… and other secrets to enjoying Amman.
For a lot of woman, one of the most annoying things about Jordan is the unwanted attention from “al shabab” (general term for annoying young men, though many old men fall under this bracket as well). Its been the topic of a lot of our orientation, ranging from the Embassy’s official security briefing to anecdotal advice from local presenters and staff. They’ve really been heavy on the warnings for women — and not without due reason. Each piece of advice comes with a terrible story of women being harrassed or worse in Amman. Sometimes its quite a downer, even for someone (ie: me) who knows such things are rare, especially having been here before and never had a problem.
Yet I really liked the advice of one of our presenters — our director, Alain’s, wife Kathy. She gave us a cultural orientation to Jordan, and also highlighted warnings for women: sit in the back of the cab, travel in groups, beware of misinterpretated “flirting,” carry yourself as if you’re not new here, and always have your senses about you. Yet one piece of advice in particular stuck with me… don’t feel like you have to be polite to anyone bothering you and don’t feel obligated to share your personal life just because someone asks.
Which leads me to my anecdote…
Trying to catch a taxi at night to Wust al Balad (Downtown) to meet friends
It was hard to catch a taxi off the main road near my apartment last night, but I since wanted to meet some other Fulbrights downtown I waited for awhile til one would stop. When someone finally did, the young(ish) guy inside immediately recognized me as a “ajanib” (foreigner) and tried to rip me off (“no, the meter doesn’t work”). After much pushing, he agreed to use the meter (miraculously started working…), and not just charging a ridiculous flat rate.
Yet the taxi ride didn’t improve. He kept asking me questions, in Arabic and English, with a few too many “jameelas” (= beautiful) included… so I decided to have some fun with Kathy’s advice.
“انا لا احكي الانجلسي انا اسبني”
“I don’t speak English.. I am Spanish”
And then the fun began. I became a Spanish twenty three year old from Barcelona (barTHelona) who was meeting her Spanish husband, who works for the UN in Amman, downtown.
For the rest of the cab we spoke only in Arabic (because I don’t speak English, of course) and had a great time laughing together. Turns out, he’s a nice guy when he’s not using creepy one liners… he rambled about Madrid beating Barcelona in football (apparently), complained about the English speakers he picks up regularly, and even asked me to teach him some Spanish…
[Hola = Marhaba = Hi… Como te llamas = Shu ismik = What is your name?]
When I got to my stop downtown, he wished me well and pointed to the meter and laughed apologetically (only 1 JD vs his original “flat rate” of 4 JD).
All in all, a perfect combination… using my Arabic AND a cheaper cab. Plus this all the more highlighted the confusing tendencies of Jordanian “shabab” (the boys/men often doling out the unwanted attention). Once I was a married, young professional, Spainard – he dropped the creepy lines typical of sketchy cabs, and turned out to be a normal guy. Which usually all the “shabab” are — but definitely dropping the politeness and inventing a story to humor myself helped!
Julie in Jordan! 