mens culture, and public culture. It is interesting when you enter a place that only allows women, you feel part of this secret club. I love to observe situations and found that going to school (being only girls!) felt like a special place. I would love to experience the men's culture as well, but since I ain't no guy. I don't think it is going to happen. However, since I am western girl, I get to do many more things than the girls in the Wadi Rum village.

2. The way the girls dress. When I saw them all line up, they went in a type of time line in dress. The younger girls- little blue frocks over jeans and no head scarf. The little older girls- different blue frocks and some had head scarfs. Older girls- green frocks and all head scarfs. Then oldest (11th and 12th grade) had on long tailored coats that went to their shoes and beautiful head scarfs.

3. The morning announcements. All of the girls lined up silently outside. and said a prayer or pledge of allegiance. Then the principal continued to talk. In the states it is either over a loud speaker and people are not as quiet.

----I think that the size of the school has to do with how the school works, because there are about 200 girls in the entire school. From grades 1-12 (I think).

4. The class rooms. They are not as colorful and exciting. They are very plain and there are no posters or a teachers desk.

5. The way the girls interact in the classroom. They seem excited to learn. For example, the teachers says "And the name of the animal is....?" they would all shout "COW." This was how they interacted with the teacher. Also, when she would ask if someone wanted to answer a question, they would all shoot up their hands and say, "MISS MISS MISS MISS."

(I wondered why they were so excited to learn. In the united states we learn to get into college, and get a job. I thought about what these girls have to work for. Their goals are to have a good family, and maybe some go to a university and work a little, but most not.They learn because they love it. It's extremely inspiring, because our school system kills inspiration and love of learning in me. Because I am not in school, I want to learn and educate myself more. However, when I am in school I do not have that urge.)

(I also felt like an outsider and not very welcome at the school. I think the reason for this is because they do not have much experience and this is something completely new. They don't know how to be outgoing.)

6. The most obvious difference. IT'S ALL IN ARABIC!!!!


Off the topic. OMG! They have the cutest baby goats ever here! They look like little puppies and we got to play with them! Ah-Maze-ZING!

First Day Of School Jitters

Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments! It is so nice to see them and read them!

Last night we had a French family come and sleep in the desert. They had a really sweet little girl, who was 9 years old, and she reminded me of little miss sunshine. Her parents worked for the SNCF (trains and things in France). The mother had the most interesting profession. Before you read on I want you to guess the most random profession you can think of....................................................................................................
She makes furniture out of cardboard!!!! How cool is that?!? She is also a travel writer (something I may want to do in my future). They were so nice, and they even noticed that French people do not seem content. We stayed in the desert 'till about 10:30. We were driven back in a big SUV with plastic on the seats by three doctors. One studied in Algeria, and one in Russia. On the way up we listened to cheesy English 80s songs and Gasolina (if you are older, you may need to ask your teenager about that one =]). Who would ever think that I would be bopping around the desert in the middle east, drinking orange soda, and listening to cheesy 80s songs in an SUV. Who knew? We got home and I was very very very tired. I plopped into bed and was out like a rock. I was planning on going to school tomorrow, and I was very scared that I would be too tired to go. I woke up fine and put on my best outfit for school. I still looked like a hiker, but oh well. Eptisam and I ate breakfast and headed out. We walked out of the driveway and turned to go into the little shop. There was a steady flow of girls coming in and out of the shop with little black plastic bags filled with paprika potato chips, Cheeto's, chocolate wafers, and cookies. I immediately noticed that everyone had on a uniform. The older girls I saw wore green coats, and then group below wore a blue and the group of girls even younger wore a blue variation. The older girls came and greeted Eptisam and she began talking to them. They looked at me with surprise and bewilderment. It was very uncomfortable, so what do I do when I am in a weird situation??? Smile. You got it! I always smile uncomfortably when I don't know what to say or someone is staring at me, anytime I feel awkward. Eptisam left me without a word and walked into the shop. I was left standing out in my tallness and little girls in blue jackets and strawberry shortcake backpacks walked past. Their eyes were magnetically drawn to my western face and uncomfortable aura. I realized that the reason I was uncomfortable was not because some of these girls had head dresses or looked different. It was just school jitters. I was the new girl and I knew nobody. I just looked around and did what??? Smiled. My mom was standing at the edge of the driveway just looking at me with her camera at her side. I felt like it was the first day of kindergarten. (Thanks mom!) Eptisam came out of the store finally and her and her friends started walking away. I trotted over to them (yeah not exactly trot, more like awkward fast walking) and we came to the school which is only about 20 meters away. I got a glimpse of the school yard and there were tons of girls gossiping, kids doing homework, playing soccer. In the activities aspect, It looked like a normal school. We walked in and I followed behind. The girl's school is made of two buildings. On the left there are small classrooms with a tiny little awning. There are about 4 rooms and they are constructed out of cinder blocks. On the right is the school building that has more classrooms. The area between the two buildings is all covered in speckled while tiles. It takes a little dip when you walk closer to the larger school building. All of little girls were playing with a soccer ball in the lower half of the school yard. Everyone was looking at me. EVERYONE! I was about a head taller than everybody. Quite a nice view from the top I must say =] It felt like the first day of school just by the way that people interacted with me and the looks. I have changed schools a lot and I know the feeling. I felt out of my element, not in the sense that I was in the middle east, just the fact that I was in a different school. I was a magnet for everyone. I would have little girls come and stand around me and look at me. We would tell each other our names and then smiles. I felt comfortable in the sense that I was in a different world. This was something that men could not experience, which make me feel secretive and special. There were some women were completely coved with a burqua (face completely covered in black, only eye slits). It was a little strange at first. There was a signal and all of a sudden everyone rushed to the dipped part of the school yard, in front of the school house. All of the girls began to line up into their classes. I was very confused and stood in the front, then noticed everyone was lined up and quickly scurried to the side. I noticed that as the girls got older the dress got different. The youngest girls had on the blue coats and no hair cover, a little older some had their hair covered and different blue coats, then the older girls with green coats and hair covers, and the oldest had on well tailored long jackets and looked very beautifully poised. They began to recite thing and then apparently had their morning announcements. I was studying all the girls and noticed that a little girl had a tiny boy in front of her. He was big chestnut eyes and wore a cute little orange shirt. She had her hands on his shoulders as his eyes went here and there. He looked so cute, he could have been in a TV commercial. There was a signal and Eptisam told me to follow her. We walked into the school building which was very dark because the lights were all turned off. We pasted the office/teachers lounge, and made our way into a nice size class room. The only problem was that the desks were tiny. They looked like antique desks that would have been used in the deep south. Eptisam told me to come sit in between her and her friend. I was in quite a shock because that bench was tiny! I squeezed into the bench and her friend sat down next to me. In came a woman with a white head scarf and a very young face. She did not look at me or smile at me. She spoke in Arabic and one thing after another I was riding a small wave of girls into a science room. It looked just like mine science room back in the states. The hard counter tops with faucets in the center, electrical outlets, and cupboards. In the back of the room was a glass case (nothing in it) and big blue cupboards. The only thing different about this room was that it was very barren.The only color on the wall was the bottom half, which was dark blue and one poster about beach birds. In my school they are covered with inspirational posters that everyone likes to make fun of. We settled in and they were studying the elements and putting them together. I noticed that there was a division in the lessons. There were 4 girls that were studying batteries. The way the class interacted with the teacher was very different. They would chant the words during the lesson, and when they would want to answer a question they would all shoot their hands up and say "miss, miss, miss" They seemed very excited to learn, but they also had a very small class compared to the states. I would take a look outside and see the amazing landscape a have an inside giggle because when I look at the whole situation in retrospect it just sound funny. I have been to school with a Muslim girl in the Wadi Rum desert of Jordan. How cool. I am very lucky. After the class, Eptisam took me to the principle to say thank you. They were all very nice and I walked home. I had been very nervous and just being in a school made me realize that I did not miss school. I like doing my school on internet and traveling. It reminds me that school is around the corner so I need to make the most of my time left.

Part 3

We woke up the next morning and enjoyed some more tea, pita, cheese, some sugary thing, and many more. Every meal in the desert is like a paradise buffet. The amazing thing is that the cook only cooks in a tiny room about the size of a broom closet, with only a tiny stove top. The food he makes is fabulous (love that word). Well, when we stepped out of the tent we were in quite a shock. The desert was surreal. We had arrived in the dark so we had not seen anything. The desert sands were a burnt red that glistened in the yellow sun. The ripples of the sand reminded me of the ocean, the way that they dipped up and down with perfection. I try not to walk on those parts of the sand because I feel like I am interrupting beauty, or trampling on serenity. (Doesn’t settle very well in my conscience). The sky was bluer than any sky I had ever seen, and against this magnificent backdrop, jagged stone mountains burst through the ground with power and force. The beauty of this place is so powerful, that it seems almost unreal. (I will be working very hard one day and have to stop myself and look up at what an amazing place I am in). The stones are layered and the tops are smoothed from countless years of wind.. We drove back to the camp settled into our room. We had three girls come to go into the desert and they decided to take a 6 hour jeep tour, stay the night, then ride the camels back. That meant that we were the ones that were going to get to ride the camels! I was very excited! We hung out with the family until it was time and I had a very weird experience happen to me. The oldest son, Jaqura, came into the room that Eptisam and I were in. I had never seen him before, but I could tell he was her brother by the way she spoke with him. It was only us in the room. He was to my left, leaning against the wall, and Eptisam on my right, sitting behind the heater. They were talking very fast but every couple seconds I would catch the word “English,” in Arabic. I just sat there with my head down, as they talked very frantically about me for about 5 to 10 min. The brother would just not move so I got up and went back to the hostel. I met this Danish girl that had just come back from a trek, and there he was leaning on the wall at the hostel. It was very hard to concentrate on the conversation I was having with her because he was just standing there looking at us. She was also wearing a tank top and had no problem with showing her body. My mom came back with our backpacks and we headed over to the camels. Zed was waiting for us with them. He motioned for my mom to come on the giant one and she went and sat on it. The funny thing about camels is that when they sit down, they look like their legs have been amputated because they lie so flat. I started walking towards another camel but it then turned its head and went, “BAAAAAAHHHH.” It sounded like a monster and I stumbled back. Zed motioned for me to come sit on it. I swung my leg over the saddle. The camel started to get up and I was holding on for dear life. I swayed back and fourth until I was very very high. Then we were off! The desert is so quiet and beautiful, and I think that camel is the best way to travel to really take in the beauty of the place. The camel in front of me, Zed’s, was extremely gassy, and kept eating bushes every 5 seconds. As my mom mentioned in her blog, “ We do a camel back belly dance.” If you can imagine that swaying up and down, that’s a camel. After about 20 min my legs started to really hurt. I was not able to focus on the scenery because I was trying to do a mind over matter thing with my legs. After about 1 hour of pain, my mom noticed that Zed would flip his leg over the camels neck. It really helped! We arrived at the camp and hiked around a little bit. It began to get too cold, so we headed to the fire. The 3 girls were already around the fire and we settled in and talked for a bit. After a while, a stead flow of random people came into the tent. Then, 3 guys from Japan came in. They had booked with another guide, but his camp was not set up yet, so they were staying at Mohammed’s. After lots of talking, more eating, and even more tea, we were very comfortable. The tent was packed and alive. I was quiet and stared at the fire for sometime. Then, out of the blue, the guide of the Japanese guys, asked me “Are you an artist?” I was startled and asked him what he meant. He said that he could see in my eyes that I was an artist by the way that I took in every moment. My mom said that I wrote. I like to write, but I don’t think I am anything special. It was nice to hear it. The man that told me was actually an award winning poet, a massage therapist, computer teacher, and a Bedouin guide. It’s very impressive and his poems sounded very beautiful in Arabic. Later on in the night, the music started! Men started playing the lute and playing the drum. Everyone started clapping and finally the men started dancing with each other. It was a little scarring actually. They would shake their chests and bop off beat. Hilarious. They pulled my mom up and she gave me her tea glass. I was then forced to slam the tea glasses together and spill it all over me. Dancing here is great because everyone doesn’t know what to do, and the Bedouin men dance off beat. After getting out of breath we headed back to the hostel (because there was not enough room in the cars in the morning) and got a good nights rest.

Got to get it out

Have you ever had the urge to tell someone a secret, draw a picture, make a cupcake, or sing a song. I have had this urge in my chest, like my heart is trying to escape my chest or climb up my throat (very weird image, but oh well!). I need to write. I need to tell someone about how I am feeling and how I am changing. It is like a wave that I can't resist and my body and mind are forced to put it on paper or tell someone. 

I have only been here for about a week and already I feel like I have changed. Something in my soul has flipped. My mind is clearer, and I feel reborn in a strange way. I don't look different, I don't smile different, I am still me, but I have changed. I open up to people and talk easier now. I have gotten out of the habit of saying "Like" every 5 seconds, and can communicate with adults and sound semi-interesting.  When we first arrived I was not very talkative and when tourists would come I would just sit down, smile,  and act really awkward.  Now, I engage in the conversation and love to help Mohammed get tourists to understand why his business is the best and helps the bedouin people. My sentences move more freely, and my thoughts just flow. I like to write because I can think about what I want to say, and no one is pressuring me by looking at me and waiting for me to say something. I can be funnier, smarter, and I am able to express what I truly want to say when I write. Now, I am able to connect my thoughts and put them into sentences a lot easier because i talk to people so much more. I was kind of a hermit and when I did speak it was okay for me to make mistakes because I was learning, but in english, I have no excuse.  I have also changed my way of looking at living situations. When I first got here and saw the rooms of the hostel, it was just a couple mattresses and some blankets. Not many amenities. It took a couple days for it to settle in, but now I say "hey, thats all I need." In america, we waste so much. Here, they keep everything because they can always find a use for it. Even a tiny shard of mirror could be used later, and they keep it. The whole family eats with their hands around a big tray on the floor. I now think. "Hey thats all I need." My way of viewing life on a personal possession level is so different because I don't want more clothes, make up, shoes, etc, because I have everything I need. These people are happy and they get by with such little things that it makes me wonder why Americans need all of it. Huge dining rooms that no one uses, closets full of clothes they don't wear, its disgusting to see how wasteful we are. I have changed because I cannot go back to the states and live the same life, when I think about the people of rum and all that they need. When we came on this trip, I wanted a shock, and boy did I get it. I LOVE IT! Everyone needs to see how other people live because you change for the better and learn to live your life more simply. I am thinking of starting an account where people can donate money, then I will go out and  buy school supplies for the children. Some children go to school without a pen or a pencil, which is wrong! They are amazing kids, bright, and full of life. They deserve to at least be able to go to school with a pencil. I want to try to get people involved to help support the wonderful bedouin life. If you have any ideas, please comment!!!! Our planet needs to keep our cultural diversity, and especially support these wonderful people that have renowned hospitality and  so much love.

Part 2

We arrived into Rum at night and we stopped in the visitor’s center. (We have found out that the visitor’s center is bad and takes away from the Bedouin people of Rum and the government sucks up all the money. Mohammed Sabah was actually the first person to ever have a sunset camp, then the government saw that it was a good idea and put up the visitors center farther away from the town to take up all the business.) We walked inside to the police desk and we sat down. We braced ourselves for an interrogation, but were poured tea and asked questions about how we liked Jordan and what why we were coming to Wadi Rum. They all had smiles and gave a good impression of the people. We hopped back into the car and drove 7 km to Wadi Rum. We asked a few people where to find Mohammed Sabah and finally found the house. We met Mohammed Hussein who gave us tea, and we then met the rest of the family. Suddenly we heard a noise outside and the girls quickly jolted and ushered us to another room. I turned my head and saw Mohammed and another man walk into the room. We went into the rest of the house and sat down. We met the children and drank more tea, then all of a sudden a very tall Caucasian girl popped into the room. It was Sara! She is Australian and so much fun. She asked us if we wanted to spend a night here or in the desert. We readily replied that we were ready to head out! We followed her and Mohammed Hussein to a jeep and bopped out into the darkness on an adventure. I felt like I was riding a little roller coaster, bumping around on the sand dunes. I could see the outline of the jagged rock cliffs that looked superimposed on a blanket of stars. I have never seen so many stars in my entire life. Its hard to pick out constellations because the sky is cluttered with stars. (I like to just stand in the sand and look up in awe because I can really see God and the universe in the Wadi Rum desert). We got to the camp and went into a round tent where there were men huddled around a fire. We got introduced to everyone and then the cook brought out 5 plates of food for us. (Now that’s some hospitality!) We walked out to the tents which were black and made of goat hair. They were peaceful and had mattresses and blankets perfectly arranged in the tent. We snuggled under the heavy blankets and went to sleep. It took at while to get to sleep because we had so many cups of tea that our bodies were shaking from the caffeine and sugar.

Part 1

Here is part 1 of our first days in Jordan

Jordan. Jordan. Jordan. Whew. We arrived in Frankfort and were very lazy during our time in “Airport City.” When we arrived at the gate, the crowd that was getting on the plane was not what I had expected. I had expected lots of middle eastern looking people wearing headdresses, siting solitarily, and not saying a word. Instead, there were only two women wearing headdresses and the rest of the people looked like they were from America. It was reassuring to see westerners and my anxiety settled. We took our seats on the plane, and met a Jordanian man living in Canada. He was coming to visit his family, and readily provided us with tips. My mom and him talked while I went to the back of the airplane and sprawled out across a row. The stars were amazing outside of the window. The moon was a little perfect thumbnail that gave of an amazing luminous light, while the stars cluttered the sky. I can never sleep on airplanes. Once we got off of the plane, our Jordanian friend helped us get throught customs. We saw a man with a sign with our names on it, so we headed towards him. He then switched cards with a man standing next to him and he motioned for us to follow him. At first I was quite scared and I was confused because this was our first time to the Middle East and we were being wizzed off by a man who was not holding the sign with our name. My heart was beating a million time a minute as we walked outside to his car, which did not look like a typical taxi, and had our bag thrusted into the trunk. While we were in the car, we talked to him and he showed us his card, which confirmed that he was legitimate taxi driver, and we told him we were from America. Now, I was very hesitant to tell people that we were from America but he just smiled and said that he had been a couple times and his brother had owned a supermarket in New York. Go figure! We dove on the highway and I would see little clusters of light and then wide open darkness. It was quite a shock when we reached Madaba because the shops were dirty, and there was trash everywhere. We got to the hotel and passed out as soon as our heads heads hit the pillow. In the morning, we ate breakfast and got ready to head out into the town. When we first went outside, I felt my body get filled up with fear. There were groups of men riding around in large cars with checkered headdresses, and women completely covered in black from head to toe. As we explored the town, I felt everyones eyes on me, and my mom told me that my hands were firmly glued to my sides. I felt very uncomfortable, but I tried to fake that I was happy and peaceful. A lady at the hotel recommended that we go eat at a café that she said was very good, so we went. As we entered the café we noticed that everyone in the café were traditionally dressed and they were all men. We ate falafel and drank lemon juice. In a matter of 5 min the entire restaurant took a drastic turn and was filled with foreigners. Very strange. We made our way back to the hotel and picked up our taxi to go to Wadi Rum. It was the same taxi driver that picked us up from the airport. We hopped inside and we were off to Wadi Rum! The driver would stop in the village and talk to random people on the street. I was a little confused, but he then turned around and told us that his family was one of the first families to every live in Madaba, so he knew everyone. The drive to Wadi Rum was very interesting, especially the highway. There were goats grazing on the side as cars zoomed by at 80mph. At one point, we stopped abruptly infront of a little tin shack. Our driver got out and asked us if we wanted anything to drink. He then came out with snacks, coke, water, and cookies. If I had been driving on the road, I would have not recognized that it was a place to buy food. They don’t have supermarkets in Jordan, just little shops. As we made our way down the country there were lots of pictures of the king posted on shops. Driving down is an experience everyone should experience and not come into with any expectations.

Tip of the Iceberg

Well, it has been some time since I have written. So much has happened since we have arrived that I have no time to think, process, and then blog about. I will start with a list of the people we will be living with and be around, probably butchering names.

Sara- Australian, helping family

Emileen- French, helping family

Mohammed Sabah – head of household and owner of Sunset Camp

Eptisam- oldest daughter 16

Jareher- second oldest daughter 13

Jaqura- oldest son 17

Mohammed Hussein- owner of wadi rum adventures, nephew of Mohammed S



Now for everyone we have met

3 flight attendants for Emerites Airline

1 Girl from London

1 Girl from Scotland

2 Guys from Chile

2 Guys from Germany

1 Guy from Russia

1 Couple from Sweden

3 Guys from Japan

2 Girls from Hong Kong

1 Couple and child from France


We either sleep in the hostel which is just a room with some mattresses and blankets, or we sleep in the desert in the Bedouin tents. The food is absolutely amazing. I have no idea what is in it, but I just pile it on and chow down. The main ingredients are lentils, tomatoes, potatoes, pita bread, cauliflower, and all this other good stuff. I will have to take a picture. This post will just be a brief overview of what is going on in Wadi Rum and tommorow or tonight I will write more. I live in the present now and don’t have time to reminisce about the past. I will start writing our event of traveling from Madaba to Wadi Rum and everything up to present.

I am Safe

Hey everyone, I am in Wadi Rum and completely safe. So far I have slept in the desert, been on a camel, and have become a bedouin. I am so glad I am here and feel very safe. I will write more later. I just don't have much time to write as of the moment.

Bisous,

Bailey

Le Cafe

Salut tout le monde!

I have conquered the mighty mountain!
I have slain the hideous beast.
I have packed!

Well, I must say that it would be my mom who packed. However, I did contribute and I packed my large back pack and my small back pack. Today, it was a slow day in the south of France. I did not have time to be spiritual, nature loving, or productive. I was a teenager. I sat around, looked at things on the computer [educational, of course, on the election], listened to music, ate, and packed. Today we went to the cafe in the village and I would like to share a story of this experience. Usually I just walk in and walk out but today was different, I took a step back and observed the scene. Here we go!

We were trudging up the cobblestone sidewalk, huffing and puffing, until we had reached the cafe. It was a shabby looking cafe, and you couldn't even tell if it was open or not. The outside tables were stowed away, the chairs folded in the corner, and the ice cream signs flipped around. We walked through the door and it already felt French. The place was dimly lit, and the walls seeped out the smell of smoke and alcohol like venomous snakes. I glanced to my right and saw that there was a very strange furry thing pushed from the door. It was a contraption that would usually be found hanging straight down from the door, for decoration. Most people have commonly seen these where they are made of beads, or made of bamboo to show a scenery. I wish it were that clean. Instead, it was long furry strands that reminded me of extra long cat tails. The fur was dusty and smelled like the carpeting you would find in an old 70's house that hasn't been touched since. It was striped with orange and yellow and I found my face all scrunched up as I looked at this hideous dirty thing. There were two rooms to this cafe. The first room had no tables, but there was a little kids art easel, and some toys. The second room was more lively. There were magazine racks in the beginning of the room that held Marie Claire, travel magazines, French gossip, and some x-rated magazines that were displayed on a shelf that was visible to every eye that scanned the racks. [Oh pun!] It was gross and was way to publicly displayed, a mon avis, but thats the French. There were little kid magazines that were in plastic sleeves with dinky toys that would probably occupy a child for an average of 20 min. [I need to stop with this French bashing, I guess you can see how I feel about my experience here so far. Not very good.] I found the reason I entered this cafe, in a little bin full of lollipops. You are never to old to buy lollipops. Like a kid, my mommy [not saying "mom," but "mommy"] said that if I went with her to the cafe, she would buy me a lollipop! Yay! My mom had come to get money out of her account, cause our village has no bank. I selected my lollipops and began to observe the cafe some more. I turned around from the bin and was greeted by a huge hanging boar head! It was a big one and I couldn't help but stare. I grew up in the South and I had seen animal heads every where, but this one made me stop. It was so low to the ground, I could get a really good look at it. Its eyes were completely black, and the fur was a little fritzy [making that word up because its fur was fritzy, just fritz, fritz, fritz, not fur], and its mouth looked like it was in mid sentence. This was a big boar. A REALLY BIG BOAR! It had a monstrous neck and its snout was very dignified and noble. I imagine it was a beautiful animal when it was alive. I started to feel very sad for this boar because maybe it had a family. When I was in Corsica, I had turned around just in time to see two baby boars scuttle across the hiking path. They are very adorable and I couldn't help but wonder if that boar had little cute babies as well. I was not in the mood to be sad, so I turned my attention to the bar. The bar was pretty normal looking and I spotted some bottles of Pastis that looked very old. Hopeful, they just reused the bottle. There were four men at the bar. They all looked like men who did physical labor because of their pants with mud stains and tan wrinkled skin. They were all just having a beer and chatting. Now, I bet that an American man would not be caught drinking beer from their glasses. They were not very manly, but instead had a very nice tall U shape, with a little bottom that smoothed out very elegantly. I could not imagine seeing someone in the states drinking out of that glass, maybe a girl, but not a working man. I have grown up in a family that enjoys beer [not in the alcoholic sense!] and have had my tights used to brew beer when I was 6 [yeah Dad, I haven't forgot. I sometimes use this excuse to my dad to do something for me. tricky tricky. It pays to have a good memory!]. I also find it very strange that a Cafe, sells alcohol. In the states, a cafe sells croissants, coffee, and chai tea. The bar lady looked like she smoked a lot. Her skin had a gray tint and she looked very old. I knew that she was not that old because I had seen her daughter, who was very adorable, by the way. Once we had payed for the lollipops and gotten our money, we were ready to leave. We walked past the boar, magazine racks, and the funny cat tail door doohicky. The air was a lot fresher once we stepped outside, and we headed home. My sweatshirt still smells like smoke. Yuck!


I just want to say one last thing. I want to know who is reading my blog, so please comment below! Take off the mask Darth Vader, I already know my dad reads this.

Bisous,

Bailey

Pack it up

Packing, packing
Go away
Please don't come back any day
If you do, I will care
I'll try to forget you were ever there

Oh dear, my mom has just entered the premises with a backpack. Yikes!

On the lighter side

Well today's post is not as deep as my last post. Want to switch things up with some funny. I have been counting down the days now till we embark on our journey to Jordan. It will be very interesting just getting there! Here is a list to show you the switches।
1.Take bus from Grambois to La tour D'Aigue
2. 10 min wait
3. Hop onto school bus from La Tour D'Aigue to Aix en Provence
4. 30 min wait
5. Take bus from Aix en Provence to Marseille airport
6. Take plane from Marseille to Frankfurt (Airport city =])
7. 9 hour layover in Frankfurt
8. Take plane from Frankfurt to Amman, Jordan. Arrive around 2 AM (yikes!)
9. Take taxi from Amman to hotel
10. Sleep
11. Take taxi from hotel to Wadi Rum

THEN FINALLY WE ARE THERE!
whew!

As you can see, we have a 9 hour layover in Frankfurt, or as they like to call it "Frankfurt Airport city." Oh goodness. Well, we are planning on doing a little shopping to stock up on some outdoor gear while we are in the airport city. We checked out the website and saw that they have an outdoor store, but they also have......A THEME SONG! It is the cheesiest and most amazing thing I have seen. It's so bad, it's good. It's a very nice little laugh and I am sure that it will be stuck in your head for the rest of the day. I'm still trying to get it out of mine.

It was a beautiful day today in the south of France. I took a good half hour and watched the sunset from my bedroom window. I have a heater right underneath the window which allows me to stay out for a long time and still be warm. The sunsets in France seem so much more magical than they do in the United States. Maybe, it is because I live in suburbia and we are engulfed by the smog of New York City, or I just haven't noticed them. Tonight, the sky looked like sherbet or if you're feeling fancy, "sorbet." Going from my right to my left and then down, the color scheme went; a mix of hot pink and light blue (cotton candy swirl, yummy!), to orange streaks, to a layer of aqua blue, then at the bottom was a gradient of yellow that got deeper at the horizon. It was a magnificent sight. I am going to miss these sunsets, but I get hope when I look at picture of sunsets in Wadi Rum. They are magnificent. There is no light pollution or grey smog to prevent their sunsets. I am looking forward to that because I guess I have become a sunset fanatic. It has to be my favorite time of the day. The sky is beautiful, dinner is just around the corner (thats my stomach typing there!), and all the good TV shows will be on soon. Ha! Gotta have my Heroes, Lost, and How I met your mother. If you get the chance, try and watch the sunset. It's very soothing and I find that it is the only time of the day where I don't think. That may sound funny, but you try to just not think. I try sometimes, but I realize that I am thinking about... not thinking! Sorry if that confused you. =]

I have also come to a smiley decision today. I like smiley faces that have " ] " as their mouth, not " ) ". It think it looks better and I like to use them in my blog a lot because I smile a lot in person.

Sorry for rambling about non-Jordan thingies. I will get back to the subject at hand. I have not packed my suit cases yet. I am a horrible packer, also a lazy one. I have a general idea of what I am going to pack, but I usually wait 'till the last possible minute. I have also been working on my Arabic speaking skills. Not coming along too smoothly. If you want to say "no" you have to make the noise like you are saying "le" like a very snooty French person. "Leeeeehhh" It will be quite a shock to see the very strange letters instead of what I am typing now. I don't even think of them as letters, in my mind they are more like loops. Loopidy Loopidy Loop. When you read Arabic you are supposed to read it right to left, but read numbers left to right. Wierd huh?

(Or maybe our "letters" are weird) Cue Twilight Zone music. do do do do...

I would also like to say thanks for people that read my blog! If you want to share my blog with friends please feel free, because I want to share my knowledge and experience in the middle east with as many people as possible. I also write pretty long posts, so maybe I will write shorter posts more frequently, but so far this is what is floatin' my boat. Well I hope you enjoy the "Frankfurt Airport City," theme song!

bisous.

Cherry on Top

I just wanted to add one more thing to my last post.

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/204


This is a beautiful, inspiring, and funny TED talk that should be shared with the world to empower women.

woohoo

Ice Cream for Peace

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7223769.stm

Everyday we are bombarded with sad news and it forces us to become numb to the atrocities committed in the world around us. There is violence and turmoil everywhere, and these acts are started by just a small group of people. I have been blind to the situation in the Middle East. All I knew was this; that people were dying, Saddam Hussein was a horrible man who tortured people, and that women were oppressed. I had heard the name Taleban a few times, but all in all, that part of our world was a mystery to me. This upcoming trip to Jordan has already taught me so much. I have learned more about the situation in the Middle East in the past week than I ever had before. Before, I used to look at the NY times or the Washington Post and see "Middle East News" then just skip over the article because I knew it was sad. Now, when something says Middle East, I read it. Then yesterday, I read that horrible article about two women suicide bombers in two different Iraqi markets. I had read about the bombings but finding out that they were done by mentally disabled women by a remote detonator struck me to my core. I don't know if it is due to the solitude of being in France (not being bombarded with news), or my new found interest in the Middle East, but I was deeply effected. I was laying next to my mom on the bed and passed the computer over to her to give my eyes a break from my English lesson. We started to discuss the Taleban and how women were forced into their homes and were made to feel like dirt. They were forced from their jobs, given no health care, and had no freedoms. They could not even go out their front door without a male escort. The craziest thing was that they were not allowed to eat ice cream!!!! Now, these women abided by the Taleban laws because they had children. It's hard to be brave and put your life on the line when you have children who count on you at home. I had not been educated in the depth of this situation ever before. It just goes to show how bad our school system is when we focus on matricies instead of the world around us. (Actually being in France makes me wish that the school day went longer like they do here in France, t'ill 5 or 6. Change the way schools view after school sports and activities and incorporate them into the school day. Maybe then we would be more educated than this ---http://youtube.com/watch?v=fJuNgBkloFE ) Anyway, my Mom then started clicking around a website and turned to me and told me that the two women that bombed the Iraqi markets were mentally disabled and had been set off by a remote. I am going to write down the story that played through my head in those minutes that followed. I felt my heart sink in my chest and my cheeks start to tremble. It was like the story had triggered my heart and tear ducts to just automatically release. Tears started to stream down my face (I get emotional writing about it) as this story just kept playing in my head. I had just learned so much about the women in Afghanistan being oppressed, and my heart was so sad that these poor women unknowingly went on a suicide mission. That's not suicide, that is murder. So now I will tell the story that played through my head as this news sank into me. This is not what happened but this is what my imagination played out.


Tension was high in the room. This was something that had not been done before and the men were tingling with excitement for the day ahead. One of their friends had found two mentally disabled women and was bringing them in for their fitting today. The leader glanced down at his watch as his keffiyeh fell into his face. He brushed it away and jerked his head to the door as the door handle turned. They finally had arrived. The two women were escorted by 3 men who threw them inside the dark room. Their eyes stayed glued to the floor with embarrassment and fear. They had never seen any of these men and wanted to go home. What were they doing? The leader then smiled at them and led them to sit down on the two chairs in the middle of the room. He knew he would have to be forceful and get the job done. He ordered his men to open up the boxes carefully and prepare the vests. Now he snapped his fingers and the three men who escorted the women took of their burqas and undressed them The leader smirked to himself. It was all going according to plan. The vests were slipped on to them one arm at a time, then the explosives were placed. The leader went to the window and looked out of the curtain and sighed as he watched the people walking below. He was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder and he spun around to see his accomplishment. The women were ready. Their clothes draped around them perfectly so the guards would not suspect a thing. The room was cleared and they stepped out into the sunlight.

It was a beautiful day in Bahgdad and the hot desert sun filtered through the city. People walked up and down the streets with purpose. The Friday call to prayer would be soon and everyone was out doing some shopping and meeting friends beforehand. Two jeeps were waiting outside and one woman was placed in each car. The women were bewildered and they wondered why they had been taken into that room and why they felt so heavy? What was this black thing they were wearing. The two mentally disabled women were scared. Little did the know, their lives were going to end very soon and the confusion would be over. The leader motioned to one man who was climbing into the car after one woman. He handed him a black package and then turned and climbed into the other car.

They drove past the street vendors, tea shops, and occasionally some US soldiers. The leader whipped his head around with disgust at the soldiers and kept his eyes on the road. He was going to become very respected in a few minutes. He turned and looked at the woman with her head hung down. He felt a surge of sadness but quickly repressed it by remembering what his mentor had told him about regret of that sort. The jeep turned and they had reached their destination. The market was bustling with people shouting orders, the sound of camels, donkeys, and birds. The market was alive and it was a good time of the day for business. The leader was satisfied with himself. He turned to the woman and told her to go into the market and wait for them. She did not understand and looked at him with a puzzled look on her face. Her dark brown eyes soft and innocent searching his face for answers. He tried explaining to her, but her confusion made him impatient and he pushed her out of the car and pointed to the busy market. She turned around but the car was gone. She began walking to the market. She was camouflaged by the throng of people and when she got to the guards they let her pass. She looked around quickly for familiar faces, and got scared. She started to panic. People mistook her for a beggar, but she just wanted someone to help her find her home. Her mental disability prevented her from getting her thoughts straight. However, someone was watching her, the leader saw her through the stalls. His dark eyes watched her as she struggled to find help. He was ashamed at the sadness he felt for her and then remembering the greater good, whipped his head around and walked away. When safely out of sight from anyone, he took out the small black package and stared down at it. He turned around and saw that there were lots of people walking around her and without a thought he pressed the button. A blaze of hatred, fear, and innocence erupted from the marketplace. He quickly dialed his cellphone and told the person on the other line to "wait 20 min then go". The second act was done. Murder.

This story haunted my thoughts for the rest of the day and made me make a pact with myself to help prevent horrible acts such as these. I want to be a messenger of peace. Now, I want to leave one thing with you when you exit this blog. Everyone wants peace, more people want peace than people want violence. So what has stopped us?? And, why can't we have peace when so much of the world wants it?

Fear

Fear.
This word brings me so many questions and feelings that I feel like I must spit them out! BLAH! When I think of the word fear, I think about my trip in 7 days to Jordan, about people telling me not to go, about the possibility of terrorists, and I feel scared. The messages that people are telling me make me happy and angry, and because I am a teenager, it is affecting me. A lot. People tell me not to go because they care about me and want me to be safe, but I am angry because I don't want people being negative and making this trip harder than it already is. I am also angry because they don't understand what this trip means to me on an educational and spiritual level. On a spiritual level this trip is a barrier in my conscious. I have always felt the need to break through my fear and be free. Many people may look at me and think that I already have reached this, by going to France, and are probably shocked that I am going to Jordan. Well, I have not reached this point of epiphany and freeness. I want it so bad and this entire year I have tasted it, just haven't had the chance to really grasp it. In my mind, I play a little fantasy of me standing in a dark room and a blank wall right in front of me. All of a sudden, that wall starts to get filled with pictures of people who have made me cry, caused me pain, and put me down. I close my eyes and take in all of that sadness and fear. Then, as in any good movie scene, I plainly open my eyes, I stare head on at the wall, and, without saying a word, I lift up my hands and shatter the wall like Moses parting the Red Sea. I am free. As I step beyond the wall, I am greeted by mossy green grass that carpets rolling hills and makes a bed for wonderful wildflowers. This is how I imagine my freedom, very innocent, welcoming, and a little bit hippy too. =] My freedom is running barefoot through hills, dancing, picking up flowers, laughing, swimming, and feeling happy. (If that is not a hippy thing to say, then I don't know what is!) In this little fantasy world, I can escape. It may be for a minute or two, but it helps me push on. I want to find my sense of freedom by going to Jordan. I need to prove to myself that I can be strong and go beyond my fear. Now, that doesn't mean I am going to be stupid while in Jordan, because if you think that, you are seriously mistaken and, in fact, rather insulting to me. After countless hours of research and reading about women's experiences in Jordan, my Mom and I know the ins and outs. Now, if anything crazy were to happen to me, it would not be because we were acting stupid and frolicking through the streets in Abercrombie skirts singing America the Beautiful. No. We know what we have to do to stay safe. The rest is out of our hands, and that is something I have most definitely learned.
I now look at scary and traumatic events in my life differently. It is just the course my life has to take. If our car had not been completely burned by the man committing suicide next to it, in Florence Italy, this whole trip would have never been dreamed of. Now, I must admit that this entire year (if you have no idea what I am talking about, my mom and I are taking a year to go live in France, but that plan has changed) I felt like there was just one step that we were not taking. The trip had not been taken to the next level, and frankly I was rather disappointed and angry. Now I will only confide this once, but when my mom and I first saw our car completely burnt and destroyed, the third thing that went through my mind was "YAY!" This may sound completely bizarre, but for a second I was actually happy. My slow solitary life in France just had a surprising JOLT (most of you probably think I am crazy because we were traveling every couple weeks, but...). I was also feeling shock and being completely scared, but for a second, my sub-conscious was screaming, woohooo, this is going to bring change. During that second of joy I knew that things were going to be okay and we would be propelled to something good. Now 2 seconds later, I was crying and thinking that this was the end of the world. But now that I look back on the whole incident, I know that my sub-conscious was right.

These past couple days I have been trying not to think about the Jordan trip because I have no idea what to expect, and I don't want to expect anything. I don't want to make any statements about the country before I have been there. The only thing that I can expect out of this trip is that I will learn a lot. It is a completely different culture because it is dominated by Islam. (uh Duh, Bailey!) But, I have even noticed huge differences between France and the United states, so yeah, I think there will be quite a few differences between USA and Jordan. I hope that in this blog, I can provide a little window into my trip. Not just what I am doing, but the emotional ride that accompanies it, and all of my observations. I hope it will be interesting enough.

Bisous,

Bailey


P.S. I would like to share a quote that my mom told me about 2 hours after we found our car completely burnt, and I was having a lot of anxiety about what God wanted and that all of our plans were ruined. She said....


"If you want to make God laugh, make plans."