More Cafe's, Please?

I am a creature of habit so I go to the same cafe's almost every day for lunch or coffee. Not that there is much to choose from, unfortunately. Most of my friends are Jordanian and hang out in the same cafe's I do. Even they will talk about the lack of variety for restaurants and cafes in the city. The menus are very much like any other menu you will find in any city of the world. Salads, sandwiches, pasta, etc. The biggest bummer: no Latino food. 

Unfortunately, I have not found a "typical" Jordanian cafe to go to to "hang out" since I've been here. The ones that are around are mostly shisha cafes, and the smoke just kills you. (Shisha, or "bubbly-bubbly" is something that you smoke through a long tube and has different flavors. I've been told its the equivalent of several cigarette boxes.) Terrible. 

Is there an "inbox" for recommendations at City Hall? 

 

The Language that we Speak

Fuad, my hairdresser, doesn't know a lick of English and my Arabic is even worse than that but somehow, we communicate and actually understand each other.  I explain in English, he listens. He makes recommendations is Arabic, I listen. Next thing I know, my hair is just the way I wanted it (sometimes even better). He gave me flowers when Maya was born (white, my favorite). I gave him chocolates for his birthday (to learn later that he absolutely loves chocolate).  I feel like Fuad has become a friend. I feel I can trust him. Somehow I think he feels like that towards me as well.

What would the world look like if we were all able to understand each other beyond the language that we speak?

Amman

Life as an Immigrant

Living as an immigrant in Jordan has made me think more deeply about the immigrant experience in the United States. Granted, I am speaking from a very privileged life and point of view. Still, it has made me ponder over what it means to go to a different country so different from your own and find your way amidst the loneliness, homesickness, and confusion. An important lesson I have learned is the difference one person can make in another person's quality of life.

Case in point: Here in Jordan we were really lucky. We already knew someone here. Just one person. But that person is the "master networker" in Amman as far as I'm concerned and she "adopted" us as part of her family immediately. Thanks to her, we were able to know everything from where to buy groceries to where to get your hair and nails done.  Even more importantly, she is the "master hostess" (she actually hosts people at her home several times a week -- every week).  That is where her "magic" happens - the "magic" of connecting people. In one sitting (literally) at a lunch just a few days after I arrived) and I was connected to some of the most amazing women in Amman. Those connections have led me to jobs, projects, partnerships, office space, zumba classes, and friendships that will last for a lifetime. I am forever grateful.

This made me think: in Boston, I felt like this was done but very much from a distance. We don't invite people readily into our homes. We are not as selfless in sharing our connections and not as proactive in ensuring other's well being. Maybe with our family members but with people we hardly know? What would it be like if we gave more of ourselves to help newcomers and immigrants in this way? 

100 Ways How Arabs and Latinos are Alike

From time to time I will be posting my thoughts on similarities between the Arabs and Latinos. Here are just a few to start with:

1. Arab sense of humor is full of picardia and borderline flirting.

2. Most guys have dark hair and eyes and they smell really nice.

3. Oh, and how about the Arab women, who are always dressed fashionably and the hair and nails done on a weekly basis (sometimes twice a week)?!

4. Arab's life evolves around food, family and - dare I say - gossip! Sound familiar?

...more soon!

Service with a Spoon

I just have to share this story, although my friends here in Amman already know it by heart. It's the funniest yet most emblematic experiences I have had here so far. It happened last year but I figured it would be a good story to tell so you can get a feel for how stereotypes and misconceptions can be challenged in the most simplest of ways.

So, my husband's mom sent us a package by mail and I had to go to pick it up at the post office. I had never been to the post office here before. The one I had to go to was in downtown, which is the oldest part of Amman from what I understand. It's very busy with lots of little stores and people walking everywhere. It reminds me of Calle de Diego in Rio Piedras, Puerto Rico or maybe Haymarket (when the fruit stands are out) in Boston. It has alot of local flavor to it.

Anyway, I went in and since I don't speak Arabic, I asked in English but using typical, tacky foreigner sign language to say: "I'm here to pick up a package." while I drew a picture of a square in the air with my fingers. The guy just looked at me and pointed up, which I figured meant upstairs. He was probably laughing at me in his head going "These crazy foreigners!"  (in Arabic, of course), which I totally deserved for being so silly with the sign language.

Anyway, I got upstairs and asked the guys at the desk the same thing (in the same way - I just don't learn...). They pointed to a small office and motioned me to go there. So I went.

I got to the doorway and stood there. I saw about 10-12 men, most of them in uniform, huddled around a small desk. They all had their backs toward me so they didn't realize I was there. I didn't know if I should interrupt or not so I waited a few seconds. I was pregnant and hot so I decided to get their attention and cleared my throat loudly "Ehem!". No response. Then I said "Marhaba!" (the one and only word I knew, which means "Hello").

One of the men turned around and saw me standing there. He proceeded to say something in Arabic to the other men and then, suddenly, they were all fussing around, taking to each other in Arabic. I had no idea what was going on.

It was the beginning of summer and I was dressed with short sleeves and a skirt. Since I was pregnant, I thought no one would pay me any attention to what I was wearing but then I panicked for a second and thought that perhaps they would be angry and scold me for disrespecting them by the way I was dressed!

But then the man who had initially turned around came up to me and whipped out a spoon and handed it to me. "What the...??" I thought to myself. You can imagine the perplexed look I had on my face. A spoon?! He then ushered me to the desk and I realized that they were all huddled there because they were eating something together. It's called kenefe (not sure of the spelling) but anyway, it's a delicious dessert made from cheese and this caramel-ly stuff on top. It's just wonderful. So there it was, the kenefe, and the men around the table were eagerly awaiting for me to try some. The man who ushered me in motioned for me to have some so I tried a little bit. They all smiled and were pleased and dug in with me. So there we were, all of us, eating kenefe together. I said "Shukran" (Thank you) and thought that was it. But no, they wanted me to keep eating! So, for about 10 mintues I stood there with these guys, all of us eating the kenefe til it was finished! It was hilarious! Once it was gone, they quickly put the rubbish in the bin and everyone went back to their desks and offices. Only then could I claim my package.

But it doesn't stop there! The post office also has a customs office so I had to go there to see how much I had to pay. The customs officer (who I had eaten kenefe with a few minutes before) asked in a thick accent "Where are you from?" I said "Puerto Rico" and he looked at me with a perplexed face. I thought I would have to explain where that was but he continued and said "I thought people in Puerto Rico all black." He was serious. I laughed and said "We come in all colors!" He laughed back and exclaimed "Duty Free!".

How do you say "fantastic" in Arabic?

The Butcher Shop

A few days after I first arrived in Amman in 2010, I remember walking down a street near the serviced apartments where my husband and I were staying. I just wanted to get a feel for where I was living now so I went for a walk. I looked up to see the street sign in order to memorize the name of the street in case I got lost.  When I saw it, I just stared. Of course, I would have never remembered the name. I said to myself "OK, I am at Mohammed-something-or-other Street." and shook my head: "This is going to be an interesting experience". I kept on walking and, for some strange reason, an image of myself at 14 came to my head. I was wearing my school uniform and walking up Tanca St. in Old San Juan on my way home with my heavy book bag on my back. I then said to myself: "How on earth did that 14 year old girl get from Tanca St. in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico to Mohammed-something-or-other St in Amman, Jordan?" I mean, from growing up in a humble family on a tropical island surrounded by the ocean I ended up living in an city full of hills in the middle of the desert half way across the world. It felt surreal. 

I wondered then (just as I wonder now) how can I possibly describe this place in a way that would do it justice? It's so different in so many ways yet the same in others. So, I was thinking that I could sometimes talk about day to day life, which I think is really important because it will give a flavor as to how it is to live here (from a privileged foreigner's perspective, of course). But other times, I will talk about more broad issues - such as culture and politics. I'll have to be tread carefully here because this is not my country and I am a guest here so I will be upfront and say that I will try to be as politically correct as I can while staying true and honest. 

So let me start with something simple that happened today. I walked to a new butcher shop just a few blocks down from our apartment. To get there I have to pass a huge new church across the road. It is Syrian Orthodox. I had no idea that there was such a religion but, yes, there is and it's pretty established by the looks of the church. I have to walk on the edge of the street because the sidewalks have trees planted right in the middle of them so its annoying to zigzag along as you walk. (Why they have planted trees on the sidewalks is beyond me). Anyway,  it is really gray, windy and cold outside today (although nothing like Boston). Still, it has a gloomy feel. There is a little grocery store across the road.  If the guy spoke Spanish it would be a colmadito.  Pretty convenient to have it there. I also live right next door to a pharmacy, which is even more convenient for diapers and formula. The pharmacist is the owner of our building.  He lived many years in Canada but is originally from here. He is Christian. I note this because Christians are a minority in this country but, for the most part, Christians and Muslims get along. So that is basically my street. Omran Naeb Maata St. If you ask a taxi driver, though, they probably would have no idea what the street name is. You give directions by giving landmarks like you do in little towns in Puerto Rico. The landmarks on my street are the church I just mentioned, Zait and Zatar (which is a supermarket that we have just a few blocks away) and, of course (thank the universe) Starbucks! The butcher is close to Starbucks - have to pass right by it, actually - but I don't stop (despite the temptation) because its just to windy, wet and cold.

Anyway, I digress. Back to the story about the butcher shop. So, I went to the small butcher shop and I was immediately attended by someone at the door. He took my order and suggested that I sit down while I wait for my order.  A few seconds later, he brought me Arabic coffee in a small plastic brown cup (like for an expresso shot) and said "Would you like some coffee?" But it was already in front of me, already in the cup, ready to be taken. He didn't ask before serving it.  He didn't ask how I take it. He just put it in front of me as if to say "I made this especially for you. Please have this".  So I just had to say yes. There I was with my Arabic coffee (which is wonderful, kind of sweet and bitter at the same time) which I really didn't want but found myself drinking. I thought to myself, half laughing: "You just can't say 'no' to Jordanians!" It's true! It's virtually impossible to say 'no'. Not that they are pushy - they are just extremely hospitable and generous. It's as if it there was a secret pledge made centuries ago to be nice to guests. It seems as though it's a sign of honor and pride to be hospitable. You actually feel bad to say 'no'.  And its everyone (at least that is how it seems to me) regardless of class. Everyone is just extremely generous with their everything - their time, their contacts, their families, their friends, their food... At first it frustrated the heck out of me but now it just makes me laugh.  It's taken some getting used to. Lesson learned: Accept generosity.

Just one of those things you notice about another culture, I guess. Something I will always remember Jordanians by.

Letter to Boston

Dear Boston,

It has been about 18 months since I left Boston after living there for about 15 years.  I owe so much to Boston and the entire state of Massachusetts.  The time I spent there really made me who I am today professionally.  It was where I found my calling and really developed my voice.  I found a family of friends and colleagues there who nurtured and supported me.  I met extraordinary people who inspired me.

Puerto Rico is my patria, my homeland, but Boston was my training ground. The accumulation of all my experiences in Massachusetts have served me well.  After leaving Oiste, I really had no idea what I was going to do next. My identity had been so embedded with my work that I was at a loss as to who I was post Oiste and what I could do. It was one of the most difficult experiences of my life – reinventing myself.

I owe so much to Oiste and I still have unfulfilled dreams. I know I could have done more and done a lot of things better. I can say that I gave it my best and made my decisions based on what I thought was just. There were times where I failed and times when it was really hard but in general, the life experience outweighed the difficult moments.

I wanted to write to you because many people come and go in Boston and there may be a feeling of resentment towards those of us who leave, even if temporary. I want to let you know that I don’t forget you, that I treasure what I learned from you and put it into good practice helping other people in other places.

I am now in Amman, Jordan. Who would have known?! I would have never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be here - even less working here on issues of democracy, civic engagement, good governance and advocacy. I couldn’t have done this without you, what I learned from you. I feel as though I am transferring all of my learning’s to people who really need it and possibly making a good impact at the end. Being here, particularly in this moment in time, in the aftermath of the Arab Spring, where civic engagement is busing…and to be able to contribute just a little bit is amazing.

For about a year I was working on developing a capacity building program for City Councilors in the City of Amman. The people I was working with were truly amazing and had a wonderful vision for true democracy: a local government that displayed good governance, transparency, accountability and civic engagement.

Prior to that, I helped design a training for Iraqi municipal elected officials funded by UNHABITAT. I recently watched a promo video of the training and it was so inspiring to hear that the participants had learned so much and that I was able to contribute to building a stronger democracy in cities across Iraq.

However, the most powerful experience happened just a few days ago. I had the honor and privilege of training a few Syrian activists on community organizing.  Talk about a humbling experience. Although we spoke a different language and our cultural background is so different, I could see in their eyes that sparkle - that undeniable, unshakable, entrenched passion for justice. I felt at home.

As you can see, I am learning so much…about Arab and Jordanian culture and society, about Jordanian politics…and I’ve met such extraordinary people who are truly making a difference here. I’ve been able to appreciate the amazing hospitality and generosity of the Jordanian people and experience their wonderful sense of humor. I have seen first hand the extraordinary power of networking, particularly from Jordanian women who are masters of the art of networking. I’ve made wonderful friends who have invited me to their homes and introduced me to their beautiful families. I’ve learned about the beauty of Islam and experienced the connectedness that is forged during Ramadan.

None of this would have happened without you.

On a personal level, much has happened in the 18 months, which has definitely changed me. I am not the same person I was when I left. There has been a lot of loss in my life lately, which has really made me appreciate what I have much more.  I feel as though I have aged in during my time here yet I know I have been so fortunate and blessed…often times not deserving of the things I have been able to have in my life - most importantly, my wonderful husband and beautiful daughter.

I don’t know where the road will take me after this. Regardless if I come back to settle to Boston, I want you to know how much I appreciate and acknowledge what you have meant in my life and the ripple effect you have created through countless people in other places. I am only one example of that ripple effect.

To the Latino community in particular, words simply cannot express my sense of gratitude. Even the worst enemies, my worst critics, made me stronger and a better person. Accountability is key to ensuring that things are doing right and I cannot be an exception to that rule. I had so much fun dancing, eating, and laughing with you all. The memories are countless and wonderful. Saying ‘I miss you’ doesn’t even come close to how I feel about having left. You are such a strong community and I am so proud to have been a part of you and serve for so many years. It was an honor.

I read about you every day, either through El Mundo or The Boston Globe, through friends’ emails, twitter and Facebook, I am always following what is going on.  Just know that even though I am far away, I am thinking of you all the time and appreciating the learning’s that you have given me. No matter where this path leads me, I will always have that in embedded in my soul.

With all my heart, thank you.

Giovanna