Even in Amman. The last time I was in Jordan, Sep. ‘07, I walked around the streets, and went for a hookah. Only to realize that I am the expat. In my own country. Worse yet, do I still have the right to call it my country if I only visit once every blue moon. The last time I went to Jordan before that was in 2002. Those were the only two since 1997. It did not feel right. While it doesn’t feel like home here in the states, Jordan did not either.

I feel sorry for this blog… it’s been forever since anybody touched it, it’s a shame really, this was suppose to be a great great project for us “the expats” , I don’t want it to end, I really miss everybody, 7aki Fadi , Ammar, Expated in Dubai , globalorama , Ha Ana Za, KJ , Mohanned , Non Angel (Our Local Correspondent), Qwaider , randomconsistentideas , Sam , Sel3 , Soul Blossom , Who-sane (I really miss you dude), Wonders … I your posts here, kteer!!

I know how people are really busy, they barely have time to write in their own blogs, but come on!!! I want it back… I miss you guys, I miss the back and forth emails, I used to lose track after the 4th email 3ala fekra who sent what? Meen rad 3ala meen LOL!

Any way, I just wanted to let it out of my system and let you all know that I love you and I miss you, and I’m sure a lot of people miss our posts in here too sa7??

No…this is not a riddle or some lame joke but actually a serious question and does not only apply to Arabs but to every other nationality, ethnicity, culture or race out there. The question is what is it that defines you in that awkward box that you tick on a census or equal opportunities form?
Al-Jazz has been running a series of articles surrounding Arab Unity and one of these was What makes an Arab?

Sati al Husri seemed to think that:

Every individual who belongs to the Arab countries and speaks Arabic is an Arab. He is so, regardless of the name of the country whose citizenship he officially holds. He is so, regardless of the religion he professes or the sect he belongs to. He is so,regardless of his ancestry, lineage or the roots of the family to which he belongs to. He is an Arab.

That seems to be a very cut and dry explanation for what it is to be something and seems to lay everything at the door of langauge. But what about those living abroad who don’t speak their original language or indeed those living in the Arab world who haven’t mastered the language properly?

In the Al-Jazz article one of the contrubutors gives an anwer which certainly expands the question beyond its ordinary boundaries

Khaled Bahaaeldin, 37, surgeon - Egyptian

“I believe that Arab identity is the product of a historical interaction among people sharing a geographically unpartitioned area.

This interaction comprises theological, cultural, linguistic and political components, each of which takes precedence in a particular historical era. But I have to stress that the ‘intra-actions’ between Arabs have never been due to a singular component.

Indeed, the Arab inhabitants of the Middle East, despite the obvious chauvinisms, could claim communality with each other.”

I believe that the root of this identity lies also in values, religion, habits, attitudes etc. Also a certain unconditional love for a place that seems a little crazy at the best of times.

Ok guys. I cleaned up the spider webs from this site. Keep it coming…

Have you all noticed that all the posts written by expats on expatriatism don’t know if this is even a word, are about whining thanks for the correction Qwaider  and missing home bla bla bla…Why are we expats if we hate it so much? because we don’t hate it or at least i don’t and for me coming to Dubai and starting on my own has been the best experience. The things i have learnt the past year would have taken me … God knows how long if i had stayed home.

So for the list.. here you go, and everybody is welcomed to pitch in:

1. We all love our family, but God! they can really be a pain in the a55 a lot of times over everything and anything. Now i just have the 5 minute call with them daily and this is as far as they can intervene plus i am the long lost child living abroad who get’s what they want when they visit home. In the case of married people IN LAWS as well!!

2. No body knows you! now don’t get me the wrong way as i know most of you all will but this way i can be just ME, no pretending just lil ol me. No worrying over what extended family members or neighbours have to say over my corrupt up bringing.

3. It’s my way always. Just at home of course, i wonder if they are willing to apply this at work… T.V channels, bed time hehehe no my parents never applied this even when i was a kid but i am sensitive to light and sound when i want to sleep, shower time no need to make shower reservations before going out that is if you didn’t have the luxury of a private bathroom.

4. You defenetly grow up. Being broke half way through the month is not an option, you have bills to pay and luckly just one mouth to feed

5. Addition by 7aki Fadi: Depending on what country you are expated to, there is complete religious freedom and nobody judges you if you don’t follow the religion.

6. Addition by Tinkerbella: the casuality of social obligations.. you dont have to pull out all the bells and whistles everytime anyone comes over, you can just take it easy and not do anything.
not to mention that you will *never* get any unexpected visitors and ppl who just show up at your door at 11pm expecting you to invite them over to spend the night!
in the expat world, any visits are always coordinated days/weeks in advance cuz everyone’s so busy

That’s about it, i gota go work… i just mentioned i have bills to pay…

 Cheers!

I got one today. but thats not the interesting part, or rather sad part. While I was getting my head groomed, I remembered getting hair cuts in Amman. I used to go sometimes to شارع سينما الحسين  or to صالون حبول/شارع كلية الشرطة  although I preferred the former. I preferred it because I encountered simpler people that told stories more believable than those of taxi drivers. I miss those days because I had those guys cut my hair while an interesting conversation took place about politics, living conditions and expenses, or about  الفيصلي والوحدات Today’s conversation was a nonexistent. First, it was a lady. I do not ever remember a lady cutting my hair in Jordan. then, her fake attempt to carry on a meaningful conversation dwindled down as there was no apparent mutual interest. Also, it is always hard to explain the way I want my hair cut. Lastly, I was not offered tea nor coffee!

Please ensure that your seat is in an upright position and that trays in front of you are folded. Please make sure that all carry on items are stowed away in preparation for landing. Thank you for flying with us today on Royal Jordanian
As you hear these final approach words, your heartbeats start to race as you prepare yourself mentally to arrive home
You start wondering who’s going to be there at the airport. And if you’re going to run into someone you know at the airport. An old study friend or maybe a long lost love. Then you start worrying if your luggage made it, in-one-piece. Or if the customs officers are going to be nice to you or not. What about that guy that smells like cigarettes and have red veins in his eyes in a cheap suit with a think moustache. Is he going to flag you as a possible terrorist or is he going to hit on you (if you’re a girl)
Then you arrive. The passport officers give you the good news that the dudes in the Intelligence would be delighted to see you in person. Not only that, but everyone on the flight will be out and gone while you’re still waiting for your darn luggage. (Which someone conveniently stashed away behind one of the pillars in the airport). You decide to get to the duty free and all you hear is No change, and you can’t get more than two cartons of Marlboro. (Then why the hell are you selling them in boxes of 5?).
You see the duty free shop and it looks like a liquor store more than a duty free shop!
You go out… no body’s waiting because.. well you’re a big boy now! You hop on a Taxi that is supposed to charge you 17.4JD but somehow end up paying 50!
And then …. You arrive home in time for dinner. What a wonderful evening it would be with your family .. Some labaneh, some Za3tar .. and all the love and warmth that you can eat!

28 hours in the Airplane… $2200 ticket … Totally worth it!

This call is the an expatriate worst nightmare!

No matter how old you are, or how long you’ve been in your voluntary exile. You keep dreading a specific call. You have nightmares about it at times. And others you pray to the lord not to ever face it!

Phone rings: You pick up, half asleep. Hello.. You notice it’s long distance from back home. you switch your tone, and rise a little bit in your bed… “Alo” you say .. gasping for air.
You start hearing the mummered voice of someone very close … You wipe your eyes, you try to concentrate .. You think you heard wrong .. you ask again… and someone would reply by saying .. “El 3omor Elak” or “El 3awad bisalamtak” (May life be yours) or (May you have good health)

You heart starts racing, and you forget to breath. You hastily ask, WHO …. And no matter who that “who” is, or whether or not you are going to drop the phone and run to get dressed, only to realise that you’re 10,000 miles away. In a cold bed, in dark room, over looking a wet street, under the crying skies!

You take few minutes to get out of your disorientation, and start asking more questions. When, how, you hear the answer, but you’re no longer there. Your mind has already turned off.

There are so many things that you fear when you’re away from home, only two things might actually bring you to tears. No matter how strong your personality is.. This is the hardest one of them, not being there to say good bye to a loved one.

What is it that makes us unique from our neighbours, from someone who lived in our house before or after us? Is it not the way we choose to lead our lives, the way that we imprint our own personalities on our environment? And is it not true that we all have different rituals throughout our day, that others may not necessarily be part of? One might sit down for an hour to a cooked breakfast everyday, another might just leave the house having grabbed a quick coffee. What about when we get home at the end of a long day? One checks their emails and blog, the other puts their feet up and watches TV, another deals with their kids…

Watching this on BBC Breakfast this morning, this caught my eye and imagination, it’s a project that already has been run in America and now has come to the UK.

The co-creator of the best-selling A Day in the Life and America 24/7 book series invites people all over Britain to participate in UK at Home, a nationwide photo project, 24 to 30 September, 2007. For seven days, everyone in the UK is invited to join 50 of the nation’s leading photojournalists to capture “the emotions of home.” The goal of the project is to capture the extraordinary diversity that makes up daily family life, representing a broad range of economic, geographic, racial, political, and socially diverse lifestyles.

Here’s the first assignment:

Monday 24/9- The Big tour: Show us what makes the place where you live your home. Capture the essence and emotions- the nooks and crannies, the cat curled up in its favourite place, the piles of laundry after the weekend, whatever says it all about your home!

I’d like to invite all bloggers to take part in this, wherever they are and create a post based on this sort of theme and project…it doesn’t have to be photographic, maybe just a detailed description!

Since we are all Expats, I thought we should introduce the cities and towns where we live to everybody else.

Meet San Jose, CA. A city of over a million and the capital of Silicon Valley. The birth place of technological advancements and the entrepreneurial spirit. Its a city of more than 300 days of sun shine a year, yet it snows almost every year. A very diverse city, although Latinos and Asians are of the Largest “minorities.” San Jose is home to the Sharks (Hokey), the Earthquakes (Soccer, as of 2008), and Stealth (Lacrosse). San Jose is also known as the first capital of the state of California.