Dear All,

Please check out my exploration of Malawi in words in images:

http://malawiexplorer.wordpress.com/

Love,
Anastasia

I have to admit that the best encounters for me are those I experience on my own, out of the group. There is something about the ownership of an experience that only belongs to me!

I came to think of one of those cultural encounters, a Christian wedding in Syria that I experienced as a wedding-crasher on my last day of being there. My last day in Syria was any holidaymaker's nightmare, a food poisoning caused by quite a delicious kebbe at a very fancy restaurant downtown a day before. It wasn't the wisest thing to eat a raw meat appetizer in a 45C heat, but how often do you actually care of being -wise- when you are on vacation in a country where everything fascinates you?

It was not just the drum noice that woke me up in a monastery room adjacent to the Christian church, it was just as much the vibrations: just to give you an idea of how loud it was. It was right before I felt the air wave from it. So even in a food poisoning condition I couldn't help getting out to see what it actually was.

Over the corner I saw a bunch of galla-dressed people dancing their traditonal dance in a round holding each other's hands, and as I was getting closer trying to figure out the moves, I was pushed right into the dancing crowd. Wearing just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt I felt quite unglamorous within this galla dressed-up crowd (definitely a wedding within a well off family).

"(@&^)*&%&^%$((_)@?" - that would be a pretty teenage girl asking me something in Arabic.
"I...I am just watching...learning" - that was my lousy answer.

In a minute the rumour about me watching-learning spread around the guests and the teenage girl's mom (which also happened to be a mom to several other girls in the crowd) smiled to me courteously.

But then the time for a western tradition came, when the bride throws her bouquet into the crowd and then the lucky female who catches it will be the next one to get married. That's when the fun began: the "Mother" came carefully in front of me and started to push me back out of the crowd as if she didn't do it on purpose. I wasn't insulted: it was only fair as I was an uninvted guest at the party. But then I figured out why: the lady had 3 daughters, apparently all of them were unmarried so she was desperately making space for them to catch the bouquet. Apparently, God wanted otherwise, as the bouquet hit one of the male guests in the head as he was sipping champagne. But I am still unsure, which was the funniest: the bouquet "receiver" or the lady pushing me out of the single crowd!

That night I caught a plane from Damascus to Cairo on my own. I figured that my co-travellers consisted of a striking pattern: they travelled in families featuring one man and about 10 women with him. So whenever I got in registration lines and thought that it would be quick as I only had a couple of men in front of me, I was terribly wrong: These men had each 10 women to register so I wasn't a number 3 in line anymore, I was rather a number...40!:)

I have to admit though that even with a dosen of women with them men truly remained men as I didn't even have to think of putting my luggage on the luggage band: it was all taken care of. Syrian policemen on passport control were though a nasty flirt. I don't really know if it was because I was travelling alone or it was my Russian passport that made them that frivolous but I had to talk to them with a stone-face for them not to get a wrong idea. And FYI, I was dressed appropriately.

The family-business is holy in the Middle East. And as soon as we boarded the plane I was asked to change my seat so that a family could sit together. I did not mind but I could hardly see where the family began or ended: the fact that they occuped at least 3 rows was for sure:).

They had an electronic flight map right above the seat in front of me and as we got up in the air I was closely watching the route. What can I say: I love watching maps, which makes me a perfect Google Earth addict! I started to get a little worried though when 15 minutes later it still showed that we are flying up north (as the way from Damascus to Cairo is more down-south). According to the map we nearly entered the Turkish airspace and I just had to ask the flight attendant whether I boarded the right plane in all that Arabic-speaking mess at the airport.

"Hehe...we are turning now, you will see. It's not a hijack!" That was his answer and I couldn't help smiling either. Apparently it had something to do with the fact that the plane couldn't use the Israeli airspace. That would be my guess.

When we landed on Cairo lands emotions got over me. "Ahlan wa sahlan", a young boy sitting next to me said when we landed, and he smiled at me. And I did feel like home.

On our morning in Damascus I slept over breakfast so I had to hunt for food on my own, with only $$ in my pocket and no Arabic skills. As I was getting dressed and rehearsed by gesture language skills, I was wondering what to wear. When I finally got out on the street I was pleasantly stuck by quite liberal dress code of the average Damascenes, especially one for the ladies. Some of them has quite an open cleavage and they faced no comments on the streets.











I was quite confused as I was always wondering how Islam and Muslim traditions, as any other religion, can play such a role in such a socialistic society as Syrian, since socialism, theoretically, by definition is religion-hostile. I haven't had a slight chance to perceive that balance in 3 days but I am glad Syria found its way!

As I was searching for a morning bite I ended up in the old city area which was clearly very poor. It took me a while until I found a place with some stuffed breads. They didn't want dollars so I went around the local shops until I finally found someone who bought $$ from me. I probably got the local currency at a very shitty rate but who cares in the morning when hungry? And then, I am a foreigner and I have no illusions about the locals being totally and unconditionally honest to me.

I was picked up from the Old Town streets by the rest of the group to go to an official reception at Kuftaro foundation, a Muslim foundation, who were supposed to meet Norwegian Protestant clergy on that day. And we were invited. The foundation is also known to be a Religious University and a philantropic institution supporting schools and orphanages. We have joined the Norwegian delegation for an official show by the girls from one of their orphanages. So much hope in these kids' eyes!





Witnessing Muslim-Christian dialogue is far from being an ever day experience.







A very symbolic photo or Mr. Kuftaro (senior) and the Pope:


Mr. Kuftaro (junior)and the Norwegian priest in the Muslim robe:


But the highlight of the day was the Friday prayer in the mosque. I experienced some curious sensations when being veiled. I liked it. Even when we left the mosque, I was walking around veiled for some time until the heat (45C) took over and I couldn't stay wrapped in pashmina anymore.





The next day was the day of our workshop. It has been quite a challenge, but to my great surprise, attendants talked themselves about the "taboo" topics as religion and politics. It made me think that the situation in reality wasn't as bad as we have been told. And what's all that about Syria being a dictatorship? I asked Syrians around me honestly if they think so and got a clear no. They are quite satisfied with their leadership, they got all the basics. There is no vivid dissatisfaction. I have made some local friends on the workshop:



Dr. Kuftaro turned out to be a truly openminded man (in terms of interreligious dialogue)and very hospitable too. He invited us for dinner at his villa and spend a lot of lunch time with us. I wondered though where his limits go as to being culturally open, as he rarely looked in the eyes of the girls he was talking to...Agnete was his only even dialogue partner. Yet, when speaking to me, he would look in the eyes of his male interpretor. He espressed some very beautiful metaphorical ideas about coexistence in general. However, it got me wondering how much effect he has on his close entourage when one of the guests at his dinner part refused to shake my hand upon leaving.





Damascus sightseeing is unmissable! The central city area with its notorious market place is hectic but definitely worth seeing.







These men with the "juice samovars" and bells on top are seen everywhere in the area, selling refreshing beverages.



And we could never pass by the "beaten icecream" - Syrian speciality, which had more of a honey consistence.





The temples in Damascus are incredible, like this mosque, which shows the patters on the eldest Islamic art.



The Omayad mosque is obligotary for sightseeings and encompasses the essence of religious co-existence in Syria. It was built around a church that contains a tomb of John the Baptist - a Saint for a Muslim as well as for the Christian. A permission to build a mosque around it was obtained by Islamic authorities by giving Christians 10 other churches around the city.







That's where my project trip ends and the Egyptian two-week madness begins. I am thinking back of all of this with a nostalgic feeling. Somehow I feel I belong there with it's incredible Middle Eastern culture and thrilling art. The only thing that frustrates me a lot about the Middle East is probably their (mis)notion of time and deadlines. But I am sure it's a matter of getting used to and finding your own ways around it.

The project goes on: we are preparing for a number of workshops back in Denmark and for the visit of the Lebanese participants in November this year. It takes a lot of determination to keep things going but a lot have been done!

Stay tuned.

After a 10-day conference it was finally time to say goodbye to our Lebanese counterparts and leave Jordan. Somehow it felt easy: I was mentally prepared to go, whatever adventures could have awaited us on the way.

So one sunny Jordanian morning we packed our things and ourselves (literally) into a cab that would drive us to the Syrian border and after a couple of hours of pure hell, beyond it. There were 4 of us (the Danish participants), corteously joined by Agnete - our Danish supervisor, and Samiha - our Lebanese fascilitator as well as our major Arabic communicator with the outer world.

Leaving Jordan...


And its king:


In the following 3 days in Syria quite a curious program was ahead of us. Apart from meeting a "big shot" in the Muslim world, an ardent supporter of Muslim and Christian peaceful coexistence, Dr. Salah Kuftaro, and getting to know his religious foundation, we were supposed to present a workshop to the local youth about intercultural and interreligious dialogue and conflict resolution. That was a particular challenge in a context which does not excercise the same degree of freedom of speech which we are used to.

I have to confess I was stuffed with all kinds of intimidating information as to what is and what is not approrpiate to discuss in Syria which was presented to me as a dark merciless dictatorship. My feeling was not fear though. It was more of an awesome curiosity and constant anticipation. But I did have a mixed feeling after spending 10 days with the Lebanese who were experiencing so many political problems with Syria.

The idea of taking a taxi from one country to another has always fascinated me. For me it was like taking a limo in the morning to work, so I enjoyed it enormously. We got an Arabic-speaking-only driver who seemed to be pretty cool until we stopped at a gas station as we were getting closer to the border. He opened the right front door of the car and asked Agnete to step out (in Arabic, so it took us a fraction of a second to understand what he really wanted). Then he opened the front seat and put some boxes under it. Meanwhile we were wondering what it was in them. It finally hit us: they are smuggling medicine (quite possibly, drugs) to Syria this way. As none of us has crossed the Syrian border this way before, we were extremely cautious and scared of such a thing, so we voiced our protests in whatever languages we spoke. In case we were caught with it, it could be a set up for all of us: we would be hanging for the smuggling as well, so the driver was compelled to take the boxes out of the car. He seemed to be quite mad at us the rest of the way to the Syrian border.

Yet his helpful and hospitable essence came out when he had to take us through a dozen of checkpoints and tons of paperwork on the border, which, thanks to him, took us only a couple of hours! The border-crossing turned out to be a pure Murphy's Law. Queues, crowds, stuffiness, noice and shouting, stench and heat, lack of consideration for people around you. What can I say? It felt like being home in Russia (at its worst times!). Believe me it is a nightmare scene, added the numerous portraits of the Syrian president "watching" it all from up down. Seriously, the portraits of the guy were everywhere, from private restaurants to governmental institutions. I later asked the Syrians whether is was a law that he had to be on every wall of every public place and I was surprised to hear that it was the Syrians' own choice to put him up!







As we crossed the border and stopped at the first parking place to get some soda, the difference in prices was striking! Jordan seemed to be incredibly expensive in comparison to Syria.

By the time we reached Damascus it was already really dark but the city seemed to be absolutely gorgeous in its lights. I swear I have never seen that many mosques in my life at one place, not even in Egypt! The city was all green from the minaret lights. I could not wait to see Damascus by day.

As we drove through the streets to the Christian monastery on the edge of the Old Town we passed a lot of luminous vehicles. They reminded me the victims of the "pimp my ride" show on MTV. Neon lights everywhere, even on public buses - it must be a Syrian thing! Some of them were small vans stuffed by little children at the back, some of them bending far over the handhold. They were cruising the night city with joy.

On the same night we were taking out by our Syrian hosts, Amr and Fares, who have been extremely courteous and hospitable to us. They took us to one of the luxurious restaurants downtown situated in one of the old Damascan houses, for a delicious mezze meal.





Upon getting into my room in the monastery, I threw myself on the bed and fell asleep immediately, with all my clothes on.

I have never seen a bluer sky than in Jerash. The 2000 year old rose stone city had an absolutely marvellous pinkish tint in its light.

Some thousands years ago an earthquake stroke this area and a deep canyon was created, a natural road between the mountains, 3-5 km long and 6-7 meters wide. Ancient Arabs Nabateans got into the area when it still was nourished by water and even mastered their own hydrodynamics system.

What makes Petra so special is the Nabateans' admiration by the ancient Greek art and their belief in the afterlife. They started carving temples and graves from the mountains, where they subsequently buried their loved ones.

The structure of the stone was quite sandy, so it was possible for them to carve some maginificent architectural shapes. Needless to say, it was gorgeous too. All the colors you see on the pictures are perfectly natural.





































No wonder it's a Wonder!

Getting around the country away from the hotel claustophobia was a MUST for the soul, and I guess there was no cultural disagreement on this one.

63 BC. The Vini-Vidi-Vici essence. Magnificent ruins of once proudly built by the Roman conquerors merchant city, beautifully shattered by an earthquake.


Gorgeous columns...


gracefully framing the newer part of the town.


Top service facilities:


And very vivid tracks of the Roman chariots


The city was divided by the intersection for merchants to go in 4 different directions leading to Damascus, Jerusalem, Bagdad and Philadelphia (the ancient name of Amman). Each way faces the aforementioned destinations.












Roman warriors (in 45C heat)- the spirit of the time.


And the gladiator killer audience




But if you think it's lovely, wait for my post about the rose stone city of Petra.

The Lebanese arrived to our hotel in Jordan 3 days after us. Since they came the days and nights merged into a plethora of fun and brainwork.

All four of us went down to the hotel lobby to greet them and have a drink in the hotel lounge at 1 a.m. I covered my shoulders with a scarf which is my indispensable accessory in the Middle East and took the (slowest in the world!) elevator down to the lobby. The elevators were so slow that they have become our frequent excuse for being late, even if we were 30 minutes off time. And the scariest thing was that it was quite credible! As I searched for veiled girls in the lobby I was struck in a surprise as I found...someone else.

A charming group of individuals, predominantly female, has made quite an impression. And I thought Jordanians were liberal in culture! Ha! Skillfully applied makeup, bare shoulders and neat long nails with French manicure. I felt more conservative than ever wearing my pashmina scarf. There seemed to be a lot of them, and it took me some time to figure out who was actually participant of the project and who was the organizer. They frequently kept on switching to Arabic which at first I thought was quite disappointing as it clearly excluded us, a non-Arabic speaking minority, out of the conversation. Yet my belief in "whatever happens happens for the best" once again proved to be true: I have learnt so many Arabic words during my stay that by the end of it I was able to make a very basic conversation with the Egyptian cab drivers who had no English skills.



The chemistry, however, was obvious: I definitely experienced a degree of openness among the Lebanese corresponding to mine. As in Egypt, I found myself sharing a lot more cultural similarities with the Lebanese throughout the stay than I usually do with the Danes, and that is after 7 years of living in Copenhagen. Somehow, they did not get scared by my at times over-the-top sociable skills, on the contrary. Needless to say, I felt surrounded by friends.

Getting-to-know-each-other process hardly stopped and a couple of nights after we were presented an amazing cultural evening with the Lebanese national attire and a sure firestarter in form of a national Lebanese alcoholic drink. I wish I remembered the name of the latter! Nope I didn't get drunk: the taste of it was so strong that I could never concentrate on getting the name of it planted in my memory. To erase the fear of the alien, the beverage was accompanied by the familar Smirnoff bottles and some yummy dry wine.


The Lebanese girls are hitting the floor with the Danish guys


National Attire


Learning the moves




"Mm people..Do i look like a Lebanese with that thingy on my forehead?" "Nah, more like an American Indian"






The sessions were really good, yet they offered us a very little opportunity to interact with the Lebanese one on one.What was really invaluable was the chats during the breaks with random people from the Lebanese delegation about politics in Lebanon (my fave topic, really!), Christian and Muslim faith (which seemed to be a routine talk for a Lebanese that are always confronted with it politically, socially and otherwise) and personal preferences. These were the talks that I got the most from! I have to say I support the Russia’s stand on Hezbollah in not considering it a terrorist organization (unlike the popular Western stands) and it was nice to get a similar point of view from the Lebanese, as Hezbollah does a lot of work for the society in general. They do have their own schools, and support a lot of public institutions. I have to add though that I am not particularly keen on their behavior in the parliament right now concerning the upcoming elections, as they truly remind me of a pissed-off child that refuses to communicate about the issues they feel strongly about. But all in all, there is definitely a reason why they are popular in Lebanon!

Some very interesting discussions emerged when we touched a subject of personal faith. Being culturally Christian, I had a hard time defending my beliefs. I tend to say that I am more spiritual than I am religious. Relying on a highly definite notion of a Higher Power, I don’t need a religious legacy or a narrative (whether it’s Christian gospels, Testaments, Torah or the Quran), or any medium of imam or a church to communicate with My god. An adherent of a public religion as Islam or Christianity would have a hard time understanding such a view. A Muslim friend of mine in Egypt later claimed that my faith is not complete when he heard my view on religion. I couldn't help taking it personally...who is he to judge?

We did make occasional getaways to the street cafes of Amman enjoying arghile (waterpipe) and the company of each other. Yet, they just weren't enough to stop me from feeling trapped for 10 days in the hotel walls. As a result I found my way to make refuge in the afternoon breaks to the roof top of the hotel into a 40 degree sun. It was awesome! A great teaser for a subsequent Egyptian holiday.

















I have to confess I still have mixed feelings about Jordan: even though we have met a couple of amazingly hospitable locals who took us out and indulged us with the local cuisine I haven't quite experienced anything particularly culturally Jordanian while I was there. What struck me the most was perhaps the young Jordanian crowds in fancy nightclubs speaking exclusively English. For many of them, it was quite obvious that English was not theit mother-toungue. Still, there was no compromise on this one. When I asked a random person in a club WHY, he told me that it was quite natural since pretty much all of them have received their education abroad and English served as a sort of a high class communication tool. Something similar to the way French was used in a monarchical Russia.

Apropos upper middle class, these people can be very reach but it does not take their soul out of them. We have had the most amazing lunch reception at a typical Jordanian upper class home owned by a female leader of Jordanian YWCA. Their home had several servants and a level of luxury which I haven't even experiences on my escapades in Washington D.C. See for yourself.











Talking about Jordanian experiences, it was Jordan that got me acquainted with the Middle Eastern Christianity, which I never experienced through people before. The Christian communities in the Middle East are very religious in their manner and traditionally well off. In Jordan, being a numeric minority, the Christians we have met have zealously denied any experiences of religious discrimination, to the point where it got you wondering whether they were in denial. But then again, Jordan is officially knows for its peaceful climate for the coexistence of various religions.

To be continued...

A curious thing happened to me yesterday.

Believe it or not, I was turning myself in to the local police department for the inquiries on what is needed to apply for the Danish citizenship. It took me some years to finally to make a decision to officially become a Dane as it involved some pivotal compromises from my side, like giving up my Russian citizenship, hence closing my way off to return and live in RUS. All these years of contemplation brought me to a steady realization that you may try to push a Dane into a Russian but you will never be able to pull a Russian out of one…So I figured, getting a new passport will not be that big of a deal to me eventually. So there I stood, at the police counter (ironically enough you have to go to no other institution than police to apply for the citizenship, basically the same procedure as for criminals turning themselves in:)), only to be told that I need a volume of papers from other institutions to be able to hand in my papers. But the irony doesn’t end there. I was biking home wondering whether all these impediments were some kind of divine intervention to let me know that, perhaps, it was not worth it when I drove into a huge street poster. Just an inch further and I would have fallen off my bike, destroyed the poster and probably injured some part of my body. Curiosity took over and I lifted my head to see what had actually stopped me. When I saw what I saw I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The huge poster depicted sarcastic smiles of the three leading members of the Danish People’s Party, a part of the governmental coalition consistently hostile and unwelcoming to the newcomers of the country. In fact they are framing their misanthropic jibberish so politically correct that it makes you shake! How ironic is it to bump into a cardboard nationalistic party leader…on the day when I finally decide to apply for the Danish citizenship. Definitely divine intervention!

I was wondering what could possibly be so wrong that I have done for the divine powers to punish me this way, and the first thing I thought of was…the blog! I haven’t blogged as I promised to… Definitely a sin! So here is a resolution for you: I am putting everything aside and sitting myself down to blog about the project.

Anastasia

My mum wrote to me she'd come to Denmark and kill me if I don't put anything on the blog about the trip so I guess I owe her my comeback.

Formally, there is no excuse for disappearing BUT those who are familiar with Egypt just a little bit would know how it is to get caught in the swift whirlpool of sleepless days and nights in the city of 18 million people and a thousand minarets, infatuating charm and supreme shishas, romantic felucca rides on the Nile and unbelievable warmheartedness of the locals, breathtaking sounds of azaan (call for prayers) and captivating encounters filling each and every moment. To put it mildly, I am having the time of my life.

And I have to fit it all into the 14 days while I am here, so you can imagine it is quite a challenge.





As I go on blogging, I will be sharing every bit about the project and the trip to Jordan and Syria but first off, a couple of words about Al Qahira.

I suspect being an Egyptian in my previous life as I am caught in an undeniable feeling of being home here. Something that I rarely experience other places in the world. Cairo is as gorgeous as always, but the Cairo I see this time is very different from the one I was in last time in April. A noisy and chaotic 40 degree sauna has pushed me into a vampiric lifestyle, forcing me to stay in in the mornings and going out at nights. Last time's cautious ways of exploring the streets of Cairo got replaced by this time's cosmopolitan nightlife, (decent) consumption of alcohol and shisha and pleasurable acquaintances with the Egyptian upper middle class. I am staying at a friend's place right in the heart of the city, enjoying the downtown view of the Egyptian Museum and the 6th of October bridge every morning from the balcony of my room. My host Mahmoud is a producer and a film maker, so I have had a pleasure to plunge into a real Bohema of musicians and people of art. Is sleep ever an option in a setting like this?!

Mahmoud deserves a separate word. I met this smiling rasta guy though my American friend Alissa 5 month ago, 30 minutes before I had to head off to the airport to catch a plane to Denmark. Our encounter was very swift but I had no doubts who to message in the middle of the night when I, weakened from the food poisoning in Syria, showed up in Cairo again. Although it was quite of a risk-taking endeavor, it was all worth it! Mahmoud turned out to be the sheer embodiment of the best Egyptian hospitality ever existent. Considerate, courteous, attentive and ever-helpful. I couldn't have had a better host. He is my family here.



Friendship in Egypt is best described by a simple musketeerian aphorism: One for all and all for one. Whenever Mahmoud is unavailable, he makes sure I am always entertained by his amazing friends who are just as awesome as him. Needless to say, I have a huge social circle out here and I never feel alone.



My occasional impulsive spontaneity is at its best here. Have you ever tried hitting the road to the Red Sea at 3 a.m., bathing in the silky water in the moonlight and staying until the next night? Now I have. Being used to the laky areas of St.Pete I am not particularly keen on sea bathing but the Red Sea waters are the ultimate spa for body and soul. And to make the experience even better, try that with a company of Egyptians who own their summerhouses in the area rather than hotel guests.





Tasting a Fresko snack seems to be an unmissable part of the beach culture out here.



Discovering alien sea creatures was a particular pleasure for me.







And finally, before I take off…Egyptian people is the greatest asset of this country. No Pharaonic monuments or infatuating Islamic art is ever able to surpass this treasure. Strangers would expose their bodies to the killer-traffic in front of you just to let you cross the street when they see the slightest glimpse of fear in your eyes. They would take you all the way to a place you are looking for so that you don’t have to wander the streets trying to explain your destination in Arabic. They would do ANYTHING for you to feel welcome and warm.

More to come…

Anastasia.

Jordan (or even Amman alone!) in 2 days does not do it a justice. But that is all we have had before the program start on Monday.

Our 15 hour trip from Copenhagen loaded with waiting, food in abundance, alcoholic and caffeine beverages and delays has finally brought us to the Amman airport at 4 a.m. We have immediately been picked up by a driver names Raed who was hired by our Lebanese partner FDCD (Forum for Development, Culture and Dialogue).



It all went so smoothly that some of us have nearly fallen asleep in the cab on our way to the hotel. But nothing would wake you up more than a reservation, "forgotten" by a 5-star hotel at 4.30 a.m. Mmm...Our facial expressions at the time reflected nothing else than "whatever, just give us ANY room, and by 5.30 a.m. and put it on ANYBODY's account" I was sleeping tight in my newfound hotel bed sharing a room with Johanne with a magnificent view of Amman.





It is amazing how similar the room, and the hotel in general, was to the one I was staying in Egypt in. The only difference is the price (just about 5 times higher), a window view (Amman's urban landscape instead of the Pyramids) and a swimming pool that actually has WATER in it! There is no possibility of sunning though as the pool is roofed. Otherwise, all the same: courteous waiters, slow elevators, a superficial vision of opulent luxury and even the same menu in the restaurant. But hey no complaints! It's good. I wish the service was a little bit better though as one has to ask for things 4-5 times before they actually get delivered.

Just to give you an example of how long it takes to have things delivered:
Iron & ironing board - 1,5 days
CD player - 2 days
Internet - 10 minutes

In case with the iron I was told by a very sweet lady in a reception that it will be there but I might have to wait a few hours, and then she suggested, literally, that "we should pray for it".

I was just about to get ready to pray for an iron in a 5 star hotel room, exactly as the lady suggested, when the iron magically fell from the sky was brought into my room merely 30 minutes after the last request. Halleluja!

The next day we have decided to take it easy and start with the delicious first - hit the Dead Sea resort, which is an hour drive from Amman.

Aw...This is undescribable! The weather was more of a sauna (at least the temperature and the humidity would do it a justice) and we couldn't wait to get into the water, even the saltiest ever so we hit the Amman Beach on the suggestion of the driver, the part of it "for the Jordanians". A public beach with an admission fee.

There were two checkpoints on the way to the Beach (not on the way back to Amman). Quite a reality check, no passing by without a passport.







Now, see these mountains on the other side of the sea? It is Israel. The drive also revealed the shore of Palestine to us as we drove on the highway, occasionally crossed by single sheep and even a hostless donkey walking home. The road to Amman Beach also opens a view of a magnificent desert with Mount Nebo, where Moses cast a look at the Promised Land.



The sea itself was a paradise on Earth. The lowest point on Earth holds the water butyric and rich as the Saudi Arabian oil and salty as the tears that come out if it ever comes into the eyes.

You cannot die (drown) in the Dead Sea. Even swimming is hardly possible as it pops you out like a cork. But what you can do is smear yourself with the coast mud, which most of the swimmers indulge themselves with.



Taugir's face has a strange reaction to the sun block, it turned immediately sky-blue, which looked surprisingly good on him matching the color of his shorts.



We wrapped the night up with a courteous company of Zeynep and Maiz, two girls who are friends of Taugir's. They took us to a very nice restaurant in the Orthodox Club downtown and presented us to mezze with a multiplicity of dishes which were so much of a feast for the eye and stomach that I memorized none of the dish names. And giving the evening a nice finish - a good old waterpipe - narghile in Jordanian.



Today was a nice downtown walk with much of shopping. Too much, in fact.:) Tomorrow is a program start so we are taking it slow tonight.

6.54 p.m. Pink twilight in Amman. The hotel window is wide open and the soothing sounds of azaan are spilling over the city. It's a perfect time for reflection, so I let the guys go out with the local friends of Taugir's and reserve an opportunity for myself to join them later.

Wow, two days and I am already bombarded with impressions waiting to be digested. I cannot help casting a comparative look (with Egypt) on the surroundings. Things are similar and not quite. Amman is definitely more liberal than Cairo. That means less comments on the streets towards unveiled ladies, and a generally relaxed dress code. However, my feel is that somehow it lacks the warmness I have encountered in Egypt, that is the human warmness. Jordan is definitely more westernized, it hits the eye immediately. It is also incredibly expensive compared to the rest of the Middle East. That said, two days are not nearly enough to make a final mind on any of that so I reserve a right to change my mind during the stay.

Amman's liberal spirit spreads not only on the dress code but just as much on the code of conduct. Jordanians are immensely proud of their King Abdullah II, a supporter of pro-western politcal ways and a true favourite hailed around the country by his numerious portraits. Coming from Britain, and becoming a king without Arabic language skills he has worked his way to the successful kingdom by learning the language and skillfully stearing the country in terms of politics. His gorgeous wife, queen Rania is known for her global philantropic work.

Most of the country's population is predominantly Muslim (over 90%), with an official number of 6% of Christians of different denominations. So far we have met two Christians, a girl named Maiz, a friend of Taugir's, and our host in Jordan - Youssef. Both of them strongly deny any discrimination against Christians. Apparently cases of religious hatred are very rare in Jordan. "Building a church in Jordan is easier than building a house" - Youssef claims.

Due to the historical events with Transjordan, 70% of Jordanians have a Palestinian background, some born in Palestine, some are second generation immigrants with Jordan being their only home. Most of the people we have met until now have Palestinian background and I have been extremely curious as to whether they see themselves as Jordanians or Palestinians in their heart.

"I feel like a Palestinian. I just have a Jordanian passport" - Riad exclaims on our way to the Dead Sea, the driver who has now lived in Jordan for 17 years. "But if I had a chance to go back to the West Bank, I would not do it. My life is here now".

"I am a Jordanian with a Palestinian background but first off, I am a Jordanian" - Maiz says. 24 years of age, she was born in Jordan and has never lived in Palestine where her parents originate from. "I am proud of my roots. But I am a 100% Jordanian".

The quest continues. :)

Anastasia.

 

“Get ready to run out of superlatives” – The Lonely Planet traveling edition exclaims on Istanbul.

 

I have. One of the most boring tiring noisy and annoying airports ever to spend 5 hours of a transit trial in. God save the lattés! Although ridiculously overpriced, they are the only ones to keep me awake in this mess, together with the continuous noise around me.

 

Obvious disappointment shows on my face as I think of a non-existent possibility of coming out to see the magnificent city in the 5 hours between the flights. Oh well…All 4 of the officers, including the lady at the information counter, could barely understand my English, so I thought there was too much of a risk to miss our flight to Amman in case we actually got out.

 

C-o-u-n-t-d-o-w-n. Only 2 hours to go…We are filling it up with occasional discussions between ourselves about the religious and cultural symbolism of a hijab (headscarf). Is it a sacred token of spirituality or a token of oppressive nature?

 

 

The anticipation is still strong. I cannot wait to get to Amman with the other guys for the interreligious-intercultural thing. The only question that puzzles me is WHY there are Christian and Muslim participants but no Jews. Would such an encounter be much of a challenge? I foresee the obvious answer: Jews are not a politically representative group in Lebanon: out of the numerous religious denominations in the Lebanese parliament there are no Jewish ones. However, Lebanon has historically been a battlefield for the Israel-Palestine conflict. So why not taking a look at a bigger picture and plunge into the controversies?

 

A rhetoric question, perhaps to be answered during the program.

 

A nice veiled elderly lady across the room is piercing me with the eyes as I sit and type. I look back at her and smile, she smiles back. I say hi and she nods a hi back. I could probably come up and talk to her as we both are caught in the trial of waiting for the flights but the possibility of encountering another language barrier is quite daunting. I guess I have reached my language barrier quota for today. The regret of not taking this challenge will linger for quite some time afterwards as we exchanges smiles on and after the flight several times.

 

Finally the second boarding call. It will be nice to plunge into a hotel bed after a 17 hour trip.

 

So, we have had our official kick off for the Danish team building.

All four of us but one: unfortunately Taugir could not make it since he was in Saudi Arabia. But we have had an amazing time, Ghassan, Johanne and me, courteously complimented by a terrific company of the project fascilitators, Anja, Agnete and Louise. A special thanks goes to Henriette who has been with us all the way throughout the weekend.

I am utterly excited as I can sense unquestionable chemistry between all of the project participants, notwithstanding the fact that we all have such different personalities. We did everything and nothing, from discussions on expectations to a cozy food-cooking time, lying in the grass and walking in the rain, collectively shopping for groceries and having quite a blast at a local party bash.

Heavy on fun, light on sleep.

In other words, successful synergy is nearly guaranteed.

Taking off on Friday to Amman through Istanbul will be our next step. I cannot wait!

Anastasia

Anastasia is an MA senior at Roskilde University majoring in English and Cultural Encounters. Anastasia is a Russian having dwelled in Copenhagen for 7 years now. Drawing largely from her own immigrant background and relative experiences, she possesses an extensive & flourishing interest in intercultural dialogue and international politics among many other key topics. These topics range from active participation in domestic societal issues to sharing her passion for any form of art (particularly photography and music in all its forms). Presently, she is working on her thesis which explores the alleged interconnection between "Islam" and "terrorism" as concepts in American media, specifically in "The Washington Post". 

Anastasia has been a member of several international humanitarian networks, most notably Humanity in Action and cocityzen   . Some of her past work highlights include a position in the Congressional Fellowship for the US Congress in the office of Congressman Tom Lantos (D-CA) and work completed with the Congressional Human Rights Caucus.  In addition, she has held various interpreting jobs for the Danish municipality services and Royal Danish Police. 

A cultural anthropologist by nature, Anastasia enjoys both participating and observing interactive human encounters and intensely heated discussions. Anastasia is one of the Danish participants in Dialogue in Diversity.