Peace Corps Journals

Sometimes, you just can't find the right words...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-05-24 17:39:00

Even though English is the 3rd most commonly spoken langauge in the world (after Mandarin and Spanish), sometimes I flounder to express myself and just end up drooling words all over myself.

Here's a cool list of some words that simply don’t exist in the English langauge (and yet after reading this list, you’ll wish they did!):

1. Age-otori (Japanese): To look worse after a haircut
2. Arigata-meiwaku (Japanese): An act someone does for you that you didn’t want to have them do and tried to avoid having them do, but they went ahead anyway, determined to do you a favor, and then things went wrong and caused you a lot of trouble, yet in the end social conventions required you to express gratitude

3. Backpfeifengesicht (German): A face badly in need of a fist

4. Bakku-shan (Japanese): A beautiful girl… as long as she’s being viewed from behind

5. Duende (Spanish): a climactic show of spirit in a performance or work of art, which might be fulfilled in flamenco dancing, or bull-fighting, etc.

6. Forelsket (Norwegian): The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

7. Gigil (pronounced Gheegle; Filipino): The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute

8. L’esprit de l’escalier (French): usually translated as “staircase wit,” is the act of thinking of a clever comeback when it is too late to deliver it

9. Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan): A look between two people that suggests an unspoken, shared desire

10. Meraki (pronounced may-rah-kee; Greek): Doing something with soul, creativity, or love. It’s when you put something of yourself into what you’re doing

11. Pena ajena (Mexican Spanish): The embarrassment you feel watching someone else’s humiliation

12. Schadenfreude (German): the pleasure derived from someone else’s pain

13. Sgriob (Gaelic): The itchiness that overcomes the upper lip just before taking a sip of whisky

14. Taarradhin (Arabic): implies a happy solution for everyone, or “I win. You win.” It’s a way of reconciling without anyone losing face. Arabic has no word for “compromise,” in the sense of reaching an arrangement via struggle and disagreement

15. Tatemae and Honne (Japanese): What you pretend to believe and what you actually believe, respectively

16. Tingo (Pascuense language of Easter Island): to borrow objects one by one from a neighbor’s house until there is nothing left

17. Waldeinsamkeit (German): The feeling of being alone in the woods

18. Yoko meshi (Japanese): literally ‘a meal eaten sideways,’ referring to the peculiar stress induced by speaking a foreign language

KO KO-nquering KO-lumbia!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-05-23 20:11:00

Columbia Tri is my favorite race of the year. I could be accused of saying that about Black Fly and Quassy as well, but Columbia really is special: it’s the first tri I did with Penelope, the course is fantastically hilly, and there are teenage boys with water guns at about mile 3 of the run every year! I’ve done it three years running and each time, I’ve had a great experience.

Except this year.

This year started off with a horrible experience.

The swim is my strength. I could swim all day. Put me in water and I am one happy camper. I’ve loved water ever since my dad proved to me that the Terminator doesn’t exist (for some reason, I grew up thinking he was an underwater creature) and there are no Loch Ness monsters in the Utah lakes of my childhood.

I'm the one on the left, brimming with joy and wearing oversized goggles. That's Phebe on the right!

Going into Columbia, my goal was to PR on the swim and bike. I’ve been battling a hamstring injury for the past 8 months, so a 10K run PR was not on the horizon. The swim base I’d built up over the last 3 months found me stronger and more confident in the water, so I was setting my sights on breaking 21 minutes…a stretch goal, but not unreachable.

As our lovely bright orange caps were bobbing in the water, I found my friend Sarah Littlefield. We giggled about goggles, then there was a frantic discussion about what buoys were turn buoys vs sighting buoys amongst our age group wave. As the announcer counted down from 10, I jockeyed for a position strong and center. My plan was to hit it hard the first 200 meters, find a good position behind some fast feet, and hold on for 0.9 miles. 21, 21, 21…I could do it!

And we were off! First three strokes were strong. I immediately found myself jammed between 2 other strong swimmers – a Mindy sandwich, if you will. Beast-to-my-right’s fist pounded my right temple. Beast-to-my-left’s elbow knocked my ribcage. I felt frantic. This was by far the most aggressive triathlon start I’d ever been in (although nothing compares to the Chessie Bayswim start).

Within 15 meters, I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t a “you went out too fast” spiked HR…this was a pure, fight-for-every-breath panic attack. I switched from breathing every 3 to breathing every 2 strokes. I still couldn’t catch a breath. Nasty weed water went down as I tried to force my inhales to catch any oxygen. I did breaststroke for 2 strokes then forced my head down. Don’t be pathetic, Mindy. Hold on to those feet. Just swim.

But it got worse. I gave up on following feet. I backstroked. That’s right, I backstroked. I pulled a 180, looked up at the wonderfully calm blue sky, and yelled at myself for being a wuss. You can do this. You love water. You’re not a flounderer. Flip back over and suck it up. Breath.

But I was still gasping for air. I couldn’t re-calibrate myself. There was no mantra going through my head other than “F*%# F*#@ F*!^!!” I tugged at my wetsuit collar – it was constricting me. I breast-stroked and glanced desperately around. The three women in my wave had pulled ahead and were leaving me stranded with a cluster of girls zooming in to my feet.

There were spectators to my right on the shore, but they couldn’t tell I was about to die. They didn’t know they were about to witness a drowning that day. I wanted to scream at the kayaker to give me some oxygen – I didn’t want him to whip me off the course, I just wanted him to make this stupid panic attack disappear.

I whimpered. Like a puppy. I whimpered because I felt sorry for myself that it had come to this. “I don’t even want to race anymore. Gasp. I just want to – gasp - get out of the water. Gasp. I just want the swim to be over. Gasp. Get me out of here. Gasp,” I thought to myself. I backstroked so that I wouldn’t be run over by the onslaught of my wave coming towards my feet. I watched as they came up…and passed me. The whole wave passed me and I was so bummed.

This race was not going to end with Mindy coming out of the water having backstroked the entire course. “Ugh, get your swimming mojo ON, Mindy!!!” I cursed at myself as girls passed me as if I were a white buoy. So I swam. Slowly, at first, stroking with caution intention and a fear that I would drown. I forced myself to breath bubbles out, just like they teach 5-year-olds, and concentrated on a long inhale every two strokes. Just making sure I got the oxygen. Just making sure I could breathe again.

I hit the first buoy and my HR settled. My breathing was back to normal. The panic attack had passed – and I started to pick up the pace to catch up with those girls who had deserted me in my minutes of dire need. By the second buoy, I was gaining on the main lead pack, so I pushed it a bit harder on the final and longest stretch.

Out of the water in the exact swim split as last year…down to the second…but was just happy to have survived that swim. After the race, several people tried to assuage my freak-out about my panic attack by telling me that panic attacks happen in cold water (but the water wasn’t cold), maybe I should have warmed up in the water (but I’ve done plenty of races with no warmup at all), maybe it was an asthma attack (I don’t have asthma), at least this didn’t happen at Lake Placid (?? I don’t know why she said this, as it very well may…), and “it happens to everybody”. I don’t know how it could have been prevented, I just know that I am no longer immune to the dreaded panic attack.

Lessons learned:

I hate panic attacks.

I love oxygen.

Backstroke saved me.

0.9-Mile Swim: 21:57; 16^th Female, 3^rd AG

So after this ordeal, I strapped on Mr. Patriotic Sperm Helmet and hopped onto Penelope for a joy ride through Columbia. I am used to people passing me out of the water, so it was no surprise that I was passed plenty of times. I even got passed by a 14-year-old boy. I know, I know. He was fast! Practically dancing on his pedals! I mean, when you weigh all of 60 pounds, you’re flying up those hills that everybody else is switch-backing up.

Biking with Mr Patriotic Sperm Helmet!

So instead of reflecting on the woes of dropping in place and confidence throughout the bike course, I’m going to tell you about an event that was my first.

I peed on the bike!!!!!

I do think this justifies 5 exclamation marks. I have always viewed peeing on the bike as vulgar, disgusting, repulsive…wouldn’t you rather risk 20 seconds than pee on your leg, your carbon-soled shoes, and your shiny tri bike? But I really needed to pee. And I knew I would need to practice peeing while racing since my Ironman is a mere 2 months away.

I stopped pedaling. I concentrated. Focus on peeing. Focus. Focus. OK, I knew I had to pee. Where was this stream?

To any cyclists behind me, it was obvious what I was trying to do. Why else would anyone stop pedaling and coast standing on a flat stretch?

I focused harder. Felt the trickle run down my leg. Finished my business and got back into aero position. Success!!

26-mile Bike: 1:20:30; 70-something Female, 6^th AG

Nothing exciting like a panic attack or peeing to write about in the run, except to confirm that the hills are indeed massive. I always underestimate them and they always surprise me again.

The water gun boys were there again this year at mile 3…yes, please, spray me!!!

10K Run: 48:39; 30-something Female, 7^th AG

Columbia remains my favorite tri, despite the panic attack. Who wouldn’t love a tri that gives a free duffle bag (future present for dad!), female-cut t-shirts, and a chance to conquer some pretty tough hills in the early season?

Columbia Tri: 2:34:22; 18^th Female, 3^rd AG

A bit of a disappointment to have added more than 4 minutes to my time from last year on the same course, but all the more incentive to return stronger next year!

Lessons Learned:

SWIM: I am not immune to panic attacks in the water. It got me, and it got me good. Holy crap, I never want to experience that feeling again. But I’m proud of handling it in stride, even though it meant resorting to backstroke and losing valuable feet at the beginning of the swim.

BIKE: Need to work on the hills. Can’t get passed by another 14-year-old on the bike – my quads were 5 times the size of his, yet I still couldn’t match his speed! Looking forward to this Memorial weekend’s girl’s training weekend at Skyline!

Yikes! Look at the elevation chart on the bike course!

RUN: Glad my hammie held up with no pain. Time to start training runs again – cramming as many smart miles as I can into the training program before Ironman hits and it’s game time.

Post-race with Snapple teammates!

And an overly enthusiastic Congratulations!!!!! to Bart for his VA Run Sprint Tri win that same day!

To read about my 2011 Columbia Race, click here.

And for other triathlon race reports, click here.

And for my triathlon photo album, click here!

Spring Cleaning

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-05-23 19:37:45

It’s the end of May and the grass that was green and knee-high last month has all been dried by the sun and eaten by sheep. The sight is a little bleak, but everyone around here is smiling. May is … Continue reading →

Regional Update

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-05-18 07:21:00

Recent weeks have seen some interesting, though not necessarily promising, political changes on both sides of the River Jordan:

Firstly, Jordanian Primer Minister Awn al-Khawasneh recently stepped down and King Abdullah has named Fayez Tarawneh as his fourth Prime Minister over the course of the now 16-month-long Arab Spring. Many people feel Mr. Khawasneh felt compelled to resign due to the Monarchy's disagreement regarding his overtures towards greater involvement with Jordan's largest political party, the Islamic Action Front (IAF). Tensions have long existed between the Monarchy in Jordan and the IAF, which is the political branch of the Muslim Brotherhood in Jordan. This policy of not giving full political strength the Kingdom's largest party, coupled with the democratically elected rise of Islamists in Tunisia and Egypt, is one that unsurprisingly causes regular protests and demonstrations in the capital and other regional cities. Furthermore, Mr. Tarawneh has already come under considerable attack as King Abdullah's new choice of Prime Minister as he was one of the leaders of the 1994 Wadi Araba Peace Accords with Israel: a peace agreement that most Jordanian-Palestinians and Jordanians of Palestinian descent, who together make up close to two-thirds of the population of Jordan, tend to categorically oppose.

For more information on these topics, I recommend this short Economist article from May 5th, as well as this detailed Guardian article from May 11th.

Across the Jordan, as described here, Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu recently made a bizarre political move in the middle of night by abandoning Parliament and forming a new "national unity" coalition with the Kadima party. The Kadima, however, are a party which believes in and has actually offered proposals toward a peaceful two-state resolution of the decades long Palestinian-Israeli Conflict. What is most surprising about this is that Prime Minister Netanyahu, along with Defense Minister Ehud Barak, has shown little desire to bring about peace with the Palestinians. Does this mean that Netanyahu is now making overtures towards the Palestinian Authority with hopes of a peaceful resolution to the conflict? This article would argue in the negative and further states that many Palestinian no longer believe that the nearly 50-year occupation of Palestine by Zionist Israel will ever cease.

Since I have already shared four links to news articles in the post, I thought I would also share this sickening May 10th article from the U.S. Military Joint Forces Staff College in Norfolk, VA.

Back at home, spring is over and Dust Season has began. The past two weeks have been really hot, really windy, and really dusty. I'm told that when summer starts in June it will be much nicer, though also much hotter. Spring, however, was wonderful and teachers and students throughout the Kingdom took advantage of this by taking field trips to some of Jordan's most attractive places. I was lucky enough to attend three field trips: one to some hot springs in the Jordan Valley and to the forests and waterfall of Wadi Rajeb with my colleagues, one to Jerash and Irbid with my 3rd-5th grade students, and one to the grassy hills behind my village with my 2nd-3rd grade students.

In addition to the pictures above, I also have two videos to share with you here. The first video shows some of my 4th grade students singing and chanting on the stage of the 1800-year-old South Theater at the Roman Decapolis city of Jerash. The second video just shows some 2nd and 3rd grade boys having fun and getting dirty.

Welcome to the Pain Cave...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-05-17 22:36:00

I always get way too excited for races…especially the first race of the season. So excited that I woke up at 3:13 am, 3:32, and 3:35, wondering whether it was time to chomp my bagel and PB yet. 5:00 am, and the horrible blare of the hotel’s alarm went off. Spandex on…tires pumped…breakfast annihilated…ready to roll.

Too bad there were no yellow swim caps for this event...the ladies in my wave got boring, evergreen caps. Swim start was delayed by 15 minutes due to morning fog hiding all the buoys. I got in a quick warm-up swim that mainly found me dodging others who had thought it best to swim parallel to the shore. At least the nuclear-power-plant-heated water was warm!

The ladies started 6 minutes after the first heat of military machines. I was relieved that they let us start in the water, since I am horrible at high-kneeing and dolphin-diving into the water from a beach start. Gun blasted, and we were off!

First tri of 2012…oh, how I had forgotten some of those race-day idiosyncrasies! I pulled to the front as the pack V’ed in, and immediately found myself jockeying for a strong position, battling those fists of fury. After the chaos settled down, there were 5 of us green caps…all sticking to each other and fighting for lazy feet.

Can you tell which arm is mine!???!!

By the way, who else hates the buoy turns? What a clusterfest. I never know whether it’s better to take the buoys wide or hug them, but neither way seems to be optimal. First buoy I chose to hug – and consequently ran into a military man’s crotch who had planted himself at the buoy for a breather. Second buoy, I chose to swing wide, and found myself by my lonesome until I properly sighted myself to the main pack. Swim was, as always, the favorite leg of the race. Some sighting difficulties on the last 1/3 of the swim due to us heading directly into the rising sun, but I managed to follow the stream of swimmers all headed to shore. I struggled to rip the top half of my wetsuit off as my heartrate raced, and heard the announcer boom that I was in 4th place. Yippeee!!!

A slight hiccup: I dropped my goggles going into T1 and had to run back to retrieve them!
My purple TYR goggles are worth the extra 5 seconds!

1.2-mile Swim: 29:39; 4th female, 2nd AG. Happy to break the 30-min mark!

Thanks to my dimpled Xterra Vendetta for getting me out of the water in good time!

On to the bike – Penelope and I had a lot of saddle bonding time this spring, as DC’s mild weather had allowed for outdoor riding since February. Unfortunately, the hours logged didn’t translate to speed nor power. Riding a bike should be easy: you turn the pedals, you don’t run into any pebbles or potholes, life is good! However, throughout the entire first loop of the 56-mile bike course, I was continually passed by folks I had beaten in the water. I tried to convince myself that I was “saving” my legs for the run, but the truth is that they were all better cyclists…or that I am seriously lacking in the cycling ability department. Well, I did have a slight confidence boost during the 2nd loop of the bike, when I passed several people who had gone out too hard.

So even though the bike was a bit deflating, I do have a couple of highlights:

1. Got to use my HED race wheels for the first time!

2. Double Espresso Clif gels. Let’s just say it’s a gooey party with 2 hits of caffeine. Oh my goodness, those things were delicious.

3. Thanks to soon-to-be-dad Matias for my nutrition plan – my stomach needs to work on digesting so that I don’t have a massive glob in my stomach for the run, but his caloric advice was perfect!

The total damage on the bike? I dropped in place A LOT. I had better redeem myself on the run.

56-mile Bike: 2:53:20; 36th female, 4th AG…yikes!

Relief to be off the bike! But, the reality of a half-marathon quickly settled in. 13.1 miles is a long enough distance that you can’t just wing it. I mean, people train for months to race a half-marathon!

A bit of my history here: 7 months earlier, I had torn my hamstring. Gah, the agony in reliving that moment! Since October, I have been RICE-ing and foam-rolling my hamstring, replacing my running with elliptical, and even attempting to aqua-jog. The result has been a mental quash on my running confidence…I didn’t even know if my hamstring would hold up through the first 5K!

Amazingly, and much to my happiness, the first loop of the run felt great! I was prancing along, ticking off the people who had zipped past me on the bike. The heat was starting to get to me…thanks to the Kinetic volunteers for my water/small cup shower at each aid station!

About 7 miles into the run, my muscles started to hurt. Hurt, as in slowing down didn’t sound too bad. Water stations couldn’t come soon enough…I was definitely dehydrated. I kept my eye on Mr. I’m-too-cool-for-a-tri-top in front of me – we had been passing each other and staying with 10 seconds of each other the entire run. “Just keep up with him, and you’ll be fine”, I thought.

Enter third and final lap of the run – seriously, I hate loops. This was agonizing because relay runners would blow by me and deflate my theory that I was doing A-OK for entering the double-digit miles. I couldn’t tell whether the girl with a 26 on her calf was on her first, second, or third lap. I tried to do the ol’ process-of-elimination: had she passed me on the bike, or was she a non-threat? Ugh…I was too tired to care anymore. Just wanted to cross that finish line!

I officially entered the pain cave for the first time ever in my life at Mile 9.5. Shockingly, my hamstring felt fine and was holding up. My quads, however, were being punished with invisible knives stabbing me with every heel strike (yes, I am an inefficient heel-striker). The uphills hurt because I couldn’t find that extra bounce to make my tired gait seem like anything more than a shuffle. The downhills...shudder…the downhills. Pain with every step. I remember wanting so badly to stop…just let me walk for 100 meters…but thinking that if I stopped, my muscles would seize and I wouldn’t have a chance of un-cramping them.

So I kept on running. I tried to think of anything other than “I’ve already passed this corner twice and I know there’s still 2 miles to the finish.” So I let my mind wander to thoughts of the BBQ joint that Phil had told us to visit post-race, and how lovely an ice-cream cone would be right now. Maybe Haagen-Dazs coffee…or Black Raspberry Chocolate from Breyer’s…I could use some of that right now. Ouch, anything is better than this now, I could use an ice-bath after this…

Last mile was pure downhill, and my buddy Mr. No-tri-top and I were within 3 strides of each other. “Just seven more minutes. Or eight. Or nine. I don’t even know my pace. Just a few more minutes of pain.” My running partner decided to desert me with 400 meters to go. I tried to chase him and sprint in, but there was absolutely no gas left in the Lil’ Engine. I probably just looked like Gumby with my sloppy arm-flailing and grimacing. Crossed the finish line – oh my god, OH MY GOD I have never been so glad to just stop moving. Just let me stand here. Just let me take up whatever space I’m using up – no, I don’t want to clear the way for people finishing right behind me. Please please please, 70-year-old volunteer, bend down to take my sweaty timing chip off my ankle – I am not about to creak my body down there to strip the Velcro strap off.

I was pleasantly surprised by my run split, given the lack of running training I’ve had.

13.1-mile run: 1:45:08; 11th female, 3rd AG.

Found Bart, did some grumbling, and settled down a bit. Annihilated a not-so-tasty tuna salad wrap and some cold coffee. Nothing was sitting right in my stomach – but I was so hungry! Talk about a congealed glob of Gus and Shot Blox in my tummy!

Overall result Kinetic Half: 5:11:35; 10th female, 2nd AG!

Got myself another pint glass – perfect prize, given my propensity to break those fragile things! Headed out to Tarheel BBQ off of the recommendation of teammate Phil, crushed a pulled pork sandwich, and headed home to an ice bath.

Next race: May 20, Columbia Triathlon!

A day in the life

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-05-17 15:16:55

Before I left for the Peace Corps I would tell people I was leaving for Jordan to work in Special Education and they would say “That’s so nice!…so what’ll you be doing?” Which I never knew how to answer. Peace … Continue reading →

My Regular Work Schedule

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-05-12 18:43:00

Roses in my front yard

I realize that the majority of my posts lately have talked about special events, weekend trips, or broader social issues. I haven't really described to any of you what my typical work schedule looks like. Let me rectify that fault of communication here:

As a Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) Volunteer, my primary responsibility is to teach English with a Jordanian counterpart in the Ministry of Education boys' school in my village. I have been working at my school and attending classes since the teachers' strike ended in mid-February and I have been regularly teaching with my counterparts since early March.

Ajlun Castle

The Jordanian (and that of most Arab countries) workweek is from Sunday to Thursday, but I only go to my school from Monday to Thursday. This is because I go to the local university every Sunday for three hours of Arabic study in the morning and two hours of Spanish instruction in the afternoons. The university in my region has a very strong Arabic as a Foreign Language program for non-Arab Muslims, typically from China and Malaysia, hoping to learn the language of the Qu'ran. According to religious doctrine, any translation of the Qu'ran is not considered to be a real Qu'ran and to be a true Muslim you must worship in 8th Century CE Classical Arabic as this was the language that Allah (God) dictated the Qu'ran through the Archangel Gabriel to the Prophet Mohammed. Considering that less than a quarter of the world's Muslims are Arabs, there is a big draw to the Arab world and to my local university specifically for non-Arab Muslims to study Arabic. I, however, am the only non-Muslim in the course, and considering that I only attend once per week, whereas all the other students attend 5 days per week, I have to work extra hard to keep up. That being said, I do believe I have benefited from this course and generally bring my homework to my school to work on with other teachers during our prep periods.

After Arabic class, I go to a task which is significantly easier for me: I teach Spanish. I made a connection with one of local Spanish professors who is from Alicante, Spain and we worked out a schedule where I teach her Spanish I and Spanish II classes once per week in the form of a Spanish club. I was specifically asked to not teach the curriculum nor teach out of the textbook but to utilize more communicative and interactive activities. I have to give thanks to my former colleagues and former students at Edna Brewer Middle School as I find myself often reverting to the types of activities that I would teach and learned how to teach while at Brewer. I sometimes have wondered whether a 19-year-old Jordanian would be willing to do the same type of activities as a 12-year-old from East Oakland, and there certainly are times when the Jordanian college students are less energetic than my former middle school students, but I have been pleasantly surprised by their willingness to participate and to use the Spanish language.

4th, 5th, and 6th grade field trip to Jerash

As I stated above, my primary job responsibility is to teach English with a Jordanian counterpart at my local public school from Monday to Thursday. In Jordan, all students take English as a regular class from 1st grade through 12th grade. Typically 1st-4th grade students take English 4 days per week, 11th-12th grade students take English 3 days per week, and 5th-10th grade students take English 5 days per week. My school offers English to male students from 2nd through 10th grades.

At my school there are three Jordanian English teachers with each of whom I work to varying degrees. As a rule, I will not go to class if my counterpart is not there, which actually happens more often than you might expect. The youngest, and most energetic, of the three is the only one who actually lives in my same village and he has been very helpful and supportive of me in my interactions both at school and in my village. With him I teach 2nd grade three days per week as well as 8th grade four days per week.

My second counterpart is a former military officer who has surprisingly strong classroom management for a Jordanian. Of all the Jordanian teachers I have met, he is one of the only teachers of any subject whom I've never seen raise his voice nor a hand nor a weapon towards the students for punishment. With him I teach 3rd grade and 4th grade both three days per week. The students in these two classes are seriously two of the hardest-working and happiest groups of boys that I have ever taught. I thoroughly enjoy teaching both of these classes with my counterpart and watching the boys happily excel in English.

Finally, the 5th grade is the only grade at my school with more than one section of students and I attend both sections of 5th grade English with my third counterpart once per week. My third counterpart is the most experienced of the three and his classes are quite well structured and well run with few problems. Though I only get to work with him for two lessons per week, I certainly appreciate him and his 5th grade students for allowing me to be a guest in their classes each Wednesday.

Field Trip with the Teachers

In addition to these regular English classes during school hours, I also teach two English clubs once per week: On Monday mornings before 1st period I teach 9th and 10th graders and on Tuesday mornings I teach 6th and 7th graders. With both of these groups I spent several weeks using communicative activities to practice English conversation. I then moved into units on water scarcity and water conservation. Jordan's is the world's second most water poor country; rainfall has decreased significantly in recent decades with the rise of global climate change; population has exploded in recent decades with great advances in health care and the huge influx of refugees from Palestine, Iraq, and Syria, as well as the large immigration of foreign workers from South Asia and Egypt; and the majority of Jordan's water comes from non-replenishing reserves of fossilized aquifers. In fact, Jordan may not even have enough water to get through the summer of 2012. This being said, the average Jordanian is relatively ignorant of how grave and urgent the water shortage really is and I hope to educate my students to at least be aware and conscious of their water usage.

After describing my typical schedule to you, I would remiss if I did not say that the last two months have been anything but typical. If you count up my regular English classes with my Jordanian counterparts, you will see that I am scheduled to teach 15 lessons per week; however, I rarely, if ever, teach more than 10 lessons per week. For those of you that know me well, you know that I tend to put my job and the people I work with before anything else, including such life essentials as family, friends, food, or sleep. I have long known and understood that this might not be the best formula for a fulfilled life; nevertheless, it is a formula that is consistent with American values and, though not the norm, can function effectively in American society and culture. This formula, however, is (in my experience) fully non-functioning in Jordanian village society. Work cannot be the number one priority. Family and kinship relationships always take precedence over work. No one would ever question you if you had to leave work early, or not show up at all, to take care of a family member. Likewise, even at work, developing relationships and enjoying time with your colleagues are priorities that comes before teaching the students. This is not to say that my colleagues do not teach; they are all teachers and teach for their job and the income it provides, but every single one of them would you tell you that he is a father, son, brother, uncle, nephew, and friend before he would say he is a teacher.

Some of the recent trainings that I have attended

Furthermore, I myself have been quite busy out of site as well. Since the beginning of April alone, I have missed 10 days of school due to my attendance at Peace Corps trainings and workshops on topics related to TEFL, Enhancing Water Awareness (EWA), and Project Design and Management (PDM). If you're still with me this far, I must say that I am impressed by your diligence, but I will spare you more stories from my work with EWA and PDM for a later date.

The Peace Corps delegation at the Full Moon Desert Marathon in Wadi Rum

Finally, as evident from my previous posts. I am finding quite a bit of time for fun as well. Among other things I have been on several field trips with my students and colleagues, gone hiking in the mountains of Ajlun, attended a birthday party of another volunteer in Irbid, and ran a half-marathon in the sand in 3 hours and 8 minutes in Wadi Rum.

Wadi Rum

President Clinton Delivering a Speech to Students at Georgetown University, Washington DC (1995)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Jordan"&search_sort=video_date_uploaded

2012-05-12 12:57:31

	President Clinton Delivering a Speech to Students at Georgetown University, Washington DC (1995) thefilmarchive.org July 6, 1995 Georgetown University is a private research university in Washington, DC Founded in 1789, it is the oldest Jesuit and Catholic university in the United States. Georgetown's main campus, located in Washington's Georgetown neighborhood, is noted for Healy Hall, a National Historic Landmark in the Romanesque revival style. Georgetown operates a law center on Capitol Hill and auxiliary campuses in Italy, Turkey, and Qatar. Georgetown's founding by John Carroll, America's first Catholic bishop, realized efforts to establish a Roman Catholic college in the province of Maryland that were repeatedly thwarted by religious persecution. The university expanded after the American Civil War under the leadership of Patrick Francis Healy, who came to be known as Georgetown's "second founder" despite having been born a slave. Jesuits have participated in the university's administration since 1805, a heritage Georgetown celebrates, but the university has always been governed independently of the Society of Jesus and of church authorities. The university has around 7000 undergraduate and over 8000 post-graduate students from a wide variety of religious, ethnic, and geographic backgrounds, including 130 foreign countries. The university's most notable alumni are prominent in public life in the United States and abroad. Among them are former US President Bill Clinton, US Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, dozens of governors and members of Congress, and the <b>...</b>	From: thefilmarchived Views: 16 0 ratings
	Time: 56:51	More in Education

Jordan Weinstein Graduation Spotlight

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Jordan"&search_sort=video_date_uploaded

2012-04-30 19:38:30

	Jordan Weinstein Graduation Spotlight Jordan Weinstein, an Environmental Science major, found her interest in sustainability through working with the Office of Sustainability's GameDay program. Jordan quickly became the coordinator for the program, where students help collect recyclable trash during Gator football games. As Jordan approaches graduation, she is also preparing for her next adventure: a volunteer for the Peace Corps in Africa.	From: UniversityofFlorida Views: 0 0 ratings
	Time: 02:07	More in Nonprofits & Activism

Life after Peace Corps

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Small Olympian Bear

2012-04-28 00:56:00

I ended my Peace Corps service to Jordan on Sept. 11, 2008; perhaps a touch melodramatic, but I hope it made the point that we can forge significant relationships in the face of adversity. Two days later I left for a vacation in Lebanon

Gmail - IMG_2298.jpg

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Small Olympian Bear

2012-04-28 00:56:00

Gmail - IMG_2298.jpg When I met Carolyn Jones in June of 2005 she was already beginning to struggle with that which took her, but which she transcended.

New Year's Eve

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Small Olympian Bear

2012-04-28 00:58:00

For the first time since 1994, I was NOT at Burlington's First Night, and for the first time since 2000, not singing at Burlington's First Night with Social Band. Could have been an occasion for maudlin boo-hooing, but instead, on Dec. 31, 2006 was a totally care-free happy day. First, I went to the Turkish Bath and got scrubbed deliciciously clean, in fact the cleanest I've been since I arrived

The chickens in my kitchen

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-04-07 15:12:56

I have a personal policy here in Jordan of saying yes to pretty much everything. When my school principal comes to me with 6 bags of buttons and a 5×6 orange sheet and requests that I make a mural, I … Continue reading →

My House (Video)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-04-05 13:41:00

Below you can find a 11-minute long video tour of my home in Jordan. Enjoy!

Also, find pictures here from a recent trip to Ajlun Castle as well as from a trip I took with some teachers from my school.

On the subject of YouTube videos, here's a funny one a fellow PC Jordan Volunteer found about Peace Corps life:

Finally, on the topic of Peace Corps, here is a powerful blog post from a currently serving PCV in Ethiopia.

Dead2Red Pictures

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-03-23 16:16:00

I have included in this post several pictures from our recent 242km Dead2Red relay race, which we completed in 22 hours and 14 minutes.

Before I get to my pictures, however, please let me give props to Angela for her YouTube video and to Cathy for her pictures:

Dead2Red Video
In case you were wondering, I did not injure my foot. It just hurt to bend my knee...

Dead2Red Pictures

The Dead Sea

Looking into Wadi Mujib

The male runners at the Dead Sea

Sunrise over Wadi Araba

Wadi Araba

The only 2 non-gas powered taxis in Aqaba

Camels in Aqaba

I am woman.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan al ajnebiiya sa'ida (The Happy Foreigner)

2012-03-20 19:59:00

I'm having a moment of pride.

After a year and a half in Jordan, I don't really know that I've changed anyone's life. I don't even know if I expected to do that when I came here. I do know that a few of my students' English has improved dramatically and that I was a big part of that. That's cool.

But then I came to a Times article that a fellow female volunteer posted of Facebook. http://ideas.time.com/2012/03/19/our-best-diplomats-women-in-the-peace-corps/

It is interesting to read this and to think that here in Jordan, my greatest contribution is to serve as an example of a strong (okay, sometimes tearful) independent woman who goes it alone. A few things are more difficult in life here because of this status, but that is a part and parcel to my contribution here. And since I came here, some of my closest friends have similar statuses, whether because she is an orphan who doesn't have a husband yet, or because she is married to a man who lives in a different city for some unknown reason. They have to struggle to find men or boys to help them. And so do I sometimes (I can't climb on my roof to see how much water I have, but little boys can). But the majority of time, the people of my village see me do the necessary duties (like go shopping, take cabs, pay my electric bill, etc.), and though others may say "wow... that's a bit inappropriate" (women aren't supposed to go out alone), they follow it with "But what can you do? You're alone, ya haram."

I'm not saying that any of these women are now jumping at the chance to go do these tasks like I do. I do, however, believe that them seeing that this respected young woman can do these things and still be good, is a step in a direction that is better for all the other single, fatherless women around here. Exposure is a powerful tool. If nothing more, they now understand why I was able to manage living alone in college.

The Visits

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-03-20 13:02:55

Before I left for Jordan I spent a lot of time reading through websites, volunteer blogs, and of course, my invitation packet, which looked like this: and I remember one day coming across this sentence: “Visiting is the national pastime … Continue reading →

Arab Spring (One year later)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-03-16 18:31:00

There was a time last week when the prevailing wind announced that spring had arrived to Jordan. The desert had bloomed into swaths of green emerging from the previously lifeless soil. Flowers had appeared on the olive trees. Kids could be seen and heard playing outside. And the weather warmed. For three consecutive days I did not turn on my heater, a first for me in Jordan since my arrival in October.

To take advantage of this warm weather, I have developed the habit of bringing a mattress out onto my front porch in the afternoons. I sit in the sun and listen to music, eat lunch, study Arabic, and read. I also receive guests this way. By being outside and visible, neighbors and passerby's stop by to visit and chat.

On one such day I was walking home from school and saw my new neighbor walking down the hill towards the bus stop. We spent a couple minutes going through the standard greetings and inquiries of health and happiness before I asked him where he was heading. He told me was going to Mafraq to look for a new house. I asked why and he merely said that he did not like living in our small and quiet village. I was sad to hear that he might be leaving, but wished him luck in his search for a new house.

That was the second to last time I ever talked to him.

Later that afternoon I brought my lunch and a mattress outside to relax and enjoy the weather. The six (of eight) oldest children (ages 2-10) were out playing and running around. They saw me and waved and said hello. After a while a couple of the younger girls walked over to sit with me, though they were too shy to speak. Before I continue, however, I must make the aside that this was the first instance of a female being on my front porch since I moved in over 2 months ago. Soon after, the boys and oldest daughter joined us on the porch. The children told me, and I could see the evidence on their faces, that their house was infested with mosquitoes and they couldn't sleep at night. The six-year-old boy explained, in more complicated Arabic than I am able to understand, all the reasons why Bashar is bad. The two-year-old girl would walk up to me, giggle, and run back to her four year old sister. The nine-year-old boy demonstrated how Bashar's soldiers attack and kill civilians and families. The ten year old boy asked if I wanted to take their picture.

Not long after, their father arrived and shooed all his children home. I asked him if he found any good houses and he responded that he couldn't find a one. He reiterated the fact that he did not want to live in our village anymore. He then told me that he was going to get his gun and go back home to fight. My immediate response was "No, that's not good."

After all, I am a PEACE Corps Volunteer and, despite the fact that I live in the world's fourth most militarized country that is also surrounded on all sides by countries currently or recently going through war and/or revolution (Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Palestine/Israel, Egypt), peace is still a fundamental value and ideal that I uphold. For basically my entire adult life my country has spent billions of dollars engaging in two wars in which thousands of lives have been lost. I do not know what our world would be like now if neither of those wars had happened. I cannot, however, imagine how the United States, Iraq, or Afghanistan would be worse off if those wars had not happened.

As the uprising in Syria culminates its first year, dozens of Syrians are continuing to die everyday. Bashar is refusing to back down; rather, every time the global community speaks out against him and his regime, he only amplifies the violence. The opposition groups in Syria appear to be no match for Bashar and his military. The innocent families hiding in their homes also appear to be no match. Yet Syrians insist they do not want international intervention in their country. I can only wonder if the almost constant presence of occupying forces in the region (Americans, British, French, Turks, Romans) has something to do with why the Syrian opposition wants to fight on their own. I do not understand, and I probably never can understand how people can reach the point of constant and sustained violence. I am here for Peace.

But I didn't say all this to my neighbor. All I said was, "No, that's not good." And to my surprise, he had no response and changed the subject. To this day, I do not know if he seriously plans to return to Syria to fight.

That was the last time I ever talked to him.

The next day, when I got home from school, their house was empty and the only sign of their presence was the three bags of trash sitting in the street.

Winter has returned to Jordan. I'm wearing six layers again. I'm careful to close all my doors to keep the heat in. The wind is howling. The rain is coming down. The skies are dark and gray. No trace of children playing can be seen or heard.

Plan, plan, plan!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan al ajnebiiya sa'ida (The Happy Foreigner)

2012-03-15 17:59:00

I feel like all I do is plan here. Lesson plan, plan for trips, plan for clubs and camps and what to get when I finally go to the market.
Wedding plan.
Now about to start law school planning.

It's nice to have so much time to plan, and the nice the about a plan that is in the distant future is that if it is destined to fail, the modern-day me doesn't know. I just look at my lovely little written-up lists and think "gosh, that's one nice, well-thought-out plan!"

Go Dores!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-03-11 20:33:00

Vanderbilt Men's Basketball: SEC Tournament CHAMPIONS!!

Today, Vanderbilt improved to 2-0 all time in the SEC Championship game, the first one coming 61 years ago in 1951, by beating Number 1 ranked Kentucky who was riding a 24 game win streak.

GO 'DORES!

Karak and Jerash

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-03-10 10:44:00

One of the benefits of living in the Middle East is that the desert climate means there is less erosion and little weathering away of ancient buildings and settlements. In the past several weeks I have been lucky enough to visit two of the archaeological gems of Jordan: Karak Castle and the Roman Decapolis city of Jerash.

Saladin Statue

Karak is a city built on top of a mountain and surrounded on all sides by deep canyons with views of the Dead Sea, Israel, and the Palestinian Territories to the west. The city and region surrounding Karak has been continuously inhabited for several millennia by such civilizations as the Moabites, Nabateans, Romans, and Byzantines prior to the arrival of Islam to the Arab world in the 7th Century CE. Karak Castle was constructed in the 12th Century CE and was the site of many battles between the Christian Crusaders and Arab Muslims led by the famed Saladin.

Into the deep

Upon visiting Karak Castle, one notices that it has changed hands and has been expanded multiple times. One finds several churches, mosques, and palaces, as well as several "external" walls in the interior of the current structure. One also finds an extensive series of underground passageways and chambers built with striking engineering ingenuity. Although completely below the surface, all rooms were equipped with a series of holes in the ground, ceiling, and walls to let in light and air circulation and to allow for water drainage.

Western Wall with Umm Al-Thalaja in the background

As beautiful and intriguing this castle and its structures are, I must admit, however, that I was most taken by the scenery and topography of the location. Standing atop the Mamluk Keep at the southern end of the castle and pondering the deep canyons below to the east and the west, it's not surprising that the Crusaders chose this location to build their castle, both for its defensive position but also for its beauty.

Looking North from the Mamluk Keep

For more pictures from Karak, click here.

As impressive as Karak Castle was, and I as lucky as I was to visit it on such a beautiful day, I have to say that my visit to Jerash was only that much better. Jerash is an incredibly well preserved Roman city in the fertile hills of Gilead to the west of Mafraq. Jerash itself has been continuously inhabited since it was founded by Alexander the Great in 333 BCE, but was at its peak as one of the leading cities of the Roman Decapolis in the 2nd and 3rd Centuries CE.

Temple of Zeus and the Forum in the foreground with Modern Jerash in the background

The ancient city is composed of numerous temples and churches, two impressive theaters, a beautiful 800 meter long colonnaded street, an oval-shaped forum, three striking gates complete with arches, a mosaic-floored bathhouse, and a hippodrome used for chariot racing.

Hadrian's (Triumphal) Arch and the Hippodrome

As you may have noticed, I did not mention any form of housing in my previous sentence. This is because the preserved ancient city was merely the administrative and economic center of the city. In the times of the Roman Decapolis, the majority of the city's 20,000 inhabitants lived on a hill to the east and connected by bridges and causeways across the ravine. Unfortunately, these ancient settlements can no longer be visited as they are all buried under the modern city of Jerash (population 40,000).

The Forum

Nonetheless, what is preserved is striking and I hope you enjoy the pictures. For the full album, please click here.

Finally, as many of your probably know, I celebrated my 29th birthday about a month ago and was lucky enough to have several neighbor boys bring me a cake and sing me "Happy Birthday".

Jordan Mallah Presents: Journey to Magical and Mystical Peru

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan YouTube Videos matching query: "peace corps" "Jordan"&search_sort=video_date_uploaded

2012-03-06 22:05:24

	Jordan Mallah Presents: Journey to Magical and Mystical Peru Yoga and Service Project, December 19-26, 2011 Enjoy our journey to the indigenous Andean village where Jordan Mallah spent three years as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Each day we practiced yoga and ventured out to experience the village and the people who shared their lives with Jordan. We helped co-create an organic community garden at the local high school, visited the regional market. We shared our stories with members of the community and by week's end had an insider's knowledge of the town Jordan loves to call his second home. Add purpose to your life and experience a radically life changing service and yoga retreat to the Magical and Mystical Andes of Peru.	From: jordanmallah Views: 0 0 ratings
	Time: 03:00	More in Autos & Vehicles

Iguanas, formal wear, and what I ate last night

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-03-06 20:01:04

I’m living in a crazyworld. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jordan and my center, my kids, my landlady, my neighbors- it’s all great. But frequently during my day there are moments where I just have to stop and look around … Continue reading →

Dead2Red

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-02-22 20:09:00

Next weekend, 10 strong (brave? crazy? clueless?) J15's will be participating in the Dead2Red. This event is a relay race from the Dead Sea to the Red Sea. By "relay race" I mean that we are running on foot. By "from the Dead Sea to the Red Sea" I mean that we are stopping at the lowest point on the surface of the Earth and then running uphill for 170 miles until we reach Jordan's only Red Sea port of Aqaba.

We only decided to participate in this event about 10 days ago, so our training may or may not be sufficient, but here's to hoping that we all make it to Aqaba! In the past week and a half I personally have ran on six occasions for a total of 30.1 miles, including 7.2 miles today. Some of the locals think it's rather silly that I run around in the hills behind my village; however, I am fortunate that I am a male, as if I were a female exercising outside I would at best lose much my credibility in the village and at worst lose much of my safety and security.

Why, might you ask, would any of us want to run 17 miles in one night? Did I mention we're running at night? It's still really cold here and gets below freezing most nights, but I live 3800 feet above the Dead Sea and, to answer my second question, apparently it's too hot to run in the daytime down there. To answer my first question: The organizers wouldn't allow us to have a team any greater than 10 runners, so 17 miles per person is the least we can do. Secondly, and more importantly, the J15's are running to raise funds for what I believe to be quite the important project here in Jordan: Camp GLOW.

In a country where males and females are segregated at nearly all times and in nearly all places, from the home to schools to public transportation, Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) offers young ladies from rural Jordan an opportunity unlike any other in the Kingdom. This 5 day camp, held at a local university is an opportunity for promising high school girls to "gain leadership and organizational skills,...become active and successful members of their society,...create positive change in themselves and others,...[and develop their] self-expression, critical thinking and leadership skills." Furthermore, this camp is conducted entirely in English and provides the girls with an opportunity to hone their fluency in English (a prerequisite for college admission).

As I said previously, we are running to raise funds for Camp GLOW. If you are at all interested in donating to support Camp GLOW, I encourage you to click here to read more about Camp GLOW and its history in Jordan.

Getting High in Guatemala

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-02-17 19:30:00

My plan to climb Central America’s tallest peak, Mt Tajamulco near Xela, Guatemala, were quickly dashed when I read that the mountain was closed due to bandits and unsafe trails. Even local guides were not risking taking people up to Tajamulco’s peak. I quickly changed my Guatemalan itinerary and settled on Antigua, a beautiful town just an hour outside of Guatemala City.

My first exploration of Guatemala took me to Lago Atitlan, a crater lake that is bordered by small towns. I paired up with a French couple, and we hired a boatman to take us to several villages. A cool trip, and well worth the 2 ½ hour bus ride there. Panajchel apparently livens up on the weekend, but on a sleepy Monday, I was one of only a handful of tourists there.

Next stop: volcano hiking. This is the stuff I love. Even though I’ve yet to have a decent night’s sleep in a tent, I love walking through different microclimates, watching the sun rise and set from above the cloud line, and building a fire at night with a full blanket of stars and planets above base camp. If it snows, even better; that’s a guarantee for a clear sky the next morning.

Antigua has four main volcanoes, and I decided to hit the 2 highest: Volcan Acatenango and Fuego. Volcan Acatenango stands at 3,976 meters, and Fuego is an active volcano just 200 meters lower in altitude.

My Guatemalan guide and I set out for Volcan Acatenango on a clear Tuesday morning. For such a short trek, I loved the climate changes. We started off crossing through farmland, then moved up through what the Guatemalans term a cloud forest, which is just a cool, dry, and insect-free forest that, for the majority of the day, is shrouded in clouds. Once you break above the cloud cover, you’re still within alpine forest, but it gives way shortly to scree and barren slopes that leave you sliding back a half step for each step you take forward.

Oh, and all those tall tales you hear about bandits on trails in Guatemala, waiting to attack foreign tourists who intrude? Well, that's why I paid my guide to be my weekend bodyguard. He carried a loaded gun, handcuffs, and a machete - yeah, man, nobody was getting to lil' Mindy! Over the entire two days, we only ran into one other trekker who had been doing some research on the volcanic activity of Fuego, so my guide never had to bust out his machete-whacking skills on anything other than the underbush we hiked through. Check out my machete skills while climbing this tree to get better views, heehee!

We set up base camp at the mouth of Volcan Acatenango, just before the stretch that Guatemalans appropriately name “Purgatory”. Within 20 minutes of setting up the tents and gathering dry firewood, it began to hail. Both the Guatemalan guide and I were equally ecstatic, feeding off each other's giddiness. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure why we were so happy at the hail that turned into a soft layer of snow; it was ruining our firewood and pelting our tents! After huddling in our tents for about 30 minutes, the hail finally stopped, and I quickly geared up for a quick hike up to the peak to watch the sunset.

An hour-long hike through a trail called "Purgatory" because of its steepness and its toll on your already-exhausted quads led us to the peak. I love moments like this. Everyone should experience a sunrise or a sunset on top of a peak at least once in their lifetimes. It never gets old for me – the altitude, the euphoria when you summit the last pitch to get to the cairns marking the peak, huddling behind a rock so that you block the wind while you wait for the sun to disappear behind the horizon; it’s so worth the frozen fingers and baby wipe showers you suffer through.
Volcan Acatenango is definitely the windiest peak I’ve ever summitted, and there were moments when I was leaning heavily to my right just to counteract the wind blasting from the left. I even got to the point of self-pity when I thought, “Now I know what it would be like to stand at the top of Mt. Washington.” But I know that’s a stupid comparison; the winds here are strong enough to knock off my visor, but nothing compared to the 200 mph winds recorded at Mt. Washington.

From the peak of Acatenango, I could see the Pacific Ocean, ranges of volcanoes dotting Guatemala's landscape, and the daunting Volcan Fuego. Man, what a volcano. The recent hail had cleared the skies for the entire night and next morning. Fuego is an active volcano that erupts every 20 minutes to an hour, depending on its mood. As my guide would say, “BOOM BOOM BANG!”, the only three words of English he spoke in our two days together. Watching a volcano erupt is awesome – first you feel the rumblings, followed by the puff of smoke, rocks, and lava that erupts from the crater, and then a finale several seconds later of the sound of a gun going off. Lovely.

The next day, we bushwhacked our way through some underbrush to meet up with the Fuego trailhead. Hikers can’t approach the peak of Fuego due to its regular activity, but we got as close as possible on the ridge line that basically would guarantee us not getting hit by any falling lava or rocks. Another hour of bliss before we descended from Fuego to the main road.

Climbing Volcan Acatenango and Fuego were the perfect ending to my short Central American stint. Once back in Antigua, I treated myself to a chocolate galleta, café con leche, and pepian, a traditional Guatemalan stew. Oddly, as I write this, I realize that I ate them in that order as well. (Word of warning: I consider myself to have a strong stomach, but there were some rumblings the next morning from the pepian!)

Climbing Acatenango and Fuego makes me excited for the next item on my Bucket List: Patagonia. Just need to find a 2-month break from life and work to dash down to southern Argentina!

Click here to view photos from my trip to El Salvador and Guatemala!

Playa el Tunco Waves: 32. Mindy: 0.

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-02-17 19:28:00

The beaches on the southern coast of El Salvador are famous for their waves. Since I love water, it was a no-brainer stop. I might as well learn to surf while I’m here! So I headed south to Playa el Tunco the minute the “work” part of my trip was wrapped up.

You couldn’t beat this: only an hour bus ride from San Salvador, a hostel that had an infinity pool and free breakfast, an ice-cream stand on the beach that sold creamy frozen fruit on a stick for $1, fresh ceviche from the dock for 4 Quetzales, and black volcanic soils that scalded your feet if you stood in one place for more than five seconds. I was in love.

Plus, check out the fish markets on the dock!

OK, time to conquer surfing! I found a Salvadoran local to give me a lesson for $10. What a deal! My “teacher” had me practice going from lying face-down to standing on the board several times on land before saying, “OK! You’re ready!”
Nervously, I asked if that was it – just as simple as standing on the board and keeping my balance?
“Yes! Surfing is so easy! Just remember to keep your knees bent. Oh, and if you get pulled by the wave, just make sure the board is in front of you so you don’t get hit or knocked out by the board.”

Alright, let’s do this, Rasta-fari man. I’m ready to conquer the waves and surf.
So we paddled out to the big waves that roared in. This was fun so far; lying prone on my surfboard, waiting for the right wave to come in, pretending like I knew what I was doing.

“OK! This one! This is it! Just remember – Paddle and when you feel you are going fast, then you just stand up!”

I didn’t say anything – I was trying to concentrate on the wave looming towards me. My surf “teacher” pushed me in the same direction as the wave was headed, and yelled, “Vamos!” I paddled furiously, felt my board rise with the wave...and then was promptly SLAMMED by the sea. My surfboard was pulled from underneath me, I felt a strong tug on my ankle that had the leash strapped to it, and all I could think was, “Please, please, don’t let the board hit me.” The waves tugged me in every direction, and I managed to surface for air before promptly swallowing a disgusting amount of sea water.

This was repeated about five times. Yes, five consecutive times of being swallowed by waves that refused to let me stand up on my surfboard. Lack of confidence? Wrong timing? Waves too powerful? Not knowing what the heck I was doing? Poor instruction? Quite possibly all of the above.

After two afternoons of attempting to surf, I give myself a final grade of F. Yes, FAIL. I didn’t even stand up on the board once. My new Salvadoran surf friends told me afterwards that the waves this weekend were extremely strong and powerful because of the winds, rendering them nearly impossible for beginners to practice on. Who knows, it could’ve been the waves. Or maybe it was just me. After deciding I’d swallowed enough sea water, I’d wind up on the beach each afternoon, watching the surfers glide over the waves effortlessly. I felt like an uncoordinated kid who wasn’t invited to play. No fair.

Well, I think I will stick with swimming with goggles in calm waters and pools that have lane lines. This is my comfort zone. Someday, I’d like to give surfing another attempt. Maybe with milder waves and a surf teacher who gives me technical instruction and speaks English. Two days of being slammed by waves was enough for me – I bid farewell to a beautiful Playa el Tunco, tossed the bikini in my red backpack, and headed for the highlands of Guatemala with sunburned shoulders. Hiking is something I’m good at and mountains have always been my friend!

Click here to view photos from my adventures in El Salvador and Guatemala!

The Best Part of Waking Up

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-02-17 19:22:00

Good God, these beans can’t be beat. I love my Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, but the beans roasted in El Salvador and Guatemala are purely addicting. It’s like thinking that a Hershey’s bar is the best chocolate you’ve tasted, until one day you try a Ghirardelli truffle dusted with 80% cocoa powder. You’ll never go back.

The volcanoes that dot El Salvador and Guatemala mean that the soil in the highlands is rich in nutrients and minerals. The mangoes taste sweeter, the coffee is richer, and the tomatoes are juicier. Let’s focus just on the coffee, though: It’s not just the dark soils that make the coffee beans here the best in the world; coffee cherries are hand-selected by farmers who oversee their crops with a discerning eye and an invested pride in what they bring to factories.

In El Salvador, I was invited to visit a coffee factory. Well, OK – I requested it and then was promptly granted my wish! I was escorted by the village policemen to a bare-bones factory in Nahuizalco’s high-altitude hills; what a great peek into an arduous process that I take for granted each morning! From the initial step of coffee beans brought by farmers to this factory, to the second husking, the workers here take pride in the coffee that’s enjoyed world-wide.

More than once, it was mentioned with a beaming smile that one of the beans harvested in the very hills of Nahuizalco won an international coffee competition in the States last year. I was shown 50-lb bags of coffee beans that cost more than $80 per pound when exported and sold in Europe and the States!

So here’s what happens behind the scenes: first, coffee beans are brought to the factory by farmers. They are weighed and graded based on this scale:

And then given a certificate:

The beans are then washed and soaked so that the husking process is easier.

The beans pass through this machine for the first husking:

I was surprised by the quality control at this factory. The workers here take genuine pride in producing the world’s finest coffee, and when I asked about cross-contamination (mixing beans from one quality grade with beans of another grade), they said it never happens. Each quality level has its own washing kennel and husking machine; almost like a kosher kitchen.

After the first husking, the beans are dried.

You can see that the beans are separated according to grade. Each step of the coffee bean process at this factory was as strict as a Korean army’s regimen – but not merely because it was mandated. The workers here each spoke fondly of coffee beans, proud that they were a part of creating the finest coffee beans in the world.

After drying, the beans are taken to this massive machine that husks them a second time.

They’re then bagged into massive sacks and taken to another factory to be roasted. So this is only half of the process!

When I left El Salvador and crossed over to Guatemala, the coffee got even better. I know, I know – impossible, huh? After all, according to the coffee factory workers I met, Salvadoran beans had won an international competition and were renowned as the best in the world! But Guatemalan beans just made you feel like dancing and becoming a coffee cupper (professional coffee taster and connoisseur).
Maybe it’s because the coffee plantations in Guatemala are at a higher altitude? Maybe I was biased because I loved the culture and the people of Guatemala more than El Salvador? Or maybe it’s because I discovered a tiny café by my hostel run by a 3-toothed Guatemalan abuelita who charged less than 4 Quetzales each hit of caffeine? Whatever the reason, I wound up sipping café con leche at 6 am and at 9 pm. I couldn’t get enough!

So now, as I’m cramming coffee beans bought at the markets into my red backpack, I’m almost dreading going back to Starbuck’s coffee. And in the back of my mind, I’m seriously wondering how to export the volcanic soils here in Guatemala can be exported to the States.

By the way, these professional coffee cuppers are amazing, and not at all different from French sommeliers who describe the subtle undertone of a wine based on the region, the year, the aging process...I better stop talking like I know my wines. Coffee connoisseurs can distinguish the differences in altitude of the coffee fields, the hand selection of the best beans, and the sun-drying and fermentation processes. Another reason to buy Guatemalan beans? The coffee sector is the largest creator of jobs for both genders here in Guatemala!

Click here to view photos from my trip to El Salvador and Guatemala!

Bienvenidos al Salvador

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-02-10 01:45:00

I’ve traveled enough that I’m no longer scared by travel warnings, and the flurry of apprehensive “Be careful…” from fellow colleagues and “Have you read about what they do to single females who aren’t careful?!?” from my parents just annoyed me. Perhaps these warnings are valid, and I’m not accusing the State Department of exaggerating any dangers abroad, but I like to think of myself as indestructible. OK, maybe not indestructible, but just smart enough not to flaunt an iPad when traveling and stubborn enough not to cater my itinerary strictly to “safe countries”.
So when I planned my trip from El Salvador to Guatemala, I simply ignored the comment from a co-worker that “San Salvador is dangerous. I didn’t even leave the hotel” or probing suggestions from my parents that “can’t you find someone to travel with you?”
And I’m happy to say that El Salvador is beautiful. The people here are friendly and open to my rusty Spanish, surprisingly patient as I fumble to find the correct translations. The lady who made me my first pupusas, traditional Salvadoran snacks, recommended queso con loroco (cheese with a spice that I’m still trying to determine) and revueltas (pork with cheese). After I devoured my pupusas, she eagerly fried up bunuelos con miel, wonderful fried balls of dough that are lathered with honey made from real cane sugar.

The landscape here reminds me how happy green makes me. The volcanoes that surround San Salvador and Guatemala have obviously caused massive destruction when they erupt, but they’ve also provided thousands of acres of some of the most fertile soil. Sugar cane fields, mango and coconut trees, and coffee plantations are plentiful in this small country.

Judging by the size and taste of the avocados here, the soil is all about umph. The coffee born here is better than any Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts bean back home. I've had at least 2 cups a day because I just can't get enough!

The neighborhood bank and business guardsmen, lazily sitting in booths with machine guns on their shoulders for show and deterrence, smiled and waved as I went for my morning run. They asked if I was lost when I ran past them for the fourth time, and I lied, shaking my head no. They believed me.

The kids who linger in the streets laugh at me, but it’s a lot more welcoming than the boys who threw rocks at me when I lived in Jordan. San Salvadorans, despite the huge socioeconomic gap between the very rich and very poor, seem happy and content – and curious to meet foreigners. This lady even offered to make a scarf for me after I told her I loved the colors of Guatemala!

El Salvador is a wonderful and welcoming country. I’ve felt more safe and trusting here than I ever felt in Cairo or in Manila. The market is vibrant with mangoes and “cactus apples”, and stalls selling bras and socks are within inches of a woman selling chicken gizzards and pork lard. The people are anxious to practice their English, even though I’m just as anxious to resurrect my Spanish. It’s strange that I missed that all-too-loud techno music blaring from public buses, a trademark in any foreign country, along with the morning fruit and vegetable markets that make me wish I could bring a whole mango tree back to Arlington.
I still see remnants of the war, such as gated residential streets or guards who man street corners and banks 24-7. But so far, I’m loving El Salvador. I love digging up my Spanish and I love the green landscape. I’m even embracing the humidity, although put me here in June and I certainly won’t feel the same way. Oh, and just to harp on the virtues of El Salvador even more, I don’t even have to change currency or use a charge converter – El Salvador uses US dollars and our same electrical outlet. Easily a country worth exploring.

More to come as I explore and eat my way to Guatemala!

Collective Individual Change

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-02-13 18:16:00

In a recent care package I received from my parents, one of the items included was the Time Magazine "Person of the Year" issue. The "Person of the Year" in 2011 was "The Protester". As I found myself spending 6 hours on moving buses and 4 hours on non-moving buses over the next 2 days, I quickly read this issue cover to cover.

I found myself inspired by the stories of people no longer willing to accept the status quo and making the conscious decision stand up together, and risk dying together, to demand better.

The first "Protester" of 2011 may well have been Mohammed Bouazizi (محمد البوعزيزي), the Tunisian street vendor who lit himself on fire in December, 2010 and is considered to be the catalyst of the Tunisian Revolution as well as the Arab Spring as a whole. In the 14 months since Bouazizi's self-immolation we have seen governments overthrown in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya in addition to on-going conflicts in Yemen and Syria. We have also seen civil disobedience across the United States as well as in Mexico, Spain, Greece, and Russia.

Why then, wasn't Bouazizi the "Person of the Year"? I would venture to say that to name Bouazizi as the one "Person of the Year" would be an act of disrespect towards the millions of other protesters around the world in 2011. Though Bouazizi, along with 1000's of others around the world, may have died for his dignity, the Arab Spring prevailing in countries around my current home and the "We are the 99%" movement prevailing throughout my home country would never have happened if it had not been for individuals organizing themselves and standing up against authority and for what they believe to be right and just.

It is this spirit of protest that has characterized the headlines of 2011; however, just because "The Protester" was the "Person of the Year" doesn't necessarily mean that protests have played any role in your life. I will admit that before June of 2011, when I learned I would be coming to Jordan, I ignored what was happening in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Bahrain, Yemen, and Syria. I was in agreement with the "We are the 99%" even before it was named as such; nonetheless, aside from attending one demonstration in San Francisco and signing a few Internet petitions, I did not stand up against what I disagree with nor did I stand up for what I believe in.

I have my own life to live and I put myself, selfishly, first.

People talk all the time about "inspirational stories", but rarely are we inspired enough to change.

Peace Corps Jordan strictly forbids me from participating in any type of protest or demonstration during my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer; nevertheless, the individual and conscious decision of others to protest in concert with other individuals is now a factor that affects my life in my village on a daily basis:

Firstly, the on-going teachers strike means that I cannot fulfill my primary responsibility as an English Teacher in Jordan. Peace Corps Jordan requires that when a PCV teaches in a school that he or she co-teach with a Jordanian teacher 100% of the time. The teachers of Jordan have decided that they will no longer accept the minimal salary increases offered by the government at a time when the cost of living is rapidly increasing and the government has offered greater salary increases to workers in other sectors. Though the Prime Minister has stated that the Kingdom of Jordan "might be going through an unprecedented financial and economic crisis" and has even proposed bringing in soldiers as replacement teachers, the strike continues with no end in sight.

Teachers have finally decided that they have had enough and will stand up, demonstrate, and protest until they believe that they are treated justly. Therefore, I cannot teach.

I got new neighbors a week ago. After a long day of bus riding, followed by missing the last bus back to my village and a 70 minute walk home from the city, a group of five children under the age of 10 knocked on my door and asked in very fast and complicated Arabic for some salt.

Everyday in Jordan a local asks me if I need anything, offers me a gift, or invites me over for tea or food. No one in my village has ever asked for me to give them a thing. I was quite taken aback when all these unknown children were asking me for salt. When I gave it to them, I asked where they lived and they pointed at the house right outside my window. At this point I was really confused as I couldn't imagine how I had never seen a one of these five children who live not 25 meters from me.

The next day their father came and introduced himself to me and told me that he and his family had just moved here from the city of Homs in Syria.

In Syria, just like Tunisia or Egypt or New York or Spain or Oakland, individual people have come together to stand up against a power that they do not believe in. In Syria, however, unlike any other place I have just named, those in power have made the decision to fight back against the protesters with excessive and sustained force and violence. In the last week alone, or the time since I first met my new neighbors, hundreds of civilians have died in the city of Homs.

A couple days later I was talking with the same boy who asked me for the salt. I asked him how long they had been in Jordan and he said that they had come across the border in the middle of the night about 10 days ago.

Homs and Damascus are not close to the Jordanian border and the current situation is not one that merits concern for the safety of anyone living in Jordan, American or Jordanian. He did say, however, that the events in Syria do merit "carefully following the situation on a daily basis".

After hearing a knock on the door yesterday, I was greeted by the smiling face of my new neighbor along with a small tea kettle and two tea cups. I invited him into my one carpeted room and we sat and the floor and drank tea and talked just like I've done dozens of times in Jordan. I got to practice explaining in Arabic my work, Peace Corps in general, and my background. He told me that he was a taxi driver in Homs. He told that he had seven children and an eighth on the way. He told me that he was scared in Homs. He told me that his four oldest children were in school in Homs, but that he didn't have the appropriate paperwork to enroll them in school in Jordan. He told me that he saw 10 dead bodies lying in the street. He told me that he really likes to practice his English. He told me that he has seen children shot in the chest. He told me that he wants to go home to Syria.

He noticed I had a computer and asked if we could look on Google Maps. I asked what he wanted to see and without hesitation he stated, "Homs." I pulled it up and he showed me where both he and his kids went to school. Then we zoomed in a little closer and we found his house and he showed me his garden where his family grows fruits and vegetables. Then he started giving me a tour of the neighborhood showing where his relatives live as well as the road the "hooligans" drive down and the corners they stop at to start shooting down the street. Lastly he showed me several of the places where he found dead bodies in front of his house.

Then he closed the computer, thanked me, and stared at the ground for a minute with his face in his hand.

May Ziadé

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-02-11 09:17:00

I learned this morning from Google that today is the anniversary of May Ziadé's birthday:

Ziadé was an early 20th Century Palestinian-Lebanese poet and feminist, writing that women are "the basic elements of every human society and...that a woman enslaved could not breastfeed her children with her own milk when that milk smelled strongly of servitude."[1] It appears that the majority of her poetry was written in French, but this is one that I liked entitled À Mademoiselle C.

Vos yeux si beaux, chère belle,
Que leur regard est torturant;
Votre nom je l'aime et l'épelle
Votre nom de flot murmurant.

Je suis brune et vous êtes blonde,
Ce contraste est délicieux,
Un peu des profondeurs de l'onde
Se mêle à l'azuré des cieux.

Car je suis la Nuit, vous le Jour,
Un Jour rose et bleu qui scintille;
Moi, le lac; vous, l’astre qui brille;
Vous, le rêve et moi... moi l'amour.

(May Ziadeh, Fleurs de Rêve, 1910,
sous le pseudonyme d'Isis Copia)

Interestingly, Ziadé appears to have developed a lifelong correspondence, though never actually meeting in person, with Lebanese-American poet Khalil Gibran.

Khalil Gibran is apparently the third most-selling poet of all time behind only Lao-Tzu and William Shakespeare, and through their mutual letter-writing he developed quite an infatuation for Ziadé. Causing him to write these verses:

Where are you, my beloved? Do you hear my weeping
From beyond the ocean? Do you understand my need?
Do you know the greatness of my patience?
Where are you, me beloved?
Oh, how great is Love!
And how little am I!
- Excerpt from A Lover’s Call XXVII by Gibran Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran was not the only poet inspired to poetry by Ziadé as Jawdat R. Haydar wrote this poem appropriately titled "May Ziadé":

Me thinks that perfection descended from the skies
That is a nymph with a twin of dark piercing eyes
Paraissent le Dimanche in the French Images
As the quessn thought of all bards in all languages

Tell me, O tell me! by the planets that are above
Who is the heavenly herald who is the dove
That thrilled to our midst from yon horizon and sea
To cry live Egypt live independent and free

She is Venus and the marrow of liberty
She came to carve with letters of perpetuity
Over Egypt in the sky withal on the sea
Live Egypt down the ages and God be with thee

Nablus,
1931

I am curious as to what she might have to say in regards to the gender situation in the Arab world today, on the anniversary of what would have been her 126th birthday.

Reasons to be thankful

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan al ajnebiiya sa'ida (The Happy Foreigner)

2012-02-09 12:53:00

I am starting a new series on this blog... "Reasons I am happy to be in the village in Jordan."

#1: I feel incredibly accomplished simply for buying groceries.

#2: And when I clean my house.

#3: I appreciate showers and the quantity of water I use: I know I have a freshly filled water tank and can therefore shower later today.

Creativity sparked by Gaseosas

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-02-08 20:39:00

In El Salvador, “gaseosas” refers to any soda. They drink a lot of it here. Soda out of glass bottles, soda out of aluminum cans, soda from plastic bags tied up with a rubber band.
During lunch today for a training session to 45 police officers, we were each served gaseosas. While I was mid-conversation with two policemen who were asking me why I didn't become a policewoman, a Salvadoran woman came around collecting the tabs off the aluminum cans. She wasn’t homeless; she wasn’t begging; she just said, “Your tab, please.” So, I twisted it off and placed it in the pile of tabs already mounded in her fat palm.

I assumed that she was collecting tabs to exchange for money, but after lunch I found her walking around with some new jewelry. Check out her earrings, necklace, and bracelet – all made with a mere piece of ribbon and the whole training session’s collected tabs from their Pepsi cans!

Community Policing in El Salvador

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Adventures of a Laughing Triathlete, Foodie, and Traveler

2012-02-08 20:56:00

The first week of my trip in Central America is all bid’ness; no dirty tees and sharing a dorm room with six Israeli backpackers - I'm living large at the Hilton and ironing my pants and collared shirt every evening.
As a member of the Latin American regional team for ICMA, I’m here in El Salvador to help coordinate a week-long exchange program under our USAID-funded program Municipal Partnerships for Violence Prevention in Central America (AMUPREV) aimed at violence and crime prevention. Our five-man-strong team, comprised of two Salvadoran ICMA consultants, two police officers from Santa Ana, CA, and myself, travels in a squeaky white bus to the outlying communities of Sonsonate and Nahuizalco, about an hour west of the capital San Salvador. Our mission? To train police officers and school resource officers in community-oriented police training and youth crime and drug prevention.

In Sonsonate, aka Tierra de los Cocos (Land of the Coconuts), it’s amazing to hear stories from municipal police who receive no formal training and are paid a monthly salary of $250 with no life insurance. Yet they serve 12-hour shifts and confront gang members armed with aggression and guns, intricate drug webs that involve fellow police colleagues, corruption at the municipal and state levels, and a lack of ability to enforce the law not because of apathy, but because of the nonexistent training when they enter the police force. When we practiced a series of dinamicas, or exercises to role-play best practices when confronted with certain situations, we were surprised to learn that teams of two policemen share one gun. They were equally surprised that every policeman in the United States has their own weapons.
In Nahuizalco, aka Tierra de Las Mariposas (Land of the Butterflies), a smaller city that marks the beginning of La Ruta de Las Flores, the officers and school directors who oversee youth safety share stories about eight-year-olds who carry knives to school and their parents who, when confronted, say, “It’s a pencil sharpener.” A young high-schooler whom we met during our training in Nahuizalco boldly posed a challenging question: “How am I to trust the school officers when they smoke outside my class and don’t do anything all day?”
Despite the lack of training, meager salaries, and daily dangers, these municipal and school officers show integrity and hunger. They’re genuinely interested in how to help improve their communities and make streets safer and youth less exposed to gangs, violence, and drugs in schools. The two police officers from Santa Ana, CA shared best practices that could be employed in Sonsonate and Nahuizalco, taking into account cultural and legal differences.

It’s great to directly interact with the Salvadoran communities where our program is implemented and attend the training sessions that end in requests for photos and compliments of muchisimas gracias. The police officers, school directors, and student government leaders who have attended the trainings eagerly promise us that they'll implement the new practices immediately.
From my walled cube on the fifth floor of an office building in Washington, DC, it's easy to get caught up in budget management and spreadsheets without ever meeting the communities and vibrant youth who are the recipients of ICMA's international development programs. Getting out to the field reminds me of how rewarding it was to be a Peace Corps volunteer; strap on your language cap, throw yourself into an open-armed community, and smile and do your best to help patch the holes. Earn the community's trust, have open conversations, drink lots of tea, and brainstorm about how western practices can best be adapted to fit a developing, under-resourced community's needs.
My trip to El Salvador has been extremely rewarding and engaging so far. The Salvadorans I've met are eager to implement the skills taught by ICMA to improve community policing and create safer communities for youth. Even though the country is still recovering from the guerilla war, the policemen and school resource officers we are working with have already taken the lead in making schools and neighborhoods safer.

Teachers' Strike

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-02-07 16:51:00

After a 4 week long winter break from classes the second semester of the 2011-2012 school year was officially scheduled start yesterday, February 6, 2012. School did not start yesterday, however, nor did it start today, as Ministry of Education teachers throughout the country have observed a strike in response to the government's salary restructuring plan.

In the interests of safety and security, I am not allowed to express my opinion on why the teachers are striking nor why the Ministry of Education feels it cannot meet the demands of the teachers. For more information on the background of the current strike, I encourage you to peruse several of the following articles:

I can, however, describe to you what I have observed in just these first two days of the teachers' strike and how a strike here differs from a strike in the United States.

I'm still learning how things work in Jordan but the strike bears little resemblance to any strike that I have been aware of, or taken part in, in the United States. When I think of a strike in the US, I conjure up images of teachers that refuse to enter work (and thus not receive pay) who stand on the picket-lines and loudly and visually make their demands known to any passers-by, students, or "replacement" teachers (scabs) while a union-based bargaining unit enters into heated negotiations with the leadership and administration (who not being a part of the teachers' union, do not participate in the strike).

From what I have observed, this in no way resembles the Jordanian concept of a strike. The only aspect from my previous paragraph that does exist here is the fact that there is some sort of bargaining unit participating in on-going talks with the Ministry of Education. There is not, however, any sort of representative teachers' union. There is a body known as the Teachers Association Council, but from what I understand the teachers in my village have no influence over the actions of said council.

In terms of the picket-lines and possible replacement teachers, this concept is just flat-out non-existent in my village. This is quite surprising me to as several times a week I receive messages to avoid certain areas due to demonstrations taking place. The people who live in Jordan regularly engage in organized public protest, but the teachers in my village have not chosen this as the path by which they will carry out their strike.

What teachers, administrators, and support staff at my school have chosen to do is come to school and ignore the students. For the past two days, all we have done as a staff is hang out in the teachers' lounge and the principal's office and chat (which has been quite fun and has provided a great opportunity for me to get to know the teachers better). Yesterday, all the students came to school and stayed for a couple hours. Today less than half showed up and didn't even stay for an hour. In these past two days I have not observed a single teacher interact with a single student. Interestingly, however, teachers have been diligent about signing-in at the beginning of the day and signing-out at the end of the day, which leads me to believe that teachers are still being paid for showing up to work despite the fact that they are not working.

While the Jordanian teachers call this a strike, from my American background, I would call this a sit-in. Nevertheless, I am hesitant to use this term as a sit-in is meant to be disruptive and last indefinitely, whereas in my village the teachers have not disrupted anything except their own classes and actually leave work an hour or two earlier than they normally would once all the students have certainly left. Furthermore, the teachers have not made any real sacrifice (unless I am misunderstood and they in fact are not receiving their salary for the day's work).

Who knows how long this strike will last? Will I start going to classes tomorrow? Will I start going to classes next week? Will the Ministry of Education give teachers all the salary they are asking for? Will teachers relinquish some demands in order to come to compromise? These are all questions that no one in my village has a definitive answer to. The teachers at my school have told me that they will continue to strike as long as the news tells them they are supposed to strike. As soon as they hear on the news that they are expected to teach, then they will begin teaching.

My New Mailing Address

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-02-06 17:25:00

For all of you that want to send me mail...here's my new PO Box address:

Jordan
Al-Mafraq
25110
PO Box 491
Craig Smith

I know, I know...It looks upside down, but that's the way the guys at the post office told me it should be.

My first day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-02-06 12:53:12

First days anywhere are weird. My first day of 8th grade I ran into a pole. My first day with a driver’s license I drove the wrong direction down a one way street and sat in the intersection for a complete chorus … Continue reading →

Syria

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-01-27 12:28:00

Though this article from The Guardian is quite long, I think it does a nice job of describing the ins and outs of just how messy the situation in Syria is right now.

Syria: beyond the wall of fear, a state in slow-motion collapse

Fortunately for me, Jordan has yet to be affected significantly by the events in Syria.

News Brief

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-01-26 07:45:00

This post includes links to several news articles as well as a few of my comments pertaining to each one:

Though I currently reside in my permanent village and spend most of my days hanging out, drinking tea, playing cards, or playing soccer with local community members and local teachers, I have not officially started teaching at my school as all Jordanian Ministry of Education (public) Schools are currently on their winter break after first semester exams ended a couple weeks ago. Typically the second semester starts the first Sunday (the work week is Sunday to Thursday in Jordan) in February, but this year that day happens to fall on February 5th which is the Prophet Mohammed's (pbuh) birthday and is a national holiday; therefore, the first day of second semester is schedule for February 6th. Unfortunately, however, I may not be able to start working on February 6th as teachers across the country have announced their decision to strike for the second time in 3 years in opposition to the current salary restructuring plan set to go in effect at the commencement of the second semester.
Last weekend about 12 current TEFL (Teachers of English as a Foreign Language) PCV's attended a conference in Amman sponsored by the American Language Center entitled Shaping the Way We Teach: Successful Practices Conference. The majority of attendees were Jordanian English teachers from throughout the Kingdom. There was also quite a contingent of international attendees and presenters from throughout the Arab world and North America, including a group of US State Department sponsored English Language Fellows who are currently teaching English at posts throughout the Middle East and North Africa. The highlight for many however, was the fact that the keynote speaker was none other than Eid Dahiyat the Jordanian Minister of Education and current Acting Prime Minister of the country. (I say acting because Jordanians only have national elections once every several years, but the all Ministers and Members of Parliament are all fired once every 9-12 months and Mr. Dahiyat is currently serving as Prime Minister until the next round of national elections).
Thirdly, in my time here in Jordan, I have been struck by the kindness, generosity, and peacefulness of all Jordanians. When Jordanians watch the news and hear about people dying; be it Syria, Palestine, Egypt, or other places; Jordanians are truly sad and hopeful for a peaceful end to conflict. That being said, Jordan is a country with scant natural resources a very high unemployment rate among young men (the unemployment rate for women isn't officially as high, but that is primarily because most women do not look for a job outside of the home). Almost all men that I have met in Jordan have one of five jobs: teacher, soldier, fire fighter, merchant, or driver. As a side-note, I should also point out that many of these men, especially teachers, have a second job as merchants. In the desert villages where I have spent most of time since my arrival in October, there honestly aren't many job prospects other than those that I mentioned. For many Jordanians who want a secure and steady job, the best option often times is to join the army. When you add this to the fact that King Abdullah was a highly decorated Special Forces Commander in the Jordanian Army before even being named Crown Prince by his father King Hussein and is quite supportive of the army, you find that Jordan, though peaceful and one of only two Arab countries to have a peace treaty with Israel, all of sudden becomes one of the most militarized countries in the world. If you look at the article, you will also notice that of the top ten, seven are in this Eastern Mediterranean/Arab region with Israel being the world's number one most militarized country.
Finally, this article proves that it gets very cold and it even snows in Jordan.

Making friends in Jordan

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-01-24 09:23:47

Today I was coming back from a trip into town (and a 3 hour wait to pay the bill for my internet. Found out there are no public restrooms in Ramtha. Anyway). I was walking past a patch of houses … Continue reading →

MPI Summer Internship

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-01-23 16:08:00

If anybody is looking for something to do this summer, this is a great opportunity:

And here is a link to more information.

Swearing-In Ceremony (Part II)

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-01-23 15:34:00

Hi folks,

I got internet in my house today. The instructions said I had to put the modem next to the window, but the power cord is pretty short and my only outlet is on the wall opposite the window so it's unclear how consistent my internet will end up being; for now, however, I appear to have my entire room arranged in a way that it seems to be working all right. Let's hope I can keep it that way...

Anyways, here are some more links to things related to our Swearing-In Ceremony:

This first link is a news article from AmmonNews.
This second link is from Peace Corps FB page announcing our Swearing-In.
This third link includes some of my pictures from the Swearing-In Ceremony.

Finally, here's a link to some pictures from the Roman ruins at Jerash (Gerasa).

Enjoy!

Swearing-In Ceremony

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan Jordan Peace Corps Volunteer: Craig Smith

2012-01-19 10:02:00

The Swearing-In Ceremony of January 4^th, 2012 marked the end of PST and the commencement of our lives as Peace Corps Volunteers (PCV’s) in Jordan. I honestly had no idea how big of an event this would until it actually happened. I was always under the impression that we would get together at the Training Center and be given little certificates stating that we had successfully completed Pre-Service Training and were now authorized to serve as Peace Corps Volunteers. I could not have been more wrong: Not only did we not receive certificates (unheard of in the Peace Corps world), but the event was a gallant affair held in the luxurious performance hall of the university, attended by some of Jordan’s elite, and televised live on national television. A few of the distinguished guests and speakers included the Peace Corps Jordan Country Director, the United States Ambassador to Jordan, the Mafraq Minister of Education, the national Minister of Youth, and the President of Al-Al Bayt University.

Honestly, however, I was less impressed by the attendance of these guests as I was by my more personal guests. I was honored by the presence of my PST host-family as well as several teachers from both the school where I worked during PST and the school where I will work as a PCV. Though the ceremony was well structured and the speakers all appeared to be quite appreciative of Peace Corps in general and each of us specifically as Peace Corps Volunteers, I found more enjoyment from the time before and after the ceremony in which I was able to converse with my new friends, both Jordanian and American alike. Many of these people, whom I consider to be very close friends of mine, I will not be able to see but on a limited and sporadic basis over the next two years. For me, the best part of the Swearing-In Ceremony was celebrating with and being with the people I consider closest to me in Jordan.

Where I live

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2012-01-18 17:05:18

So I passed my final language test and was sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer and moved to my permanent site, in Ramtha, Jordan. I live there now. My apartment is very very small, but I love where I … Continue reading →

Inches

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2011-10-18 04:13:59

Today I said goodbye to my dad and my dog and got on a plane to Philadelphia. I brought two bags (40 lbs each), my guitar, and a critically overstuffed backpack. And that’s all I’ve got with me from my … Continue reading →

Mansef and the Citadel

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2011-10-25 19:04:05

So here I am in Jordan! Probably I should have posted this awhile ago (I got in last Thursday) but things have been understandably busy since all 38 of us arrived in the country at 2am. We’ve been doing a … Continue reading →

My host family!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2011-10-30 19:54:55

Okay, everything I thought about people in the Middle East was wrong. When I told people I was joining the Peace Corps in Jordan I mostly got two reactions: “Oh my god, you are so brave.” and “But you’re a … Continue reading →

the best part of my day

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2011-11-20 06:37:32

A wonderful person that I love recently created this: http://27monthswithpeanutbutter.wordpress.com/ So if while you’re reading about squat toilets and mansef you feel the need for some good old fashioned 1st world problems to balance it all out, you now have that … Continue reading →

Thanksgiving/ Eid Shokar

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2011-11-28 14:42:48

It was Thanksgiving! I hope everyone had a lovely, highly American time with lots of turkey and pumpkin pie and family. I didn’t end up having any of those things, which was definitely a bummer, but my Thanksgiving actually turned … Continue reading →

Counterpart Conference & Site Visit

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Jordan 27 months without peanut butter

2011-12-18 06:46:41

This week I went to a counterpart conference in Amman to meet my mudier and my counterpart, and then after the conference I went back to Ramtha with them to spend the night on my counterpart’s floor, see the school, … Continue reading →