A Few Frustrations

A Few Frustrations:

This next post will mainly tell of some of my initial frustrations living in Jordan. From panic attacks, to irate taxi drivers, diving into a new culture is not met without difficulties.

Happy Trails to You (until I’m safe again)

My first adventure to a Wadi was enthralling and ever-bit fascinating. Where else can you hike through a river, with steep rock cliffs on both sides? When faced with a second opportunity to go Wadi hiking (with the spoken guarantee that it would be easier than wading through a river), I jumped at it.

The day started off well, we climbed up several hills, found the trickling stream, and I had ample time to take pictures: from an obstinate crab, to a curious frog... all seemed to be going well. This of course all changed when I was informed of the plans to climb up one of the steep cliff walls. Being afraid of heights, I mumbled my misgivings about this new turn in the adventure (there was some talk of this before, but I thought that it had been laid to rest when we started to run out of time).

I was told not to worry, and that we were going to meet up with a road at the top of the cliff walls and the trek down through the canyon would be easier than the ascent.

We began deliberately climbing, inching our way ever-skyward. At the crest of each hill, was more rock to be conquered. After 15 minutes, I realized that we were still going up. With each rock I passed, I became more alarmed. Suddenly, I bolted up the cliffs, nearly running on all fours up the ascent. I’m actually a decent climber, and I can certainly hoist my own weight, I just don’t like heights... so in doing this I was trying to reach the top as quickly as I could.

One Person’s Road, Another’s Goat Trail

With each scoop of gravel and rocks that I scooped past my hands, the more alarmed I became. I was full on my way to a full-blown panic attack (my first one, so this was new territory for me: literally and figuratively speaking). I had gone on so far ahead, it took about 20 minutes for the rest of the group to catch up. By the time they got up to me, I was gripping ahold of a rock, with my body dangling on the 45 degree slope (that might not seem very steep, but there were no solid rocks at this point and I was wearing running shoes with almost zero traction).

Once Dan got up to me, I was stuck in this massive panic attack. Ironically, the rock that I was gripping onto so pervasively, came loose the moment Dan arrived. (I realized this then, but was still panicking that I didn’t stop to Praise God for it, but I don’t think that rock was solid to begin with. He made that rock freeze in the gravel to give me security when I needed it most.)

Once the rest of the group caught up, it was then, and only then that both Dan and I realized that this “road” our fearless group leader was describing was not a road, but in fact a goat trail-- which at times was only 4-6 inches wide of packed dirt.

What Comes Up, Must Come Down... (but its the Down that Worries me the Most)

It was at this moment that I faced a dilemma: either go back down via way of the boulders (steep climbing), or traverse along the side of the cliffs, hugging the cliff walls.

I was terrified of both of these options. Watching our group leader from across the gorge wasn’t any easier. While it didn’t look like she had much room, the only thing that I saw was that she had 10 feet of rock slope, until it dropped off for hundreds of feet. *Translation* If you slip, you have 10 feet to stop your descent, until you die a horrible and gruesome death.

After much trepidation, I finally chose to go the way of goat trails. While normally I would protest, Dan (father of four, who at this point was treating me like a son), took my hand and I was too afraid of my own footing to dissuade him.

Did I learn any great revelations from this experience? I will always trust my own judgement and never go up a cliff. But also, I can believe his promises in His word, that in Psalms 18, that He is a rock, and a fortress firm beneath our feet. The next morning I was reading in Isaiah for my devotions and came across the passage, that we will go through fires and not get burnt and walk through rivers and not drown. I took this into a new meaning, I walked through a Wadi, and did not fall down, the Lord Saves!

Men And Women Have Different Hours

Finding a gym here in Jordan, was proving to be a difficult experience. I for one, do not lift weights to impress, rather, I lift because I have weak shoulders from playing American football. Feeling fat and weak, it was time for me to get back into the gym.

One that I tried out was called “VIP” but it was anything but this. When I arrived, I simply went inside. I’m waiting in the reception area, there was no one at the front desk. There was however a woman vacuuming the floor. So I politely hollered, “hello”.

She freaked out and started yelling at me in Arabic. She wasn’t wearing anything “inappropriate” and she did have clothes on, but for a Jordanian woman, she wasn’t wearing much. She ran behind a wall, while I turned and faced the door, figuring she was embarrassed. She continued to yell in Arabic, and I just wanted to know what was going on. Finally she was able to form the words in English “come back have past six”.

What I finally figured out, was that men and women work out at different times at this gym. I didn’t know this, and there was not a sign on the door informing any hapless American of the different gym hours.

Forty minutes later, she came out in a full burqa covering (covered from head to toe). She was a very traditional Muslim, and I was too embarrassed to look at her in the eye.

So Where Is All the Equipment?

I was in such a need for a workout, that at this point I didn’t care where I got it. The gym was falling apart. Most of the equipment had been heavily “modified”. Meaning the cables had snapped, and they had been tied together, etc. The crossover machine was such that the weights on one side were 5 inches higher than the ones on the other side.

I was scared working out here. All the while I could hear the voice of Adam Laforrest whispering in my ear, GET OUT OF HERE! (Adam wasn’t there, but he would have never worked out in this gym).

Even the simplest items, like the bench press was dangerous. You had to bang the bar to get it to rest on the uprights. Its not fun having to save energy, struggling to keep it from killing me.

Thankfully, I found a new gym, Sports City, an amazing complex with new equipment. The only thing that is odd, is that women work out with men at this gym (like any other gym I’ve been to), but somehow it feels especially weird now that I’m in Jordan.

Is My Driver A Jew???

Most taxi drivers have been especially curious and quizzative since I’ve arrived in Jordan. They want to talk to you, know where you are from, and what you are doing. On my way over to Sport City (which is aptly named as it comprises of tennis courts, a stadium, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, and of course a nice gym), I found a taxi driver who knew no English.

I had to call a friend and have him give the driver instructions. Once he got there, he tried to make me pay double! The outrage! After I had seen the taxi meter before he turned it off. I said no, this is two dollars you owe me a half dinar. He was upset and threw the money back into my lap. (There was no way that I was going to leave without paying).

I called up my friend who does speak Arabic, and the guy said that he felt that he should get paid more because he was following special instructions. Finally, he gave me the half dinar and I got out the car. To which my friend replied, “the driver went all Jewish on you.” (I don’t mean to slam Jews of course, but rather point out how they are perceived in Jordan, and how this drivers actions were that odious).

One final item, drivers here are very particular. They often wont pick you up unless you are going their way. Quite opposite to that in Hong Kong. It is against the law to refuse a person there. After having no less that 10 drivers refuse me today, I wish that was the case here in Jordan!

Anyway, have a wonderful day, as tomorrow is always a new day!

Salam (Peace)!

Greg