tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3410481143738606002024-02-01T19:44:49.992-08:00memoirs of a nerdramblings of a slightly unbalanced (but hopefully interesting) natureCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-11326154200441579492011-10-01T19:47:00.001-07:002011-10-01T19:47:40.888-07:00Holstee Manifesto<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-70845521756702583472011-09-21T15:57:00.000-07:002011-09-21T16:00:46.776-07:00A GOOD Challenge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">New monthly goal. <a href="http://www.good.is/tag/good-challenge/page:1/sort:recent/range:all/#gallery_list_header">GOOD's 30-Day-Challenges</a>. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The intention behind each challenge: "a monthly attempt to live better". Now who can say no to that? As I only just found out about these challenges, I'm a little behind. Themes of past months include going vegetarian, driving less, reducing your waste, unplugging from the internet, etc. These challenges are great because not only do they encourage you to be conscious of your habits (both positive and negative) but they also help you explore and discover new things. Maybe you might even discover something new about yourself. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Each day of the month has its own smaller, more manageable goal. Each task is meant to help you to achieve the overall challenge. Check in every day with GOOD.is for the task of the day. Because the steps are small they are easy to adopt into your routine without much complication. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This month's challenge is to <a href="http://www.good.is/post/the-good-30-day-challenge-connect-with-people/">Connect With People</a>. Send thank you cards. Say hi to strangers. Give compliments. Call a long-lost friend. Little things can go a long way in establishing and maintaining relationships. And it doesn't take much effort or thought either. So next time, instead of passing by the mailman, cashier, or co-worker, smile and ask how their day is. You never know, it might their day that much better. You might feel good too. :)</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-80254439354859201072011-08-13T12:23:00.000-07:002011-08-13T12:23:56.422-07:00The Simple Truth<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some things </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">you know all your life. They are so simple and true</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the glass of water, the absence of light gathering</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in the shadows of picture frames, they must be</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">naked and alone, they must stand for themselves.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #7d5e42; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-Philip Levine, <i>The Simple Truth</i></span></span>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-17289551319712221212011-07-03T12:37:00.000-07:002011-07-03T12:37:35.114-07:00After the Storm<div><blockquote>And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.<br />
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.<br />
Get over your hill and see what you find there,<br />
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.</blockquote></div><div><br />
</div><div>Mumford and Sons, <i>Sigh No More,</i> "After the Storm"</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-42671785964743856592011-01-20T13:33:00.001-08:002011-01-20T13:35:14.106-08:00Amazing Photography<iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="500" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/S9in-BscH5M" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen></iframe>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-53158998679099791582011-01-14T12:29:00.000-08:002011-01-14T12:29:30.765-08:00New Year, New PostA moderately late "Happy New Year" to all! Hope everyone hasn't already given up on their resolutions because remember, you already payed for that one month gym membership...might as well keep using it. I didn't really make a resolution this year. I figure I know what I should <i>resolve </i>to fix, so I might as well just try and remember to fix whatever I can. Here goes nothin.....<div><br />
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</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-50372250278647327512010-11-05T20:39:00.001-07:002010-11-05T20:40:53.989-07:00Happy Guy Fawkes Day!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"><p><b>The Fifth of November</b></p><p></p><p> Remember, remember!<br /> The fifth of November,<br /> The Gunpowder treason and plot;<br /> I know of no reason<br /> Why the Gunpowder treason<br /> Should ever be forgot!<br /> Guy Fawkes and his companions<br /> Did the scheme contrive,<br /> To blow the King and Parliament<br /> All up alive.<br /> Threescore barrels, laid below,<br /> To prove old England's overthrow.<br /> But, by God's providence, him they catch,<br /> With a dark lantern, lighting a match!<br /> A stick and a stake<br /> For King James's sake!<br /> If you won't give me one,<br /> I'll take two,<br /> The better for me,<br /> And the worse for you.<br /> A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,<br /> A penn'orth of cheese to choke him,<br /> A pint of beer to wash it down,<br /> And a jolly good fire to burn him.<br /> Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!<br /> Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!<br /> Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!</p></span>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-12607151833544094392010-10-29T15:58:00.000-07:002010-10-29T16:07:31.235-07:00Words to Live By<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Benjamin Franklin's 13 Virtues</span></b><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Temperance</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Eat not to Dulness</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Drink not to Elevation.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Silence</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Speak not but what my benefit others or yourself. Avoid trifling Conversation.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Order</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let all your Things have their Places. Let each Part of your Business have its Time.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Resolution</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Resolve to perform what you ought. Perform without fail what you resolve.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Frugality</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Make no Expense but to do good to others or yourself: i.e. Waste Nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Industry</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Lose no Time. Be always employ'd in something useful. Cut off all unnecessary Actions.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Sincerity</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Use no hurtful Deceit.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Think innocently and justly; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Justice</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Wrong none, by doing Injuries or omitting the Benefits that are your Duty.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Moderation</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Avoid Extreams. Forbear resenting Injuries so much as you think they deserve.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Cleanliness</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Tolerate no Uncleanness in Body, Cloaths or Habitation.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Tranquility</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Be not disturbed at Trifles, or a Accidents common or unavoidable.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Chastity</b></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Rarely use Venery but for Health or Offspring; Never to Dulness, Weakness, or the Injury of your own or another's Peace or Reputation.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Humility</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Imitate Jesus and Socrates.</span></b></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-52255863144270258522010-08-04T13:21:00.001-07:002010-08-04T13:24:24.175-07:00Truth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgws888IvBK_w-t7BTiYC2ucMcW3hKpqTOZk-PYOc1CpItE2NDmuVQElQy14RtUnLI2vruzXvE-UymVyCXnXBpCZTNNevaWWNSmM6oJGPlaGsPMsCncrGelOmOkltW2HDpOKNHQVA8O2A/s1600/card22.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgws888IvBK_w-t7BTiYC2ucMcW3hKpqTOZk-PYOc1CpItE2NDmuVQElQy14RtUnLI2vruzXvE-UymVyCXnXBpCZTNNevaWWNSmM6oJGPlaGsPMsCncrGelOmOkltW2HDpOKNHQVA8O2A/s400/card22.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501653056648772962" border="0" /></a>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-52826634426120649322010-07-18T17:35:00.000-07:002010-08-01T19:58:09.774-07:00Fried-Dough, Fireworks, and a DownpourLast night was the best night of the annual Canaan Railroad Days. Parade and Fireworks Night.<div><br /></div><div>With a little coaxing from a fellow Salisbury Bank employee, I agreed to volunteer on behalf of the Canaan Fire Dept. at their annual food booth. Secretly, I've always wanted to volunteer at Sharon's so I was more than happy to lend my hand somewhere else. And to be completely honest, the prospect of getting a free t-shirt definitely influenced my decision. </div><div><br /></div><div>The day was a warm one but since I figured I'd be playing near fryers, grills and a vat of oil for the fried dough, it would probably be a good idea to wear pants and sneakers. But once I got there and worked in the sun for an hour, I definitely regretted that decision. Oh, well. Once I got my road-cone orange t-shirt and the job of taking orders on the front line, I was all set.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everything was going well...including my math skills (lucky for me all the prices were in dollar amounts, no change) until a huge dark cloud was seen in the distance. Within minutes it was upon us with barely a thunder to announce its arrival. Now of course this cloud had to wait until about 10 minutes after step-off when it finally brought its full fury upon the poor parade go-ers. It hadn't even started to rain where I stood but everyone to the west of us started running in our direction. Try as they may however, they were not faster than the 50 mph gusts of wind and rain that followed them. Most of the people sought refuge in the stage area, McDonalds, and the church. Some of the members of the food booth outfit grabbed stuff and high-tailed it to the ambulance bay to wait out the storm. I'm not going to say that they weren't smart for doing that...they were because its safe and protected, etc. However, in a rickety wooden structure only protected by two tarps, the bungy cords holding the tarps down are not going to withstand 50-60 mph gusts of wind. And unless you wanted to loose those tarps and risk destroying all the equipment underneath, someone had to hold them down. I was just one of those lucky souls who ended up holding the tarps. Somehow, after much maneuvering, we all spread out around the edges, holding on to the inside with all of our strength in an effort to keep the tarps from blowing away. However, the front, Western portion of both tarps had ripped free from their bungy restraints and needed to be hooked back over the front of the structure. I jumped up on the "counter" and grabbed the tarps. Being the tallest, I was able to bring them back to their rightful place but because of the wind and constant rain, couldn't manage to hold them down and replace the bungys at the same time. The only option was to simply wait it out. And so we did. Only a few of use lucky volunteers stood on the outside of the tarps but only one of use stood on the outside in the direction of all the horizontal rain....yep that was me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now when I signed up to this gig, I thought I knew what I was in for. This was not exactly in the job description. But hey, I had a blast and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Only three down sides to getting absolutely soaked in a summer rain storm like that - 1) Having to work the rest of the night in wet jeans and sneakers...I swear my shoes are still squeaky. 2) The impromptu wet t-shirt contest that it created...yes, I am aware that I was wearing a dark bra, no you don't have to tell me that. And 3) not a serious fan of the chafing either. </div><div><br /></div><div>But aside from that the fireworks and fried-dough were awesome and I can't wait to do it again next year. :)</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-9809509537659696622010-04-28T12:35:00.000-07:002010-04-28T12:42:45.161-07:00Epic ApologySo I know that I said that I would try to keep everyone updated on what I am doing, where I am going, what I am seeing etc. However, (as you all have seen) thats been just about impossible. First it was the internet (well its always been the internet....) then it was all the traveling now its the work. So I'm saying for the next 18 days that I'm here I really don't think that I'm going to write anything. I really hate that its come to that but hey, gotta be honest here. I've had an amazing time, gone amazing places and had some crazy but amazing experiences. I think once I get back to the states I may update with some of the better stories and pictures. And of course I'll write a summary post etc. For now, I'm just going to update with what I'm doing right at this second and give up trying to fill in the backlog of info/stories/pics. So if you're curious and still reading....CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-53913053884068017502010-04-11T02:26:00.000-07:002010-06-27T14:17:29.629-07:00A Ukalale and a HarmonicaBacklog<br /><br />Currently sitting in my Arabic classroom that has been designated the "cat cave" as I tend to leave my stuff in there for most of the day and then hang out after class doing work/using the internet etc. (Yes, Mom, I have a cave here too). But it has been designated the "cat cave" because there is another girl named Katherine and I hang out there sometimes...its a concentration of C/Katherines. Therefore, the "cat cave" is usually always inhabited by a "cat".<br /><div><br /></div><div>Two of my classmates are out on the patio playing some songs that one of them wrote. One on harmonica, one on ukalale. Love listening to them, despite the rather random combination.<br /></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-20714476714946905952010-04-11T00:21:00.000-07:002010-04-11T02:16:09.259-07:00Directions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-NTkHjMwyu8Ux4JRee9yR64HuQiKRnE0wJnKVMBsTzVKkn_Td5-gaEjKbFYoC3MO3j8GF-9vejHD3TiLsiQoTi0cQOVsVl1DU79sDkN82Qxs0WbGxeLvM_aYa0m_xjwXECjc1kXQJA/s1600/CIMG3058.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo-NTkHjMwyu8Ux4JRee9yR64HuQiKRnE0wJnKVMBsTzVKkn_Td5-gaEjKbFYoC3MO3j8GF-9vejHD3TiLsiQoTi0cQOVsVl1DU79sDkN82Qxs0WbGxeLvM_aYa0m_xjwXECjc1kXQJA/s400/CIMG3058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458805998968428146" border="0" /></a>Still working on the backlog of stories....<div><br /></div><div>A few weeks ago, I was riding in a taxi w/ one of my friends and we were talking about as big a city as Amman is, we rarely see any emergency vehicles. (And if you know me at all, you know that I would of course be interested in that :P.) When in cities like New York, Boston, etc there always seem to be lights, sirens, etc. And at that point I think I had seen one maybe two emergency vehicles en-route to a call. But oddly enough, just as we were having this conversation on the way to school, an ambulance pulls up to our taxi and asks for directions to Duwar Abdoun. Now, there are very few places in Amman that I am able to give specific directions to. But, oddly enough, Duwar Abdoun (Abdoun Circle) is one of those places. So who gave directions to the ambulance driver....two American students who don't speak that much Arabic! Booyah. Made us feel good about knowing something....for once. </div><div><br />(Photo taken in Alexandria, Egypt)<br /></div><div><br /></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-63426665569888672142010-03-31T09:44:00.000-07:002010-04-04T13:56:12.328-07:00ProximityOne of the most eye-opening experiences I've had while in Jordan is the realization that I am currently standing on the ground (or ridiculously close to<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>the ground) that everyone is fighting over. I'm on <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> ground. Standing on <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> land. The land that has caused one of the greatest (and I mean large not good) conflicts in recent history. Its strange to look over the valley, while in Salt, or over the Dead Sea and physically see the ground that people fight for and die for everyday. Just something interesting to think about.CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-12394021615403108162010-03-30T10:42:00.000-07:002010-03-30T10:56:44.047-07:00Vocabulary is Sexy(Stolen from a friend's <a href="http://inconvenience.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/vocabulary-is-sexy/">blog</a>)<br /><br /><br />"I do not know where family doctors acquired illegibly perplexing handwriting nevertheless, extraordinary pharmaceutical intellectuality counterbalancing indecipherability, transcendentalizes intercommunications incomprehensibleness."<br /><br />In this sentence the Nth word is N letters long. ie: the 3rd word is 3 letters long and the 9th word is 9 letters long.CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-35679597729600521082010-03-30T07:26:00.001-07:002010-03-30T08:17:38.475-07:00Are you sure we're still in Jordan?....there's water.....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUW8K0cfR0poTWkWm9GssANaMAE1ryaEtPZFdXFKJUB8qyXuMSMNygNfBdXFPo5t-St2vpGfp_r6PqOfpNEfUgnpZ66OQgl5r1takV9PD7HWbTJk15fAdC1ucI81ZaiEQxBxpixvFnQ/s1600/CIMG2805.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUW8K0cfR0poTWkWm9GssANaMAE1ryaEtPZFdXFKJUB8qyXuMSMNygNfBdXFPo5t-St2vpGfp_r6PqOfpNEfUgnpZ66OQgl5r1takV9PD7HWbTJk15fAdC1ucI81ZaiEQxBxpixvFnQ/s320/CIMG2805.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454434316556466658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8-RtMfPWB7IYBkle2qmZ6S5SMbNivRrWF05e9m-hikHhuRfvmGB0x7kDsdhfKLnoqjW0qMfLxcWjO3gv1D1E9gH5ovDQP9LEVgORHPo91ylxr9jURqBOyMYT2t5MkYlmCkNy09KVUA/s1600/CIMG2803.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8-RtMfPWB7IYBkle2qmZ6S5SMbNivRrWF05e9m-hikHhuRfvmGB0x7kDsdhfKLnoqjW0qMfLxcWjO3gv1D1E9gH5ovDQP9LEVgORHPo91ylxr9jURqBOyMYT2t5MkYlmCkNy09KVUA/s400/CIMG2803.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454437458429758514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjBQAyHHU9jzGjA2Jpb-NH6EnwSbhzca2Z65s8wld34hbfhpoLAsftIva49JCE8fQxrs2mfORKiUxv_D1MNaWiGWLhabi3rxynULs2tSn68sKf6dGjpsAPq4ntLRm_0uqUoTJS8V30Q/s1600/CIMG2804.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjBQAyHHU9jzGjA2Jpb-NH6EnwSbhzca2Z65s8wld34hbfhpoLAsftIva49JCE8fQxrs2mfORKiUxv_D1MNaWiGWLhabi3rxynULs2tSn68sKf6dGjpsAPq4ntLRm_0uqUoTJS8V30Q/s320/CIMG2804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454434310064724770" border="0" /></a>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-71621737838274332732010-03-30T01:15:00.001-07:002010-03-30T03:28:35.038-07:00Jerash<div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzs9lrycL5lHTRp224q7lY1dcBp8gm5fnNeMFjtFuXgkSFdMMeCv807U1whazcUWAthyKbvci0hXUf9QamMklvtDoV0Ha5GEyzfZeq2Wk9nPkBq8Nx9SqxOmgw2zq3D05nKRE4tcrnYw/s1600/CIMG2737.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzs9lrycL5lHTRp224q7lY1dcBp8gm5fnNeMFjtFuXgkSFdMMeCv807U1whazcUWAthyKbvci0hXUf9QamMklvtDoV0Ha5GEyzfZeq2Wk9nPkBq8Nx9SqxOmgw2zq3D05nKRE4tcrnYw/s320/CIMG2737.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454370132504488194" border="0" /></a><br />A few weeks ago, SIT (kind-of) sponsored a trip to the ancient Roman ruins of Jerash. [There are so many different ways to transliterate Arabic words so naturally many different ways of spelling everything in English. The rule is pretty much just sound it out and guarantee someone, somewhere thought it sounded like that too.] It was a great day trip on a Saturday. Jerash is about 45 minutes or so outside of Amman. It was organized and led by two Jordanian students who work with SIT's parent company, World Learning, and volunteer with us at SIT. The day was great and jam-packed with activities (almost too many I think).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-2ed-s-roznKK4QKMcklx9mHShzqGs9UdDA0nmyjgY_sreo5-tStAlML86Lkcil2_IwoeGdil5usZiA8HZY2WDH61jugM16d3Yj7eNE9B9OEljKJuGJYJVkh6S1Ev5CexYWPtEfmPw/s1600/CIMG2761.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-2ed-s-roznKK4QKMcklx9mHShzqGs9UdDA0nmyjgY_sreo5-tStAlML86Lkcil2_IwoeGdil5usZiA8HZY2WDH61jugM16d3Yj7eNE9B9OEljKJuGJYJVkh6S1Ev5CexYWPtEfmPw/s320/CIMG2761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454370142661250178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgNzwkB_vxN_QVKxkCbFMfpecNe6OKH29y5ZhJr7HPMdcLzBKjcPp6yFJcTcYxVMD0LKwAsd0VWUEoz9MSQZnEbEOMIOtZ6n4_X3OEG9vYKt7mT25kytY0liu6lD452sG2mCq6k47mQ/s1600/CIMG2751.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgNzwkB_vxN_QVKxkCbFMfpecNe6OKH29y5ZhJr7HPMdcLzBKjcPp6yFJcTcYxVMD0LKwAsd0VWUEoz9MSQZnEbEOMIOtZ6n4_X3OEG9vYKt7mT25kytY0liu6lD452sG2mCq6k47mQ/s320/CIMG2751.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454370137097447506" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8JRvebNTiRg4_WPzkYma8EKo-3HzL4Lkbh3WSiDAANovIX9IybWvgtyvqH0H8CtoA6hxUxH-qit-NAq0LeLjxdKjoGrfkfZVUCB6oXZ62Z1PQuXDXmXMBYcFVzpaJjrclJiCtATH3A/s1600/CIMG2765.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8JRvebNTiRg4_WPzkYma8EKo-3HzL4Lkbh3WSiDAANovIX9IybWvgtyvqH0H8CtoA6hxUxH-qit-NAq0LeLjxdKjoGrfkfZVUCB6oXZ62Z1PQuXDXmXMBYcFVzpaJjrclJiCtATH3A/s320/CIMG2765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454370148994878386" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-33299444108427655332010-03-30T01:06:00.001-07:002010-03-30T01:12:07.902-07:00Sun Setting Over the West Bank<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimEBlCEJee9vi7l-63PI49CYN6i4g5hFcvK_5zexMeBWQsEBurN48K8cvhoyXcK7sWvo0S2Ri8dpKQK6iRr5I6pfEpVasLmSyvBBmL1oa_qudFXO75CfzRP7LYWn7UJpjlBkMWgbIR3A/s1600/CIMG2670.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimEBlCEJee9vi7l-63PI49CYN6i4g5hFcvK_5zexMeBWQsEBurN48K8cvhoyXcK7sWvo0S2Ri8dpKQK6iRr5I6pfEpVasLmSyvBBmL1oa_qudFXO75CfzRP7LYWn7UJpjlBkMWgbIR3A/s400/CIMG2670.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454336401467051106" border="0" /></a>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-81611978114287033222010-03-22T02:58:00.000-07:002010-03-30T01:05:18.161-07:00The Dead Sea<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4dsg2J5F3ICYssqhL6HIVoVCesTNQKhRyTf6-UOspXFPc8tNmhF4-jl62BzLRZOGeKsOPbovP2GQSezEJMAhF8nHkqrJuUCYijhi4oq9KS6OMzbj374XMlLpzI5TL2HoCV77HqUM7A/s1600/CIMG2652.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4dsg2J5F3ICYssqhL6HIVoVCesTNQKhRyTf6-UOspXFPc8tNmhF4-jl62BzLRZOGeKsOPbovP2GQSezEJMAhF8nHkqrJuUCYijhi4oq9KS6OMzbj374XMlLpzI5TL2HoCV77HqUM7A/s320/CIMG2652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454145480424447666" border="0" /></a>The day after we returned from the Badia, we all went to the Dead Sea for the day to relax and to debrief our Badia experience. It was great to finally experience something that I have read about since I was a kid. We went to the lowest place on Earth, to the saltiest body of water. It was amazing. If you look at the map on the last post, you will see that that Dead Sea is really quite close to the Amman (only about an hour away). The newly built highway to the Dead Sea is so beautiful but you really knew that you were slowly traveling down about a mile in altitude (from where Amman sits on a hill.) My ears of course knew that I was going down that far, as I had to constantly keep yawning and popping them!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjai7mNZQ-n9hlBGJcxTgsifWC4NYBeyqHSd3MA42kOS92CNl9qxBTYNGHX14aR7iSUa2sEv5JfKVnO7dzucjWmj3ocSXsHfRDtB-aFvLXgXXAE4DwYJCohuuNnfYbUgGkcuR5jZSfkcw/s1600/CIMG2655.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjai7mNZQ-n9hlBGJcxTgsifWC4NYBeyqHSd3MA42kOS92CNl9qxBTYNGHX14aR7iSUa2sEv5JfKVnO7dzucjWmj3ocSXsHfRDtB-aFvLXgXXAE4DwYJCohuuNnfYbUgGkcuR5jZSfkcw/s320/CIMG2655.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454148941058486034" border="0" /></a><div>SIT payed for our entry and a buffet lunch at a day resort-type place. It was so crazy to "swim" in the sea. Because, like in all the pictures you have ever seen, you don't swim, you float. When on your back your legs naturally float up to the surface, meaning you hardly have to use any energy staying above the water. I had great fun trying to get my legs down and sink into the water. I ended up almost bouncing in the water, never actually going under the water. But, because its the saltiest body of water, that is something you NEVER want to do. Trust me, you don't want to get water that salty ANYWHERE near your face. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_T0exaqBFL4M6_Rn5mb9VXfF_ph8gX_nV6XOmfirm6CjAM9FPa4F866oFsqMgxdBBCcjj5GiBRPkJD6DCQtHSpdS8NrSH4b3HNdTpw7PM6nnyu6fn61G57oGtHqcsplZaKSXIieOmA/s1600/CIMG2665.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh_T0exaqBFL4M6_Rn5mb9VXfF_ph8gX_nV6XOmfirm6CjAM9FPa4F866oFsqMgxdBBCcjj5GiBRPkJD6DCQtHSpdS8NrSH4b3HNdTpw7PM6nnyu6fn61G57oGtHqcsplZaKSXIieOmA/s320/CIMG2665.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454332741034271634" border="0" /></a></div><div>However, what you do want to get all over yourself, is the mud. Now this is not just <i>any</i> mud and in the water its not just <i>any</i>where. The mud is hard to find. You just have to keep a keen eye out and just poke around with your feet in the water until you find something that feels like a slightly slimy, slightly squishy rock. This mud ranges in color from light charcoal to deep deep black And, when spread all over your skin, is the cheapest and most natural spa experience! Granted, it smells kinda funky, but it makes your skin so soft and smooth. You also end up looking a bit like a creature from the deep when you're covered in this mud but ahh, its worth it. We stayed most of the day. The sunset was so beautiful.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-46442150205883448082010-03-14T05:38:00.000-07:002010-03-21T03:50:49.008-07:00The Badia<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left; ">So, I'm currently sitting on the balcony of my hotel room in Cairo, with finally a chance the catch up on some SERIOUSLY long awaited blog posts. The first is about my trip to the Badia.</div><div style="text-align: left; ">----<br />Two and a half weeks ago, each member of my program went and spent 4 days on a homestay with a traditional Beduin family in the Badia. The Badia, by definition, is the semi-desert. Meaning, its a desert but without all the sand dunes etc that you picture when you think desert. Its hot, flat, and alternates between sand, stone, and some grass (depending if there's a water source or not). In Jordan, the Badia mainly exists in the North by the Syrian border, and the far South. SIT sent students to the North, to a region just below Amman and to the South. Here's a map for a visual.<br /><div style="text-align: left; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkguEb1GnmSqRqsMsX_Nmb1K9RZn1d9vJ63affGD5CYnYmFIFKNG9jYQegO2ztqGv9t-Z8l-FHPBjB_aHSrRXQuM3YTTCrh68cmiGiio4Ke1HUAjgsJXDa-Hfnstlx76ySqYZsCSIxA/s1600-h/map_of_jordan.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkguEb1GnmSqRqsMsX_Nmb1K9RZn1d9vJ63affGD5CYnYmFIFKNG9jYQegO2ztqGv9t-Z8l-FHPBjB_aHSrRXQuM3YTTCrh68cmiGiio4Ke1HUAjgsJXDa-Hfnstlx76ySqYZsCSIxA/s320/map_of_jordan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448473533981602034" border="0" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br />As a size comparison, Jordan is about the same size as Indiana, so from Amman to Aqaba is only about 3 hours or so. The way SIT organizes the Badia trip is they give you a small slip of paper with the name of the town and the name of the family that you're going to be living with and they essentially say, "here, go have fun." No planned transportation. No directions. Nothing. You have to arrange the getting to the bus station, getting on the right bus, going to the next city then getting on the correct one (if not two) local buses that will (inshalla) drop you off at your house. (Assuming the bus driver knows your family, of course.) At first glance that all seems a little daunting, and trust me we were a little hesitant about the idea. However, once it all got organized the three main groups of people ended up (for the most part) traveling together.</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">I got sent to the North of the country, to a town called Amra. So I joined the other students heading to the North on a bus to Mafraq (you can see it on the map). We left Ragadan bus station at a little past 10. For a little bit, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Two main roads border the bus station. Everyone arrived by one road, but I cam by the other. Therefore, when I had to find the bus, the directions everyone gave were useless. Lost in a sea of busses, then a sea of taxis, it was doubtful whether I would find the right bus. Saved by the “girl with the noodles” sign, I eventually made it to the right bus. It was nice to travel with everyone else going to the North. Actually, since there were two buses, it wasn’t <i>everyone</i><span style="font-style: normal; ">. Although it wasn’t all of us, we did still manage to create a bit of spectacle (of course). A bunch of American students, in hijab and not, fidgeting with their scarves, was bound to attract attention. Most people looked on us with curious glances, some with annoyance. The trip was about an hour and cost only 1 JD. During the trip, I had alternating points of excitement, nervousness, and absolute freak-out. I don’t think that it was the actual living with the family that I was most nervous about. I think it was getting there without either getting lost or ending up at the wrong house. One of the “freak-out” moments kicked in when we pulled into Mufrak bus station. I was going to have to get off the bus and somehow find the bus headed to my town and then trust that the bus driver knew my family’s house and would drop me off there. However, all my fears were allayed when, through the window, we all saw Dr. Raed standing there, waiting for us. A cheer went up and we all knew that at least we would make it to the right bus, if nothing else. We got off the bus, to many looks of course, but no problems. However, in a matter of minutes we (being the spectacle that we were) had nothing less than a crowd of men around us. All were curious who we were, where we from, what we were doing, etc. Dr. Raed did his best to satisfy their need for information while working on getting us all to our correct busses. I was lucky enough to have my host brother meet me at the station. One of my other classmates was set to live in the next town from me, so my host brother Khaled, took us both back on the bus. </span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">My host family (that lived in the house) consisted of 1 brother, Jamal and his wife, and 1 sister Khulood (who is engaged) and my host mother. There were two other brothers, Khaled (unmarried), another brother (married), and another sister (married) who lived outside of the house. The typical Beduin lifestyle is much like that of Amman except at a much slower pace. Just as in Amman, there is a HUGE emphasis on family and family connections. During my 4 days there, I met a lot of the extended family and often their relations as well. I was the third student from SIT my family had hosted, so they were used to the routine. The previous student, was both extremely outgoing and quite good at Arabic, so I had a lot to live up to. But my family was very kind and hospitable (as is the Beduin way). </div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">Before leaving, Dr. Raed told us some of the most significant cultural items we should be aware of. 1) Always always always drink the coffee that is typically offered to you if you are a visitor. To drink one cup is just polite; two cups means you like their coffee; and three (and this is a little dated) means you would fight for them if they ever needed you. Dr. Raed suggested that we try to drink two, to be extra polite. 2) It is Beduin custom to accept any visitor/traveller into his/her home. So, if you happen to wind up at the wrong house, you will still be taken in. Therefore, make absolutely sure that you are at the right house before calling to confirm that you are with your family. 3) Traditionally, the Beduin would take in a visitor and host them for 3 days and 3 nights before they even asked his name. Meaning, your family may pretty much ignore you for the first little bit you are there, maybe a few minutes, maybe a few hours to give you a chance to settle in. So, don't be alarmed if no one talks to you in the beginning. 4) Similar to Amman, people show hospitality and interest by asking you one-thousand and one questions. (Once you're past the moving in period of course.) There is almost no topic off limits and you must decide what you will and will not answer - its all up to you.</div><div><br /></div></div></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-42439005134907861752010-03-08T08:52:00.001-08:002010-03-14T05:33:25.008-07:00TLAFP - Lunch<b>Lunch</b><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Not really a big deal on the weekdays. I eat at school so I either have bread and cheese and fruit or something or I go up to the "main" street which is actually a circle - Duwar Abdoun - that has a bunch of cafes, restaurants, ice cream shops (:D), etc. There's a little falafel place were you can get two sandwiches and a Pepsi for 1.20 JD. Another favorite place to go is the shawarma place next door. For those who don't know, shawarma is typically meat (and by meat I mean lamb) or chicken that is placed on this massive spit thing and cooked rotisserie style. The meat is then shaved off and eaten in either a sandwich (of sorts) or just on a plate. One of my favorite lunches is a fruit cocktail (which is a fruit smoothie with lots of whole fruit) and a small shawarma sandwich...soo yummy!</div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicK8c8SYIcxi2hhowz5cdNY_h4hO-PRvuqr40LPO4FOOgfqrCvNbEAxgZdv-yqKE12sg3zuknNgKLI2M_PaYPoYQLlC8LZCqQ_tVhw3Npw6yLGaQ0eq6XulTGGJGk-BkeR1hTFhiHR1w/s1600-h/Shawarma_ad_Istanbul_(01.10.2008).JPG.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicK8c8SYIcxi2hhowz5cdNY_h4hO-PRvuqr40LPO4FOOgfqrCvNbEAxgZdv-yqKE12sg3zuknNgKLI2M_PaYPoYQLlC8LZCqQ_tVhw3Npw6yLGaQ0eq6XulTGGJGk-BkeR1hTFhiHR1w/s320/Shawarma_ad_Istanbul_(01.10.2008).JPG.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448466563611473170" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-20331133240544969152010-03-08T08:36:00.000-08:002010-03-08T08:42:49.918-08:00The Long Awaited Food Post - Breakfast<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">So I’m writing this after just finishing a dinner of KFC, so maybe a little ironic. Anyway, the original title of this post was going to be “I’m Going to Gain 50 Pounds”. I now retract that statement to say that I’ve probably already gained about 20 lbs. Well, maybe not 20 but you get the point… And it’s really no wonder why. *See Below* </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Breakfast<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Here, I typically have three different kinds of breakfasts throughout the week. The first is the normal, before-school one that I make myself. That typically consists of 1-2 “sandwiches” of either pita or rolls with any of the following: cheese, jam (of various flavors), Nutella, zait ou zatar (that’s oil with a mix of spices that are pretty much used in EVERYTHING), lebna (thick yogurt), or whatever else I find in the fridge. I normally eat one sandwich while getting ready for school and the other on the way. The second type is similar but happens when my (host) mom is up and forces me to sit down and eat the sandwiches while usually drinking hot Nesquik. [Side note about Nesquik – my family is HUGE on Nesquik and Nescafe. I have had them in every possible way you can have them – hot, cold, made into pudding, dry on top of rice noodle-type things – I’m serious….every single way.] Anyway, the third type of breakfast (ftur) is the weekend breakfast. Mostly on Friday mornings (the holy day) when family comes over, we have fresh falafal, hummus, pita (hubbez), babaganoush (like an eggplant hummus), an array of cheeses, lebna, jam, nutella, etc. Its. Amazing. So breakfast is not like breakfast in the states, I seriously wouldn’t trade it for cereal. :)<o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-45027466677864260782010-03-04T03:12:00.000-08:002010-03-14T05:33:46.998-07:00I'm Back!!Back from the Badia and the Dead Sea.....back with faster internet at SIT.....BACK!.....now if I only had more time...<div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-72826651303837349772010-02-24T06:34:00.000-08:002010-02-24T09:04:56.292-08:00UpdateSo, firstly I have to apologize again. The internet situation is limited at best and now, because we're at the end of the month our bandwidth quota for the month has been filled. Ergo, the connection is SO RIDICULOUSLY slow. Like turtle slow. Like molasses in January (excepts its February). So websites like Blogger simply don't load. The browser just gives up because its too slow. So I'm going to try and give a quick synapsis of whats going on....here goes...(and this is in no particular order)<div><br /></div><div>1) I have found the most amazing ice cream I have ever had in my entire life. Get ready....Nuttella Ice Cream. Its chocolate/hazlenut ice cream with SOLID CHUNKS OF NUTELLA in it. For those of you who have never experienced the amazingness that is Nuttella, let me enlighten you. It is chocolate and hazelnut spread that is pure heaven. You're supposed to put it on bread/toast and thing but I eat this stuff out of the jar. With a spoon (or my finger). Yes, it's that good.So add the deliciousness of Nutella to the deliciousness of chocolate ice cream and boom...an explosion of flavors...:) (Special prize to whoever can name the movie quote.)</div><div><br /></div><div> 2) My birthday was on Monday. And in the range of birthdays....this one was, to be completely honest, kinda lame//uneventful/depressing/boring/. Overall it was very un-birthday-like. For starters, I don't think my host family actually remembered it was my birthday even though we talked about it a few times the day before. b) My sister told me to be home at 6 because she had a "surprise". SO i got home at exactly 6 and......we didn't have any power, the family had already eaten, my phone was dying, and no one even said happy birthday to me. c) I guess it seems kind of self-centered but my host mom had made a cake for the neighbor's birthday (which was a week ealier) but not for me. :(</div><div><br /></div><div><div>3) Im heading to the Badia tomorrow. (Thats the desert) To live with a traditional Bedouin family. That means sleeping on the floor, eating with your hands, herding sheep, the whole bit. IM SO EXCITED. We had to get tradition clothes too so when i get back you can see some traditional outfits. Gotta run but ill post more when i get back!!</div></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-341048114373860600.post-10282809028982116892010-02-16T06:29:00.000-08:002010-03-14T05:51:17.426-07:00Salt Pt 2At the "oldest" public school in Salt/Jordan we ran into some guys playing football (soccer). Some of our group joined in. Here's a clip of the epic battle of Jordan vs. the United States wherein the US got their butts kicked.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzlIkVuyQuSgzZLkc0obsuD41PFZ8vgeAza1RUPmVFw3OI4Iz0d_VlBNYMx4P96FGUdU3HWd479p-E0W9tf9w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12816936193447430707noreply@blogger.com0