June 5, 2009: Friday Prayers and Driving in Amman

It’s Friday at 1pm, and I’m sitting in my enormous room in our enormous apartment on my king-size bed, all rented for a about half of what I pay in New York. There is a masjid (mosque) just down the block from our house and the streets are filled with cars. The Imam has been chanting off and on now for about a half hour, yet I just saw men and boys running down the street clutching their prayer rugs. Someone’s clearly late for Friday prayers! Some women on the street are carrying babies and walking more leisurely towards the masjid. Last night was the first night when I wasn’t awoken by the call to prayer, which seems to happen around 4:30 in the morning. I slept right through it, which is pretty amazing even for me, the deepest of sleepers and the call is quite loud, the mosque being so close to our apartment. Today is the start of the weekend. Weekends here are Friday and Saturday so I’ve actually only had three days of work so far since we arrived Monday night. Ah, the weekend. What to do in this great city?

Amman must be one of the most poorly planned cities in the world. Perhaps only the most poorly planned that I’ve had the honor (death wish?) of driving in. Streets seem to go every which way, often curving, with none seeming even close to parallel. The only saving grace is the “circles”, evil concoctions terrify foreigners no doubt. (Though I’m sure that my being American and thus completely inept at navigating roundabouts plays a part.) I’m really quite shocked that our supervisor has rented a car for us and entrusted us (a) not to destroy the car and (b) not to perish by Amman traffic. That’s the other added bonus. The traffic here is atrocious. The only thing I can really compare it to is L.A. at rush hour. But add in that the drivers are maniacs, capable perhaps, but subscribing to the school of “contact driving” as I call it, which I was first exposed to in Montreal. There appear to be no rules other than, “honk your horn if you’re turning” and “if you don’t push your way into a roundabout, praying you don’t hit anyone, you’ll never get in.” Despite this Israr and I made it home last night from the restaurant (our first time driving without someone directing us) with only six rounds of getting lost. I think the drive is supposed to be about 15 minutes, but it was more like 45 for us. I’ve never felt so proud as when I pulled into our driveway. I think Israr was genuinely surprised to see our house as well. We high-fived and took a photo. It will be a bad photo with my disposable camera, us aiming it at ourselves, but it signifies one of the great achievements of my life. Ah, I’d mentioned above the “circles” which are both “evil” as I’d said, but also the only orientation we have, other than landmarks like “KFC”, “Popeyes”, “the big hotel near us” and “HSBC.” No one goes by street names here. I honestly don’t even know the name of our street. And it doesn’t matter. It would mean nothing to a taxi driver or even the post office, since mail isn’t delivered to one’s home. So the circles, stretching across West Amman from 1 to 8 along a main road are the only hope I have of finding my way back home. Our apartment is near 5th circle, a roundabout we kept finding ourselves back at and circled four times last night in our adventure home.

Our research has begun, with our first focus group yesterday morning with UNDP-United Nations Development Programme. We felt special getting our UN guest passes and entering the compound. Though strangely (at least to me), the organization is tucked away on a residential street behind a police station with almost no markings indicating its presence. This might be for security or perhaps just where the found real estate. Nevertheless, the focus group proved fruitful and fun and we feel now a sense of accomplishment.