Three's a charm.

Every time I come to the Middle East, they lose my luggage. This time was no exception. Third trip; third time losing my luggage. It turns out that the woman "who knew what to do" didn't do what she was supposed to do. None of my clothes have yet to see Jordanian soil. The worrisome thing is that no one seems to know who's soil they have seen. It's a good thing I know how to hand wash.

We arrived at the the hotel about 2 am, and all I wanted to do was to shower and sleep. I must have been even more tired then I thought since each time I bent down to pick up the soap, I banged my head on the toilet! Needless to say, I didn't need the Advil PM that night to help me sleep.

Later that day, (today?), We went to breakfast at a pastry shop. We had traditional Jordanian food and then I went shopping for some of the things that, thanks to the woman who knew what to do, I'm missing, like shampoo and toothpaste. For dinner we went to a Lebanese restaurant.It was beautiful we sat under goat hair tents, on large overstuffed pillows eating hummus and baba ganouish, pickles and hot peppers. You know, I forgot how much I LOVE the Middle East, sitting under the tent, looking at the stars peaking in, eating mezze, then watermelon and drinking Turkish coffee a great feeling came over me. I like the Middle East, the slowness, the stark beauty, the conversation, the cool breezy nights....

Then, in the middle of our conversation, our tour guide's brother called. He had tickets to the soccer game. Anyone who wanted to go could go. Now I would never considered going to a soccer game at home, I find sports in general, boring. As a friend once said, "There's no plot development." Yet when traveling, everything is an adventure for me, so I went.

Who was playing?

Iraq vs Iran.

I would be lying if I said the first view of all the Iraqi flags flying everywhere didn't make my stomach queasy, but before you know it I was waving the little paper Iraqi flag that a young boy gave to me. Smiling he said,"California, California- My uncle lives in California- San Diego. I wanted to go to California to visit him, but some people there don't like Arabs. They hate our way of life and want to destroy our country." Interesting, isn't it? His words seemed eerily familiar. Propaganda is propaganda. I wonder if both sides have the same spin doctor.

I walked in and wondered if they knew that I was an American. How would they feel if they saw an American woman holding an Iraqi flag? My trepidations were for nothing though. Before I knew it I was chanting, "Iraq! Iraq!" and clapping to the drums beating. It was surrealistic to say the least, and yet even more familiar. All around me energy pulsated throughout the air as if charged by an electric current. Children, faces painted with Iraqi flags, and excited by being together, yelled and screamed while jumping up and down. Men watched each play intently, showing great joy with each goal and appearing mortally wounded by each upset.

People are people, no mater what.