Praan

This photo is a still from one of the latest and greatest viral videos on the internet of some dude named Matt doing his little jig in seemingly every different country on the planet. He's even dancing in Wadi Rum! The famed desert of Lawrence of Arabia, and where Ketan and I travelled last weekend.

Check out the video here: www.wherethehellismatt.com (it will surely put a smile on your face)

I'm borrowing today's blog title from the song that plays during this video called Praan sung by Palbasha Siddique, a Bangladeshi born teenager from Minnesota who's become an overnight sensation (amazon.com top ten downloads). The song lyrics are from a poem by Rabindranath Tagore, and yes, it's sung in my native language, Bengali. The title Praan translates to "life."

You can download the song here: https://www.yousendit.com/download/TTdHRGx3TXZEa1ZjR0E9PQ

(if you like it, be sure to buy it on Amazon.com downloads to support a new artist!)

Our three day trip to explore neighboring Jordan really brought me back to life, by providing a much needed break from the office and the tiny island of Bahrain. Throughout our trip we were blown away by the hospitality and courtesy of the Jordanian people; whatever Jordan lacks in oil compared to Bahrain and Saudi, it makes up ten-fold in the warmth of its citizens. This was evident even with the ever-present airport taxi drivers trying to hustle a passenger-- upon being turned down would end each conversation with "Welcome to Jordan."

Our rental car was the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen. We had burned CDs for the long car rides awaiting us to find that the thing had only a tape deck. The car was reminiscent of a Yugo in size but drank gas like a Hummer. The one saving grace is that it was a manual transmission, which meant that I would have the chance to learn to drive stick!

What's that? Lame you say that I don't know how to drive stick? Well I do now, (sort of), and I ask how many of you learned how to drive stick while driving at night in a foreign country through a secure military zone? Ah yes, that brings me back to how nice the Jordanians are… the US armed forces are without doubt the greatest concentration of military might the world has ever seen, but I'm afraid to say that the Jordanians have us beat on pure politeness.

An impromptu trip to the Dead Sea late in the afternoon brought us to our destination in the dead of night. "No worries, we'll just find a spot to pull over and take a quick dip." We were eager to experience the salt filled water that makes you so buoyant that you float like a cork. With Islam's holy symbol, a crescent moon, floating on the horizon it seemed like an auspicious time to go float in the sliver of salty water that separates Jordan from Israel. We pulled over at the side of the road in a turnout, and were soon approached by a truck with its headlights right on us… out steps a middle aged man in full military uniform.

Ketan and I: [roll down the window of our car with a collective look of "oh shit" on our faces]

Military guy: Why have you stopped?

Ketan: "Oh we're just deciding where to go."

Military guy: "eh… you cannot stop here, this is a secure military zone."

Ketan and I: Profusely apologizing through gesture and words and saying, "Sorry sorry, we'll leave, we'll leave."

Military guy: "No…. It's ok… you can stay, but eh… just leave very soon, and welcome to Jordan!"

We thanked him and left immediately.

Like I said, these guys are the nicest military ever. Can you freaking imagine the converse of this situation??? Two Arab dudes pulling over in a secure military zone in the US not speaking a lick of English- they would be in Guantanamo Bay getting their balls shocked before you can say George W. Bush.

The encounters with armed Jordanian soldiers and police continued-- increasing in hilarity thanks to some grand miscommunication. At another checkpoint we were stopped by a Jordanian police officer, who was again very friendly…

Cop: "Something something something" [in Arabic]

Us: "Sorry, we only speak English"

Cop: "Ah, welcome to Jordan, passports please."

Us: [Hand over passports]

Cop: [looks at them and hands them back] "Uh… please… step out of the car."

Us: "God help us." [Ketan starts to unbuckle his seat belt.]

Now at this point Ketan is driving, so I'm thinking if they're going to pull him out of the car and do Lord knows what to him, I'd prefer to at least be outside so I can provide eye witness testimony. So I look over to the cop, and ask while gesturing to myself and outside, "Me too?" A look of great concern washes over the cop's face and he waves his hands frantically, "No no no! Paper of the car, Paper of the car!!"

Thank God. He wanted the insurance papers, but when we heard "paper of the car" we had collectively seen enough episodes of 24 to have heard in our minds, "step out of the car."

My favorite encounter was with a jovial young soldier holding an assault rifle with his buddies behind him manning a truck-mounted 50 caliber machine gun. This guy had to be one of the friendliest we encountered. He initially spoke to us in Arabic, then asked us where we were from, welcomed us to Jordan, laughed a bit, paused, and then said…

Soldier: "You must, uh… you must give me… the password."

Us: "Ahh, ha ha ha, yes, the password, of course, ha ha." *nudge nudge wink wink*

[The both of us are sort of nervously laughing and then Ketan in a fit of genius comes up with a password.]

He lookes at the guard and says, "Yes, the password, ok, uh… Insha'Allah." Now, I'm a bit nervous with joking around with any password that references God Almighty, but I say nothing and maintain a stupid looking grin on my face.

The guard looks plainly confused. He stares at us again, "Passports. Passports."

The man had said, "you must give me the passport," and Ketan had responded , "God willing!"

Luckily the man just took us for imbeciles and let us on our merry way.