I woke up this morning thinking that I would spend my 17 hour flight to Amman, Jordan brushing up on my Arabic phrases, not my rusty French. However my neat travel plans were somewhat thwarted this morning when, only three hours before my scheduled departure I received a recorded voicemail of a pleasant woman intoning, “We’re sorry, but your flight from San Francisco to New York has been cancelled. Thank you for flying American Airways and have a nice day.” And just like that my easy, direct flight from New York to Amman had to be rescheduled for an Air France flight with a later departure time and longer layover in Paris.
Three long walks around SF International, one bad Chinese food meal and a few nervous hours of waiting on standby later I did get the last seat on an Air France flight that seemed to be composed mainly of French teenagers returning home from a class trip to the States. I sat next to Olivier, one of the French teenagers who pretended not to speak English until about hour eight of the flight. My bad accent and lack of verb conjugation led to confidently telling him that I was traveling to Germany for the fourth time to study political science and the Arabic language. I believe later on in the conversation I also mistakenly commented that I thought the German president was terrible. However, I did understand when, at the end of the flight, the old French woman behind me (who had concluded I couldn’t comprehend French) tell Olivier that I was très jolie (very pretty) and hint that he should ask for my telephoné. The last six hour leg of my flight was composed mainly of Jordanians instead of francophones. Luckily, it went by quickly enough with a meal, a nap and the in-flight movie.
Amman is certainly a very different city in a foreign culture. When I arrived in the Amman airport, jetlagged and tired I was surprised that two women wanted to be tipped for handing me toilet paper to dry my hands in a public restroom. (I would later learn that toilet paper is rare in bathrooms in Jordan). The rather small airport, in addition to having an immigration department, indoor smoking corner, baggage claim and shops also housed a men and women’s prayer room. As the three CIEE employees escorted four of us program participants to the orientation hotel, we looked out at a hilly city dotted with both mosque towers lit green and neon Burger Kings signs. I also witnessed the summer practice of risk-taking Jordanians who camp 10 feet away from the freeway.
The people dress conservatively, covering at least the knees and uppers arms. More women that I expected wear headscarves (the hijab) on the street. It was cool and pleasant in the evening when I arrived. Now I sit in the hotel lobby listening to instrumental arab melodies stream over the sound system. I have an early day of cultural orientation and sightseeing tomorrow. My friend Tina from Point Loma missed one her flights also due to delays so I will not see her until tomorrow.