Habits

Last week I got into the routine a bit more. We are still discovering new cafes, restaurants and shops, but we now have our favorites. We also formed a nice group of friends, with a mix of expats and locals. We often go out to dinner or go cooking together at home, thusfar always followed by a party in a great club or a jazz concert. And I have my gym where I am being expected at least 2 times a week by my trainer. This all contributes to me starting to see Amman as home.


This was further reinforced by my visa getting expired. I really had to get a residence permit. The first thing that springs to mind is taking an AIDS test, at least, here in Amman they do. A negative test would be a precondition for getting a residence permit. This meant providing blood samples. Entirely according to Jordanian standards of course. We were brought to the nearest clinic. My courage dissolved at the sight of this building. Completely neglected, and littered with garbage, even indoors. If they had told me that this building was occupied by squatters, I would have believed it. Upon entering we were asked to sit on a bench. I sat next to a pile of tubes filled with other people's blood, covered by a big plastic bag. At this point I got really determined not to leave Amman with a dose of HIV. Fortunately, they worked with clean needles. 

The men in white coats were happy for their picture to be taken:




Then the big day. We did not have AIDS, always good news. The paperwork had to be finished at the police station. On the way to the station, the driver told us the AIDS test was no longer needed to apply for a residence permit. The blood clinic most likely did not inform us of this interesting piece of information, as that would have killed their revenue streams. The police station was also an adventure. Complete lack of structure, no explanatory signs, no drawing numbers, or a process to handle the large flow of people for that matter. First we had to make fingerprints. The old fashioned way, with an ink roller all over your hands. After I had left some prints on a piece of paper, I was allowed to wash them again. The ink did not come off of course, which meant everyone in the bureau walked around with pitch black hands, an amazing sight. The end result is great however, Misha and I are now residents of Jordan!

We got confirmation that we blended in just fine at the start of the week, on Sunday. Unsuspecting, Misha and I went to work where we saw everyone leaving the building. It appeared one of our colleagues had lost his mother over the weekend, and the whole office went out to pay its condolences. I was really amazed by seeing the complete office eager to support their collegue during this difficult time. This would never ever happen in the Netherlands. 

The house was in the impoverished east of Amman. A completely different world that we had not seen yet. Upon arrival the men were separated from the women. The male colleague who had lost his mother was kissed (even by the men of course) and cuddled. I sat in the chamber for the men and the father sat beside me. He started telling stories about his deceased wife in Arabic while the tears ran down his face. My colleague translated it for me. The stories were special. They were married 55 years and had never had a fight! The reason soon became clear. This woman, who had reached the age of 72, had devoted her whole life to her family and her husband. Everyone lived in her home, her husband, his brothers, her children and her sisters. The man said that in those 55 years she had never asked him once to go out or to have dinner outdoors. He did take her out of the house sometimes however. This provided me with a slightly different perspective on the story. Its hard not to judge at such a moment. I hope this only concerns an older generation. The parting was very cordial and I was actually even kissed and cuddled. Later I was told that the team was very impressed by the fact that we came along. We were seen as part of the family and they could not imagine that we would go again in 3 months. I keep saying, I am extremely impressed by the sweet people here.

It is also time that my vocabulary of some 60 Arabic words gets upgraded and that I will learn to build proper sentences. I'm going on Arabic class! This will even be paid for by Accenture which is great of course.

Finally we ate at the Royal Hotel, which is also the tallest building in Amman.I managed to work myself into the business lounge on the top floor and took a few photos of Amman by night:






A shutter speed of 25 seconds on a tripod also produces interesting pictures: