POSTING #99

Update on Posting #97: Christmas Food Court Flash Mob, Hallelujah Chorus

When I uploaded Posting #97, the total viewings of the Hallelujah YouTube video was an astounding 2.1 million. Seven days later when I uploaded Posting #98, it was an even more astounding 8.5 million. Now, a week later, as I upload this Posting, the total is now a still more astounding 17.5 million. Where will it end?

So much joy, for so many people!

Some Stories from the Kingdom of Jordan

Friends have shared with us pictures they took during a recent trip to Israel and Jordan. In one of the photos, the wife is taking the obligatory 'float' in the Dead Sea.

That reminded me of a trip that Pat and I made to the Dead Sea in the spring of 2001 to do our own 'floats'.

As I walked into the sea, the water was colder than I expected---it was the Middle East, after all, and water should be warm. Instead it was about the temperature of Lake Ontario in July, that is, COOL. When the water reached my waist, I did what I do before dipping into Lake Ontario. I splashed some water on my chest and arms to prepare them for the dunking they were about to receive.

Unfortunately, some of the water splashed into my eyes. No one had warned me about not getting Dead Sea water in the eyes. My eyes started to burn instantly. I wanted to rub them but my hands were covered with Dead Sea water.

Not knowing what to do, I stumbled blindly back to the beach. In the meantime, our driver who was quietly enjoying a cigarette on the beach saw what had happened and ran to a beach stand. He came racing back with a bottle of  spring water, which he used to rinse my eyes.

I went back in, had my picture taken, got out and headed for the nearest shower.

I guess I would recommend that visitors try the 'float'. It's an eerie feeling all right.

Just don't get water in your eyes!!

000

Talking of eyes, I developed an eye infection during my work in Jordan. I went to see a doctor recommended by the Canadian Embassy. He promptly booked an appointment for me with an ophthalmologist, for later the same day.

The walls of the specialist's waiting room were covered with his diplomas (he had received his ophthalmology training at a hospital in Liverpool, England)  and clippings from Liverpool and  Jordanian newspapers with articles about how he had restored eyesight to people who had been blind.

He was tall, good looking, in his late 40s, dressed in a well-tailored suit with a white shirt and tie. After examining my eye and prescribing an anti-biotic, the specialist pushed aside the machine he had been using to see into my eyes.

He asked me whether I used sun glasses. I said I did but he looked at me doubtfully.

"If you do", he said, "you and I are the only two people in Amman who wear them."

He went on about how difficult it was to convince Arabs to wear sun glasses, and how dangerous the bright desert sun was to eyes.

Then he offered a totally new insight into the problems we have been having with the Middle East.

"You westerners think that we don't like you. You think we are always frowning at you. We aren't frowning, we are squinting because we don't wear sun glasses."

I'm thinking of offering this insight to the international experts trying to negotiate a Middle East peace treaty.

000

The current US discussion about airport body scanners and 'pat downs' reminds me of an incident when we were leaving Jordan to return to Canada,

Pat 'failed' the metal detector test at the Amman airport---because of a metal bra clasp. She was directed over to a small, private booth for a 'pat down'.

When she rejoined me in the airport concourse she looked angry, with fire in her eye.

I asked how things had gone.

She said that the 'pat down' had been extremely thorough, and that was OK, but what had annoyed her was that the examination was performed by two people in burqas, with only their eyes showing. They didn't talk to her, just directed her by gestures.

What, she wondered, if they were not women, but men!!!!

It was a scary, and annoying experience.

If her privacy was going to be invaded, she should at least have been able to see the faces of the examiners.

Not at all an unreasonable view!!!!

000

This story didn't take place in Jordan but it has a Jordanian aspect. I should interject that there was often confusion when I told people in Grimsby about my work in Jordan. Some people thought I was talking about the town down the road, Jordan, Ontario.

I was home in Grimsby on leave from the  Jordanian assignment, and Pat and I decided to have a dinner party for 6 couples. The people were from different places in the Niagara Peninsula, including a couple from Jordan, Ontario.

Pat decided that the menu would include a salad, spaghetti carbonara, a chocolate dessert and would finish with some Jordanian coffee that I had brought home with me.

Prior to leaving Jordan, I visited a fine spice store in Swafia---the Yorkville Village area of Amman. I selected a half kilo of dark-roasted coffee beans, which the clerk poured into the hopper of a coffee grinder. He than asked me how much cardamom to put in. Almost all Jordanian coffee has cardamom ground with the beans, with each family deciding how much to put in. It is the cardamom that makes Jordanian coffee so unique.

I asked for advice, and the clerk picked up a small handful of green cardamom pods and said that was the usual amount to add.

I nodded and he put the pods in the hopper. He ground the beans and pods until they were very fine, and then put the coffee in an air-tight package.

Pat had obtained the recipe for making the coffee from the wife of a Jordanian colleague. It involved putting a few tablespoons of coffee, along with a good bit of sugar and some water into a sauce pan and cooking everything for a few minutes. The coffee was then poured directly from the pan into small cups.

We both had learned to like the bracing drink and we regularly drained the cups until only a little black residue from the finally ground beans was left.

The Grimsby dinner party went well. The spaghetti carbonara was just right (a guest of Italian origin went back for seconds!). The dessert was enjoyed and wine flowed freely throughout the meal.

Pat then asked if people would like to try some Jordanian coffee, noting we had 'regular' if they wished. Everyone opted for the Jordanian.

They seemed to like it and one woman was particularly enthusiastic. She wanted to know more about the coffee.

The conversation that follows is, I think, better heard than read. May I suggest that you read it out loud.

WOMAN: Where did you get this coffee?

PAT: From Amman.

WOMAN: Which man?

PAT: From Amman in Jordan

WOMAN: Well, WHICH man in Jordan?

HUSBAND OF THE WOMAN (tapping his wife on the shoulder): They got it from Amman in Jordan.

WOMAN: (somewhat heatedly): I know they got it from a man in Jordan. What I want to know is WHICH man in Jordan.

HUSBAND: (still tapping his wife on the shoulder) Mary, Mary, they got it from the city of Amman in the country of Jordan.

WOMAN: (even more heatedly) Well, why didn't they SAY so!

Kind of reminds you of the famous Abbot and Costello, "Who's on First" routine, doesn't it. Click here to play a YouTube version of that routine.

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See you on December 19th for Posting #100 with more stories from our family’s universe! If you have comments or suggestions, please leave a comment at the bottom of this posting,  or email me at johnpathunter@gmail.com.