I think it is perhaps the sounds that are most interesting, and most challenging, to describe. As I type (sitting up in my bed, feeling a little sorry for myself because I can't seem to beat this cold I have developed, and because I also seem to have developed a rash on the bottom of my right cheek and down my neck), the soundscape is a blend of a jackhammer down the street doing some kind of work (not sure what); the gas truck that comes around every half hour or so, with its little mournful-dancing tune announcing its presence to anyone who finds themselves in need of a tank of propane; another truck likewise making its round, although I don't know what it's selling - it could be vegetables, as I saw a vegetable truck parked down the road a couple of evenings back (in any case, it sounds like an ice cream truck); a third roaming loudspeaker, presumably on a truck, also proclaiming its wares, this time with various repeated phrases in Arabic - again, I don't know what it's selling; and last, but not least, my own sniffles and the occasional cough.
As I take a sip of chamomile-lavender tea, I think how grateful I am to my friend Irena for shoving various packets of healing teas into my backpack as I headed out her door on my way here. They're almost gone now, and I'll have to brave the market to get some more.
The gas truck apparently drives slowly around the neighborhood all day everyday (I can't imagine how dull that must be!), blasting that tune. The tune itself fascinates me - it is somewhat haunting, alternating between a minor and major key, in a harmony that sounds almost like an old, broken music box for its lack of being clearly in tune, and for its thin, tinkling sound. It seems an odd choice of song, and I find myself trying to place it - is it slavic? is it a dance tune? It almost seems to be some kind of folk dance tune, except it keeps no apparent rhythm that I can pin down, not even in a kind of unmetered way. It's impossible to describe, so I'll give up the battle. But it haunts me, leaving floating pieces of minor/major alternating chords bouncing in my head all hours of the day.
The night before last I ventured out on a walk to try to get a sense of my bearings here. Since it was approaching dusk, I didn't go out for long, but I walked up various streets. Jordan is a very hilly country! This is no surprise, I guess, as Israel and the Palestinian territories are the same, but one becomes much more aware of the hills, and their steepness, when one huff and puff up them! It is not for the weak-kneed (quite literally). I found various fruit/vegetable markets, a couple of pharmacies, and a man who grills spits of meat on a corner in the evenings. It smelled so tantalizing, I think I'll venture over there with some cash in the near future.
The houses/apartments in Amman all share a common feature: the pale limestone. All houses seem to be built of it, and thus they all look very much the same to me. Likewise, they are usually of similar heights (usually 4 story apartment buildings), so one must be very discerning when finding distinguishing marks to orient oneself. One of these for me is a mosque less than a block from me. Its minaret rises well above the houses and offers a defining point of reference, as well as a loud, penetrating call to prayer five times a day. (My least favorite is the one at about 4:30 am. I have not yet trained myself to sleep through it.)
Cars are common here - even very nice cars. I see all kinds, from old, well-used Hondas, to brand new, shiny Mercedes Benzes. Whereas the streets are usually quite littered with trash (often red or blue plastic bags, from the local fruit/veggie markets), and it's not uncommon to see what looks like an unfinished or rather thrown-together house (even nice buildings often have rebar poking out, ready to be used when the owner adds on to the house; and often an otherwise nice-looking home will have what appears to be a section of its exterior hacked up, then filled in rather messily with cement, marking an addition or repair), the cars are immaculate. I have noticed this before: the houses my be quite shabby, in various stages of disrepair, but the cars, even old ones, are kept nice and neat, and usually with a box of tissues (the common brand is "Nice") on the console.
Boxes or packages of tissues are everywhere. I do not know yet why - what is the custom? I know they use them to wipe sweat in the summer, and it is very nice to have a tissue handy when one's nose begins to itch or be ready for a good blow. Perhaps it is just we Americans that are odd for not keeping tissues with us everywhere.
Another ubiquitous sight is the children playing in the streets. They are not hoodlums, and they are extremely aware of cars and such - but they play in the street all the time. The boys, mostly kicking a soccer ball around. (Gas truck driving by again. It's like a bad dream!) I have seen only a few girls, sitting playing quietly on the curb, or in the small yard, playing with a doll. When cars go by, the boys quickly get out of the way. It is also completely normal to cross the street wherever and whenever, and to have a car very nearly clip you if you don't get out of the way. Yet there seems to be a general understanding and common sense about driving/walking in the streets. The streets, first and foremost, and shared territory, and cars and pedestrians share them equally. People don't fear the cars, and seem to trust the drivers' good will and common sense; the cars will drive right next to someone, or to another car, within centimeters - this is completely normal, and no one becomes agitated. Not in the least. And I rather like it. I know rules and cautions are good and all, but I admit this appeals to the side of me that gets irritated at overly cautious (thus, slow and in-my-way) drivers and pedestrians. It's a kind of ordered chaos, a common cultural understanding, and it works. At least, as far as I can tell. I don't keep up with Jordanian news enough to know if pedestrian accidents are common.
All of this, of course, describes residential streets. Major thoroughfares are a different story. Here pedestrians stay out of the way - although they will likely be walking along the side of the road (sidewalks do exist, but seem to be the exception, and when they are present, they usually only last a couple of blocks). The roads have lines designating traffic lanes, but they are completely ignored. I mean completely. It's a free-for-all on the road. Crossing over lines, squeezing four or more cars into lanes designated for two or three, darting into a traffic circle and expecting oncoming cars to make room. Driving here requires a great deal of nerve and nerves - acute awareness and good reflexes. But it's fun too! Kind of like bumper cars! I don't mind it a bit.
Despite the frequent trash, Amman's air seems generally clean and fresh, and I have not encountered any body odor like I did in Europe. People are clean, generally courteous and honest. I'm sure I'll be duped at some point and spend more than I need to, but so far, I have had positive experiences. (Except for being sick, either with stomach or cold stuff, the entire time I've been here.) I attended church yesterday, and it was a great day. But I'll save that for next post.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Thank goodness for Ramen and Sprite!
For a few of you, that title alone is blasphemous, I have no doubt. But I'm capturing a moment - the moment being how grateful I am for some comfort food and some bubbly to settle my stomach. I woke up today with a stomach still rather unsettled. I ate some yogurt for breakfast (it was actually quite good - rich and creamy), attended my first day of class (just three hours long), and then stopped at the local, European grocery store for a few additional items to add to my meager collection of survival food. One of the guys I met here told me the Ramen is surprisingly good, so I decided to go for it - and a big jug of Sprite, hoping to quell the unease in my stomach.
I'm happy to report that it seems to have done the trick. The Sprite is pretty much your expected American version (probably with the expected amount of high fructose corn syrup as well); but the Ramen was a bit of a surprise! The flavor packet contains two separate pouches: one with what must be the chicken flavoring (with no little green spices - my cousin Jamie would be so pleased!), and the other with chili pepper flakes! At first I didn't add the chili pepper - but then I tried a little, and wouldn't you know it - I liked it!
So, two small bowls of Ramen later (yep, that's pretty much all I ate tonight), I'm feeling a bit better.
Tomorrow I'll give proffer a little description of the sights, sounds, smells, etc. of Amman, to give you a taste of my experience.
I'm happy to report that it seems to have done the trick. The Sprite is pretty much your expected American version (probably with the expected amount of high fructose corn syrup as well); but the Ramen was a bit of a surprise! The flavor packet contains two separate pouches: one with what must be the chicken flavoring (with no little green spices - my cousin Jamie would be so pleased!), and the other with chili pepper flakes! At first I didn't add the chili pepper - but then I tried a little, and wouldn't you know it - I liked it!
So, two small bowls of Ramen later (yep, that's pretty much all I ate tonight), I'm feeling a bit better.
Tomorrow I'll give proffer a little description of the sights, sounds, smells, etc. of Amman, to give you a taste of my experience.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Jumping Right In!
Well, I have arrived in Jordan. So far all is well. Nice apartment, kind roommate, friendly people. And a tired me!
Not much to report from the first day - I arrived in the evening, got settled in, and slept. The next day I navigated a rather unhelpful map to arrive at Qasid (my language school) and my orientation. Nothing exciting there, except that we took placement exams. These were rather discouraging to me, as I quickly realized how much I do not know. Perhaps I'll be in level 2, not 3! If so, I'll cross that disappointment bridge when I get there.
The excitement of the day was my first grocery shopping trip. It was nothing too overwhelming - most of the products are in English as well as Arabic, so I made my way quite well. What wasn't in Arabic was the "puding"! It was in some language I didn't recognize, and, although I rather wanted to purchase some for comfort snacking later, I decided that would have to wait until I could read the instructions. I bought some Jordanian nutella instead (the original brand was a full 2JD (about $3) more than the Jordanian brand! And that was all I had for dinner last night - nutella on pita.
I was so tired (and depressed, I think, from the exam - and perhaps just in need of some serious rest from my whirlwind last few days) that I convinced myself a quick nap at 5 pm was a good idea. It wasn't. I did not emerge (except to use the restroom, fix another half a pita of nutella at 7, and brush my teeth at 11) until 6 am. I didn't sleep the entire time, but almost! I read for perhaps a couple of hours, and that was it!
Ah well.
Today was much more exciting. We took a bus (ugh! I have to find a way to get over this motion sickness thing!) to Ajloun. Never heard of it? Well, neither had I. But it's a fantastic place! Built over a Byzantine era church, the fortress was constructed by Saladin's nephew in 1184-85 to protect from Crusader attacks. The Byzantine church celebrated the miracle of the loaves and fishes (Jesus traditionally came to this mountain afterward), and a few mosaics of the church were discovered 10 years ago. The castle sits atop a high mountain, from which you can see into Israel/Palestine, Lebanon and Syria. You can see Nazareth, the Sea of Galilee, Mount Nebo, Mount Hermon, the West Bank, and the Dead Sea. It is incredible. This time of year, although it was quite cold today, and even a bit rainy, the landscape is lovely: full of wild flowers and greenery. Various photos to follow.
On the way back, my stomach gave up the fight and spewed out what was left of my breakfast (thank goodness the bus had a restroom! It was tiny, and I didn't manage to keep it all off my jacket, but so grateful to have it!). But lunch and some minty lemonade did much to quell the turbulence in my middle section. It was a fantastic lunch! All the delicious pita and hummus (in addition to various other dips), various salads and french fries one could eat; then a huge plate of roasted chicken, beef, and kebab alongside more french fries, a roasted onion and tomato. I drank three small cups of mint tea before we headed out, and made it home without further incident (although, before I closed my eyes and gave up viewing the countryside, I nearly lost it again).
One unexpected delight throughout the day was our Qasid guide, Nidhal. He is apparently a local singer, and entertained us with Arabic singing - on the bus, in the Ajloun ruins, and at the restaurant. He was a lot of fun.
Today I am beginning a review of vocabulary, and a list of new things I need to know to get around. Let the language acquisition begin!
Not much to report from the first day - I arrived in the evening, got settled in, and slept. The next day I navigated a rather unhelpful map to arrive at Qasid (my language school) and my orientation. Nothing exciting there, except that we took placement exams. These were rather discouraging to me, as I quickly realized how much I do not know. Perhaps I'll be in level 2, not 3! If so, I'll cross that disappointment bridge when I get there.
The excitement of the day was my first grocery shopping trip. It was nothing too overwhelming - most of the products are in English as well as Arabic, so I made my way quite well. What wasn't in Arabic was the "puding"! It was in some language I didn't recognize, and, although I rather wanted to purchase some for comfort snacking later, I decided that would have to wait until I could read the instructions. I bought some Jordanian nutella instead (the original brand was a full 2JD (about $3) more than the Jordanian brand! And that was all I had for dinner last night - nutella on pita.
I was so tired (and depressed, I think, from the exam - and perhaps just in need of some serious rest from my whirlwind last few days) that I convinced myself a quick nap at 5 pm was a good idea. It wasn't. I did not emerge (except to use the restroom, fix another half a pita of nutella at 7, and brush my teeth at 11) until 6 am. I didn't sleep the entire time, but almost! I read for perhaps a couple of hours, and that was it!
Ah well.
Today was much more exciting. We took a bus (ugh! I have to find a way to get over this motion sickness thing!) to Ajloun. Never heard of it? Well, neither had I. But it's a fantastic place! Built over a Byzantine era church, the fortress was constructed by Saladin's nephew in 1184-85 to protect from Crusader attacks. The Byzantine church celebrated the miracle of the loaves and fishes (Jesus traditionally came to this mountain afterward), and a few mosaics of the church were discovered 10 years ago. The castle sits atop a high mountain, from which you can see into Israel/Palestine, Lebanon and Syria. You can see Nazareth, the Sea of Galilee, Mount Nebo, Mount Hermon, the West Bank, and the Dead Sea. It is incredible. This time of year, although it was quite cold today, and even a bit rainy, the landscape is lovely: full of wild flowers and greenery. Various photos to follow.
On the way back, my stomach gave up the fight and spewed out what was left of my breakfast (thank goodness the bus had a restroom! It was tiny, and I didn't manage to keep it all off my jacket, but so grateful to have it!). But lunch and some minty lemonade did much to quell the turbulence in my middle section. It was a fantastic lunch! All the delicious pita and hummus (in addition to various other dips), various salads and french fries one could eat; then a huge plate of roasted chicken, beef, and kebab alongside more french fries, a roasted onion and tomato. I drank three small cups of mint tea before we headed out, and made it home without further incident (although, before I closed my eyes and gave up viewing the countryside, I nearly lost it again).
One unexpected delight throughout the day was our Qasid guide, Nidhal. He is apparently a local singer, and entertained us with Arabic singing - on the bus, in the Ajloun ruins, and at the restaurant. He was a lot of fun.
Today I am beginning a review of vocabulary, and a list of new things I need to know to get around. Let the language acquisition begin!
My much-nicer-than-expected apartment: queen-sized bed (I may request to be transferred to the other, smaller room - I don't need this big a bed or room, and the other room is not in use - I think they just want to be able to charge more); huge wardrobe and balcony. You can see the view from my balcony, looking straight out, as well as up the street. Also, here is my nice Russian (and fully fluent in both English and Arabic!) roommate, Daria.
Ajloun castle. Notice the mote (never really a "wet" mote, since this land does not receive enough water to create a river) and the drawbridge (now permanent); slits for shooting arrows; the amazing view of the countryside looking out of the slits (I'm sure they have a name - anyone?); the steep (and rather smooth and wet) stairs leading to the top of the fortress, from which you see such amazing view, and encounter a very chilly wind; the Byzantine mosaic of loaves and fishes; the video of Nadhil singing (both in the castle and in the restaurant); and the catapult stones.
I encountered this little advertisement on my walk home. I had to chuckle - note that these lessons are almost free.
Friday, March 20, 2015
A Day of Great Blessings and a Few Curses
I confess that the "curses" emanated from my own mouth in reaction to some of the frustrations of this day. (Alright, in full disclosure, I can't recall that I actually vocalized any bad words or ill wishes to anyone, but I did experience a few moments of sincere misery and irritation in which they were shouted at the top of my voice in my head.)
Rewinding a bit...
Yes, I'm reviving my blog. I'm pleasantly surprised that so many of you enjoyed last year's adventures, and I hope this year's galavanting might provide equally stimulating reading.
I'm sitting in the Zurich airport, quite exhausted, but relieved that the nausea that pursued me much of the day yesterday seems to have given up the fight. After a wonderful road trip, during which I enjoyed several remarkable blessings - including a car that travelled over 3,000 miles without a single hiccup, an aunt that accompanied me and provided stimulating conversation and lots of laughs, a mom who met me in Texas and acted as a comfortable but fun driving companion, and wonderful visits with friends - I arrived in Salt Lake for two days of hotel relaxation and rest. Who am I kidding? It rest is a bit of an overstatement. It was a comfortable bed and quiet room that allowed me to get almost enough sleep to make up for the last two weeks of red eyes and long drives - but not nearly enough to even begin to recover from the last few months of studying. Ah well. I got to see a couple of friends I hadn't seen over the Christmas break, managed to read through half (yes, half) of one article in preparation for my oral exam yesterday, and saw my dear friend Adrien in Les Miserables Wednesday night. She was brilliant.
From the theater in Orem, we raced to the airport, where my parents dropped me off for my red-eye flight to Boston. After a brief layover in Charlotte, I boarded the two-hour flight to Boston. The descent was a bit bumpy, and my stomach began to churn. I pulled out that infamous little white paper bag from the seat pocket, but finally my mouth stopped its profuse salivating (the final warning that any contents of the stomach are on their way up), and my stomach settled enough to replace the bag unused. I realized I needed to eat, so I stopped at an Au Bon Pain right out of the gate, but the only thing that sounded good was a bagel. However, when the lady unapologetically informed me that there was no cream cheese, I decided against the bagel (it's just not worth it without the creamy goodness!) and just purchased a big class of fresh OJ. That was a mistake.
I had realized on the plane that, although I had packed quite well, I think, for Jordan, I had not brought even a reasonable coat for Boston - and it was 18 degrees outside at 10:00 am. So, I pulled out my little summer jacket and pulled it over my cardigan, and ventured out to find a taxi. Luckily, the wind was gentle, and I didn't feel too cold.
But quickly I began to feel nauseous again. I realized I had nothing in which to vomit should the need arise, and Boston's turnpike (I90) is remarkably lacking in shoulders to pull over. I decided I would have to hold it down. That didn't work, of course. For the second time in my life (the first time being on a bus the first night of my mission in Chile), I found myself vomiting into my mouth, and pressing my hand to my lips to prevent it from spilling out. It was nothing but orange juice. What could I do? I couldn't even notify the driver to pull over (we had just exited the freeway, and we now had space to pull over). So, with all the determination I could muster, I took three big swallows and gulped it back down. I could think of nothing else to do. Please don't judge me.
I croaked out directions for the driver to drop me off at my building, and gratefully exited the taxi, only to struggle with two awkward bags into the building, up the elevator, and into my Schusterman Center home, where I dropped off the bags, got a quiet room, and reviewed a few things prior to the oral exam. I managed to change and freshen up a bit, grab a muffin, fruit, and some coke, and then it was time. (I sipped the coke all through the oral exam.)
The exam was not unpleasant, and I was surprisingly calm. They asked me various questions about the written exam, clarified some things, and pushed me further in my answers. Then they excused me, deliberated about five minutes, and came out to tell me congratulations. I had passed. Professor Troen added, "with distinction." I must say I was truly surprised at that! They all assured me it had been a pleasure to read my responses, and shook my hand warmly. And that was that!
I changed again into traveling clothes, and got ready to get back into a taxi back to the airport. But my friend Liora (postdoc at Schusterman Center) came out of her office just in time for me to tell her. She bought me a celebratory bagel (with two cream cheese packets) and hot chocolate. The lady at the counter insisted on buying the hot chocolate for me when she heard about my exam. That was a small, fun blessing.
And then the taxi. The sickness returned, and although I chugged the coke in an attempt to preempt the loss of what little I had eaten, up it came. This time, I was prepared with a half-empty cocoa cup. Yep, I spewed right into it. My aim was not so good as I had hoped, and I had to use the newspaper in the seat pocket to wipe up some of the stray droplets. Ugh. I'm sorry, but this is the way it went down (or came up, one might say).
At the airport, I was told my flight had been cancelled, and I would have to stand in an enormous line to be rebooked. After some extensive inquiry, I found out that Lufthansa's pilots are on strike until the 21st, so all flights had been cancelled for the next couple of days. They had given me a number to call to try to rebook, and after 13 attempts (I counted), I got through. They rebooked me for a flight on Swiss Airways at 10:45 that night.
So, there I sat in the airport, a few paces away from the restroom (stomach was still churning quite a bit), and began to consider my options. I was so exhausted (which may be the actual reason for the sick stomach), but also aware of how blessed I am. I had passed with distinction. I should be with friends celebrating, not sitting waiting to dash to the airport restroom for 7 hours.
My friend Irena, to whom I am already deeply indebted for her kindness in letting both me and my Aunt Sharon to stay at her house for a few days before our road trip, picked up the phone and came and got me immediately. She made up her couch for me so that I could rest for a few hours, and I felt quite a bit better. Not fully recovered, but a bit more alive.
The final challenge came at the airport. My flight was supposedly a United Airlines fight out of Boston, so at the E terminal, a less-than-helpful employee directed me to take the airport shuttle to terminal B (more nausea). At terminal B, I found that United was closed for the night. No attendant was in sight, either at the check-in desk, or at information. (This is when certain unsavory words began to form in my mind.) A much-more-helpful baggage claim attendant directed me back to terminal E, explaining that, although it said United Airlines on my reservation, it was really Swiss Airlines. Thank you!
Back on the shuttle (more nausea), with the same driver as before (he chuckled and empathized with my plight). I made it through the line and security with little problem, purchased some Dramamine, and waited to board. I slept most of the trip (I was quite unaware of both dinner and breakfast, but awoke in time to request them to bring it to me late each time - thank goodness!), and the food stayed down. I still feel a bit queasy, but here I am, sitting in the Zurich airport reminiscing about my heaven-blessed, hellish day. I think I will take some excedrin for this headache that persists behind my eyes.
Next stop, Jordan.
These pictures are all out of order (totally annoyed that they uploaded this way!), but I'm too tired to fix it now. See if you can figure out where I am in my journey from these unordered photos!
Rewinding a bit...
Yes, I'm reviving my blog. I'm pleasantly surprised that so many of you enjoyed last year's adventures, and I hope this year's galavanting might provide equally stimulating reading.
I'm sitting in the Zurich airport, quite exhausted, but relieved that the nausea that pursued me much of the day yesterday seems to have given up the fight. After a wonderful road trip, during which I enjoyed several remarkable blessings - including a car that travelled over 3,000 miles without a single hiccup, an aunt that accompanied me and provided stimulating conversation and lots of laughs, a mom who met me in Texas and acted as a comfortable but fun driving companion, and wonderful visits with friends - I arrived in Salt Lake for two days of hotel relaxation and rest. Who am I kidding? It rest is a bit of an overstatement. It was a comfortable bed and quiet room that allowed me to get almost enough sleep to make up for the last two weeks of red eyes and long drives - but not nearly enough to even begin to recover from the last few months of studying. Ah well. I got to see a couple of friends I hadn't seen over the Christmas break, managed to read through half (yes, half) of one article in preparation for my oral exam yesterday, and saw my dear friend Adrien in Les Miserables Wednesday night. She was brilliant.
From the theater in Orem, we raced to the airport, where my parents dropped me off for my red-eye flight to Boston. After a brief layover in Charlotte, I boarded the two-hour flight to Boston. The descent was a bit bumpy, and my stomach began to churn. I pulled out that infamous little white paper bag from the seat pocket, but finally my mouth stopped its profuse salivating (the final warning that any contents of the stomach are on their way up), and my stomach settled enough to replace the bag unused. I realized I needed to eat, so I stopped at an Au Bon Pain right out of the gate, but the only thing that sounded good was a bagel. However, when the lady unapologetically informed me that there was no cream cheese, I decided against the bagel (it's just not worth it without the creamy goodness!) and just purchased a big class of fresh OJ. That was a mistake.
I had realized on the plane that, although I had packed quite well, I think, for Jordan, I had not brought even a reasonable coat for Boston - and it was 18 degrees outside at 10:00 am. So, I pulled out my little summer jacket and pulled it over my cardigan, and ventured out to find a taxi. Luckily, the wind was gentle, and I didn't feel too cold.
But quickly I began to feel nauseous again. I realized I had nothing in which to vomit should the need arise, and Boston's turnpike (I90) is remarkably lacking in shoulders to pull over. I decided I would have to hold it down. That didn't work, of course. For the second time in my life (the first time being on a bus the first night of my mission in Chile), I found myself vomiting into my mouth, and pressing my hand to my lips to prevent it from spilling out. It was nothing but orange juice. What could I do? I couldn't even notify the driver to pull over (we had just exited the freeway, and we now had space to pull over). So, with all the determination I could muster, I took three big swallows and gulped it back down. I could think of nothing else to do. Please don't judge me.
I croaked out directions for the driver to drop me off at my building, and gratefully exited the taxi, only to struggle with two awkward bags into the building, up the elevator, and into my Schusterman Center home, where I dropped off the bags, got a quiet room, and reviewed a few things prior to the oral exam. I managed to change and freshen up a bit, grab a muffin, fruit, and some coke, and then it was time. (I sipped the coke all through the oral exam.)
The exam was not unpleasant, and I was surprisingly calm. They asked me various questions about the written exam, clarified some things, and pushed me further in my answers. Then they excused me, deliberated about five minutes, and came out to tell me congratulations. I had passed. Professor Troen added, "with distinction." I must say I was truly surprised at that! They all assured me it had been a pleasure to read my responses, and shook my hand warmly. And that was that!
I changed again into traveling clothes, and got ready to get back into a taxi back to the airport. But my friend Liora (postdoc at Schusterman Center) came out of her office just in time for me to tell her. She bought me a celebratory bagel (with two cream cheese packets) and hot chocolate. The lady at the counter insisted on buying the hot chocolate for me when she heard about my exam. That was a small, fun blessing.
And then the taxi. The sickness returned, and although I chugged the coke in an attempt to preempt the loss of what little I had eaten, up it came. This time, I was prepared with a half-empty cocoa cup. Yep, I spewed right into it. My aim was not so good as I had hoped, and I had to use the newspaper in the seat pocket to wipe up some of the stray droplets. Ugh. I'm sorry, but this is the way it went down (or came up, one might say).
At the airport, I was told my flight had been cancelled, and I would have to stand in an enormous line to be rebooked. After some extensive inquiry, I found out that Lufthansa's pilots are on strike until the 21st, so all flights had been cancelled for the next couple of days. They had given me a number to call to try to rebook, and after 13 attempts (I counted), I got through. They rebooked me for a flight on Swiss Airways at 10:45 that night.
So, there I sat in the airport, a few paces away from the restroom (stomach was still churning quite a bit), and began to consider my options. I was so exhausted (which may be the actual reason for the sick stomach), but also aware of how blessed I am. I had passed with distinction. I should be with friends celebrating, not sitting waiting to dash to the airport restroom for 7 hours.
My friend Irena, to whom I am already deeply indebted for her kindness in letting both me and my Aunt Sharon to stay at her house for a few days before our road trip, picked up the phone and came and got me immediately. She made up her couch for me so that I could rest for a few hours, and I felt quite a bit better. Not fully recovered, but a bit more alive.
The final challenge came at the airport. My flight was supposedly a United Airlines fight out of Boston, so at the E terminal, a less-than-helpful employee directed me to take the airport shuttle to terminal B (more nausea). At terminal B, I found that United was closed for the night. No attendant was in sight, either at the check-in desk, or at information. (This is when certain unsavory words began to form in my mind.) A much-more-helpful baggage claim attendant directed me back to terminal E, explaining that, although it said United Airlines on my reservation, it was really Swiss Airlines. Thank you!
Back on the shuttle (more nausea), with the same driver as before (he chuckled and empathized with my plight). I made it through the line and security with little problem, purchased some Dramamine, and waited to board. I slept most of the trip (I was quite unaware of both dinner and breakfast, but awoke in time to request them to bring it to me late each time - thank goodness!), and the food stayed down. I still feel a bit queasy, but here I am, sitting in the Zurich airport reminiscing about my heaven-blessed, hellish day. I think I will take some excedrin for this headache that persists behind my eyes.
Next stop, Jordan.
These pictures are all out of order (totally annoyed that they uploaded this way!), but I'm too tired to fix it now. See if you can figure out where I am in my journey from these unordered photos!
Beginning our trip in snowy Massachusetts, we made it out to Concord and visited Authors' Ridge (still knee-deep in snow - it was a major challenge just to get up the hill!), Old North Bridge and Orchard House (from the outside only - we arrived too late for the tour). We also caught a few moments at the Boston Temple on the way back in for dinner.
Finding ourselves caught in a major snowstorm, we weathered the night in New Rochelle, New York (expensive hotel, but there was complimentary popcorn!), and then made our way as quickly as possible to Maryland, where I saw my dear friend Christy and her beautiful little girl Georgia (but for some reason, pictures didn't occur to me!). We stopped off for a quick visit to Annapolis before heading down to Virginia. Note how the snow remained a major factor until southern Virginia.
After a good sleep at my friend Millie's house, we wandered over to Norfolk, VA, where we basked in the (relatively) warm sunlight, frolicked with the mermaids (which is apparently some kind of artistic feature of Norfolk), and toured the WWII warship USS Wisconsin. Later we drove down to Kitty Hawk, NC, where we enjoyed a sumptuous B&B and enjoyed the last few rays of sun as it set over the shores of the Outer Banks.
After church the next morning, we bravely dipped our feet into the Atlantic (it was indeed very chilly water) and then made our way to the Wright Brothers' monument and museum. Very fun.
We found our B&B in Charleston to be very charming indeed, and the owner was friendly and proud of his home. I relished the warmth, the daffodils, and the fun antiques found in every corner.
In downtown Charleston, we visited the Old Exchange and Provost Dungeon, and took in some more sun while we ate some delicious pastries. (You'll also notice from here on out that I become fascinated with the Live Oak trees in the southern states - especially with their dangling Spanish Moss.)
Now, the sad truth is that our trip through (notice, through, not to) Savannah was nearly a blur. We did, however, manage to find a little sandwich shop that is the best I've ever had. I also experienced my first Yoohoo drink. One of the secrets to these sandwiches was the secret sauce. Oh, yes, incredible. So much so that Aunt Sharon chose to keep dripping it on herself to have it with her all day.
After Savannah, we drove 9 hours to New Orleans, arriving at 3 am. After a few hours of sleep, we ventured out to the landmark restaurant that the Internet informed me was a must. We enjoyed the Beignets for breakfast - but imagine our surprise when our bus tour (which had promised a brief stop over for some local cuisine) took us back to the same place! So, we had the Beignets again and tried the Jambalaya and Gumbo. After breakfast, before our jaunt in the French Quarter, we wandered through the city park, which had previously been the Allen Plantation. It was lovely.
I loved the houses in historic New Orleans! The bus tour spent a fair amount of time showing us much of the remaining effects of Hurricane Katrina. You'll see some of the homes that have not been repaired (many of them were entirely inundated with water when the levies broke); notice also where one resident has essentially converted the home to a museum of Katrina - the spray painted words indicating not only the water mark (the words are at the water line), but also how many dead bodies were found here (none at this house). The resident also has collected various objects that he found floating in the water as a memorial.
It was a very rainy day!
From New Orleans, we made another long drive to Galveston, TX. Other than a rather cold ocean, not much to see.
But I had a blast visiting my cousin, Charity, and her family in San Antonio. Her daughter, Lucy, got a hold of my phone and favored us with some fun photos. My mom met up with us in San Antonio and drove the rest of the way with me.
Also in San Antonio I got to visit briefly with my good friend, Amanda Kunz and her beautiful family. We, of course, visited the Alamo.
(Can anyone identify this bush/tree? It's not a Lilac, although it looks quite like it.)
Our final stop in Texas was to visit my dear friend Peter. I was also happy to see an old friend, Becky Roesler, who happens to be in Denton as well. We had some good, ol' Texas BBQ!
My mom insisted that I visit the doctor about my worsening cough, so Peter accompanied us to the local instacare. I couldn't help but notice and appreciate this sign.
And then . . . New Mexico! We stopped off at a little roadside diner that was apparently the local favorite (it was pretty good, if you're ever in Santa Fe), and then headed to a little town called Abiquiu. My mom wanted to check it out to possibly use in her next book. It was a charming little historic town, originally a Spanish mission (the locals call it a Pueblo).
We arrived in Farmington, NM, later that evening, and captured this incredible view of what we later realized is called Shiprock. (You'll see a closer view a couple pics later.) The landscape in NW is, of course, vastly different from the Southeast, but it was lovely.
Finally, after a quick stop in St. George (didn't take any pics there - I've visited multiple times already), we visited my cousin Kimberly near Richfield, UT. Her adorable kids were so fun! Look at that chocolate face!
And then, after a brief respite in Salt Lake, and a whirlwind and woozy day in Boston (as mentioned), I managed to make the plane to Jordan! Next adventure to begin . . . now!
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