Tag Archive | Jordan

Fifteen minutes at Carrefour


I went speed shopping at Carrefour recently. Carrefour is the Jordanian version of Target (say Tar-zhay) but they really are French. I despise shopping so I set sight on my target and head towards the checkout. I don’t think anyone can get in and out of City Mall faster than I can, even with kids […]

Ode to Atayef


Pillowy pancakes stuffed with cheese or nuts Gotta have some. No ifs, ands, or buts. With your syrup so sweet You make our Ramadan complete How we love you to fill our guts. . . Steaming fresh rounds made before us Store bought to avoid all the fuss. Taken home to stuff, I get more […]

Taxi!


This was first posted on March 3, 2010 and I am now reposting it in honor of Ugly Duckling’s post, Characteristics of a Jordanian Cab Driver. She is so dead on with her observations, yet again. What am ¬†doing here in front of my computer before even drinking my first cup of coffee when I […]

Just so you know, the chicken comes first.


At least that’s how it goes on the soon to be egg-producing chicken farm my husband is starting. Today we took the kids on a road trip a half an hour’s drive out of Amman to see the farm for the first time. The chickens are growing nicely and by the end of summer we […]

My Favorite Things – The Sound of Music Meets Jordan


Reposting my love song to Jordan today in honor of Eid al Istiqlal, Independence Day! While I love to hear the Jordanian National Anthem, I can only hum along. Enjoy your day, everyone. Eat some shawarma or mansaf, your choice! Long live the King! Inspired by the 50 things we love about Jordan and kinzi’s […]

Luck of the Iris


We ate lunch by the barn, a simple meal of fresh baked bread, Lebeneh, falafel, and olives, until we were all fed. The children drove the car around an empty field No one around to stop them or even make them yield. My eldest eagerly offered me an iris of black Jordan’s flowers grew wildly […]

Why, Don’t You Look Like A Spring Chicken?


I spent a lot of time growing up just hanging around at my grandparent’s house. They lived on a farm at the end of a winding road in the hills of Pennsylvania. My grandfather was actually born on that farm. That farm has a name, Greenwald Farm, because it was walled in with green mountains. […]