no means no and eat means eat

Over the past couple of days, aside from adjusting to being a pedestrian in an area where cars own the road, the sidewalk and the occasional limb, I've been learning to navigate the well-known difference between the US and the Middle East that is the relationship between men and women.

Everyone on the program attended an orientation session about the culture in Jordan. Apparently, if you are woman and you sit in the front seat of a cab, then you either like the cab driver, are easy, or both. If you go out with your hair wet, you are easy and probably a bit cold. If you are alone with an Arab male, then you may be easy. If you are out with many Arab males, you are definitely easy. If you show your knees or shoulders, you are easy. If you show your boobs or belly, you are easy and people will stare at you. If you are making out with a dude in the street, you are stupid and easy. Most of the tips we got from these sessions could pretty easily be deduced by anyone with an ounce of cultural competency, but I appreciate that the program would rather we be safe than sorry.**

As for the changes that I, personally, need to adjust to, the change in interpersonal touching will be most striking. As a bleeding-heart, Birkenstock-loving, tree-hugging, dreadlock-aspiring, tattoo-coveting, OCF-going, Berkeley-adoring, granola-eating, garden-growing, flannel-wearing liberal, making the transition from hugging, embracing and touching to will be the most difficult difference for me to deal with. I just have so much love to give. It seems, however, that I will find the absent embrace will be replaced by my host mother's benevolently violent fits of excitement and the consumption of food. I think that I will easily adjust to not looking men in the eye when talking to them and avoiding eye contact on the street.

I've now moved in with my family in Amman. Two parents (each on their second marriage), one 19-year-old boy and one 15-year-old boy. The extended family consists of about 35 people, all of whom visit on a regular basis. Hana's (my host mother's) daughter visited with her own adorable daughter last night for what turned out to be a delightful conversation about how old and tired Fairouz is and how Shakira is the way of the future. Perhaps it will soon be time to bring Lil Wayne to the region, but we shall see.

Later that evening was what I hope will be a more typical experience. Hana, Mohammad (my 19-year-old host brother) and I visited Majed's (my host father's) ex-wife, I think, and some of his children. I am not entirely sure what the relationship between everyone was because 'Mama' and 'Hamadee' kept telling me that everyone else is family -- myself included. I look forward to the day that I, as family, will also know how to start the argileh, engage in the gossip and help with the cooking.

I am now stuffed with lunch (I actually might pass out) and need to go out and explore the neighborhood.

More tomorrow,

anneke

**Side note: I sincerely hope that UN officials get better and longer orientation sessions than we did, not because the CIEE orientation was not good but, rather, because UN officials are, theoretically, doing much more important work. If anyone reading this happens to know that this is not the case, please don't share it with me. Or if you do, know that I will just get very, very depressed.