Star of Gold - Lost in Translation

Those of you reading this blog who are from the Ohio Valley, or have happened to spend any time in the Midwest, have heard of, tried, or even have a passion for “Cincinnati Chili”. Those of you who are not familiar only need to know that this interesting version of chili, more sauce than meat, flavored with hints of cinnamon and maybe even chocolate (no one really knows because the recipe is a closely guarded secret) is something of a religion in the greater Cincinnati area, with families and friends sometimes split in a massive feud over which brand (Gold Star or Skyline) is better. This is neither the time nor place for that argument, but it is time for a little story…….

In the 1960's the four Daoud brothers from Amman, Jordan immigrated to Cincinnati, Ohio with the goal to live the American Dream, own their own restaurant, and create the largest chili restaurant chain in the world. The brothers tinkered with recipes, using Cincinnati’s original Skyline Chili (Founded on the West Side in 1949) as an inspiration to create their own version of “Cincinnati Chili”. In 1965, Gold Star Chili was born in a former hamburger joint in Mt. Washington on Cincinnati’s East Side.

In 1980, one of the four brothers moved back to his homeland of Jordan and started the Rio Café. The café originally served traditional foods that he had grown to love in the USA including American-style hamburgers and fries, salads, etc. But soon he combined his Rio Café menu with the menu of the now famous Gold Star Chili to create The Chili House.

The Chili House now operates restaurants all over the Middle East, serving Gold Star Chili in Jordan, Egypt, Syria, Bahrain, the U.A.E., Sudan, and Qatar.

Last night I brought a few ex-pat colleagues of mine to the outlet at Abdoun Circle to introduce them to the unique taste of “Cincinnati Chili”. The last time I had Gold Star was last October at the Bengals game (They are in fact the official chili sponsor of the Bengals), and although I was thoroughly drunk at that time, I remembered it tasting different than last night. Not as much chili, not as much cheese, not nearly enough onion; so something must have been lost in translation so to speak, but the idea was there.

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Meeting People Is Easy

Friday was only my second day off since I’ve been here and I woke early with a plan: Shopping the special Friday Bazaars. Most of the action takes place in shut down city streets in the old city, downtown. It’s truly a mixed bag from used jeans piled high in bins (like the old Filenes Basement, people rummaging through), second hand t-shirts hanging on racks in the street, knock-off belts laid out on tables, used (yes used) shoes spread out on blankets on the ground, etc. All the while the vendors themselves are yelling out what they have to sell. The vibe was very much like the Haymarket in Boston but with clothing instead of fruit and veg.

A block over was a different setup. Everything was spread out on blankets on the sidewalks, spilling into the streets. Total chaos. This was truly a junk-store experience though; Old and used watches, screwdrivers, radios, more shoes, cups and saucers, miniature statues, books, cooking wear, and miscellaneous sorted junk.

I wandered through this maze of stuff, sipping on a raw sugar cane drink (like guarapo in Colombia but without the limes) and stumbled upon a mob scene of people off of another side street. I go to check it out and quickly realize that I’m more out of place than ever. “Pigeon fancying” is something of a hobby here. All along the street are people with cardboard boxes and cages of pigeons. People are picking up the birds and examining them, talking to one another, bargaining. Very interesting, but they all look at me and wonder what the hell I’m doing there.

Interspurced among the boxes of birds are pushcarts selling lamb kebobs and fresh bread topped with za’atar. I come to find out that za’atar is an herb related to thyme that can only be found in Jordan. It is dried, crushed and mixed with sesame seeds and sumac (another unique spice made from the fruit of a sumac bush/tree). Mixed with olive oil it makes for a tremendous dipping sauce for bread or can be put on top of dough and baked like a pizza. I make it a point later to stop at a spice shop and by a kilo of it to bring home.

Wandering around a bit more downtown, but now away from the street market, I am approached by an older man who asks me if I am French and offers to help me do some shopping. My apprehensive New England attitude kicks in and I attempt to shake him off. It’s a good thing it didn’t work. Saad and I spend the rest of the afternoon together and he helps me bargain and buy a beautiful carpet. I find out later that he really did get me quite a deal and a unique piece at that.

After I told him that I’m looking for a carpet he takes me to a place that I had been earlier in the day. When I had been there before I tried my best to explain that I was looking for a ‘runner’ (2’ x 10’ or so). They blow me off and I leave. But when I go with Saad we are magically whisked upstairs to a private area where I am shown many, many styles of traditional Bedouin-style, sheep wool carpets. I find a style and color scheme that I fancy but it’s not long enough. No problem, they have a traditional weaving machine there and can stitch a couple together in a few hours. Thank you Saad!

After they get started on my carpet we head to a coffee shop for a little drink. Not a place that if I were to walk in alone they would charge me 2-3 JD ($4.50) for an Arabic coffee. Instead we’re charged 1 JD for both drinks. Thank you again Saad. Then we walk around a little more and have a late lunch at a great local spot that he recommends. I finally get to eat a famous Jordanian dish called mensaf. It’s lamb shoulder that is stewed until it’s fall-off-the-bone tender. Then the juice from the stew is mixed with dried out yoghurt to create a silky sauce. Traditional pita bread is placed on a plate, rice piled on top, the lamb over that, and finally the sauce over the rest. I’ve been dying for this and it’s worth the wait.

I find out that Saad lives in a tiny closet at a hotel downtown where he does some odd jobs for a place to live. The way he survives is by meeting tourists and taking them around. He speaks a handful of languages almost fluently and another handful good enough to get by. He hopes that the tourists buy him lunch or dinner, maybe some coffee, or just give him cash. I decide I’m going to buy him drinks and food for his services and he tries to not let me do so, but I know that’s the deal and feel it’s more than worth it. After lunch we still have some time until the carpet will be ready so he takes me to a drink stand where I have some tamarind beverage (dates soaked in water that produces a maroon colored drink), and then onto another coffee shop for a fresh lemon and mint beverage. Got to replenish those sugars because of the heat. Finally we go back to the carpet shop and somehow I’m still expecting to get ripped off. Not at all the case. It’s even more beautiful than I hoped and I’m super happy. Saad gives me his number and I hop into a taxi back to my hotel. Success. There’s a fine line between trusting people who are overly friendly, but here in Jordan it’s a quite different situation than in the States. All in all I spent an extra 6-7JD (~$10) for his services; more than worth it in the end.

Religion Is a Sensitive Issue…..But One That Should Be Explored

A few of us took a trip over to our British’s friend’s flat to check it out. He’s here for two years so has arraigned proper accommodations not far from the office. It’s a nice space, very big and fully furnished. We drank a couple of beers (Amstel is all you can get here as they have a brewery someplace close), strummed on his guitar a little, and got a full brief on the Muslim religion by a Lebanese colleague of ours.

I must admit that I knew very little of the Muslim (Islamic) faith prior to this trip but have now been exposed to more interesting aspects of it being here than I think most American’s will in their lifetime. Fascinating stuff the rift between the Shia’s and the Sunni’s. Our friend Youssif had his own opinion about who is right and who is wrong but learning the subtle differences between the two was interesting nonetheless. For those who are interested it can be simplified to this: The main difference is a question of leadership. Specifically, Shia’s believe that before the Prophet Muhammad died he told the followers (as is written in the Quran) to continue the faith by following Ali, the Prophet’s cousin. Sunni’s believe that the Prophet wanted the people to follow any new leader that could be elected because he is capable of the job. There are other subtle differences, but in the end most of the other religious practices are identical. Though there is quite a bit of animosity between the two groups. The majority of the Muslims in the world are Sunni, and here in Jordan most if not all are Sunni.

All of us non-Muslims in the room were captivated by the conversation and thanked Youssif fiercely for his openness to discuss his faith. We all learned something this day.

After this, we met a bunch of other colleagues at a restaurant in the Old City downtown for a feast. The event was organized by some local staff in order to offer some hospitality to us visitors. The place is called Jafra and is down an unmarked, rather ominous looking alleyway that none of us would have ever stumbled upon.

It was up a few flights of stairs and when we walked in the Argileh smoke and rustic wood surroundings made quite an impression. The place was full of families and friends hanging out, eating traditional food and smoking flavored tobacco from giant water bongs like chimneys. The food was good, hummus, tabbouleh, fattoush (chunky tabbouleh but with baked pita bread, like croutons), fatteh kebab (ground beef and spices shaped into a log and cooked on a skewer, served with whole roasted tomatoes and onions), fatteh (spiced meat baked in a casserole with bread and yogurt), and farooj (spit-roasted chicken). After dinner we got a few argileh’s and smoked some cherry and apple flavored tobacco, then got a full kit to make our own Arabic coffee. Now I’m a pro.

We left the restaurant and followed our hosts to a famous dessert stand located down yet another alleyway. Habiba is famous for kunafeh which is the most delicious desert I’ve had in a while. A cheese that’s a cross between fresh mozzarella and ricotta, topped with baklava-type flaky pastry, drowned in a sugar/rose water syrup and baked. Out of this world. Probably the best night so far and not a drop of alcohol was involved.

All Kind of Falafel

Falafel in Amman takes on many different shapes and forms. A “torpedo” style wrap identical to the kind we see in the States, to tiny bite-size balls served on a plate with separate plates of khubetz (pita bread), tomatoes, raw onions and mint. For lunch today the office ordered in falafel for anyone who wanted it. This however was different yet again. This time is served in a smaller pita bread that is not rolled up, but rather stuffed inside the two layers of bread a la a Greek gyro. But this style was also different in that it contained tomatoes, cabbage, pickles, and a spicy red chili salsa. In addition, the falafels themselves were mashed inside the bread and mixed with a little anise. By far the best version I’ve had so far. Fantastic.

Arabic Coffee Makes the World Go Round

Yesterday I took a trip with a British colleague of mine (John is quite the crack; I think I’ll be using British idioms for a bit now as I’m hanging with him rather a lot), to the offices of the Water Authority of Jordan (WAJ) and the Ministry of Water and Irrigation, our partners in this project. The office was a classic government edifice. Sterile walls and floors, puke green colored doors, tons of people milling around, few actually working. I guess government jobs are the same all over the world.

However, business is conducted a bit differently in the Middle East. You see, we are working with WAJ to obtain record drawings of existing water and sewer systems in Amman, as well as three other smaller cities or towns called Jerash, Tafilah and Ma’an. You’d think that it’s an easy thing. Request the drawings in either hard copy or electronically, and there you have it. Oh no, this is not the case. First you must go and get a full run-around; meeting one person who sends you to another, who sends you to another. When you finally get there you realize that their office has moved to a different floor. Eventually you find the right person and you think you’ve got it. But no, now it’s time to talk and get to know one another. First Arabic coffee is ordered, or tea if you’d rather. Did I mention the stuff’s the bomb? Yes, I did, in my last entry. What I failed to mention though is that I’ll be bringing back a full kit to prepare and serve this delicious elixir back in Boston.

Anyhow, then cigarettes are passed around. You don’t have to take one but when you do they say, “You are my friend.” Everyone smokes here, everywhere, all of the time. Even the countless stray cats roaming around smoke for Allah’s sake. You sit and talk about family, life, a little of the project and then of course it’s time to get down to business and request the data. Wrong again. What I’ve now realized is that you must first build a relationship with these people before they are willing to work with you. Many of my American counterparts are having trouble with this. The American way of, let’s hit the ground running, here’s my agenda let’s get it done’ does NOT fly here. I on the other hand enjoy this in a way. Something different and I’m willing to fit in and learn this style of business.

So now that we’ve made friends we are taken to another office where we are introduced to someone clearly very important in the agency. More Arabic coffee, more cigarettes, more chit chat. We learn the best time to visit the Dead Sea, the nicest vacation spots on the Sea of Galilee, the best place to smoke argeeleh in Amman, etc. All the while John is calm and patient. You see he’s worked in Amman before and lived here for two years, so he knows the drill. As we are sitting there someone else comes in with a couple of CD’s. A quick conversation takes place in Arabic and then he disappears. It turns out that they managed to produce a few AutoCAD files on disk for us. We’ve no idea what they are but are happy to take them. The meeting ends by us promising to return the next day with the borrowed CD’s and we head back to the office.

Not to brag, but John and I went back today to return the CD’s and got more information than has been gathered in the five weeks prior. Loads of drawings, electronic files and more. Follow the protocol and remember that you’re visiting their country, so things must operate the way they want. So now a few of our subcontractors are sorting through the plethora of information that they gave us. We’re well on our way now to actually making some progress.

I'm attempting to set up a blog here to document my time in Amman, Jordan, somehow by clicking on the crazy scribbly lines which are Arabic links. As I type this, the whole sentence is moving from right to left and is completing messing with my head.

But let's just see how this turns out. By the way, big props to Mr. Mike Nelson for being the inspiration behind this. He's currently blogging from Alaska on his wildlife adventures. The trip sounds good enough, but following it for its laugh-out-loud commentary is more than worth it.

Arrival in Jordan was no problem. Pay the customs guy 10JD (~$14) and get a super cool little stamp in the passport. Not like your normal rubber stamp passport deal, but more like a postage stamp sealed with a larger, translucent sticker. The manager of the drivers from the Amman office (basically the Arabic Gene Smith), picked me up at the airport and drove me to my hotel. On the way we saw camels walking along the side of the road. Almost as interesting as the cows pulling carts walking across a 4 lane highway in Colombia.

The Hotel Bristol is a nice 5-star joint in the upscale Abdoun area of Amman. Very spread out, Vegas-like with construction going on everywhere. After checking in and unpacking I met up with some other CDMers who are staying down the street at the Sheraton. On the rooftop is a swanky lounge a la South Beach or something. Cabanas, torches and open flames and everyone was smoking flavored tobacco from the ubiquitous water pipe, called agulia here. I didn't get to try it though this time. I was beat so only one drink for me before crashing back at the hotel. Getting to sleep was another story though since there was a wedding taking place around the pool area, six floors up but straight down from my window. The sounds of Arabic music blasting was barely even muted by the earplugs I was forced to put in. And what's with this "music" anyway? Most of the time there are no instruments, just a crazy chanting sound. Normally I'm very accepting of cultural things, but when you've been awake for 36+ hours all tolerance is thrown out the window, quite literally.

I woke up at 7am on Saturday and could not get back to sleep. I knew I needed it, but couldn't make it happen. So instead I got up and went downstairs for breakfast at the hotel which is included, thank you USAid. Breakfast in the Middle East is amazing. Fuul, which is a fava been puree, not unlike the consistency the hummus, is served with khubez, a pita-style bread. With it they have yogurt with fresh figs and whole grains that you mix up yourself, sort of like muesli. Of course a mixture of black, brown and green olives and a tiny cup of hot coffee spiced with cardomom. And the coffee is not like anywhere else. The bottom 1/2" of the tiny cup is a thick coffee sludge. You make sure not to drink that part. But the stuff is tasty and you know what a coffee snob I can be.

After my nice breakfast I took a taxi to Jabel al-Qal’a (the Citadel), an archeological site on a hill overlooking the city that has been a focus for human settlement since the Paleolithic age, more than 18,000 years ago. It was once occupied by the Umayyads and is the only Umayyad site that still exists in the world. The site was then used by the Romans for the Temple of Hercules and palace and these ruins still remain as shown in the pictures below.

I quickly realized that it’s a good idea to get your site seeing done early, before the heat of the afternoon. It’s hot here amigos. Wicked hot. Standing on the surface of the sun hot. People who say that a “dry heat” is not so bad are lying. It takes your breath away. You can light a cigarette by putting it between your lips and looking skyward.

I walked down the myriad steps that lead up to the Citadel back to street level in front of the Roman amphitheater. I decided not to go inside because frankly, I thought I was going to pass out, and the thought of climbing and exploring this historic theater was a bit too much for me at that moment. Bear in mind, it’s only 9:30-10am, I’ve already drunk 1.5 liters of water and I still feel light-headed. So instead I wandered through the old city’s markets full of fruits, veg, grains, spices, lamb carcasses, lamb heads, brains, all kind of offal, it was magic.

As I wandered down the street an older man stopped me and asked if I needed any help. In most places this means, ‘I spotted a tourist and am going to take full advantage.’ Turns out he’s a glass artist from Armenia who sells his work at embassies around Amman. “The Jordanian people don’t appreciate my work,” he told me, “but Americans and Europeans understand it.” He invited me into his gallery across the street and we talked about everything from the U.S. to the Middle East including politics, food, religion, and life. He then had tea brought into his shop, very dark, almost black and sweetened more than I’d like, but still good. In the end he gave me one of his pieces as a gift and I begged him to let me pay, to no avail. I have his number now and I’ll meet up with him later during my stay for dinner or something.

After this meeting I found a locally famous restaurant called Hashem. It’s tucked in an alley in the center of the old city. Famous for falafel and hummus, there’s no menu and it’s nothing like what you get in the U.S. They serve it with slices of tomatoes, raw onions and mint. I’ve a little picture of my spread below. Everything for JD2.50 ($3) and I couldn’t finish it all. At this point it’s around 2pm and even my hour long break in the shade at Hashem isn’t helping me along. So I get a taxi back to the hotel. I feel lame giving up at this point with the whole afternoon ahead of me, but the heat of the afternoon really is too much.

I concluded my evening with dinner at a local place, nothing written in English, but the waiter helped me out. I had a moutabbel which is traditional baba ghanouj (cooked and pureed eggplant) with added tahini and more khubez, the pita style bread. At this point I realize that khubez is eaten at every meal, and I’m happy about that because the stuff is great. Again, not like pita bread at home. In addition I had a lamb kebab, or rather kafka, which is heavily spiced minced lamb that is formed around a metal skewer and cooked over open flame. Incidentally, I found this place by the sight and smell of grilled meat wafting up from the roof of this building that I spotted down the street. Follow your instincts.

Since then things have gotten serious. I’ve started work and it’s a challenging project. A little scary but I’ve learned a lot already in only two days including hard names to pronounce and remember, new Arabic words, and names of other Jordanian towns that we are doing work in. Not to mention the logistics of coordinating such a large, complex project.

Last night for dinner I dined with a bunch of CDMers at an Italian restaurant. I was reluctant to go (Italian food in the Middle East? I don’t like to eat Italian in Ohio) but didn’t want to diss my colleagues. Turns out that the pasta was all homemade and it seriously rivaled many of the places in the North End.

So there’s a brain dump. I’ll keep this up as it’ll be fun to look back at some point. More adventures this weekend when, hopefully, I make a trip to the Dead Sea. I’ll keep you posted.

Ma assalaameh (goodbye)