Happy birthday to me! Well, the twenty-seventh was my first birthday abroad. One down two to go! It was the first year that I haven’t shared my birthday with anyone. As some of you know, I was born on my sister’s birthday party. And that was the start of my sharing birthdays. And then when I met my best friend I discovered that his birthday was the day before mine. And what kind of party doesn’t last past midnight? You start on his birthday and end on mine! Perfect. But this year I didn’t even really tell anyone it was my birthday. So I spent my birthday as usual, at work in my center. The highlight of the day was that there was a workshop about terrorism that night. So I went with twenty or so girls to the local youth hostile and took pictures while they learned about terrorism and how to avoid it. We ate dinner together at the hostile and then got on a bus back to the village. Throughout the day I just sort of pretended everything was for my birthday. Like the flags around town for the hostage that I told you about? Those were for my birthday party. And the dinner we ate together was my birthday dinner. And the party on the bus ride back, well that was my birthday party. And for dessert I bought a gross little Debbie type cake. Lit my lighter, sang happy birthday and blew it out. That was my birthday.
So the day after my birthday (which happened to be fat Tuesday), my friends found out that it had been my birthday. They told me that I was a jerk for not telling and then took me out for pizza and ice cream in wadi musa. And I even got presents! Bandanas to remind me of the small town I grew up in. one had skulls on it. Really classy stuff. But it was a really fun night. At one point I was asking where we could find some mardi gras beads. And my friend mused that the only place you could definitely find beads was at a mosque. You see, there are prayer beads here very similar to rosaries. Each bead is supposed to symbolize one of the hundred different names of god. So it was a tasteless joke, but hilarious at the time. And the following day, my counterpart told me she had waited for me to come by because she had remembered my birthday. She gave me a picture frame and a candle for my house. And a musical card that played happy birthday. So that was the follow up to my birthday.
Our hostage finally came home to taibeh. He had been in amman for medical testing. But now he is home. The afternoon that he arrived, we closed the center for the afternoon and went to watch. Everyone kind of milled around saying “his car is going to come from up there”, and I do mean everyone in town. So we walked from house to house watching the road above. People were out in fields and on their roofs and in the school yard. And then music started from the loudspeakers set up for the party and guns started going off and there were fireworks in the middle of the day. And then an entourage of at least 40 cars crammed with people all waving flags and honking came winding down the mountain with a police escort. I have to admit that I got a little choked up about it. And it was surprising because I am past that super emotional stage. I felt that American politics were to blame for his being abducted in the first place and I somehow represented that. And now he was finally home. Later that night was a party for the whole town. I went with my counterpart. Walking to the party had this feeling of excitement and that this is the sort of crazy experience you join the peace corps to have. You know, in a foreign place, but happy and with people you know and the air just buzzing. And it was a beautiful clear night. The mountains and boulders were lit by the moon, and the landscape just looked so unlike anything in the us. And there was music and the sound of people singing. And it is times like this that I wish I were more coherent and articulate so that I could tell you how it really felt. But any attempt I make is bound to be pathetic.
The party itself was sort of a letdown because of the whole gender thing. The men dance and sing and hang out and the women sort of hide on a rooftop and watch it all. But all my girls from the center were besides themselves to see me socially and introduce me to their mothers. And the whole party culminated for me in a boy about my age standing all of about five feet away from me and unloading a gun in the air rapid-fire. Unexpectedly. And then he handed the gun off to the younger boys. And that was my bedtime. I walked home the long way so as not to go the direction of all the shooting.
I think that is all my news. I am going on a trip to aqaba with my center. I get to give them a p.e. class. It should be fun. I will let you know how it goes. oh, and i posted some new pics of the party for our hostages homecoming.