Amman – Page 5 – Jen Maan in Amman

When Life Gives You Lemons (or there are protests going on so you can’t go out), Make Non-Fat, Greek-Style Yogurt in a Crock Pot

For weeks now, I’ve been pestering Raj to take me to the Citadel. Unfortunately, due to protests going on downtown, we were unable to go (safety first), again, resulting in house arrest. What else is there to do when you’re out of Netflix DVD’s, it’s too hot to lay out, and there’s nothing to eat? Make yogurt.

Now you might be wondering why I’d bother to make yogurt when it’s so plentiful in grocery stores, right? Around here, yogurt is NOT real yogurt, at least not by my standards (Raj might disagree with me and he’ll point out that I’m petrified of FULL-FAT anything, so the real challenge, I suppose, is finding HEALTHY, nonfat yogurt). Dairy products here (yogurt, eggs, whipping cream, heavy cream, milk, etc.) are bought on shelves, not refrigerated,
and mostly U.H.T., or ultra pasteurized. The shelf life of these products is YEARS (I find this frightening and disconcerting to see milk and eggs in the aisles of the stores!!!). Ultra pasteurization essentially kills everything, leaving the these products less than nutritional. It’s just not right, so I sought out an alternative to the tasteless yogurt that I’ve been eating.

I scoured the Internet for recipes to make my own yogurt, which wasn’t difficult given the ‘slow’ food movement of the hour. I found a lot of recipes calling for the use of a crock pot, which I didn’t have, but quickly ordered on Amazon. When the crock arrived, I thought I was set to venture into the world of homemade yogurt until I realized that in order to make yogurt, I’d have to find milk that was pasteurized, not ultra pasteurized. Raj and I spent a couple of days in the dairy sections of the grocery stores looking for REAL milk and finally hit pay dirt.

Here’s the recipe that I followed. It’s a synthesis of of the recipes that I found online. They all varied a little, but I had great success with this one.

Ingredients:

8 cups (1/2 gallon) non-fat (skimmed, as it’s called here) milk
1/2 cup yogurt (with active, live cultures) [After this first batch, you save 1/2 cup of your own yogurt to put into each subsequent batch]
optional: vanilla extract for flavoring

Make sure the milk is pasteurized, not UHT or Ultra

Directions:

Place the milk into the crock pot, cover with lid and set on “Low” for 2.5 hours.

2. Unplug the crock after 2.5 hours and let the milk sit in the crock for 3 hours.

3. Take 2 cups of milk and stir in 1/2 cup of yogurt with ‘active/live cultures.’ Stir back into milk mixture. Replace lid on crock.

Add 1/2 cup of yogurt with 'active/live cultures'

4. Wrap the crock (still off and unplugged) in a large towel to insulate it from drafts and leave overnight (at least 8 hours, untouched).

5. Place cheese cloth over a colander and drain for a couple of hours in the refrigerator, to the thickness of your preference (I was going for Greek-style thickness).

It's the thickness of regular yogurt now, but I want it THICKER

6. Optional: Add flavor and/or sweetness.

Adding vanilla extract and honey for flavor

7. Don’t forget to save 1/2 cup for your next batch.

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this yogurt. It was thick and tangy. It didn’t even need the vanilla extract. I served it with walnuts, honey and a banana. It’s so worth the effort, even if you have Greek yogurt readily available to you because it’s so cheap (okay, maybe not, but I’ll pretend that I’ll keep making this when I go home. The truth is, I can’t wait to get back to Whole Foods to buy my favorite brand, but meantime, it’s a good replacement).

Travels

Tagging Along with the BRAVE Germans

I was introduced to a German couple at a Fourth of July party a couple of weeks ago (yes, we attended one, albeit a 4th of July party sans burgers, apple pie, or fireworks). We met up with them again this week for Happy Hour and they invited me to sightsee with them before they return home to Germany next week. Perhaps they took pity on me when I mentioned that I LIVE for weekends when Raj and I venture out, but during the weekdays, I pretty much stick to a schedule of running, laying out/reading, yoga at home, and that’s it. Their game plan was to go to a couple of galleries, a do little shopping, and then relax at a cafe–all things I LOVE! The best part of all, in addition to getting out and hanging out with anyone other than my dog, was that they hired a driver for the whole day. This may not seem like an extravagance, but given my fears of getting lost amongst streets, neighborhoods and houses that ALL look the same, this sounded perfect.

They picked me up along with our driver, someone who has been driving them around for weeks now, and we were off in search of an art gallery/cafe that was situated in a converted school. It was written up in my German companion’s travel guide as one of the ‘insider, not to be missed’ places of interest. Not surprisingly, our driver, as qualified as any local can be, got lost, but we eventually found it after stopping in a few pharmacies for directions (no convenience stores here, but pharmacies abound on every corner). Unfortunately, we weren’t sure what the place was when we arrived. We walked into a courtyard, gazed into what appeared to be gallery space, exited around the back to a stage, but there was no one there to help us out so we left, confused.

Next stop, the Jordan National Gallery of Art (pictured above). This is a two building gallery, separated across the street by a sculpture park. Lonely Planet ranks it as number 29th out of 146 (random number, I know) things to see and do in Jordan. The Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts touts itself as one of the major art museums in the Middle East. It houses a collection of modern art from the developing world and claims to be internationally recognized. The collection comprises over 2000 works including paintings, prints, sculptures, prints, sculptures, photographs, installations, weavings, and ceramics by more than 800 artists from 59 countries mainly in Asia and Africa. The galleries were nice. There was a cool cafe in the second building and I liked seeing the art projects from their kids art camp sprawled ALL over the gallery floor. You’d never see that in a museum in the States. (Note: I don’t think think I’d rank this place as high as Lonely Planet’s #29, maybe 129th.)

Following a quick drink in the cafe, we set off to City Center, the flea market center in the old part of Amman. I was extremely excited about shopping here because I know RAj would NEVER take me shopping in this area–too dangerous, too sketchy, no parking, no need to BUY ANYTHING, SAVE, SAVE, SAVE…Luckily, my brave German companions thought differently.

Sadly, I didn’t buy anything. I don’t need any scrap metal right now, but now I know where I can go when I get a hankering for sugar cane juice. This seems to be a big seller in these parts. There are huge stick of sugar cane (they look like bamboo poles) on the side of the street in buckets that they stick in a machine for what I suppose is a refreshing (calorie laden) drink.

Our last stop was Wild Jordan, the organic/locally sourced cafe that I swooned about in the post on Souk Jara. I ordered a strawberry/orange smoothie and a wonderful apple and flax-seed salad. It was a great day, but I’m sad that my German friends are leaving.

Travels

Honing Our Sense of Direction at the Roman Forum and Theater

We’ve been taking day trips outside of Amman for the past few weeks, neglecting the incredible sights that are just miles from our house. After seeing the Temple of Hercules in the distance from dinner last week at Souk Jara (the temple in Amman, not to be confused with the one we saw a couple of weeks ago in Jerash), I wanted to see the Citadel, where the temple lies. Raj and I were feeling adventurous and decided we’d drive ourselves. Have I mentioned that we don’t have a GPS (yet), street names are a relatively new phenomenon here, and people give directions using landmarks?

Roman Forum & Theater

We managed to make our way towards the Roman forum, driving through a lovely part of town that looked as though people had been evicted and their belongings were thrown into the street. This was not eviction day, just a flea market. If you need scrap metal or broken appliances, this is the place to go. We eventually spotted the theater in the distance and could easily have missed it because there weren’t any signs for it and it’s undergoing a massive renovation hiding the complex behind barricades. We made our way to the theater, which was built between 169-177 AD, during Marcus Aurelius’ reign. It was built to seat 6,000 and as you can see from the pictures, the stairs are extremely steep. We walked to the top above the seating to check out a small, empty shrine with niches. The dedication isn’t known, but part of a statue of Athena was found during excavations.

We stayed here about an hour, enjoying the views and looking off into the distance at the Temple of Hercules on the opposite hill. This is where I wanted to go next, Jebel al-Qal’a (Citadel Hill). On our way out of the theater, we quickly looked at the forum, but most of it was behind the gates of construction, so our access was severely limited.

We hopped back in the car, unsure of how to get to Jebel al-Qal’a, but how hard could it be to go directly across the hill, probably less than one mile away? Apparently it is VERY difficult because we ended up getting lost, for an hour, with only our limited sense of direction to get us back home. We made it home frazzled and decided that we’ll take a cab to Jebel al-Qal’a in a couple of weeks.

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Living in Amman

From Drab to Fab…Shanti’s Got a New Groomer

Alright, I lied. Shanit doesn’t look fab, more like sad. You see, dogs, unlike cats, are not highly esteemed in these parts. Shanti, used to monthly ‘treatments’ at the groomer and getting his teeth brushed is looking like a mess. Back in Old Town Alexandria, dogs are treated better than people (i.e. there are parks specifically for dogs, dog walkers are hard to find (because they’re booked solid despite their outrageous prices), the Hotel Monaco has ‘Yappy Hour’ in the summers for dogs and their owners). We found it so difficult to even make an appointment at the groomer that we had to have a monthly standing appointment to insure that he would be seen. Here in Amman, there are few, if any groomers, and the few that exist, operate out of veterinary clinics. Shortly after Raj arrived here, he took Shanti to the groomer/veterinarian for a hair cut. Luckily for me, I missed the trauma. As the story goes, Shanti was so upset that the veterinarian/groomer said he had to give him a sedative. Really? For a hair cut? Isn’t that overkill? (I’m curious to know how a groomer could shampoo, cut, and shave a dog that’s limp from a sedative.) Needless to say, the picture of Shanti that Raj sent to me afterwards was pathetic. He looked like a ‘plucked chicken,’ which explains the two types of dog cuts in available in Amman: shaven or trimmed (no boutique cuts). His ‘skirt’ was shaven, but nothing else, that’s why he’s sporting the dumbo, fluffy, ‘you can’t see my eyes’ look in the picture above.

As a result of the lack of grooming options in Amman, we came up with a few solutions to the dilemma. We could:

let Shanti go native and stop grooming him (but when we walk him through the trash lot around the corner at night, his fur is so long that he picks up all kinds of gunk that gets stuck in it. I really enjoyed having to cut gum out of his beard last week!)
send him back to the vet./groomer where he’ll keep getting tranquilized and will get a bad haircut (for $40 JD’s)
or, groom him ourselves with a grooming kit

As you may have guessed, we opted to try grooming Shanti for ourselves. Having never groomed a dog, Raj thought, “It can’t be that hard!” I ordered a clipper set from Amazon, but in the back of my mind I was recalling images of Schultz, my first Schnauzer and the haircuts he received under my father’s impatient hand. I’ll admit, the haircuts got better over time, but there were a number of the initial attempts that left the poor dog’s ears bloody.

Raj washed and dried Shanti and we set up shop in the kitchen (don’t cringe, there’s no outlet in the backyard for the clippers). It took about an hour and the finished product is below. It was much more difficult than we imagined (and we watched the informational DVD). Poor guy (Shanti, that is). He looks much better than he did, but this is no schnauzer cut. On the bright side, we’re anticipating saving SO much money doing Shanti’s grooming ourselves, money that I’ll surely be able to use on something for myself.

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Living in Amman

Bleaching My Way Through Amman

For the last six months, since the announcement of our assignment to Amman, I’ve been scouring the Internet for two extremely important things: a yoga studio (still nonexistent) and a reputable hair salon to get blonde highlights. Getting highlights is stressful even under the best of circumstances. When I attempt to explain the depth of my anxiety, people casually mention things like, ‘do it yourself from a box’ (all over color is not an option or worse still, let your hair grow out to its natural color (which, I might add is BLONDE. Just ask my mom and she’ll prove it to you with pictures of my childhood). The truth is, I’m not sure what color my ‘natural’ color would be, so that’s NOT an option.

Eight years ago, shortly after meeting Raj, I made the mistake of listening to my sister, Nicole, who worked with a woman whose hair we envied. She had beautiful blonde highlights and her hair was always well-maintained. We wanted her hair, but more importantly, we wanted her stylist. Nicole got the number of the stylist and we both made appointments with her separately, on different days. Nicole was up first. I don’t recall seeing her hair, but she said it was good and best of all it was CHEAPER than what we had been paying. This excited me. I went to the salon, which wasn’t in the best part of town, but what was even more disturbing was the stylist in the chair working next to mine. She/he was a transvestite and not the pretty kind–the kind that just recently changed teams and doesn’t know how to dress. Did this portend disaster? I ignored the signs. The stylist was nice and efficient. The process was different from what I was used to. She used foil, but then started saturating my hair with what I believed to be bleach because it started burning my scalp and my eyes. Most normal people would have started questioning the procedure, not me. I stuck it out counting ALL of the money I was saving and thanking my lucky stars for having such a great sister for finding this place. The stylist finished up my hair, dried and styled it, and I was on my way home to see Raj (keep in mind, we were still in the super nice courting stage). I looked in the mirror a few times before Raj got home. It looked okay to me. The color seemed a little different. I quickly called Nicole and told her about the scalding scalp treatment, which she agreed was alarming (and she couldn’t have forewarned me about this?). Raj got home and he was speechless. (Maybe he only liked me for my blonde highlights?) He tried very hard to say something nice, but couldn’t. I looked at my hair AGAIN in the light. Alright, it was pinkish and HORRIBLE. I kept trying to tell myself it wasn’t that bad. But it was.

Nicole received a few more calls, each one angrier than the last. She eventually agreed that she didn’t like her hair either…but she let me go? And she says I’m the mean one?

Raj, the metrosexual, had been seeing and following his stylist for years, moving from salon to salon with her, remaining loyal to ‘Barbara.’ I had never dated a guy who had a stylist (and spent $35 on hair cuts–even as cheap as he is!), let alone a guy who had much of an opinion about my hair. I agreed to meet with Barbara to see if she could fix my Strawberry Shortcake pink highlights. She hoomed and haahed and gave me an earful on the damage that had been done. “This will take years to fix,” she lamented and each month when I’d go in to see her, she’d point out how much more my hair would have to grow out until the damage was no longer visible (this went on for 7 years!). Both Raj and I remained loyal to Barbara until we moved to DC, sharing with her my fears of finding ANYONE qualified enough to bleach my locks. She agreed, it would be VERY, VERY difficult. [Sidenote: Did I mention that Nicole eventually started going to Barbara too? Even more interesting, she just recently returned to the same woman who made my hair pink.] Despite Barbara’s outlook, I was fortunate enough to find someone equally, if not more qualified in Old Town to manage my hair.

In researching hair salons in Amman, the only salon that was recognizable to me was Toni & Guy. I’ve never been to one, but they’re international and I used to walk by one all the time in the Mission Viejo (California) mall. I landed on June 2nd and made a hair appointment on June 3rd for July 1st, today. I was a nervous wreck going to the appointment not knowing what to expect, if I even had an appointment (because I didn’t get a phone call confirming the day before), how much it would cost (I was planning on paying in cash and didn’t know how much to bring), what to tip and the expectations of tipping (do you tip the colorist, the shampooer, and the blow out stylist and how much do you tip?)

I walked into the building that housed the Toni & Guy sign, knowing nothing other than they were on the third floor. The building was a little shabby (not as in shabby chic, either). I tried out the elevator and ended up in a parking garage (I guess I went down), got out of the elevator and tried the stairs. Luckily the stairs led to the salon and I was greeted by two lovely receptionists who welcomed me. (They were both stylish and one was wearing an LA Gear, crop t-shirt, a la 1980. Too bad I didn’t save any of mine. They’d look great with a pair of high-tops and leggings. Nonetheless, she pulled it off in a retro cool that I could never.)

The colorist immediately sat me down, offered me coffee, tea and water, and examined my hair. There wasn’t any chit-chat and he got right to work. I was worried at first. I thought I could feel the heat of BLEACH on my head, but I stuck it out. The foiling of my head took about 45 minutes and then I remained in the chair to lighten up (no steamer or heater here). In the meantime, I was served ‘special’ coffee (an espresso. I love this place!) After 30 minutes, my hair was finished and I was sent to the shampooer. My stylist asked if I had time to do a ‘treatment.’ “Sure,” I said, not knowing what the treatment was for of how much this would cost (Raj doesn’t need to know). The treatment included a fabulous 20 minute scalp massage.

When the treatment was over, I was handed off to yet another stylist who was tasked with drying my hair. He asked me how I wanted my hair, straight or full. My hair is SO straight that it’s usually not an option. I said full (let’s see what he’s got) and he did all kinds of pulling and man handling to my hair, but he got it full.

Throughout my experience, I was worrying about the cost and how much I had in my wallet. When I was finally done, three hours later, I walked to the counter and my total came to $65 for the highlight (which, by the way was a FULL and half the price of my Old Town gal) and $15 for the ‘treatment,’ so the total was $80 plus I gave a $10 tip to the stylist (I’m not sure if that’s a decent or a cheap tip or if I should have tipped the other two?). We have a fourth of July party to attend and while I was getting my hair blown out, I thought about how nice it would be to get my hair styled for the party. After paying and making my next appointment, I asked how much blow-outs cost: $7. Wow! So, I’ve got an appointment for Monday as well. All in all, it was a great experience and Raj approved of the work.

Decorating

Minor Miracle in the Kitchen

As you’ve probably noted by now, I hate this kitchen. Here are the major offenses that this kitchen is charged with:

its design (it lacks any!)
open cabinets (not one, but two)
propane oven (don’t get me started)
chartreuse colored sink with the built-in tray for a dish rack (because there’s no dishwasher!)
large window with bars (are we in the ghetto?)
funky built-in table (and we don’t have any chairs. I had to send the chairs that came with the table back to storage because they were beyond my magic repertoire–decoupage, painting, fabric…)
overhead lighting that goes on upon banging the cabinets (and we’ve had them fixed)
the converter box–if I want to use any of my appliances (i.e. Kitchenaid, etc., I have to plug them into a converter which is a HUGE, circa 1965 ugly, metal tool box looking contraption the size of a shoe box that is difficult to camouflage and potentially dangerous, not to mention you can only plug two things in at once).

None of this is charming or quaint or anything in between. It’s just ugly and I cannot live in such a state so I’ve attempted to make some minor adjustments. First on the list, the open cabinets and the window.

Before I show you what I’ve done, let’s review my constraints:

I don’t know of any fabric stores like JoAnn Fabrics, etc. where I can get fabric and notions, etc. This means I have to order online, sight unseen, which is difficult, especially with fabric.
I didn’t bring all of my crafting supplies, just a couple and nothing great.
Raj is CHEAP (He often reminds me, “we’re only here 2 years so why spend ANY money.”).

Given these obstacles, I have to say that I’m very pleased with the results. What do you think?

Here’s the before and after of the dishwasher space:

Before and after of the large cabinet to the left of the refrigerator:

…and the window treatment (it’s really hard to see anything, sorry):

It’s difficult to see what I’ve done, but I ordered a dark brown burlap (yes, Raj, it’s very cheap) and a couple of tension rods (total cost $20). One of the rods didn’t fit, so I had to improvise with some other way to hang the fabric in the tall cabinet. Luckily, I had a few decorative tacks in my craft box and hammered the fabric on the shelf above. Although I have my sewing machine here, I found it more efficient to use “steam and seam” for the seams and to attach the grosgrain ribbon onto the front panels. (If you’ve never used “steam and seam” it’s a great product). I ran out of fabric so I was forced to pull out the sewing machine to seam together what little fabric I had leftover. I staple gunned the fabric to the wood panel above the kitchen window and used more of the decorative tacks and grosgrain ribbon to finish it off. It’s so much better that I can almost step foot in the kitchen without cringing.

Living in Amman

Good Things: NetGrocer.com & Care Packages

I used to grocery shop daily, not because I had so much time or particularly cared to do so, but I never knew what I’d be preparing one day to the next. I’d complain about how tiring it was to go three different stores (within a two-mile radius): Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, and Balducci’s–each store promising exactly what I wanted anytime I needed it. These days it’s different. Say for instance I want to make macaroons (which I’ve been waiting to do since I purchased the cookbook, SugarBaby). I have to special order almond flour, or any other ingredients that I cannot find in the grocery stores in Amman in anticipation of one day making them. I’m sure there are specialty food stores that may sell almond flour, but I don’t know where these stores are located, nor does anyone I ask. I have vowed that once I get home, I will appreciate the cornucopia of options that these trifecta provide.

As excited as I was to tear into the NetGrocer box, the loot didn’t look as amazing as I remembered when I ordered it (over two weeks ago). It’s actually quite a sad lot: Saltines, Hormel pepperoni (the kind I’d never buy at home), chocolate chips, Baker’s chocolate, pretezls…It’s all normal, ordinary stuff I’d buy at ANY grocery store anywhere in the states. Nonetheless, as ordinary as this stuff may seem to those of you fortunate to enough to be able to get into you car and buy whatever your heart desires at any moment of the day, I’m so happy to have these supplies for my larder if ever I decide to make chocolate the chip cookies, brownies, cornbread, or macaroons that I desired on the day I placed the order.

And lastly, thanks to my parents for answering my plea for pork products, we finally have a small selection of salamis. This contraband is SO special that it’s going under lock and key, away from Raj, and will be rationed out and saved for VERY special occasions.

Living in Amman

Pop Quiz! What Is This?

I love a good pop quiz! I love to give them, to torment students with them, and love to take them. For those of you sadists like me, or at least my sister (who I know is equally guilty), I’m challenging you to figure out what these pictures are of and how they work together. This is a two-part quiz and if you already know what it is and how it works, you are SO much smarter than me. It took me a week to get it.

Part I: This a picture of something on the floor in the bathroom, the kitchen, and the laundry room. What do these rooms have in common? What is it?

Answer: Okay, you are super smart. It’s a drain. But on the floor? Why?

Part II: What is this?

Answer: No duh, it’s a squeegee, right. Is it for windows? No! What is the relationship between the drains and the squeegee?

Put it all together and what do you get? It’s actually quite ingenious. The drain I’ll grant you is disgusting looking. When I opened it the first time, I shuddered. I’d clean it out, but we have a ‘house cleaner’ who does that (and no, I’m not trying to sound obnoxious. I’ve never had a house cleaner because we could never afford one, but here it’s so cheap, i.e. see pedicure blog, that we can’t afford not to have someone clean the house). Anyway, I’ve witnessed the magic of the marriage these two items firsthand. You wash your floor with a mop and then squeegee all of the excess water into the drain. Isn’t that smart? Who knew? Well, you probably knew, but it took me a week to figure it out. I’ll let you tally your own score on this first pop quiz. Don’t be smug is you did well. They’ll get harder.

Decorating

A Minor Victory in the Bathroom

Check out the shower curtain in the master bathroom. Pretty, huh? Notice anything (aside from the sea-themed design including lighthouses, sailboats and shells) that isn’t quite right? Look again.

The shower curtain, which I might add is hung properly (you can see the holes in the top), is sideways–the lighthouses, sailboats, and shells are all askew. This curtain kerfuffle has been making me sick since I first stepped foot into the shower and noticed its flaw. But it’s more than just the flaw. It’s just plain ridiculous to have a sea themed shower curtain in Amman. There aren’t any sailboats or seashells or lighthouses ANYWHERE in the vicinity. Luckily for me, I came armed to Amman with a shower curtain, just in case I faced a conundrum as insurmountable as this. Below is the new and improved shower curtain. It looks much better, not awesome, but given the constraints, my new awesome is so much different then my former one. It’s a huge improvement unless you live in the sideways world.

Living in Amman

Good Things in Amman: Pedicures

I’ve been pretty negative so far. I’m going through shopping withdrawals (the only thing I’ve bought are the turquoise earrings at Jerash), I’m forced to run on a treadmill (in a lackluster gym without my own personal television attached and tuned in to The Today Show to get me through my run), I’m coping with issues of co-denpendency (from my former independent self), and I am seriously suffering from not having a yoga studio to spend ALL of my free time. Despite these issues, there was a ray of hope today found in a salon in Amman. Who knew this respite could temporarily displace my frustration?

One of Raj’s coworkers generously offered to take me to her salon for a pedicure. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was fabulous. The salon was clean and elegant. The nail technician (is that the right word?) was professional. What was even more surprising was that these nail techs were the same nationality as those in salons all across the US. Yes, they were Asian. The best part of all, the coup de gras–the only deal I’ve found in this country–the price. It was ONLY $8 JD’s. That translates to $10.40 American money. I asked how much to tip the gal and was told $1 JD ($1.30 US–please don’t make me feel badly about this!). The last pedicure I had in Old Town Alexandria was $25 for the cheapest version, plus a $4 tip and I was rushed in and out in 25 minutes. Here I spent a leisurely hour being pampered. Given the pedicure situation, things are looking up.