Last night, Katrina and I were getting pumped for our trip to al balad fi al sabah (downtown in the morning), and we mentioned it to our friend, Ahmed, who immediately mumbled under his breath "so foreign."
I feel like when I first showed up in Amman, I was too caught up in the exciting newness of this city to notice exactly how foreign I was. And then I went through my I-am-learning-Arabic-and-I-have-brown-hair-so-I-totally-fit-in-and-no-one-can-tell-I'm-American phase. But recently, the sheer comical ridiculousness of exactly how foreign I am has really been catching up to me.
Like this morning, when Katrina, Fathme, and I were walking around al balad at 8:30 a.m. with our backpacks when nothing was open, looking in vain for a place to buy kuffiyehs and harem pants. The whole morning was just so ajnab. Just, so, so ajnab.
But especially when Katrina and I tried to take the bus from downtown to the university, which worked out mostly well. We tried to switch in Sweileh, and we got on a bus that obviously did not go all the way to Al Ahliyyih. But the guy on the bus insisted that he would take us there. Because with our bags of full of kuffiyehs, and with the two of us eating plain bread from a plastic bag and talking in loud english, it seemed pretty apparent that we might not make it to school on our own.
And tonight, when Stephanie and I were trying to catch a cab to dinner and this guy in a grey honda circa 1995 pulled over.
Him: "You need taxi?"
Us: "No, we're going. Ma assalama."
Him: "I swear to allah I am taxi!"
We ended up literally running away, and then he followed us in his car that was so obviously not a taxi, until we found an actual taxi. And truthfully, this kind of stuff happens to me all the time. Like random cars pulling over and insisting they are taxi (la, you are not taxi). Or guys following us when we walk to restaurants in the neighborhood. And life would not be complete without about 10 cars driving by every morning while I wait for the bus and honking just to point out that they know that one of these things is not like the other and she's standing on the curb. And, of course, the endless and ever-present ahlan wa sahlan's! that come from all directions.
It's not a bad thing, that I'm so foreign. It just is. It is exhausting, it is frustrating at times, but it is also overwhelmingly hilarious.
I feel like when I first showed up in Amman, I was too caught up in the exciting newness of this city to notice exactly how foreign I was. And then I went through my I-am-learning-Arabic-and-I-have-brown-hair-so-I-totally-fit-in-and-no-one-can-tell-I'm-American phase. But recently, the sheer comical ridiculousness of exactly how foreign I am has really been catching up to me.
Like this morning, when Katrina, Fathme, and I were walking around al balad at 8:30 a.m. with our backpacks when nothing was open, looking in vain for a place to buy kuffiyehs and harem pants. The whole morning was just so ajnab. Just, so, so ajnab.
But especially when Katrina and I tried to take the bus from downtown to the university, which worked out mostly well. We tried to switch in Sweileh, and we got on a bus that obviously did not go all the way to Al Ahliyyih. But the guy on the bus insisted that he would take us there. Because with our bags of full of kuffiyehs, and with the two of us eating plain bread from a plastic bag and talking in loud english, it seemed pretty apparent that we might not make it to school on our own.
And tonight, when Stephanie and I were trying to catch a cab to dinner and this guy in a grey honda circa 1995 pulled over.
Him: "You need taxi?"
Us: "No, we're going. Ma assalama."
Him: "I swear to allah I am taxi!"
We ended up literally running away, and then he followed us in his car that was so obviously not a taxi, until we found an actual taxi. And truthfully, this kind of stuff happens to me all the time. Like random cars pulling over and insisting they are taxi (la, you are not taxi). Or guys following us when we walk to restaurants in the neighborhood. And life would not be complete without about 10 cars driving by every morning while I wait for the bus and honking just to point out that they know that one of these things is not like the other and she's standing on the curb. And, of course, the endless and ever-present ahlan wa sahlan's! that come from all directions.
It's not a bad thing, that I'm so foreign. It just is. It is exhausting, it is frustrating at times, but it is also overwhelmingly hilarious.
Are you foreign ?
ReplyDeleteOr, are they ?
{:~)|