This weekend on an excursion with my International Studies Abroad program, I crossed the Pyrenees Mountains, which act as the border between France and Spain and divide the Iberian Peninsula from the rest of Europe. Along the way were stops in Girona, Montpellier, Arles, Aigues Mortes and Colliure. As we stopped in these small cities and towns in Northern Spain and Southern France, it was obvious that the barrier created by mountains created significant differences in architecture, language, food, and history. Although these smaller cities in the South of France were once included in the kingdom of Catalunya, and still hoist the red and yellow stripes of the Catalan flag, so much of their culture was totally distinct from the Catalan heritage present in Barcelona.
Below is a quick recap of my favorite spots as well as some photos of the beautiful towns, landscapes, and food that this weekend beheld.
Girona, Catalunya
This medieval town was used as a backdrop for Season 6 of Game of Thrones, but has been home to Greeks, Romans, Catalonians, and the people of Westeros during its storied history. With a Roman wall surrounding the city still standing, and architecture that walks you through its centuries of history it has an incredible charm. There is even an Eiffel bridge, constructed by Gustav Eiffel before he began his project on that tower in Paris.
Montpellier, France
Montpellier bared a striking resemblance to Paris with royal architecture, white washed buildings, rot iron details decorating store fronts and balconies, marble lined streets, and lovely squares with intricate carved statues. Being much smaller than Paris, however, this town had a much more friendly and homey feel. We ate a delicious dinner, served by a very handsome french waiter, watched the blur of the lights of the merry go round as the sun set, and strolled through Montpellier’s annual festival with local artisans, wine tastings, food booths, gelato, waffles, crepes, churros, and live music. The city park filled with the whole town as friends greeted each other in french, exchanging three kisses on the cheeks.
Arles, France
This charming town, originally modeled after Rome by the romans, featured a colosseum, forum, and theatre with original stone from the era before Christ. More recently however, Arles was the home of Van Gogh for 18 months and a muse as he discovered new ways to use light in paintings and depict the night sky. Van Gogh would paint starry night while in a mental institutions just several kilometers from Arles.
Aigues Mortes, France
A tiny town still withheld by its medieval walls was set on the banks of a lake with a salt concentration similar to that of the Dead Sea. The lake has this mesmerizing red-pink color, brushing with white foamy strokes and blues reflecting the midday sky.
Collioure, France
this tiny beach town that sits underneath a castle and windmill on the hill, at the foot of the Pyrenees mountains was a daydream. Although the beaches were rocky, not sandy, the breathtaking views of the Mediterranean spotted with sailboats and fishermen distracting from the pain in my butt.
Today I want to discuss about historical and modern festivals in Japan, since so much is going on during summertime.
Last time I introduced 夏祭り summer festival and the 花火大会 firework. Another traditional holiday during my summer program time is 海の日 day of sea. This is a national holiday although our school did not have a day off. Day of Sea is created to give thanks to the sea as Japan is a country surrounded by sea. It takes place every year at the third Monday of July. At Odaiba, there was a lantern lit up activity which looked very beautiful. So although it is a bit far from our campus, we insisted in experiencing the festival atmosphere. There were many people at that activity but it was well-ordered. Many colorful lanterns lied on the ground being arranged into different shapes. (Adobe is one of the most famous seaside attraction in Tokyo) It was a pity that we had to return early to catch the bus back to school, but we stayed to see the lanterns lit up with the background of sunset. According to volunteers there, this activity was held every year for 14 years and there were over ten thousand lanterns. Also, Japan is the only country which celebrates sea as a national holiday. My teacher also told me that apart from day of sea there is also day of mountain in Japan. I can feel that Japanese people really appreciate the gifts from nature.
Apart from these festivals that existed for a long time, there are many new special days made by the creative Japanese people. For instance, this weekend I went to Yokohama and very luckily, I bumped into a Pikachu festival. This festival was created in 2014 and since then the start of August every year, over thousands of Pikachu in Pokemon would appear near the port of Yokohama. When I was in Yokohama, it was still not the time for Pikachu march, but already everywhere was filled with toys and posters of Pikachu. The whole subway station was decorated with Pikachu and there were many Pikachu themed doll-catching machines. I even caught a big Pikachu toy the first time I tried to play this machine! It was so much fun to see a whole area covered with an anime character and aside from Japan I don’t think I would be able to see this kind of festival in any other countries.
And we’re back with another (hopefully) informative blog post! As promised, I’ll be discussing three experiences with traditional Japanese culture. I visited a Zen Buddhist temple and learned a little bit of calligraphy thanks to the hard work of the ICU staff. Afterwards, I had the chance to buy myself a yukata and put it on for a festival in Asakusa. All three experiences were very enlightening in their own way, though the third had its difficulties. Without further ado, let’s get right into it.
Sakae Miayama Temple
The entrance to Sakae Miyama Temple
My first cultural excursion was a trip to Sakae Miyama Konanin to learn about Zen Buddhism.
When we entered we were met with temple staff (one of which was an ICU alumnus) and the head priest who currently oversees the temple as the 29th member of the temple’s lineage of priests. My first impression of him in his ceremonial robes was, of course, that he was about as traditionally Japanese as a person could be. He was exactly what you would expect a Buddhist priest to look like from the rounded spectacles on his face down to his sandals. All of the staff members spoke primarily Japanese, but the ICU alumnus and our guide, Asaoka-sensei, translated nearly all of the information given to us.
A glimpse of the ornate decorations in the main ceremonial chamber
The monks of the temple where kind enough to offer more than a simple tour of the temple. They also introduced us to Zen philosophy, history, ceremonial traditions, meditation techniques, and etiquette. We were essentially treated to a crash course for Zen Buddhism. Unfortunately due to temporal distance and losing my informational booklet on the train, I’ve forgotten the finer points of our history lesson. Nonetheless, I’ll do my best to recount what I learned before getting into the more practical experience.
My general take away from our lesson on Zen philosophy was mindfulness, efficiency, and unity. In the sect of Zen Buddhism the temple adhered to (whose name I have forgotten entirely) many aspects of one’s daily life are regimented in order to be as efficient as possible without indulging in excess or wastefulness. The methods that one uses for daily life also imbue a sense of connection and equality with those around them. This was most easily demonstrated to us through Zen dining etiquette.
A humble vegetarian meal served to us at the temple
There are well defined and rather strict rules regarding how to eat in the temple. In the picture above you can see a spoon, a pair of chopsticks, a cloth, a stick, and bowls of varying sizes. All of these items with the exception of the plate of fruit and bowl underneath it come in a compact package. The bowls come stacked together with the utensils and cloths wrapped on top in a specific manner. You unwrap things in a certain order. You set your table in a certain order. You put everything in a certain place. Each item has an express, single purpose. Once you have finished eating, you put things back in a certain order. All of this is to ensure efficiency. The method we were taught is intended to be the most streamlined way to eat that wastes no time, effort, or food.
On top of these strict set of rules is behavioral etiquette. Whenever you eat you have to be sure to avoid pointing your utensils away from yourself. Always bring your food inward. There is no speaking during meal time. Other monks of the temple will pass by and bring each food item in pots and buckets and dispense them to you. Rather than verbally telling them to stop, there are certain hand gestures you can use. Whenever the servers arrive or leave, you both bow to one another. Each of these points is meant to teach you to be mindful of yourself and to respect those around you. You are all equal in sharing a meal, an essential part of life itself. No one is above the other, and the self should be diminished in favor of honoring and maintaining a harmonious collective.
Pretty heavy stuff for dinner, I know. It sounds a lot better coming from a Buddhist priest speaking Japanese.
A pillar at the entrance of the temple
Dining etiquette was what we spent the most time on for the reasons I mentioned above. It was an efficient way to teach us fundamental facets of Zen Buddhism. Of course, we also meditated. We were taught the proper posture, but there was much less time spent on teaching meditation techniques. I enjoyed the silent, serene atmosphere set by wonderful incense and an opening chant. I honestly just daydreamed the entire time, so there isn’t much to say about this part of the experience.
After dinner and meditation, we ended the session with a casual tea ceremony. One of my favorite parts of this experience was the head priest. He was a very approachable and funny 70 year old man who didn’t look a day over 50. You could tell that he enjoyed teaching his philosophy to inquisitive foreigners, and he did his best to use simple Japanese and even English at times. He was adamant about etiquette without being too austere in correcting mistakes. I enjoyed having him as our teacher for the evening.
Calligraphy
Tools for calligraphy practice
Calligraphy is a Japanese art that was adopted from China centuries ago. In modern Japan it is a cultural practice only used on special occasions such as New Years greetings and signing into a wedding ceremony. It’s an art not many people are adept at, but all Japanese students who attend middle school have at least a few classes in calligraphy. Most Japanese people don’t study calligraphy beyond that, but others choose to continue studying while some become so adept that they make a living from it.
Our quick introduction to calligraphy didn’t give anyone enough experience to call themselves masters, but it was fun nonetheless. I always thought calligraphy of any type was incredible but probably not too difficult to pick up. I was so very wrong. Calligraphy really is an art. It’s easy for me to write legibly in Japanese. It’s not even all that hard to have good looking handwriting. However, there are rules to calligraphy. The brush was surprisingly difficult to handle, and producing the shapes you want was much harder with ink that I anticipated.
A picture detailing the various strokes in Japanese writing
Calligraphy in Japanese and Chinese demands a few things: symmetry, proper proportions, and recognizable strokes. Everyone has their own style, to some extent, but certain techniques have to be mastered by all who have set their minds to learning the art. These techniques aren’t too hard to accomplish with a pen and paper, but it becomes far more nuanced and difficult to accomplish with a brush.
My classmates and I practiced the basic strokes and then chose a single kanji (a written symbol with its own meaning) to write on our own. During this process the previously mentioned Asaoka-sensei, a nearly professional-grade calligrapher, was teaching us. Before I attempted to draw my chosen kanji, I asked Asaoka-sensei to draw me a model.
The template kanji created by my teacher
I chose the kanji depicted on the right “kuro,” meaning black. I rather like the look of kuro, but I chose it because I figured the straight lines would be easier to write. I was right for the most part, but the edges of the lines are what were difficult to reproduce. You can see that Asaoka-sensei’s work is tapered with rounded ends. The strokes are also very smooth. My attempt was… Less elegant in comparison.
My attempt at calligraphy on traditional rice paper
So if we were to critique my work, the first noticeable problem is with symmetry. The kanji isn’t in the center of the paper. The proportions of box at the top of the symbol are a bit off as they should be more tapered. I could keep going, but I’ll spare you all the critical scrutiny. All this is to say that calligraphy is something that is mastered through mindfulness and practice. If given more time and the resources, I would love to continue learning in whatever free time I could muster.
Wearing a Yukata
A short, simplified tutorial on how to put on a yukata
A yukata is a simpler, summertime kimono typically made of more breathable cloth. In modern Japan yukata are worn to summer festivals and other special occasions. Though yukata have less layers than kimono, they still have multiple pieces to them. There is the yukata itself which is the robe-like dress, strings to tie things in place, a decorative sash laid over the strings called an obi, and, typically, traditional shoes called geta. I managed to find my yukata and obi for a very reasonable price, but my feet are a bit too large to fit into geta. Large footed foreigners beware.
Yukata and accessoriesThe back of the ensemble. The bow came pre-made
Disappointing shoe sizes aside, putting on my yukata went quite well. I managed to do so on my own, and I think it turned out quite well. The sandals I brought with me looked good enough with the ensemble, and I found out that it’s fairly common for Japanese men and women to were western sandals to festivals.
My friends and I attempted to go to a fireworks festival in Asakusa while in our yukata. Unfortunately, it rained. Heavily. And because the festival is so very popular, it was incredibly crowded. I don’t think I can accurately put into words exactly how crowded it was. Saying that people were packed together like sardines doesn’t do the situation justice. Saying that something around a million people were gathered in a single section of the city doesn’t do the situation justice. Saying that there were police officers directing pedestrian traffic and taping off certain paths while occasionally pushing people into place doesn’t do the situation justice. It was… A lot to handle in an outfit that restricts your movement a fair amount.
I could lament further, but I think you all get the point. While the festival was a bust, wearing a yukata for the day was actually really fun. The fabric is very breathable, so even though I had an outfit on underneath I never got too hot. It also dries very quickly, which was wonderful consolation prize after we escaped Asakusa. Despite it’s someone restrictive nature and the unfortunate circumstances that occurred while I was wearing it, I became so enamored with my yukata that I have felt the urge to buy myself another ever since. If I had space in my luggage, I would definitely have picked up another. They’re simply beautiful.
Next Time
Each cultural experience was honestly amazing to me. I know this post drags on a bit since I rambled on about each one, but I think that simply reflects how exciting each moment was. I hope my enthusiasm came across in my description of each event.
But enough about that. On to the next thing. I plan to use my next two posts to give some impressions I’ve developed about Tokyo as time has gone on. The topics will be a bit scattered, so I can’t really think of a good way to summarize them at the moment. Still, look forward to the next rambling post I come up with.
Throughout my entire childhood I have always considered bargaining to be one of the most entertaining activities one could take up when in a foreign country. Unlike the U.S., my family’s native country, Colombia, has markets where you can negotiate the prices for a wide variety of products. However, Colombia isn’t the only country with these amazing markets; Beijing, China is home to the famous Pearl Market. I’ve had the pleasant opportunity to visit this market multiple times during my stay in Beijing, and I enjoy every time more than the last! I can attribute my increasingly satisfying visits to the knowledge I constantly accumulate in the classroom.
The China Summer Language Program is catered to us students that have allotted an entire two months in China to learn Mandarin Chinese; our textbook lesson topics cover situations that we will encounter during our time in China—bargaining and buying products at the Pearl and Silk Market, visiting historical sites in Beijing and Xian, amongst many others. In fact, the day after we learned more about bargaining in class, I, along with some classmates, went to Pearl Market to utilize our new skills. At the end of that day, I can strongly assert that we made every good deals as well as came on top over the market vendors who attempted to overcharge us at every opportunity.
Although I’ve had several successful visits to the Pearl Market, I still intend on visiting the Silk Market as well as paying a visit or two to the Pearl Market before I return to the U.S. for the sole reason of purchasing products for my family and my closest friends; I want them to see what the fruits of bargaining entail.
Considering the long history between the U.S. and Chinese governments along with the controversial foreign and domestic policy that has surfaced from the Trump administration in the last year, I’m certain the people of China have their own impressions on the United States government and on the Americans themselves. I set out to the streets of Beijing, China to find out what commonalities in opinion, if any, were held by citizens with various backgrounds, ages, and genders. After engaging these citizens in a stimulating interview, I realized that the factors that contributed to the varying point-of-views was either how much experience the individual had with Americans, how aware the individual was with U.S. related news, as well as how invested the individual was with matters that relates to the U.S.
The general attitude of the interviewees towards the U.S. was a favorable one. Although they believed that some of the president’s foreign policies were “outlandish,” they still hold most Americans, at least the Americans the interviewees have come into contact with, in high regard, because those Americans have shown a great respect for the country and customs. They also find the large cultural difference between Chinese and American natives to be especially interesting. It seems that most of the Chinese might not prematurely link the United States’ policies with the personalities of Americans.
In a previous post, I mentioned Chinese perception of America. Now I would like to address Chinese attitude towards minorities living in China. I have a friend with light brown hair and light colored eyes who was born in China. Having grown up in China, he is bilingual, however, regardless of his origins many Chinese will always view him as a foreigner. He explained to me that his experience has both positives and negatives. In some areas foreigners are highly regarded. Sometimes they are treated as honored guests. Salesclerks are friendly toward and interested in foreigners (this may be a result of the perception that foreigners are rich). Strangers are also often helpful. On the other hand, many people underestimate him. When they realize a “foreigner” speaks Chinese they are taken aback. Just for fun, sometimes my friend pretends he only speaks simple Chinese, then he shocks everyone with his fluency.
As for my own experiences with my classmates, there have been numerous random strangers who unforgivingly take pictures of our class or of individual students. Many are vexed by this behavior. Granted, in some areas foreigners are a rare sight. Their attitude makes one feel especially alienated, yet their actions are somewhat understandable. Built on immigrants from around the world, America is a melting pot of people of all races and backgrounds; as a result, pointing out a “foreigner” in America poses a challenge. Yet in China, foreigners attract a lot of attention. On the subway, my classmates and I have locked eyes with other people. Fascinated, they watch us converse and laugh. Uneasy at first, now I think we have pretty much adjusted, so we let them stare. When I walked around with a few friends from Norway I noticed how many people looked at us. They have been to China several times so they don’t mind the stares. Then when we entered places many people asked if they were American. Interestingly enough, America was everyone’s first guess.
When I am alone or with Chinese friends, I try to blend in… that is, until I have to speak. In my time here I have explained 我是被领养的 （wo shi bei ling yang de）, meaning I am adopted, to many people. They see me and say that I look Chinese. Then they proceed to ask where I am from. I answer America, and am typically greeted by a look of either amusement, confusion, or surprise. During my first trip to China either years ago. There were groups of people who stopped walking when they saw my sister and me with our non-Asian parents. As we walked by they continued to stare at us until we were out of sight. So they literally stopped and stared. Now that I’m here on my own, I exist as a wallflower. Unlike with some of my classmates. People assume I am fluent and will start up a conversation with me. Sometimes people try to speak english with my classmates, who often reply in Chinese. Impressed when they realize my friends speak Chinese, they smile. Yet when they realize I am not fluent, they often say out loud or to their friends “她听不懂” （she doesn’t understand), a phrase I have become very familiar with. Actually, I view the times that I can pass for a native speaker as little victories.
If you’re the DIY Pinterest type of person, Nippori Fabric Town might just be your neighborhood. Recently I had a chance to accompany a friend to this area of Tokyo off of the Yamanote line, and it was quite an interesting experience. About a five minute walk from the Nippori Station South Exit, there is a roughly one kilometer street full of fabric and crafty stores. We visited the store Tomato, which has several locations along this street. Each store of Tomato offers a slightly different variety of fabrics and varying prices.
I know I said this before, but Japan really love specialization. Unlike most areas in America where stores and restaurants are spread out throughout the city, Tokyo has pockets and niches where it sells or promotes a specific item. For example, I was walking around in a neighboring town and I stumbled across a street that has at least ten beauty salons right next to each other. This is true for other items and services as well. If you know what you want to buy or do, then there is probably a street or neighborhood that caters to that need. This may or may not also ties back to the omiyage culture of Japan. Each areas of Japan has a specialty gifts that area produces or are famous for, and coworkers/family/friends expect you to bring back a local gift when you visit the area, i.e. Tokyo Bananas from Tokyo.
Time flies. My final week in Cologne is now in the books. Just like that, my summer abroad has come to an end. My last week abroad was just as exciting and full of adventure as any other week!
The week started on Sunday with a nice breakfast and conversation together with Klaus and his wife, Monica. After breakfast we hit the road and headed to Aachen, a German city right on the boarder of Belgium and just a short drive away from Cologne.
In Aachen we walked around the old town, where we visited two more beautiful churches. Later, we walked through a cemetery for American soldiers from World War II. We ended the outing with Kaffee und Kuchen, coffee and cake!
Church in Aachen
Church in Aachen
The American Soldier Cemetery
The countryside was breathtaking
The cake was almost too gorgeous to eat
For my final class on Friday, we visited the Amtsgericht, the local courthouse for Cologne. It was cool to see how the justice system in Germany compared to America while also putting my improved language skills to work in the real world!
The final week was full of goodbyes. I’ve made a number of friends in Cologne – from in class and outside – and saying goodbye is never easy. A German phrase I recently learned made the goodbyes a bit easier and filled them with a sense of hope: Man sieht sich immer zweimal im Leben!
The phrase literally translates to something like “You always see each other twice in life” or “You always meet twice in life.” It can be taken to mean that you shouldn’t burn bridges, since chances are you’ll see your acquaintances at least once more in the course of your lifetime. I take it to mean something more: Even though I’m leaving Germany for now, there’s always a good chance that I’ll return and reconnect. It’s a small world, and I’m confident this won’t be the final “Auf Wiedersehen” as I leave Germany.
Temple of Hercules: A memento of the Roman Civilization on the hill.
The intense schedule at Qasid leaves students with little time for leisure, but one of the first things I did in Jordan was make some time to see the Roman Citadel that dominates the center of the city. It was an extremely hot and sunny day when we made the trip, and I could not help but wish that we had brought an umbrella to shield ourselves from the sun. In retrospect, I probably should have used more sunscreen.
Whatever the case, the Amman Citadel (or Jabal al-Qala’a, lit. The Mountain of the Citadel) was clearly chosen by so many ancients for its location, for it is situated on a high hill from which one can see Amman in its entirety. Our tour guide pointed out various parts of the city from our vantage point, from the long strips of green trees of the King’s palace to the dusty marketplaces of the heart of the city. Everything is laid before the Citadel, and we spent a lot of time simply admiring the vista.
But the ruins atop the hill are the main reason I went up. A crossroads of civilization, the citadel has Roman and Byzantine roots, with the remains of Hellenic temples interspersed with early Christian churches and Umayyad masjids.
The giants of both Western and Eastern civilizations have passed through here, and I found it interesting how this hilltop, which was a symbol of dominance for centuries upon centuries, is now hardly being used at all and apparently of little interest to the Jordanians themselves. For there were only a few small groups of tourists on the grounds of the citadel and most of the Jordanians we saw there, save for a hijabi art student who was sketching the pillars, were only there to serve as tour guides. While the ancients, be they Roman or Arab, may have been using this spot to lord it over the common folk, but now the descendants of those same common folk could now care less for their citadel.
But while the indifference Jordanians have towards their Citadel can be considered amusing, it is unfortunate to see that that indifference also translates into neglect. Everywhere we looked, be it the pits used by the ancients to form cement or the hands of Hercules, there would be discarded water bottles or cigarette boxes simply left lying there.
Indeed, it often felt like very little effort was being undertaken to preserve the location. Our tour guide told us that twelve guards were meant to be stationed at the Citadel on a round the clock basis in order to protect the gathered historical relics. As we walked around the Citadel, however, no such guards were anywhere to be found. While we were walking in the old Church ruins, we watched as a group of tourists were casually climbing up on top of the old Church walls in order to take a few selfies. No one seemed to care as they desecrated these ancient ruins (while also, incidentally, put themselves at great risk of breaking their necks) all in the name of having another photo to upload to Facebook.
An argument could be made that not every country has the resources to preserve its historical sites, but Jordan is most certainly not a country without resources. The opulent, western-style malls filled with the very latest Hollywood blockbusters, designer clothing and lavish body care products are evidence enough of Jordan’s wealth. So why is it then that the Citadel is left to its own devices?
Perhaps part of the reason why this occurs is the obsession Jordanians seem to have with becoming Western. Throughout the roads of Amman, I’ve seen so many Jordanians driving ‘high status’ cars, be it the BMW, the Mercedes or the Priuses. There is a very real drive here to indulge in all of the petty opulence that ‘the West’ has to offer, and as a result it often feels as though the Jordanian identity itself is being eroded.
Sadly, it is not enough to be connected with the storied past of three magnificent civilizations that laid roots here in Jordan. For many Jordanians, pride seems to stem more from what one can possess now, be it the cars they drive or the clothes they wear.
Perhaps attitudes will change in time, but for now I left the Citadel wondering just what those Roman Patricians, Byzantine Emperors or Umayyad Caliphs would think knowing that one day their awe-inspiring citadels would simply be a passing curiosity to a city that is far more interested in emulating someone else entirely.
A view of Amman from Jabal al-Qala’a. The only lush area is where the Royal Palace located.Me in front of The Umayyad Palace: Inside we can find proofs of Umayyad’s commitment to inter-religious harmony in the form of crosses on the wall.
Seven Dinars ‘Feminism’: Such T-Shirts with empowering messages are easy to find in Malls in Amman. However, the society is yet to absorb the messages.
From the very moment that I landed in Amman, I was struck by the inferior place that women are regulated to in this society. To be sure, last week the Jordanian Parliament repealed the Article 308 from the national constitution (an article that pardoned a rapist as long as he married his victim and stayed with her for at least three years) and it was a great news for the Jordanian women in general. However, the ‘Arab Machismo’ culture, that becomes the main root of the rape cases in the first place, is not going away anytime soon.
Indonesia, from which I come from, is a Muslim country where women may wear hijab and certainly experience sexism in their daily lives, but women are nevertheless able to exercise some level of agency independent of men. They can go about their business in the cities, be it at work or while shopping or at school, without feeling unsafe or victimized. I thus was expecting a similar situation in Jordan.
But as soon as I landed I began to learn that there are a different set of rules here. On my first night while walking home from the Qasid Institute (the place where I got my Classical Arabic training from) after dark, a man started to follow me for no reason down the street. He offered me a drink and was incredibly persistent, to the point where I feared for my safety. After getting home, I learned that women did not typically walk the streets alone after dark here. That was considered unusual and men saw it as an invitation to harass any such woman. The fact that I am Indonesian and do not look like anyone else here made me a particular target for these harassers.
This was my first encounter with the culture of sexism and patriarchy that is very much alive here in Jordan, and I would soon learn the other ‘rules’.
For instance, it is considered risky for a woman to get into a cab by herself. Horror stories abound about cab drivers driving women off to who knows where when they do so. This means that I, as a woman, am left with few choices in terms of mobility. I can either travel with a man or go with groups of other women. Travelling by myself, as I regularly do in Indonesia and America, is simply not an option if I want to avoid harassment
More than that, rules and etiquettes concerning gender dictate all aspects of Jordanian society. When travelling with my significant other, it was a rule that he should sit up with the cab driver in the front seat while I had to remain at the back. He did not speak a word of Arabic of course, and found this to be very annoying, but a man had to sit up front. That was the rule and not following it could result in conflict.
By violating these ‘rules’, it seems many Jordanian men think that I am inviting comment and harassment. For instance, I have learned to change the route I take when walking between Qasid and my home. This is because when I walked on the main street, men would approach me and say things like ‘how are you sweetie?’, often quite aggressively. The presence of a woman by herself, even in broad daylight seems to paint a target in the minds of these men, which indicates the fact that male power is more or less unquestioned here in Jordan.
No man seemed to fear that they might get in trouble or suffer any repercussion at all when engaging in this behavior. Indeed, it seemed that the only time they were deterred is when I happened to be walking with another man. This means that I, as a human being, was dependent on the presence of men in order to simply go about my business unharassed on the streets.
For some of the Jordanian women, street harassment seems to have become a part of their lives. I have seen Jordanian woman respond to crude and demeaning comments shouted at them from cars and random men on the street with smiles and patient indulgence.
To me, this is the most discouraging aspect of my experiences living in Amman. Many cities, from Jakarta to Chicago, have problems with men who think they can degrade women, but in those cities there are at least some potential social consequences to behaving in such an idiotic fashion. In Amman, however, this idiocy and indecency is the norm and has come to dominate the public sphere. Women here thus have a significant uphill battle to change this behavior and reclaim the streets.
Still, what this teaches us more than anything is that the feminist struggle must continue until behavior such as this becomes unacceptable, no matter where one walks on the globe.
