6/1/09

            Before I had gone to bed, I had set a wake up call for 8 a.m.

            I woke up sometime before my phone rang to a room filled with sunlight.

            I got out of bed and walked over to the window in my hotel room.

            I had managed to wake up just in time to watch the sun rise over Jordan’s rolling brown hills that are packed full of boxes of tan buildings.

            I checked the time on computer and was amazed to see that it was only 5:30 a.m.

            “Damn jetlag,” I thought.

            But I decided to get a start on my day.

I had forgotten to pack a case for my contacts so the night before I put my contacts in glasses that were in the room. Since my right eye is better, I put that contact in a scotch glass. My left contact, for my weaker eye, was put in a wine glass.

I took a shower, made some coffee and strutted around my hotel room in the complimentary bathrobe and slippers that the hotel gave me.

            After all, where was the fun in staying at a five star hotel if I wasn’t going to enjoy the perks?

            I called Merissa, who was very happy to hear that I had finally arrived, and learned that the group was meeting at 9 a.m. in the hotel’s lobby.

            I had wanted to go and explore the streets of Amman on my own but I got caught up posting my blog and emailing friends and family.

            There was another young American-looking guy on the elevator ride down to the lobby,

            I figured that he must be on the same press trip as me but didn’t want to ask and embarrass myself in front of the other people riding the lift, which is what Jordanians call an elevator.

            When we got to the first floor, the guy greeted a woman and said he was going to check his email and would be ready to go.

            I made eye contact with the woman and we walked passed each other.

            Both of us then stopped and turned towards each other.

            “Merissa?” I said hopefully.

            “Yes,” she said, “Andrew?”

            I had found the director of our press trip.

            She brought me over to where the rest of the group was sitting and introduced me.

            Everyone was very kind and sympathetic towards my ordeal of getting to Jordan.

            Some students knew each other from previous journalist trips to the Middle East and others were even from the same school.

            This trip was meant to be for young journalists from the top journalism schools in the United States. The other students were from UC Berkeley, University of Texas at Austin, University of Missouri, University of Minnesota and UNC at Chapel Hill.

            Almost everyone had some experience of reporting in the Middle East before this trip.

            The guy I rode the elevator with spent the last year reporting in Dubai and was going to cover the national election in Lebanon once our trip was over.

            There were a fair amount of graduate students who also had years of experience already.

            Then there was me- the kid who couldn’t even catch his flight.

            The Berkeley students kept making jokes about their reputation as hippies and the UT students discussed different deans and instructors at their school.

            What could I add to this conversation?

            “I’m from the University of Maryland, home of basketball riots and mistaking a savannah cat for a mountain lion,” I thought.

            But I easily got along with everyone.

            Our Jordan tour guide, Moawia Quteish, came over and introduced himself to me.

            “Andrew! So nice to finally have you,” he said, “how are you doing? Are you feeling jetlagged?”

            Throughout the day, everyone kept checking on me and my jetlag.

            I felt like at any minute they expected me to crash.

But I kept assuring them I was fine.

Even if my sleeping schedule was screwed up, I wasn’t going to let such a little thing as sleep prevent me from making the most of this trip.

Our first meeting of the day was with Dr. Mahjoob Zweiri of the University of Jordan Center for Strategic Studies. Zweiri is an expert in Middle East politics and Iran.

We all sat around a large table with notepads and pens.

I sat at the opposite end of the table and set up my video camera.

I had learned on the bus ride to the University of Jordan that I was the only student doing video journalism.

One student, who seriously looks like King Abdullah’s twin brother from America, was a photojournalist but no one else had video cameras.

The interview went pretty well.

My shotgun microphone seemed to pick up Zweiri’s voice from across the table and I got some good information on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

After the meeting, I ran outside to grab some shots of the building.

I quickly realized that doing video on this press trip presented a whole set of problems that I hadn’t considered.

Our days were packed full of meetings with sporadic visits to popular tourist destinations.

There was almost no free time for me to shoot broll.

I started to get nervous.

I had been given this incredible opportunity and my instructors back in Maryland were expecting great things from me.

The next stop for the day was in Jerash, an ancient city that was used by the Greek, Roman, Byzantine and Omayyard civilizations. It’s considered one of the best-preserved Roman cities in the world.

Our guide, who said we could call him “Mo,” gave us an excellent tour of the area.

The best part was standing alone in the middle of an ancient amphitheater.

As my voice reverberated off the stone seats, I could hear the incredible acoustics of the theater. My voice actually echoed back to me in a stereo-like way. That is, when I spoke in the direct center of the stage and looked left or right, I could hear my voice more profoundly on that side of the theater.

We then trekked up to the top of a hill to get a good view of the entire site.

While taking pictures of the ancient city, the valley it was located in filled with the sound of Muslims praying.

The modern town next to Jerash echoed as the Muslims completed one of their five daily prayers.

“I have to get this on video,” I thought, “What a great way to use natural sound to open my package with.”

I decided to make this a new goal of mine for the next day when we would be back in Amman.

After touring Jerash, we went back to the hotel to wash up before heading to a meeting with the Foreign Ministry.

While waiting in the lobby, I was comforted to learn that the other students weren’t sure about what they would do their stories on.

I felt far behind and confused starting my trip a day late but was glad to hear that I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit overwhelmed.

The problem was that every meeting was with an expert of some particular facet of Jordanian culture, politics or history. It was hard to see a common overlying theme amongst them all.

I decided that I wanted to focus my story on Jordan’s efforts to bring peace to the Middle East by ensuring there is a two-state solution for Israel and Palestine

Since the trip was to commemorate Jordan’s 60 years of friendship with the U.S., I would also examine how they want the U.S. to help achieve this goal.

The Foreign Minister, His Excellency Nasser Judeh, was a charismatic man with a good sense of humor.

            However, as with what I found to be the case with most government officials we would meet with, he only agreed to speak with us off the record.

            Alas, another problem for my struggling video package.

            How could I include the state’s official position on the two-state solution and the help needed from the U.S. if no one would go on camera?

            My story was in real jeopardy.

            My only hope was to switch the angle of my story to what local Jordanians think of the issue and what they want from the U.S.

            Still, there was little free time built in our schedule where I would have the time to wander the streets and talk to ordinary people.

            The press trip had us meeting with highly educated and powerful people in Jordan. But there was no opportunity to talk to average citizens of Jordan and hear their views.

            I learned that our schedule for the next day had changed some and it looked like we could have an hour or so of free time during that day.

            This would be my one shot at finding some locals to talk to me as well as getting broll of Jordan.

            “No pressure,” I jokingly assured myself.

It’d be the ultimate way of testing my skills as an international backpack reporter.

Dinner that night was at a beautiful Lebanese restaurant and was hosted by a member of the King’s Royal Court.

His Excellency Ayman Safadi is a personal advisor to His Majesty and particularly deals with the international press.

He was an incredibly nice man who expressed the same sentiments that the Foreign Minister had earlier in the day.

Jordan likes the signals they’ve received from Washington D.C. and President Obama on formulating a peace plan between Israel and Palestine.

            There is a renewed hope in the region because of Obama’s presidency and his call for mutual respect and interest between the two regions.

            Unfortunately, this informal meeting took place over dinner and I did not have my video camera.

            Dinner, however, was amazing.

            I have never seen so much food.

            Rather than order off a menu, servers just continually brought out different dishes and laid them across the table.

            Every time I looked right or left, there was an arm over my shoulder placing more food on the table.

            It was truly overwhelming.

            Many of the dishes were meant to be dipped or spread on pita bread, which they continually filled our table with.

            My sister would have loved this place.

            The minute you had eaten half of your bread, someone came over and threw another loaf on your plate.

            There was hummus, babagunush and a wide variety of vegetables and cheeses.

            One particularly tasty dish was some sort of sack that was filled with seeds and chickpeas. I have no idea what was in it or what it’s called but it was good.

            The main course was chicken, lamb, beef and fish.

            After thinking I couldn’t eat any more, the servers cleared our table and brought our dessert.

            There was coffee, melon and some sort of fresh cream covered in a sugary substance that reminded me of the top layer of baklava.

            I’ve never had better watermelon in my life.

I had heard that we were visiting at the peak time in Jordan for growing watermelon and I don’t doubt it. It was ripe and juicy.           

            Towards the end of dinner, I was curious if anyone was interested in going out and exploring the nightlife.

            But I didn’t want to come off as the “party guy” so I sat there thinking of a clever way to bring the idea up.

            That’s when our director came over to us and said, “So, are you guys going out tonight? You should.”

            A few of us were interested and Merissa gave us the name of a lounge she said she enjoys.

            We took a taxi to Al Nay, a trendy club that seemed more fitting for the wealthy older Jordan population.

            It certainly wasn’t like any bar in College Park.

            Our draft beer options were either Amstel that was brewed in Jordan or Amstel that was not brewed in Jordan.

            Naturally, I went with the Jordan version, which cost seven Jordanian Dinars or about $10.

            The DJ played a mix of techno fused with Middle Eastern melodies.

            Some of our group didn’t really enjoy the music but I, being a huge fan of techno, found myself tapping my foot and bobbing my head.

            Two beers later, my jetlag finally kicked in.

            I could barely keep my head above the table, which I expected from being at a bar but not because I was tired.

            We had a long day of meetings planned the next day so we decided to head back to the hotel.

            “Well, we can say we went out,” said one of the students with me.

            I’m not sure if we’ll have the chance to go out to another bar in Amman but I planned on doing some exploring on my own the next night.

            We got back to the hotel and I was asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

            Thankfully, I remembered to request an 8 a.m. wakeup call before I had laid down.