Shopping in the mall

I always enjoy shopping at the malls here in Amman. We have been to three so far.
First, there was a small mall called The Avenue. By small I do mean 5 floors.
Next, there was The Galleria. This is 7 floors and fun to navigate.
Last, there was The City Mall. Huge compared to the other two malls.
All of these malls are very well kept and offer a ton of shopping varieties. They even have Starbucks in or around 2 of the larger malls.
In all thee malls there is the Carrefour. This is the Wal-Mart, Kroger, King Sooper, or Glens of Amman.
But I do have to say that the best falafel and hummus  comes from this little stand near the Galleria mall. Great prices and yummy yummy food.

My media rant...

In America, I have noticed, that we are fed information by the media that we usually regard as infinite truth. We are blind to anything outside what the media has provided. Sometimes that is a good thing. But sometimes, as is this case, it is terribly wrong.

We grow up, or at least I did, believing that, in the Middle East all men and women are terrorist. And that there are very few people out there that are kind. Watching videos, that the media have provided, of men killing others, bombed out areas, malnutrition and the like, et cetera. And, don't get me wrong, there are places like that... BUT NOT HERE.

My first couple excursions out into the Jordan city life were very hard for me. I lived in constant fear that I was going to be one of the statistics. I wouldn't even smile at people in the grocery store without putting my head down first, almost like a child before being scolded. I was afraid that if I were to look at a Jordanian I would be arrested for violating their culture/religious beliefs.

And people starred at me...

They weren't staring at me for being an American. They weren't staring at me for not covering my bright red, frizzy hair. They weren't staring at me for wearing different clothes.

They were staring at me because I looked scared of them.

When I finally lifted my head I realized that a few of the things that set me apart from the other people walking in the store was that I was a red head with freckles, and I didn't speak their language.

I found that many of the woman, inside Amman city limits, were very cultured and didn't live by the traditional Muslim ways. They wore pants, capris, no head covering, makeup and lots of jewelry; there was laughter and lots of talking; they had the same emotions that I see all the time, happy, sad, perturbed.

I was no different then them except in appearance.

I have since changed the way I approach, or pass someone in the store. I look at them, smile and nod.

I feel so ashamed at saying that I was racist. I feel so ashamed that I let the media influence my way of thinking about these precious people. I will no longer take the media at face value. I will do due diligence and learn before I judge.

A New Chapter...

So I have really been thinking about these three words the past couple days... "A New Chapter". In the past I had always believed that "A New Chapter" meant that the story was done and a new one started.
But that is not true...
I am an avid reader. I can go through a book in less then a week. I am a writer. But not once did I ever think about this statement. In most books the end of one chapter does not signify the end of the story but just a suspenseful moment.

 Read the below excerpt:

"Where was he?" She thought as she cleaned off the table from the anniversary dinner that she had carefully planned. "He should have been home hours ago". She took the uneated dinner to the kitchen and put the plates in the sink. She had blown out the candles on the table sometime ago, so the dinning room was in shadows. 
Knock, Knock Knock...
"Did you lose your key?" She stated as she walked towards the door. "I've told you keep an extra one in your car," she said as she unbolted the door then turned the handle. 

This is where the chapter would end. But it doesn't end the story. It only is being continued in the next chapter.

When the door opened, there stood a young man in a black uniform, his officer hat under his arm. It was not her husband. 
"Mrs. Smith...my name is Officer Jones. I have some sad news about your husband..."

The new chapter picks up where the last one started.

That is what life does... it just continues with a new chapter heading.

This is a new chapter heading on the same story. May the story continue as wonderful as it has been going so far.

Jet-leg... the silent creeper

For the past two days I have been dealing with jet-leg creeping up on me. It has not been a pleasant experience. I am fine in the morning but once the afternoon hits so does the sleepiness. And it isn't like the weariness goes away...
Unless I close my eyes and try to sleep, it will stay with me and get worse. I don't think I have ever experienced this kind of sever jet-leg before. My body is really fighting me at this point.
Yesterday, for example, I did't get much sleep during the night and was wide awake at 5:30am. So I got out of bed and started to read. Around 10, after I showered and started the coffee pot, I sat down on the couch and passed out hard. "M" carried on with the day and even said that he kissed me and nothing woke me up. Ugh.
I woke up at 5:30pm and felt like someone had hit me with a cement block right between the eyes. After a little bit of food I felt a little better but I was still so sleepy. I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep that night because of my little nap so I took a sleep aid. Oh boy, that was not the right thing to do.
Yes I did sleep last night but this morning I couldn't wake up. I felt shaky and weak all day. I had two cups of coffee and still nothing. Then around 3:30pm I felt that if I didn't close my eyes I was doing to pass out. So that is what I did. I closed my eyes and was out like a light until "M" got home from work.
I really do hope that this headache and weariness go away.

Touchdown!!!

Touchdown! I wanted to scream "Hallelujah!" as loud as I could when the wheels finally touched the Jordan tarmac. It had been a long long long and patience trying trip. I was exhausted and completely emotional. Getting off the plane was pretty quick and getting down to the immigration was pretty easy. I remembered it all too well from the first trip.
I was third in line and through phase one really quick. Phase two, verification, was a little bit of a wait. There was only one person handling this section. It was about ten minutes before I was able to go up and finish my immigration and be let down to the baggage claim area.
Our luggage was already coming up in baggage claim 5. There was a huge crowd already gathering around the revolving table. So I waited, watching each bag that passed by... My bag was nowhere to be seen...
I went over to the help desk and they stated I had to wait until the carrier stopped before I could claim that my bag was not there. So I waited...
And waited... and guess what. My bag was nowhere to be found. Ugh.
Finally I went and put in the claim that my bag was not here. The agent took my information and looked up my bags.
Surprise... My bags were in PARIS!!! They had never even made it to London. When we got to Atlanta and they switched my flights... they didn't switch my luggage. Luckily "A" and I had packed extra clothes in my carry on so I do have some clothes until my baggage arrives. YAY!  *detect the note of sarcasm? It should be there... Double check...yep. There it is.*
Hopefully my luggage enjoyed its trip to Paris and will be with me sometime today. Fingers crossed and sending up a prayer... I need my hair supplies!

Horrific Experience in London... Part 2

Part two started upon touch down in London.
First let me just say that flying over London was amazing!! I got to see some amazing views from the air. Places that I hope to one day see. (Check out the photos)
When we landed we were let out of the plane... but no ticket agents anywhere to be seen. They just told us to check the boards as we were exiting the craft. So to the board I went. But I didn't see my next flight on there. Ugh. NOT AGAIN! I decided to go ask whomever I could find. I followed the connecting flight passengers down to the terminals station. I asked one of the drivers (because in order to go from terminal to terminal you had to take a bus) where I could find information on my flight. He asked where I was going and I told him Jordan and he directed me to get on the bus for Terminal 5. So to the bus stop I went and waited. AND WAITED.
20 minutes later the bus showed up and took myself and the other travelers on this little adventure through the airport. We arrived at terminal 5, go up the escelator to the main floor and follow the crowd towards the gates. Then I spotted it. THE DEPARTURE BOARD. And there was my flight...AND there was the departure terminal... TERMINAL 1!!! Ugh. So back down to the bus I went. Still having seen no ticket agent for British Airways I made my way back over to terminal 1. Which, by the way, is under construction. When they drop you off at the terminal back entrance, you have a long walk and and confusing signs, then hit the first of the security check points. Here this nice older gentleman wanted to check my ticket. I explained that I didn't have one. He advised me to go through security and then stop at the British Airway desk and get my ticket. YAY! Someone who knew what I needed to do!
Going through their security is pretty much the same as when you fly out of America. Everything off and on the table, liquids and electronics in their own basket. Not a big deal. Except for when you forget too pull your toothpaste out of your carry on. *insert rolling of the eyes and a sigh*
After security you walk right into the the "under construction" wing of the airport. It is DESERTED! There were ticket agent booths but not an agent in sight."Oh bother." *in my best Eeyore voice* So I went exploring. I looked all over the place for signs of BA agents. But nothing. I found a really cute "Royal Mail'' post box. A couple duty free stores and restaurants. Cleaning staff. But no agents. On top of all of that...They don't post what gate you should go to until an hour before the flight. So everyone is in a holding station until that time.
With nothing to do and  4 hours to fill I went to the bathroom and changed my clothes, grabbed some yummy looking deli food from Pret Market and sat down to read. When I had about ten minutes before my gate was to be revealed I went to stand under the screen and wait for the information.
BAM! There it was (5 minutes late, I might add)! We were to head to gate 19. As the weary travelers herded down the terminal to gate 19 I was in the lead... well okay there were like 10 people ahead of me.
We all get to the gate and they start checking us in, reviewing passport and ticket, and making us sit in a new holding until they can check us one more time and push us onto the plane. It is my turn and I let the lady know that I don't have a ticket and that I was told it needed to be printed by the agent. She told me she didn't have time to do it, there was only on ticket checker working, and that I needed to sit and wait. AND WAIT. AND WAIT!!!
After everyone... except for the 2 people that came in late, where checked and boarding almost finished, I was helped. She called down to the luggage counter and then said something about me not checking in. HELLO!!! I DIDN'T HAVE A TICKET!!! And WHY? BECAUSE NO ONE WAS DOING THERE JOB!! The agent then couldn't get the ticket printer to work. *shaking my head* So I had to sit down again. Because she didn't have time to hand write me a ticket, there was another problem child that needed to be taken care of. *note the sarcasm* After everyone was boarded, she finally had time to HAND write my ticket so I could get on the plan. By this time I was frustrated, running on only 2 hours of sleep and I was freezing.
I walk down the plank and onto the plane, put my carry on into the over head bins. Walk back to my seat (a row of three chairs and there are only two of us to occupy said chairs). I take my seat, pull out my pillow, throw on the blanket, and close my eyes. Then the dreaded announcement....
"I am sorry to inform you but we are going to be delayed by 45 minutes on the tarmac. Sit back and relax, we will take off when we are given the clearance...." So that is what I did. I sat back and relaxed and fell asleep. Only to wake as the drink cart was passing and we were in the air. No first drinks for me. Luckily I had some water left in my water bottle.



I do have to say that flying over Greece at sunset was beautiful.

And British Airways (as does Delta) really know how to feed a person. Their dinner was really yummy.

Horrific Experience in London...

I had originally wrote this post in anger but I am so glad that my phone froze and wouldn't let me post it. :)

It is so sad to say that I had a bad experience at Heathrow Airport in London because I had such hi hopes for this city. I have dreamed of flying into to London all my life. I have always wanted to visit. I was sad that I was flying there by myself because I had already promised to "A" that we would fly there together. And here it was that I was being diverted.
After a long flight from Denver to Atlanta I find that my 10:04 flight to Paris had been canceled (it was never made it to the boards). And that the next available flights to Paris would make me miss my 2:40 trip to Amman. So I had no choice.
Upon arrival in Atlanta and noticing that there was a mix up on my flights, I headed to customer service where I found a long line of travelers that were upset about the cancellation of the Paris flight. When it was my turn to talk to an agent there was a huge line behind me. I had already switched out my slip on shoes due to all the running I was doing left blisters on the back of both of my heels, and I added light capri pants under my skirt because I was cold. I had even pulled my hair up in a bun. Ugh. I looked amazing. :) Anyways, the ticket agent started talking to me and and told me that they were reverting me to Heathrow and that they were sending the word down to luggage handling to send my bags to London.
After she handed me back my itinerary and my ticket for the next flight, I was told that I would need to find a British Airways Agent when I touched down in Heathrow to get my next ticket. Then I was told that my flight was boarding and that I needed to get to the gate but not to hurry because I would get on this flight. EXCUSE ME! NOT TO HURRY BUT THEY WERE BOARDING! And I had to take the train back to the previous terminal. What the heck. Seriously.
Well I hurried as fast as I could to get to the terminal to board. When I got there they were boarding Zone 2 (my zone), I had just made it. I boarding the plan, looking a little worse for wear and took my seat. Luckily Delta took care of me and I got my row (2 seats) all to myself. So I relaxed and had a great flight. [Well, great except for the terrible turbulence coming into Heathrow at that time of day.] So aside from that the trip was great.
It wasn't until I touched down that the horror ensued.

To be continued....