Abu Dhabi

I'm buried, but I wanted to get a few thoughts down on (virtual) paper before they fly out of my addled brain. On this trip through the United Arab Emirates I spent more time in Abu Dhabi than I have had the chance to do in the past, and came away liking it a lot more than Dubai. Whereas Dubai is the business tourist center of the Emirates, Abu Dhabi is trying to become the cultural center. They have just completed construction on the world's third biggest mosque, the Sheikh Zayed Mosque, which boasts the world's largest hand-made Persian carpet (65,000 square feet). I haven't had the chance to visit the Sheikh Zayed Mosque yet, although non-Muslims can enter it during certain hours of the days. Abu Dhabi also has signed agreeements with the Louvre and the Googenheim and will be building what will essentially be branches of those two famous museums on a man-made island. So, you'll be able to go to Abu Dhabi and, besides visiting one of the world's largest mosques, you'll be able to see part of the collections of the Louvre and the Googenheim. Amazing.

Sunny Budapest?

OK, I'm packed, paid up, and ready to go - and it is a brilliantly sunny day in Budapest. Ever since I arrived late Monday night it has been appropriately gloomy and rainy, but today, by way of saying goodbye, Budapest is providing me with a sunny send-off. I have a 12:30 pm flight from Budapest to Paris. As always, I am already nervous about the mad dash through Charles de Gaulle Airport, although I think I have enough time so it won't be too terrible (insert foreboding music here). The flight across the Atlanta is on Air France which makes me happy. Then a short layover and the flight home to chilly Burlington.

I really like Budapest quite a bit, and wish I could get out to see more of the cointryside. They are definitely struggling with the transition from the old communist days to a market economy and entry into the EU (and who knows when they will ever switch to the euro). While waiting for the train yesterday I walked next door to a mall - and the clash between the posh West End Mall and the wonderfully seedy Nyugati train station tells you everything you need to know about this clumsy time in Hungarian history.

If you ever pass through Budapest be sure to visit the Cafe Alibi. If you are at the great indoor market (fresh food malls on the ground level, souvenirs on the top) next to Corvinus University, just walk down Vaci Utca (the main pedestrian shopping area in Budapest, it runs on forever). Take a right at the second street, Szerb Utca. You will pass a church on your left and then the Loch Ness Pub on your right, before hitting the Cafe Alibi on your right. The staff speak impeccable English, the food is great (I had the garlic spinich chicken one day and then the creamy leek chicken the next - both great - and good cafe lattes), and great free wifi.

Loved my visit here again, and can't wait to come back. I'm supposed to be speaking at a conference in Slovakia in June and I think I'll have to make a return visit to Budapest.

Train to Pilscsaba

Well, in this case, the train from Pilscsaba to Budapest. Pilscsaba is where Pazmany Peter Catholic University is located and I've made the sojourn out here two straight days. From the Hotel Gellert on the Buda side you walk across the bridge, which they are still working on a year later - and I suspect they will be working for a while yet, to the Kolvin metro station on the Pest side. There you pay your 270 forints (just over a dollar) and ride to the Nyugati train station. There you buy your ticket to the Pazmaneum statuin, which is on the Esztergem line, which is 900 forints round trip (about $4.50) for a trip that is an hour each way. I love the European train system - it is so great. Now, if I can only get one of those cool red Hungarian station master hats!

Hungarian National Gallery

On Wednesday morning I had some time to myself before an afternoon full of meetings at Corvinus University so I used it to climb back to the top of Castle Hill. I spent an entire day there last year and loved it - and wrote all about it earlier in the blog. However, on the previous trip I missed out on going into the National Gallery because a wing of it was closed for repairs. So, I was determined to get back up there. It was a lovely way to spend a couple hours, not simply because it is located high on Castle Hill and you'd be looking at a picture and suddenly look out the window and have this spectacular view looking across the Danube to the Pest side (Castle Hill is on the Buda side). The view looking over the chain bridge and towards the Parliament building was pretty amazing.

I, sadly, didn't know much about Hungarian art, and now I know a little more. Every place I visit I always end up at the local art museums, which I guess is the hallmark of the utter nerd. I usually bring along a pen and small pad of paper so that I can make notes to myself as I wander through the museum - you never want to go to a museum with me, it can take hours - and then I'll want to go back through it again. Anyway, this time I forgot my pen, but stopped an ancient Hungarian woman who was working there are borrowed her nub of a pencil to make notes on my Budapest map. There were several artists that I found quite interesting. There were several painting from an artist named Soma Orlay Petrich, but the one I found most interesting was his painting of the Greek poet Sappho, not only because she looked very Hungarian as compared to Greek, but also because she looked like a younger version of his mother (another painting that was featured there) - submit pop psychological analysis here. There was also a really arresting painting by Jeno Gyarfas entitled The Ordeal of the Bier, which featured a woman, with an utterly mad look on her face, stumbling out of a room where her lover's body is on display - there is a bloody knife on the floor and you can see the wound, vaguely, on his chest. However, it is the passionately deranged look on her face which kept me coming back again and again. They also had some of the studies leading up to the final painting and it looked like something right out of Goya. However, the painter that I found most interesting was the great Hungarian romantic painter Bertalan Szekely. His paintings are featured all over the museum. He had an entire collection simply called the "loose women" collection which was pretty interesting, including a painting of a Japanese woman changing out of her traditional dress - the painting is quite beautiful, although the woman is a very Hungarian Japanese woman - and considering how great a painter Szekely was I'm sure that's not representative of his inability to render the image. There were also a series of paintings which were very nationalistic and almost messianic. The destruction of the Hungarian army at the battle of Mohacs in 1526, which marked the greatest victory of the Ottoman leader Suleyman the Magnificent and also the destruction of the Hungarian kingdom and the beginning of four centuries of subjegation, is a very popular topic for Hungarian painters, and Szekely is no exception. He also did a painting entitled Mihaly Dobozy, another theme copied by other Hungarian painters. It deals with a Hungarian hero being pursued by the Turks and trying to escape with his wife or lover (I'm not completely familiar with all the aspects of the story). In Szekely's version the hero is standing next to his dead horse with the Turks rushing towards him - and the woman is opening her blouse to give him a clear path to plunge in his knife so that she (and, metaphorically, all of Hungary) will not have to undergo this degradation. Obviously, very romantic and very messianic, but also pretty moving. So, if you make it to Budapest, plan to set aside several hours to spend at the National Gallery.

Reflections on Oman

This was my first trip to Oman and I really enjoyed it - and wished that I could have stayed for more than just a couple days. I was scheduled to visit Muscat this last summer before the Great Unpleasantness changed everything - although I'm sure I would not have been as enchantened in 135 degree weather.

I found the people to be very friendly and out-going. You actually saw Omani folks working at jobs, which is not something that you are as likely to see in the United Arab Emirates (where the work force is almost entirely legally temporary immigrants, even if they have been there for generations). It was both very exotic, but also very comfortable. The men all wear the traditional white dish dash with very cool hats while the women wear black abayas. I'll use some net-drawn pictures because I haven't been able to download my own pictures yet. There is creeping westernization, to be sure, but the Omanis are very sensitive to it, especially the ecological damage, and clearly don't want to become another Dubai. The funny thing was that the last night Johanna and Francois took me out to eat at a local nice mall as a going away treat, and the mall was alive with young folks in western garb, both men and women. I had not seen any Omanis in western dress all day long until that moment. So, Oman is definitely on the cusp, which is why they're such a natural fit for our Global Module expansion. If we can get in at Sultan Qaboos with this program I think we'll be very well-positioned.

And Sultan Qaboos University. It is only around thirty years old, and is one of the prettiest campuses I have ever seen. It is an odd place because there is absolutely no exchange, unless it is very subtle, between the male and female students - they just pass each other like ghosts. They are not segregated - and there are clubs designed to let them spend time together in regulated activities - but you certainly never saw any guys hitting on girls or vice-versa. Now, what happens at night in the mall, of course, is anybody's guess. Several women, again in their traditional black abayas, went out of their way to come up and talk to me when I was waiting outside a professor's office. They were very friendly and one of the girls actually gave me a poem to read and critique, both the poem and her English (both were quite good). I spent a goodly portion of the day at Sultan Qaboos with George Rishmawi, a great guy. George is a Palestinian Christian from Bethlehem, and actually knew some of the folks I've talked to at Bethlehem University and someone I know at the University of Jordan. He invited me back to his house for lunch and I met his wife. I had not picked up on the fact that he was Christian until I entered his house and saw several icons and a cross on the wall. His daughter lives in San Francisco and they are very interested in visiting her more often. I had commented to one of the secretaries that I had, unsuccessfully, tried to buy some of the Omani hats down at the old souq downtown - they wanted more than I wanted to pay - although, typically, I've been regretting I didn't buy about ten. I think the problem is the exchange rate - I've just had too many of them on this trip: it's about $1.30 to one Jordanian Dinar; and around 3 Emirati Dirhams to a dollars; and one Omani Rials equals three US dollars, and one US dollar equals around 200 Hungarian Forints - too much confusion and I was afraid I was being cheated worse than usual so I hesitated - of course, I also almost bought something at the market here in Budapest the other day and thought it was an acceptable bargain at $19, and then redid the math and realized it was actually $190 and quickly bowed out. Anyway, I made this one simple comment to the secretary and it became her life mission to get me some hats - and no amount of argument on my part could change her mind - and she eventually went home and returned with three hats that she had initially bought for her brothers! Again, she wouldn't take no for an answer nor accept any payment. Typical for this amazingly generous part of the world. So, definitely visit Oman - I can't wait to come back.

Stuck in Budapest with the Muscat Blues Again

Actually, I love Budapest (especially now as I'm sitting in the Club Alibi off the Szerb Utca, feeding off free wifi, and devouring a plate of garlic spinich chicken). However, on Tuesday I had my doubts. I was sitting beneath a low-lying, almost claustrophobic, caliginous sky, and found myself dreaming of the heat and blue skies of Muscat, Oman. Of course, that may have just been a case of the fact that I was freezing to death. Not only was it 30 as compared to the 95 I have left behind in Muscat (mainly because the heat had broken in Oman and everyone was happy for the cooler weather), but I didn't have a coat or a sweater, which were stuck inside my suitcase that had picked a particularly bad time to go missing.

To make a long story relatively short, I got stuck in the Air France strike the other day. I flew out of Muscat at 12:30 a.m. on Monday morning and arrived in Dubai around 1:30 a.m. Now, I wasn't scheduled to fly out until 12:30 the next afternoon and I had already thrown away $200 for a nine hour stay on my first trip through Dubai so I just hunkered down and slept on the floor of the airport. Wow, it was cold, really cold, which at least took my mind off how uncomfortable the floor was. That was the first time that I wished that I had my coat, if only to act as a blanket - instead, I used my extra pants as a pillow and my extra shirt as a blanket. My suitcase was already checked through from Muscat to Dubai to Paris to Budapest. Anyway, after a long cold night I woke up to the news that my Dubai to Paris flight had been cancelled because of the Air France strike, which led me to track down an Air France agent (who were, not surprisingly, lying low). I finally found a very nice young woman at the Air France lounge who confirmed that the Airlines had already moved me over to Emirates Air, and that I was flying out at 2:30, and passing through Frankfurt instead of Paris. Beggars can't be choosers so I didn't complain - plus, she let me hang out in the posh Air France lounge for several hours. So, I eventually boarded the Emirates flight at 2:30, although it then didn't take off until an your late, making my layover in Frankfurt a bit iffy. When I landed in Frankfurt I had to run throughout the entire airport and by the time I made it to the Malev (local Hungarian carrier) counter I was told it was too late to get on the flight - I had already been turned back by a security agent who had sent me to the Malev counter in the first place. I didn't accept that as an answer and they held the plane, thankfully, because Frankfurt is too nice of a city for that level thermo-Scudderian explosion. After some more running I made it onto the plane and on to Budapest, only to find, not to my surprise, that my luggage had not followed me. It could have been flying out of Muscat, or the layover in Dubai, or the Air France strike and redirection, or the short layover in Frankfurt because of the late Emirates flight, but my suitcase didn't make it. So, the next day I had to walk to all my meetings in just the shirt and khakis that had served as blanket and pillow the night before - and Budapest was pretty cold. I am staying at the Hotel Gellert, a spa that has seen better days, although they are fixing it up even as we speak. That said, I could look out my window and I could see Corvinus University on the other side of the Danube, so it could not have been more convenient. My luggage eventually showed up late Wednesday night, and the sweater and coat were greatly appreciated - I can now leave the hotel!

Dinosaurs

While downtown Joanna and I wandered into a little museum, which combined little snippets of natural history, culture and more recent history. They also had a room dedicated to the ancient past of Oman, including a recreation of the one dinosaur that they have definitively identified as having existed in this area. There was a whole troop of school boys going through, enraptured by the dinosaur, as all boys are - however, these boys were dressed in traditional white gowns and the hats that you see all Omani men wear (and which I'm searching for, but that's for another posting). What struck me about the entire experience is the perception that we have that the Middle East is somehow backward - yet here we are in Muscat, Oman and they have no trouble with an exhibit of dinosaurs. It only seems to be in the US that we are stilling having arguments about creationism vs. evolution - and I'm thinking of my home town of Cincinnati and their creationism museum. A point that my friend Kate made about her Global Module experience really rang true - she said the thing that really marked the exchange between the kids from Champlain and the kids from Zayed was that the Zayed kids were amazed at how the CC kids were not very traditional but more conservative than they thought they would be, and the CC kids were amazed at how the ZU kids were traditional but much less conservative than they thought they would be.

Abu Dhabi and Muscat

It's Saturday night and I'm in Muscat, Oman. It's amazing how quickly this trip is moving along. One week from tonight I will have left Oman, passed back through Dubai, then Paris, then Budapest, then back through Paris, and then JFK and back to Burlington - and that's assuming that everything works as it is scheduled to work. Air France is on strike and beginning tomorrow night I have four flights on Air France - two on Monday (Dubai-Paris; Paris-Budpaest) and two on Saturday (Budapest-Paris; Paris-JFK) - so who knows how it will all play itself out.

After my day of meetings at the Dubai campus of Zayed on Wednesday I caught the shuttle to Abu Dhabi around 3:00. There I met up with Kate O'Neill who teaches at the Abu Dhabi campus of Zayed University - Kate is also from South Burlington. She very graciously volunteered to put me up while I was in town. I had never met her husband Scott, or her three sons - Hobie, Berent and Peyton. I ended up sleeping over at her brother Chris's apartment, which was about a five minute walk. They were all fantastic and I had a great time. Kate felt that I'd never get a moment's peace with her boys so she thought I should stay with Chris. Actually, the boys were great and by the time I left Berent and I were sharing tootsie pops, which has all the hallmarks of a life-long friendship. The meeting at the Abu Dhabi campus of Zayed went very well and, considering the accomplishments of Wednesday's meetings at the Dubai campus, give me a lot of hope for the future.

I made it back to Dubai on Friday night. Kate, Chris and Scott were going to Dubai, and stay in a nice hotel, to see the reformed band Queen as a birthday gift for Chris. So, we said our goodbyes to the boys and took off early afternoon. Before we left we had to feed Kate who, like me, apparently is a blood sugar accident waiting to happen (grin). We went to a nice mall and headed to the food court. Kate went to McDonald's while Chris and I headed to Dairy Queen - where I had a double cheeseburger, chili fries and a chocolate milk shake (hardly what most folks in America would associate with Middle Eastern fare, although these restaurants are very common in some parts of the Middle East - we passed by KFC, Burger King, Chili's and Krispy Kreme). When we made it to Dubai there was a mix-up with the room and Chris, in a demonstration of a great talent he has (hidden under the layers of a very nice guy) pushed the people at the front desk until they received a night's stay at a $2500 a night suite on the top floor. The suite was insanely nice - and I told them that I hoped to live long enough to live in a house as nice as the third bathroom in the suite. My flight out wasn't leaving until 10:20 so they asked me to hang around for a couple hours. As part of their largesse they were invited to a complimentary drink/starter/dessert reception starting at 6:00. We showed up, hunkered down with endless waves of food, and then the band showed up - which is how I found myself next to Brian May in the buffet line. Very odd.

I'll have a lot more to say about Kate and Scott and Chris and the boys - as well as Dubai and Abu Dhabi later. I took my leave around 7:00 and caught a taxi to the airport. My flight on Swiss Air left right on time and by a little after 11:00 I had arrived in Muscat, Oman, which was my first time in the country. After swapping dollars for Rials, which is humbling because it's around $3 to a Rial I queued up to get my visa. It was a long line, but it was very painless. Everyplace I've visited I've either not needed a passport or could just pick it up at the airport, with the exception of India where I had to send it off in advance - another of the advantages of being a US citizen.

Joanna Nel, who teaches online for us at Champlain, met me at the airport. I first met Joanna years ago when she was teaching at our campus in Dubai. I encouraged her to think about teaching online and she contacted Champlain and has been doing so ever since. Then a couple years ago I was chairing a panel at a conference in Amman and asked her to put in a proposal, so I saw her again, and met her husband Francois for the first time, this time in Jordan. So now she was nice enough to ask me to stay at their place in Muscat while I was in town. They are originally from near Cape Town in South Africa. In fact, Francois and I watched the South African national team, the Springboks, play tonight on cable - he was very pleased when I disappeared into the back to change into the Springboks t-shirt that I had picked up in Pretoria a couple months back.

I have a day's worth of meetings tomorrow at Sultan Qaboos University but today was wide open. So, Joanna played tour guide and we went downtown to old Muscat. It was a great day, but more on that later.

Dubai

OK, I've made it back to Dubai. I'm sitting in my friend Yunsun "Sun" Chung-shin's office at Zayed University in between meetings, feeding off of the university's wifi. The trip down from Amman was uneventful, other than I'm utterly spoiled. Emirates Airlines is such a great airline - so much better than that dreadful flight I had over the Atlantic on Delta. The food last night was fantastic and the seats were confortable and every seat had it's own individual screen with a library of films to watch - sort of like British Airways, except with more comfortable seats. I watched an independent film I'd never seen before called My Blueberry Nights - I'm a sucker for independent films, but this was mindly entertaining at best. It starred Norah Jones (don't know how many movies she has done - she was OK, although the high point was her cover of Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" - didn't see that coming), Jude Law, Rachael Weitz and Natalie Portman. In the row next to me there was a woman, in very traditional Arabic garb, who had three seats to herself - and she was watching three different programs. I don't know what was more surprising - that John Carpenter's Big Trouble in Little China was in the film library, or that someone had actually chosen it to watch.

I stayed at a hotel called the Jumeira Rotana last night - although I didn't get in until around 10:30 p.m. and the driver from Zayed came at around 7:30 to pick me up. It wasn't much of a stay for a sizeable amount of money. If you factor in the cost of the room, the room tax, the ride in from the airport, and the breakfast, I'm sure it was around $200 for nine hours at the hotel - and I didn't even get to take advantage of the pool or exercise facility. However, that's practically slumming it in Dubai. It was the least expensive, logically convenient hotel that Zayed could find. And this is why I'm spending the rest of this trip and my time in Muscat, Oman sleeping on the couch in professors' houses (grin). On my two previous trips Zayed picked up the tab and I was staying at places that were normally around $300 a night (although I don't know what deal the school got). I wonder what Sudhir paid for that place he used to put us up in near to our old campus in Dubai - the one with all the Russian prostitutes in the bar?

Now I'm back visiting Zayed, trying to convince them to embed more GMs in their curriculum. They are a nice size for us, about 2000 students - 1000 here in Dubai and a 1000 in Abu Dhabi, where I'll be tomorrow. Again, a fascinating place - a sleek, ultra modern campus with great technological infrastructure - and all the students, it's an all-women's school, wearing head to toe traditonal black abayas. Still, they're very interested in the connecting to the rest of the world. I talked to the students in Sun's class today and they're great kids - very enthusiastic and friendly.

Security at the University of Jordan

The concept of just leisurely strolling onto a university campus is a very American concept - or at least a very American and European concept (which is ironic since we're the ones known for school shootings). In the Middle East and some parts of Africa (Morocco and Kenya yes, South Africa no) there is always a lot of security around campuses, and they don't even like you snapping pictures of the place. There are several gates leading into UJ and I normally enter using the big gate across the street from the fast food restaurants down the road from ACOR - there's a tunnel there under the street. I've been coming onto the campus of UJ for years now, often several days in a row on each trip - and the response is almost always different. Sometimes the professor or administrator I'm visiting will meet me at the gate and we just breeze through. Other times I'm by myself and the guards just wave at me and I stroll through. Sometimes they ask to see my passport or who I am scheduled to see (in a very clumsy conversation limited by very few words in common). Yesterday I was actually sent over to the security building, which was a first, where I had to sit down and say who I was visiting - she was an assistant professor who they had never heard of and they couldn't quite figure out who to call - until I thought of the magic word, Majdoubeh. He is a dean and very well known - as soon as I said the magic words they threw their hands in the air and said Majdoubeh, as if it were a ceremonial greeting or Hamdil'allah ("thanks be to god"). I felt like Ali Baba - the cave opened and in I went (although with a written pass, which was the first time I'd ever received one). Now, the day before I had been on campus for meetings all day and ended up leaving something in a room by mistake, which I didn't remember until I had made it all the way back to ACOR, and it was night. So, I turned around and walked all the way back figuring that I'd have issues at the gate, but the guards just smiled at me and waved me in.

Moving On

It's already my last day in Amman, even though it seems like I just arrived yesterday. It was another fruitful trip and I'm slowly making progress with the University of Jordan. Huge universities like UJ have tremendous potential for my program, but they also take a lot longer to turn as compared to small schools like Champlain or Al Akhawayn - it's like trying to turn a huge pleasure cruiser on the ocean as compared to a small car on dry land. We're running GMs in several literature classes and are moving closer to potentially embedding the GMs in a new course entitled Intro to Cross-Cultural Interactions (which would be a great fit - as I always say, you shouldn't hammer the GMs into a course just to say you've done it - if it fits and benefits the course, then they should go there - we'll be running GMs in a couple of the Cross-Cultural courses as an experiment). My friends Inas, Laza, Sane and Deema were once again remarkably supportive. I received a lovely gift from Inas.

ACOR was quarky, as usual. There are several students here from West Point who are spending the semester studying Arabic across the street at UJ. Great kids. I haven't been called sir so often since I taught in India. The faculty members are artists and visiting Fulbright scholars and folks doing more serious research - and then me promoting the GMs. On an earlier trip my friends Bob, Rob, Char and Ann took to calling me the RA of ACOR, and as a veteran I guess that's a good designation. Last night I gave my usual tour of local ice cream and schwarma establishments last night (and the schwarma was wonderful, per usual, and the guy who runs the stand was very excited to see me again - and why not, much as with Homer and the hot dog salesman who followed him to the funeral, I'm putting his kids through college). I talked to Barbara, who is the director here at ACOR, and asked her if I now held the world record for most stays at ACOR (six), but she says I'm not even close, which is a testament to the place. Barbara is also heading out the door today to go to the US for a presentation at a conference on ACOR. The assistant director, Chris Tuttle, will also be taking off for the US in a week or so to defend his disseration - and then make a trip up to his home state of Vermont (we might catch lunch in Burlington when he's in town). If the name Tuttle in Vermont sounds familiar then it should, he is Fred's son. A very small world.

Today at 2:00 the driver comes to take me to the Amman airport to catch my 4:30 flight to Dubai. Then a night in a hotel in Dubai, and Wednesday I have meetings at the Dubai campus of Zayed University. At the end of the day I catch the bus to Abu Dhabi where I'll be bunking at Zayed Professor Kate O'Neill's place (Kate went to South Burlington high school - again, a very small world). On Thursday I have meetings at the Abu Dhabi campus of Zayed University, then back to Kate's place. Then on Friday I'm catching a ride back into Dubai with Kate and her husband, who are going to town for some event and are staying at a downtown hotel, so I'm bumming a ride with them, and then trying to sneak onto the hotel shuttle back to the airport for a late night flight to Muscat, Oman (where I'll be sleeping on the couch of Champlain online professor Johanna Nel). See, it is a luxurious, exciting life - staying at $30 a night establishments in Amman and sleeping on the couch of friends in Abu Dhabi and Muscat.

Reflections on Things at Hand: Indian Sacred Caves

Don't know why my mind is full of India images tonight - maybe I feel like I'm cheating on India by spending so much time in the Middle East. Plus, as I was working up a presentation today I went through hundreds of pictures from the summer of 2004 that I spent teaching at Champlain's campus in Mumbai. That was before I started this blog, and, for that matter, before I started writing in my regular travel journal - so maybe I should make an effort to get some of this down before it all fades away. It really was the most amazing educational experience of my life, and India remains my favorite place in the whole world. I could fill up dozens of blog posting with my remembrances of India.

That said, let me, quickly, say a few words about the trip I made to Aurangabad shortly before I left India. I had been planning to make a weekend trip for a while and finally figured out where I wanted to go (my father and I made a wild trip down to Vellore and then up to Agra, but that's another posting). From Mumbai you can take a sleeper bus - sort of like in Harry Potter - up to Aurangabad, to the northeast. I saw several things that weekend, but what amazed me were the sacred caves of Ellora and Ajanta - I saw Ellora on Saturday and Ajanta on Sunday. Both are natural cave formations that were added on over the centuries - there were efforts to dig deeper into the side of the cliff and also innumerable statues were carved. Ellora is a combination of Hindu, Buddhist and Jain statues, carved depending upon what religion was popular with what leader at the time. Ajanta is all Buddhist, and also has paintings, which Ellora does not feature. I have a bizarre story about the most famous cave painting at Ajanta, but I've save that for later. The carving at Ellora which, to this day, I can't quite believe I saw - it ranks up there with the pyramids and the Taj Mahal and Petra and Notre Dame in the category of most amazing things I've ever seen - is what is sometimes referred to as cave 16, or the Kailasa temple. It is one massive temple, but it is even more astonishing that at first glance. It is carved out of one piece of stone - and is twice as big as the Parthenon. It is believed the 7000 craftsmen worked for a century and a half carving it out of the cliff. They just started at the top of the cliff and began to work their way down. It is almost beyond comprehension.

Saturday in Amman

It's Saturday night and back safely enscounced at ACOR. I had to get up early this morning to finish one of the two presentations I had to give this morning over at the University of Jordan (and after yesterday's long flight it was a challenge). The first one was about Global Modules and, not surprisingly, I was able to adapt that one fairly quickly. The second presentation was my own take on intercultural awareness, which was an interesting topic (although I'm sure not an interesting presentation). Both presentations, along with several others, were part of a small conference that UJ put together for their Intercultural Communication class. I had spent several hours working on the second presentation - mainly going back through thousands of old pictures from foreign travel and seeing what they sparked. In the end it was a series of pictures along with corresponding observations on what it means when cultures meet/clash/meld - the philosophers will be happy to know that I started with a picture I took from inside a cave at Petra and ended with a drawing of Plato's allegory of the cave. They both went well and it was a lot of fun. The kids from UJ, like their own international colleagues, really do want to communicate with the US. I'd love to have the people who routinely bad mouth the Middle East just spend some time with these wonderful students.

After the meeting I went out to Sane Yagi's house for lunch. Yagi is a UJ professor who is a big supporter of the GMs. He had a really nice house in a new suburb of Amman - and, like seemingly every building in Amman, it is made of white stone. He assures me it is very nice because he went in with all of his brothers on the construction of it (and because, before coming to UJ, he worked overseas for years). The house has five levels, with Yagi and his family living on the first floor, and four other brothers having their own level. We had a huge lunch - I accused Yagi and his wife of being closet Indians in their mad desire to stuff me - and I spent a long time talking to Yagi, his wife, and his two sons, both of whom are great young men. The younger son had just finished a midterm exam and UJ, while the other son is in e-commerce and was getting ready to take off in a couple hours for a conference in Las Vegas - typically, he handed his mother a long list of things he needed for the trip at the last moment (he had studied in Australia and New Zealand and had a wonderful mixed Arabic-Australian-Kiwi accent). His wife taught chemistry at Sultan Qaboos University in Oman for years. In addition I met Yagi's father, who also lives with them. We talked about politics and students and the peculiarites of the Arabic and English languages. All in all, a lovely day.

So, I'm now back at ACOR listening to Neil Young sing about a "Bad Fog of Loneliness." ACOR is a nice place to stay, but the only two TVs are downstairs, so the rooms are a bit quiet at night. Still, they have quite a collection of burnt CDs so maybe I'll go pick one out for a viewing on the laptop. But first, time to raid the kitchen for leftovers.

Back in Amman

OK, I've made it back to Amman, safe and sound. I'm staying at the American Center of Oriental Research (ACOR) again, although it looks pretty deserted at the moment. The flight was fairly uneventful, although the bulkhead seat I connived to score didn't have nearly the legroom that I was hoping for. Not much time at the moment because I have to get two presentations ready for tomorrow.

The Next Trip

. . . and there always seems to be a next trip. I'm in the middle of this trip and I'm already focused on the next one. I get back very late on the night of Tuesday 4 November (I'll be travelling the entire day of the elections, which will be a little odd - luckily I was able to vote early) and after being home for around thirty-six hours, I'm off on a two and a half week trip to Jordan (visits to the University of Jordan and Princess Sumaya University), the United Arab Emirates (visits to the Dubai and Abu Dhabi campuses of Zayed University), Oman (an initial visit to Sultan Qaboos University), and Hungary (visits to Corvinus University and Pazmany Peter University). I already have places to stay in Jordan and Oman, so I'm ahead of the game . . .

Al Akhawayn University

I'm currently at Ifrane, Morocco, visiting Al Akhawayn University. I've said a lot about the university in the past, so I won't go on and on about it this time. It's been a very lovely and productive stay so far. The folks here are very supportive of Champlain and our Global Modules project, and also remarkably friendly folks. It's bitterly cold - rainy and blustery - and one of the professors, my good friend Bouziane, even dropped off a sweater for me yesterday with the instructions that I should keep it and then just drop it off at the front gate to the university with the guards when I leave at 3:30 a.m. on Tuesday morning (on my way to my 6:00 a.m. flight out of Fez). I'm staying at an apartment in one of the faculty housing units, which is very nice - and has cable TV - so I can keep up with the U.S. election through the BBC. I don't get CNN, which is OK because the British coverage is so far superior that it is a laughable comparison anyway. The students are having a big Halloween party this weekend, which may seem a little odd, but the Moroccans have a very tangible European sensibility about things, especially here in Ifrane, and the school also has a fair number of European students here on exchange (I'd love for some Champlain students to come here as well).

Like I said, the university is very supportive of our attempts to create international educational links. We are looking at embedding GMs in the first year courses in Sociology, Psychology, Anthropology and Geography, and in the second year courses in History, Literature and Philosophy - in addition to other selective courses across the curriculum. This is exactly the type of foundation that we need to take the GMs to the next level - I couldn't be happier. We've also begun discussions about grant opportunities, similar to the one we just submitted with Kenyatta University, the University of Pretoria and North Carolina A&T University.

Culture of Fear

Even though my latest passport adventure in Kenya ended up eliminating the Cape Town part of the my trip to South Africa I still had a great time. Everyone I met was wonderful - very friendly and out-going, and they reminded me, I suppose naturally enough, of Australians (although the South Africans would cringe at that comparison). I ended up spending my time in Pretoria, presenting at a conference on African curricular development and visiting the Universitity of Pretoria and the University of South Africa. I'll have more to say about this all later on, but what really struck me was how fear has taken hold in so much of the white community of Pretoria. When I first arrived in Pretoria I spent a few days at a bed & breakfast out in a very nice suburb of Pretoria, but you'd think it was an outright war zone for all the barb wire and electric fences that surrounded every single house. Home security has been an absolute boom industry in South Africa for some time now. The nice folks who ran the bed & breakfast were really intent on me never walking anyplace by myself - and, again, this was essentially a series of gated communities with not a poor person in sight. On a Sunday I didn't have anything to do and didn't want to sit around in my room so I asked the owners over breakfast if there was public transportation that I could take to downtown Pretoria for a walk and the woman who ran things had an absolutely stricken look on her face at the thought that I would do something so reckless. A nice young couple who were visiting from Cape Town volunteered to drop me off downtown at the zoo as they left for the day. The owner said that was OK, but that I had to call, from the zoo, as soon as I was finished and that they would come pick me up - and to not leave the zoo under any circumstances. Well, of course, I paid no attention to that directive. After a lovely couple hours in the zoo I went for a walk around downtown Pretoria and had a perfectly safe time. I ended up in the main square and just sat there, had some ice cream, and watched the world go by. I called her when I was finished and her husband drove out to get me. On another night I went for a walk to a local Chinese restaurant to grab dinner and suddenly a car pulled over - it was the owner who was out for a drive with her son. She insisted that I get in the car and she took me to the restaurant and volunteered to sit there while I picked up my food to go - and seemed a little startled that I intended to eat at the restaurant and then walk home. It reminded me of my first visit to Kenya when the woman who ran the conference center picked me up on the side of the road when I went for a walk, but I could at least process that event because I was walking towards a sort of ramshackle area - but this was a very posh area of Pretoria. I talked to several folks, including my driver (who I'll have more to say later) and the young couple from Cape Town, who felt that the folks in the suburbs of Pretoria were completely overreacting and that while there was a fair amount of crime in Johannesburg (or Joburg - pronounced jawburg - as everyone in South Africa called it) there wasn't enough in a nice area of Pretoria to justify that level of hysteria. It has inspired me to try and do some research on crime levels in South Africa. It reminded me of that book, Culture of Fear, that is discussed in Bowling for Columbine. In that spotless neighborhood in Pretoria there were even eight-foot high fences, topped with razor wire, around the local funeral home.

The U.S. Election

It's always amazing, and a bit humbling, how focused the rest of the world is on the U.S. elections - and also more than a bit embarrassing how little attention we pay to theirs. When I was in Kenya in September the Kenyans, naturally enough, were absolutely fascinated by the election. Everyone I met asked me if Obama would win or even could win. There was also great interest in South Africa, and here in Morocco. Most of the folks are hoping Obama wins, mainly because they view it as the opportunity for a much-needed change in American foreign policy. They are hoping that an Obama presidency would bring about a more balanced foreign policy - or at the very least a presidency that will actually look out to the rest of the world with a sense of leadership and optimism, as compared to fear and protectionism. For the Africans, especially, the hope is that an Obama presidency might signal an interest in a part of the world that routinely feels completely marginalized if not outright ignored. Here at Al Akhawayn University, up in Ifrane, Morocco in the Middle Atlas mountains, the students are actually having a mock election on Tuesday, that includes presentations by professors, as well as a celebration around both the mock election held here at the real one being held in the U.S. (or at least we hope it's not a mock one in the U.S. as well). I always tell my students that as American voters they have the most important and serious job in the world in that they are truly voting for the planet. Or, as my good friend Bouziane Zaid says, everyone on the planet should be able to vote in the U.S. election because the results impact them directly.

Trapped in Kenya, temporarily

As always seem to be the case anymore, I'm going to have to try and get caught up on the travel blog. I've left Africa and have returned, albeit to far northwestern Africa in Morocco (more on that later). My time in sub-Saharan Africa was very positive, although with it's usual Scudder-related disasters. I ended up being trapped in Kenya for a few days. I popped in to the Nairobi airport for my flight to Cape Town on South African Airways and was denied entrance to the flight because my temporary passport (the one left over from the Great Unpleasantness in Cairo) didn't have enough blank pages so the airline wouldn't let me on. Maybe the most amazing thing about the encounter was that I didn't end up in a Kenyan prison - essentially, I could have handled it much better than I did. I think I was mainly angry because it brought back the whole passport theft in Cairo - it's like the gift that just kept on giving. Anyway, I had to leave the airport, make it back to Kenyatta University, and arrange to make it to the US Embassy the next day to get another temporary passport. The lady who denied me access to the South African flight told me that it really wasn't that big of a deal and that the embassy would just put extra pages in my passport - I tried to explain to her that while I'm unfamiliar with diplomatic statecraft I was pretty certain that they wouldn't, in fact, add extra pages to a temporary passpost - that sort of defeats the point of a temporary passport.

Now, getting a new passport caused a bit of a planning problem. I could have made arrangements to just get on the next flight for the same time the next afternoon, but that presupposed that I'd be able to get my new passport at the embassy in around two hours and still make it to the airport on time. It would have been impossible to leave the embassy, make it all the way back to Kenyatta to pick up my suitcases, and then make it to the airport. So, the only option would have been to leave all my worldly possessions with a driver that I had met the day before and depend upon him to wait for several hours outside the embassy for me. It all seemed a bit iffy so I just postponed my flight until the weekend, which caused me to miss my time in Cape Town (which really annoyed me because that was the part I was looking forward to most of all). Now, typically, after having done that, the whole thing worked perfectly. Traffic in Nairobi is incredibly bad so I had arranged for the driver to come out to Kenyatta around 6:00 in the morning (this is the same driver that I had just met the day before at the airport) so I could get to the airport hopefully by 8:00 (they have reduced hours if you're an American citizen, although many hours if you want to become an American citizen, which is interesting in and of itself - anyway, there were only a couple hours in the morning and then a couple hours later in the afternoon, so if the passport wasn't done in the morning the afternoon time slot would have made catching the afternoon flight a moot point anyway). Well, the driver actually arrived early and then took off on this insane drive through every shortcut known or unknown to man, and we actually made it to the embassy early, which gave me time to go next door to have my passport photo taken before preceeding into the embassy.

As it turned out I was the first American citizen in the embassy and they took care of me very quickly. Well, not very quickly, of course. The big snafu was that I had to fit out the form to get a new passport and the woman gave me a red pen, which I thought was odd, but figured that maybe it was a new policy. So, I filled out the entire form and gave it back to her, only to be met by this quizzical look and the obvious question - why did I fill it out in red? I explained that she had actually given me the red pen, which then made her feel pretty foolish. I didn't say much, although I did suggest that maybe it would be a good plan to throw all the red pens away. So, I had to fill out the form again, and then left it with her. She told me to come back around 11:00, which was actually after the official citizen time slot had ended at 10:00. She said not to worry and to just tell the guards at the gate to call her and tell her I was there and that they would let me back at the unofficial hour. It seemed unlikely, but I didn't have much of a choice. As I was filling out the form it occured to me that the US Embassy in Nairobi was actually very nice, and then it dawned on me why it looked so new - it is new, the old one was blown up a couple years ago. Oh, and it was September 11th, which made the whole thing just a bit more odd.

Anyway, I went next door to a very nice coffee shop and had a couple very good cafe lattes and some cheese cake and just sent emails back and forth on my Blackberry. It was one of those experiences that you can't quite convince yourself is actually happening because it was just a little too surreal. At 11:00 I walked back to the embassy, told the gates to call the woman, and, sure enough, they let me in and my new temporary passport was waiting for me. Utterly painless and quick. So, then I had to go find my driver. Sure enough, he had waited for me outside the entire time. So, theoretically anyway, I could have actually done all of that, made my second afternoon flight time, and included my trip to Cape Town. Of course, the skeptic would say that if I had actually left all my worldly possessions with the taxi driver that there would have been a smaller chance that he would have still been waiting for me outside. However, I think he would have because he was a great guy.

One last weird thing about an utterly weird day. When I walked out of the embassy to find my driver I couldn't track him down right away. So, I checked my Blackberry to see if he had called me - we had swapped phone numbers before I entered the diplomatic maze and entered his phone number into my phone. Sure enough, the phone showed that I had missed a call from him. I called back the number and some woman answered who had never heard of my driver - nor had she the second time I called. Anyway, I found my driver and told him the story. He said that I had entered the wrong number into my Blackberry in the first place. He failed to grasp my point that it completely defied logic that I would get a phone call out of the blue from a person I didn't know who had the same number that I had allegedly entered incorrectly.

Anyway, I made it back to Kenyatta and was able to use the extra days to build on the momentum of several good meetings so it turned out OK in the end.

A Kenyan Ghost Story

As is often the case in Kenya, internet connectivity was a bit of an issue so I'll try and get caught up. My time in Kenya has been very successful on the Global Module front, with the requisite number of Scudder-related travel adventures. I spent the time at Kenyatta University, one of our main international partners, and I feel we're making great strides there. I've managed to pick out several departments (sociology, literature and history) to act as "homes" or "incubators" for the Global Modules as we continue to grow. I'm working on a grant with some folks at North Carolina A&T University that would bring some much needed computers to Kenyatta.

I spent the time at the Conference Centre at Kenyatta, which is a pretty nice place - and there were actually some folks there this time (unlike last time when the only other person was a professor from England who was a vegan, which the meat-loving Kenyans couldn't begin to understand). Unfortunately, the internet usually seemed to be down at the business center and a couple different nights the electricity was down in the Conference Centre itself (which was made even more annoying by the fact that it was on in the rest of the campus). What made it even stranger was that sometimes the electricity would work in one outlet and not anyplace else, which led to me almost scaring myself to death one night. I had come back from a day full of visits and was greeted with the information that the electricity was out - and that the backup generator was acting up - and that the repair folks had decided this was a wonderful time to go on strike. So, I had dinner by myself in the dining hall - the crowd that had been there earlier had now cleared out. However, the crew that worked the dining hall could not have been kinder and took great care of me - whipping me up my own meal - which I downed with a bottle of Fanta, which apparently is the national drink of Kenya. I always asked for a Coke and they would always stare at me sadly and encourage me to get a Fanta instead. Armed with candles and matches I went back to my room - and setting up the mosquito netting in the darkenss was another adventure and I almost suffered the total humiliation of hanging myself in the mosquito netting (and thus providing proof positive of the total idiocy of all Americans). I sat down at my desk, with the television behind me, to write in my travel journal in the total darkness of my room - and, for that matter, the entire Conference Centre. At a certain point I suddenly heard a woman's voice behind me - and just about jumped out of my skin when I turned around and saw nothing behind me. And then the television blinked on. Apparently the only outlet in the entire Conference Centre which had decided to work was the one attached to my television. The next morning I told the story to the morning crew and they thought it was very funny and joked that I must have been visited by a jin (obviously drawn from the Arabic jinn) - but then they more seriously stated that jin were more common on the coast in Mombasa.

I had a Global Module in Africa . . .

OK, I'm running around like a lunatic trying to get ready for my next trip. I'm heading back to Africa this weekend to present at a conference on curricular design in African universities and to visit four universities. First off, I'm heading to Kenya to revisit our partner Kenyatta University for several days of meetings as we fine-tune our agreement. Then it's on to South Africa for stops at the University of Cape Town, the University of Pretoria and the University of South Africa - as well as the conference. I'm getting tired just thinking about it. I'm especially looking forward to the return trip, which runs from Johannesburg to London (isn't it possible to fly northwest from South Africa to the U.S. instead of over the entire length of Africa and Europe?), and then London to JFK, and then JFK to home - that will be a relaxing day. It's central to our vision to create a strong foundation in Africa - and with partners in Kenya and Ghana and Morocco - and new potential partners in Egypt and South Africa - we're well on our way.

Reflections on Things at Hand: India

It occurred to me that I don't really have any pictures of India on this blog (mainly because I started it since my last trip there). That's really a shame and I'll make an effort to get caught up. Of all the places I've visited India is my favorite. Not only is it an absolute goldmine for a historian, but the people there are the kindest I've ever met. As a friend of mine said one time - travel to India ruins you for travelling to anyplace else in the world - what else can match it? I've been lucky enough to travel to India four times, including spending the entire summer of 2004 teaching at our Champlain College campus in Mumbai (which is still the greatest learning experience of my life). Here's a picture of me and a fine gentleman that I met on the streets of Mumbai on the last night before leaving to come back in August 2004. My good friend John Neelankiavil took the picture. We had just finished a going away dinner and we saw the elephant down the street. John and I ran like luatics across several lanes of traffic (never a good idea in India because they drive like lunatics) to catch up and grab a picture.

Uffizi Gallery

When I was thinking about the then upcoming trip to Florence I was very excited about visiting the Uffizi Gallery, one of the world's great art museums (and one of the oldest). My only concern was having to wait for hours and hours in line (my Lonely Planet guide had suggested that waits of four or five hours were not uncommon). Their suggestion was to call ahead and reserve a ticket, so I asked the good folks at the bed and breakfast where I stayed to do that, and beyond them having to kill time on the phone, it was pretty easy. You have an extra fee, but it's "only" 4 euros. As it turned out, the wait wasn't too long any way (it was that way on everything I visited in Florence - must have hit town at a good/bad time), but it was nice to know that the option was there to save hours in line. The Uffizi is massive, with a central courtyard separating the two main wings of the museum. Normally you would go to gate #2, but if you call ahead and reserve a ticket you pop over to gate #3 to pick up your ticket and then walk over to gate #1 to enter. Very painless. The museum has around fifty rooms and over 1500 paintings, so you could easily spend more than one day there. To be honest - and this is going to sound somewhere between insane and pretentious (thus, probably representative) - I didn't like it as much as the Prado in Madrid, although I suspect this is just a personal thing. The Spanish painters (most notably El Greco and Goya) were just a lot "darker" and it fits my generally meloncholy mood better. That said, I had an extraordinary time at the Uffizi. For some reason I got really emotional when looking at Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi (pictured above in a shot I swiped off the net - you can't take a picture of it). The painting is in a huge room with other Botticellis, including an entire wall, dominated by The Birth of Venus. You could literally almost pass by the Adoration of the Magi because it is right beside a much larger painting and it almost got lost in the crowd (which is maybe one of the things that got to me). That said, I think what made me emotional was the painting's role in reshaping how I teach. Several years ago, as an experiment, I put together this Powerpoint presentation on the Renaissance - so, instead of simpy telling the students about the Renaissance, I would show them paintings from the Middle Ages and the Renaissance and have the students "define" the two ages just from examining the paintings. The core of the presentation was a side by side slide showing two Adorations of the Magi, one from the Middle Ages and one from the Renaissance (Botticelli's). I've often made the point to students that you could define the entire Renaissance just from examining Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi - the secularism, the individualism and the fascination with Greece and Rome. Anyway, the experiment went much better than I could have ever imagined and it led me to change my entire approach to teaching - trying, as best I can, to provide the students with the evidence that will allow them to discover the key concepts. So, anyway, when I actually had the opportunity to see the painting it really hit me hard. Anyway, the Uffizi is located right off of a lovely square with several restaurants and it is only a block or so away from a market (as well as a lot of high-end shops) - all in all, an unforgettable way to spend the day.

Florence

Florence really proved to be everything it was rumored to be. There are certain places that you almost expect to let you down, simply because they are built up so dramatically - and I was half-afraid that Florence would prove to be one of those instances where the reputation would out-strip the reality. Instead, it was absoutely amazing. I know I've made this point before, but I still contend that the Europeans are simply far more sane than we are. They just seem to "get it" in a way that we don't - they own less and spend more time on travel and actually use their vacation time. The Italians, in particular, really seem to value protecting their free time and enjoying as many hours outdoors as possible - I don't think I've ever been anyplace that had a more overpowering love of ice cream (there is a shop seemingly on every corner, and really, really good ice cream - well, it looked good from the window as I passed by on the way to get another salad). I had expected Florence to be insanely crowded, but, for the most part, it wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared. I'll talk more about some of the museums I visited later, but even those were fairly easy to get into without a long wait. Anyway, let me post a few pictures and I'll have more specific comments when I get some sleep.

Mall of the Emirates

On the way to Florence I had an insanely short layover in the United Arab Emirates at Dubai. When my passport and credit cards went missing as part of the Great Unpleasantness I had to change my travel plans several times. This was not a problem with Royal Jordanian, which seemed happy with whatever crazy changes came their way. However, the Dubai to Paris to Florence part of the journey was on Air France and they have a complete "you broke it you buy it" approach, so no matter how it played itself out I had to fly through Dubai and then on to Paris/Florence. Initially I had hoped to stay for several days and do some real sight-seeing in the UAE, which is not something I had ever had the chance to do (although I had been through there four times previously). The UAE normally doesn't do much for me, mainly because I'm a historian and there's not much history left in Dubai. That said, I was determined to make up for it this time, but the GU changed that. It was brutally hot when I landed - something around 110-115ish - so my desire to make it back to the Gold Souq went out the window. So, instead, I went over to the insanely posh Mall of the Emirates, which is a great place for people-watching. I don't know if there is anyplace in the Middle East where the clash between old and new is more jarring - you see a lot of folks dressed pretty provocatively - but you also see a lot of men in the traditional Emirati white from head to toe along with women completely covered - all in a gleeming fortress of western consumerism. It's also the place where the inside ski run is located. When you rent your skis they also give you a loaner winter coat - not surprisingly, owning a winter coat is not something you see much of in the Emirates. I have to admit that it was a lot of fun just watching the kids playing in the manufactured snow. For me, however, the biggest thrill was getting a Krispy Kreme donut (it's something that Vermont yankees just don't understand . . .).

In Praise of Shwarma

For the last three and a half years, ever since my first visit to Jordan, I've been eating way too many meals at a little shwarma stand across the street from the University of Jordan. It's in the same row as McDonald's, Burger King, Pizza Hut, Popeye's Chicken, Kentucky Fried Chicken and the local fast food champs, the Chili House and Lebani Snacks. Despite the competition it continues to flourish. It's still a hole in the wall, but it's a much nicer hole in the wall now. It's located right on a sidewalk and that's where its two tables reside, right next to the glass-front refrigerators where the canned drinks are stored. It's also much more regimented - as late as last year when Bob Mayer, Rob Williams and I went there the cost of a meal would seem to vary depending upon the owner's mood (he's the one in the center of the middle shot as he's walking out of the back) - now the cost remains the same all the day (which makes it easier to plan, but has taken a bit of the charm away). On that visit Rob and Bob and I decided to have a competition to see who could eat the most shwarma - I left them bruised and destroyed. The menu has also expanded. When I first started eating here your two choices were big shwarma or little shwarma. Now they have hamburgers and fries and all sorts of other western-influenced edibles. The centerpiece of the menu, however, remains the shwarma. I'm not certain what is in it, and I don't really think I want to know. There is spicey meat - I think it's chicken, although sometimes little bites taste like beef, but I suppose goat is a possibility although I doubt it - I know it's not pork, obviously - and a pickle in a wrap. Now that the menu has expanded I have #8, no fries, and a 7-Up. It only costs 1.2 JD (about $1.50) and is about a third of what it costs to eat at the more western style competitors.

On a sad note, the Grill House, where Bob and Rob and I had hamburgers and were comped with the worst onion rings I've ever had in my entire life, has gone out of business - another victim of the shwarma monopoly.

"No problem, what you wish"

These are words that you never want to hear from a taxi driver in the Middle East. They sound so friendly and supportive, but nothing good usually ever comes from it. The words "no problem, what you wish" usually come in response to the question "how much?", as in, how much to such and such a location? Taking a taxi varies dramatically in different parts of the Middle East. In Egypt, for example, every taxi has a meter but it is never turned on, which means that you have to agree upon a price before you ever take off - and never take off unless you've agreed upon a price. If you don't get a firm price then just don't get in the taxi - or get out of it if you're already in. When I arrived in Alexandria I was greeted with those magic words at the airport but I was too tired to fight about it, and I didn't know Alexandria, and the taxi driver's English was great, but it turned into a fairly expensive cab ride (although still less expensive than taking a taxi from the Burlington Airport to Shelburne). Still, I should have known better - that and the fact that he tried to sell me a mobile phone while we were driving to the Sofitel Cecil Hotel. At the same time, he was charming and shared his tea with me as we drove and we had a nice chat so I was fine with the experience. Your hotel is usually a pretty good guide in regards to what you should pay (and always be sure to grab one of their cards that give instructions back to the hotel in Arabic - and, before you go, ask them to write out instructions to where you're visiting in Arabic). That said, I don't think I've ever actually managed to get the taxi driver to agree to the fee that the hotel folks defined as the absolute maximum (mainly because, obviously, there are different fares for locals and for visitors). Still, it gives you a general framework for haggling. On the other hand, all the taxis in Jordan have meters and they use them, and if they take off without clicking on the meter just tap it with your finger and say meter, and they will turn it on - or, if they don't turn it on, once again, just get out of the taxi and pay them nothing. The one thing in Jordan is that the minimum fare, what pops up on the meter when it is turned on, seems to vary - sometimes it is 150 fils (15% of a Jordanian dinar) and sometimes it is 250 fils (the Jordanian equivalent of a quarter - or around 30 cents US). I used to think that the 250 rate was evening and the 150 rate was day rate, but it tends to fluctuate back and forth randomly (so I'm not even certain that it is a visiting American vs. local rate). Generally I've had nothing but great experiences in taxis - just don't expect them to drive like sane people (especially in Cairo, although my time in India has insured that no bit of driving lunacy will even cause me to look up). I've had taxi drivers in Amman help me with my English - one driver in Amman pulled over until I proved to him that I was able to say University of Jordan in Arabic (he was afraid that I'd get lost - it sounds something like Jaamma Ordineeaa) and a driver in Cairo who taught me the Arabic words for left (sounds like shamaal), right (sounds like ameen) and straight (sounds like alatool). This morning was a good example of the mixed bag of taking taxis. I caught a taxi to go the UPS office (my last credit card arrived - hamdil'allah hamdil'allah!!!). The driver, who I think was Egyptian, wore a traditional long white robe and an embroidered cap and, once we started, began to quietly sing a beautiful, and what I considered to be religious, song. It was really remarkably pleasant and even a little emotional because of its understated beauty. I gave him a big tip, just for the experience. After stopping at UPS I grabbed another taxi and he was a little hesitant to click on the meter. Even after he clicked it on (at 250) he said, "no meter." So, I asked, "how much?" He said (wait for it) "no problem what you wish." Of course, it is never what you wish - although I did pay a taxi driver in Alexandria what I wished because of his refusal to name a price and he, oddly, accepted it, albeit glumly. I said "one JD", which was too low, but I wanted to see where this would go. He said, "higher." I said "one and a half JD", which is what I paid on the way there. He said, "no, higher," and I just told him to stop. He said, "meter, meter", but I just opened the car door while we were driving - which was overly theatrical of me, but I also wanted him to know that the negotiations were over - and he pulled over and I got out and gave him nothing. I walked a couple blocks and grabbed another cab and, without asking, he clicked on the meter, took me where I wanted to go, and offered to share his coffee with me.

Amman International Hotel

Like I said in an earlier post I'm staying at the Amman International Hotel, which is a first for me because I've always stayed at ACOR (which means I've spent something like a month and a half there over the last few years). This hotel is pretty nice and not terribly expensive - and air-conditioned, which ACOR is not. It also has the coldest pool in the world. I can see why you might want to pump in some cold water in the morning because the weather is so hot, but it's more than that - the water is arctic. Yesterday I thought I'd sit out by the pool, mainly in the shade, read the paper, grab a small amount of sun, and then go swimming. All went well, except that when I jumped in the pool I basically landed and then jumped right out (you could measure the entire immersion in nanoseconds) - it's like Lake Champlain cold. It may well be that the pool is just designed to be mainly ornamental because there is a little bridge over it and I think there may be a wedding here every night - I can hear the Arabic techno dance music blaring through the wall even as I type. While Americans almost universally get married on a Saturday, and while Jordanian would prefer a Thursday or Friday, they will also get married just about any night when they can reserve a good location. I was sitting downstairs tonight having a club sandwich when the wedding erupted - and the weddings here are every bit as big and out of control as weddings in the U.S. This one started, as many do here, with a rental military drum band that greets the wedded couple as they come in the door. It is pretty spectacular. From what the waiter told me there are actually two wedding ceremonies going on here tonight, or at least one wedding reception and one bridal shower, and the hotel just isn't that big. Anyway, it's definitely a good place to stay and the staff (with the exception of a basic inability to sign for UPS packages) is really great.

The Chili House

OK, this will generate some consternation from my friend Bob Mayer so let's hope he doesn't read this blog entry. There is a fast food restaurant across the street from the University of Jordan called the Chili House. Well, actually, it is all over Amman and Cairo and Damascus, and is coming soon to Jeddah, Dubai and Manama. The Chili House restaurants serve Cincinnati style chili, which is near and dear to my heart because I essentially grew up in Cincinnati. If you're used to regular chili (the afore-mentioned Bob is from the south so he's horrified by Cincinnati style chili) Cincinnati style chili takes a little while to get used to - it has cinnamon and allspice and is served over noodles with grated cheese on top. It may sound odd, but after the first time you begin to dream about it. Certainly it was a dietary staple of mine during graduate school - there was this great dive bar next to the University of Cincinnati and you would have a few beers there (at least this is what my friends told me), walk across the street to Skyline Chili, grab some food, and then bring it back and eat it at the bar. Apparently the Cincinnati recipe was founded by some Jordanian family who had moved to the area (although I've heard that it was created by a Greek family) and there are several different chains in Cincinnati which have pretty similar chili - I think Skyline is the best. The story behind the Chili House is that a branch of the family moved back to Jordan and started the Chili House chain, although there's also some story about a falling out among the brothers and the founding of a different Jordanian chili parlor and then some epic chili war, but I'm not certain about all that. Anyway, I dragged my friend Bob to the Chili House when he was here last year and was so bitter that after we finished eating (well, I finished eating) I had to take him right outside and buy him a shwarma (more on shwarma later) to make up for it - and not a week has gone by that I haven't heard about the Chili House incident. I took the time this afternoon to grab a three-way at a local Chili House and it was good, no matter what Bob says. I had the number one, which is a drink, a three-way and what would in Cincinnati be called a Skyliner (a hot dog with chili and cheese - although the Chili House version doesn't hold up very well, mainly because it's not really a hot dog, for the obvious reasons).

Middle Eastern Hospitality

I've talked about this before so I won't spend much time on the subject, but it really is amazing the extraordinary sense of hospitality that a visitor feels in the Middle East. The standard line here is that if you drop in unexpectedly to stay at someone's house they can't even ask you why you're there until the end of the third day - you can still stay, they'd just like to know why you stopped by. I've heard it repeated so often that it may just qualify as an urban legend, but after making so many visits here I tend to believe it. Here at the Amman International I've been befriended by the front desk guy, Ahmad, who works the night shift. He first made friends with my colleague Al Capone (or, as I've renamed him, al-Capone, to give him a more Arabic feel) because of a Seattle connection - al-Capone grew up there and Ahmad sort of went to university there for four years. He's been wonderfully helpful during my time of need as I try to get credit cards replaced. One actually showed up yesterday via FedEx (who knew that "overnighting" took a week) but the other one, coming via UPS, never made it. According to the UPS website an attempt was made to deliver it to the front desk of the hotel at 6:15 p.m. last night but no one would sign for it. We're still trying to figure that one out, with the two main theories being that the woman behind the counter had a brain-cramp (because I had stopped by five times to remind them I was expecting a second package) or the delivery guy just didn't feel like coming in because it was already after hours. The message at the site stated that it would be delivered on the next business day, and then threw in the line that a delivery on Saturday was not guaranteed. This, of course, opened up the question of what the next business day was - Friday is the holy day in Islam but they also do a lot of business with the US and western Europe - so things were up in the air. Ahmad volunteered, over my objections, to drive me to the UPS office this morning, after working all night, just so we could figure out where it was and what their hours are (as it turns out they are closed today, so we're shooting for early tomorrow, insh'allah). After figuring this out he then insisted, again over my objections, that he take me out for a Starbuck's coffee. I told him that I had to pay because of all his kindness, but he said nicely but firmly that for a Jordanian this was out of the question - I'm his guest and he is responsible for me. So, off we went to Starbucks. By the way, he ordered a frappecino (I had a latte) - I mention this simply because I get a lot of grief from my friends because of my fondness for frappecinos (which are considered a bit wimpy by some of my associates, and it was good to see someone from the coffee-addicted Middle East order the frappecino).

Sweet Home Amman

It's amazing how much better I feel now that I've made it to Amman. Even considering the Great Unpleasantness, I did actually enjoy my time in Egypt. It was an amazing experience, and in a lot of ways having to go through the Bataan death march of getting a new passport - and the more humble tourist adventures brought about by limited financial resources - gave me a much richer, and maybe more realistic, picture of life in Egypt. I would definitely go back to Egypt - and considering the enthusiasm for the GMs shown by the American University in Cairo and Alexandria University I suspect I will. That said, I felt very good getting off the plane in Amman. This has become sort of a second home to me - or maybe third behind India (although I've now visited Jordan more times than I have India) - and I just feel much more secure here. For some reason I'm just much more certain that everything can be worked out now that I have Amman as a central location for organization - and I certainly have a lot more friends here in Jordan. The Jordanians are remarkably warm and supportive folks. I'm staying at the Amman International Hotel (more on that later). Normally I stay at the American Center of Oriental Research (ACOR), but there were no rooms at the inn this time around. I suppose it's just as well because it would help to have someone at the front desk twenty-four hours a day when it comes to issues such as FedEx deliveries, etc. ACOR is great, but everyone goes home around 4:00 or 5:00 and sometimes it's tough to even get a phone call in - the phone will just ring downstairs and if someone is around they might answer and might even track the person down (again, it's very much a large dorm for nerds, which has its own appeal). The University of Jordan contacted the hotel and guaranteed my stay so that helped out a lot (and reaffirmed my faith in Jordan). It's funny how warm I feel about Jordan. I tell the story - and I'll be honest about it even though I'm a little embarrassed to admit it now - but I can remember that on my first trip to Jordan, which was for a three week Council of Independent Colleges seminar on Middle East culture supported by a state department grant (late December 2004 into January 2005) I was actually a tad nervous about the trip. Because of travel problems (I actually always have travel problems, but I just never let them stop me) I arrived essentially a day late and at 2:00 a.m. I didn't know where ACOR was and didn't think that there would actually be a driver waiting - but, hamdil'allah, there he was. We took off into the night and made it to ACOR in around a half-hour - and was greeted at the gate by the guard with the machine gun. I found my little key for my room in an envelope left by the mailboxes, dropped off my suitcase, and then went exploring the building to find the best place to hide in case of a terrorist attack. Within about twenty-four hours I realized how ridiculous that feeling was, and the memory now makes me smile (and wince). It's, however, one of those teachable moments because if I had that moment of unease - and I'm a historian and knew a fair bit about the Middle East before I ever made my first trip here - then you can imagine what the average American thinks about the Middle East when they watch the corrupted, if not intentionally biased, coverage of it on the nightly news every night. Anyway, I'm in Amman and feel a lot better.

Whirling Dervishes

Well, sort of Whirling Dervishes, I suspect. One of the things that you can do in the Khan al-Khalili market is to see a Whirling Dervish show three nights a week. It's free, which I suspect has something to do with getting even more folks downtown to the market. The Whirling Dervishes are traditionally practitioners of the Sufi branch of Islam, which is a mystic approach that I've always appreciated. The Sufis often made the more mainstream Muslims a little nervous because the Sufis cared much less about the rigid rules of the faith and more about a joyous union with Allah. Ironically, considering the slight unease that they engendered with some Muslims, but also logically, this made them great missionaries for spreading the faith. Some of my favorite writers such as Jaladin Rumi or Omar Khayyam are in the Sufi tradition (and I even tortured my sister Beth by reading passages from Rumi at her wedding). When you're looking for the Whirling Dervish performance at the Khan al-Khalili you're better off just saying "Sufi" rather than "Dervish" to a local - they will point you directly there. I'm not really certain if the dancers at the Khan al-Khalili are actually Sufis, and, in fact, I suspect that they probably aren't, mainly because a true Sufi mystic would probably view a tourist-driven performance as a bit much (although they are also known for being very tolerent so who knows). For a true Sufi the spinning is part of giving up attachments to this world and finding a mystical union with god beyond logic or the constraints of this world. In that way I guess they are sort of like the Shakers or maybe some of the more evangelical southern US churches. Whether or not these folks are actual Sufis it was a great performance if nothing else. It went on for an hour and a half. The first half-hour was music, then one Dervish who spun around for a half-hour straight, and then three Dervishes together. The leader of the troup seemed to be an older guy who played small, hand-held cymbals (I'll have to look up the exact name) - he was quite the showman and seemed to be having a great time (his picture should be the one at the top). Highly recommended.