“Off-book at two months?!? Who do you think we are, Bogart and Hepburn?”

We’re not in Colorado anymore, Juwad. And this week Rayjahn let us know it by mandating nightly written assignments in which we do not consult our books (the dictionary is OK, though). They have ranged from essays about our daily schedules in Colorado to instructions on preparing a meal to discussing a trip that we have taken within Jordan. For our test on Friday (I would discuss it more here, but we are both still bruised and limping) she gave us the weekend to write about any topic we like. Daph is elaborating on her experience in Guatemala, and especially the beauty of Lago Atitlan, the lake at its center. I wrote a myth about baklawa, and how it was created by a prince in his search for a princess (it sounds deeper than it is).

But things are moving along steadily. We’ve had multiple people over to our house, now, and last night we got to compare American and Turkish-style popcorn (remarkably similar, really, except for the quantity of salt). Our Arabic, too, keeps getting better. Thursday, as we were wrapping up at the language center’s computer lab, we were trying to jot down the Kiddush in Hebrew (let’s just say there’s been some jumping around on the occasional Friday night) when the security guard wandered up and peered over our shoulders, intently examining what we appeared to find so interesting. Well, we thought, we were out-ed. If he knew what it was, though, he didn’t let on, and proceeded to start a 45 minute conversation, in Arabic. Not the deepest of things, but a conversation none-the-less, and quite something given that our first week in Irbid he repeatedly tried to start conversations that typically lasted ten minutes yet successfully communicated less than a full sentence. He did express an interest in coming to America (and marrying Yael in the process), and in showing us around Jordan. He also casually asked if we knew any languages other than English and Arabic, and when we mentioned Spanish and then (Kaleel, kaleel) Chinese, he seemed very content.

The security guard also made the same assumption it seems that everyone does here. You see, Daph and I are together constantly. We go shopping together, we go to class and study together, we go out together, we travel together. On the rare occasion that people see us apart, or even work up the nerve to ask to both of us, we hear: “Sadeekan?” or “Ayna Saddeek-kee/Saddeekatka?” That is, “Are you friends?” or “Where is your friend?” They always appear to be overjoyed when we drop the “married” word. Sometimes they proceed to, more-enthusiastically, re-welcome us to the country.

That, in fact, happened today when we were buying our tickets to enter Ajloun Castle (one-eighth the cost with your student ID!). We chatted with a couple of the workers, and then one asked if we were friends, and when we answered, we finally got the hearty welcome. The baby question, of course, followed, but we still ended up with a ride up the hill to the castle (the worker, en route, was very happy to share that he was an orthodox Christian, but a little disappointed we weren’t Catholic – we’re going the Presbyterian route. . . . best ministers in America, I dare say, “semi-retired” as they are. . . .).

Ajloun Castle, our adventure this week, was beautiful. A castle originally built by Saladin’s nephew in 1184 to protect Northern Jordan from the Franks (the castle had a 16 meter wide moat) and later used by the Mongols, the Mamluks and the Ottomans, it is also known as Qal’at al Rabadh. Stunning in its power, sitting on top of a mountain with views in every direction, the castle gives a sense of power in how far you can see, and at the same time, a sense of how small you are in such a magnificent place. Everywhere the dark green of olive trees hovered over yellow wildflowers, mountains rose up with gardens and beautiful gold and brown rocks, and in the very distance, sits the water that draws the boundary between Jordan and Israel. I felt myself thinking of how many people had died for and in this place – just this single castle on a hill that was built under Saladin – and yet how incredible its existence is. In the castle’s museum, there were glass bottles from 1700 years ago. Glass. Glass that has survived millennia. It felt like a startling statement, seeing the unscathed glass in this crumbling stone war-torn building, about humanity.

Your Arabic phrases of the week:
Welcome! “Ahallan wa- Sa-hallan.” أهلا و سأهلا
The rocket scientist rode the rocket to the stars. “Ra-kabah mohundussu as-Saruchee as-Saruchah ila al-najmat.” ركب مهندس الصروخ الصروخ إلى النخمات