BREAKING THE Q RULE: AQABA

I haven't worked in over 3 months, so it seemed about time for a vacation. My friend Bryce and I headed down to the only seaport in Jordan: Aqaba. Notice the lack of a "u" following the "q". This doesn't happen at all in the English language and could help you answer a question on Jeopardy one day. The Gulf of Aqaba is very nice to swim in, even if an underwater sewage pipe had dumped thousands of gallons of sewage into it the day before we arrived. 

Driving continues to be very exciting in a country where the horn is a way of life. I was warned not to drive at night as camels get stupid after the sun goes down. The camel featured here was tied up at the park at 6 am when I took this picture. He was out in town with his owner the night before. The tourists see this silly animal and are compelled to take a picture, then the owner asks for money. This camel was so well trained that when I started shooting him without the presence of his owner, the fucker wouldn't stand still and kept ruining my shots. He kept moaning, and if I understood camel, I'm sure he was saying, "one dinar asshole!" So just to spite him I cranked my shutter speed with the hope of getting the shot anyways. The camel then started making stupid faces to ruin the shot. Well trained indeed.

MY FIRST PHOTO JOB IN JORDAN

Full disclosure: no money changed hands, but I was physically working as a photographer. My friend Hazim is the CEO of Kulacom, an internet service provider here in Amman. He was interviewed yesterday by UMen magazine, and asked if he could provide his own photographer: me. Another of countless examples of my friends hooking me up over here. I spent the afternoon trying to capture the youthful coolness of his new company with my camera and a few strobes. These are a few of my favorite pictures. I'm not sure what the magazine will ultimately use. I did learn a few cultural lessons today. First off, smiling is not a natural Arab reaction to a camera, and secondly, sitting on a ledge with legs raised toward the chest is considered feminine. Good to know. No wonder I've been getting funny looks. 

JORDAN ROCKS

It's not every night in Amman that you can head out and hear live Michael Jackson cover songs. Well, it happened last night courtesy of my friend Emad Alaeddin, frontman for the band Avowed. Emad played for a sitting room only crowd of over 40 people. He respectfully stopped right in the middle of "Losing My Religion" to observe the Muslim call to prayer and followed by asking if there were any porn stars in the audience. The epitome of class. Emad (aka Emo) is bringing out his entire band in July for a very special show here in Amman. They will be playing in the parking lot of the Landmark Hotel. Get your tickets now, or to save money, just park your car in the lot the night before.  

ALAS, AN INTERESTING SUBJECT!

Imagine you just built yourself a million dollar house in the US. You have some land, a nice view of the rolling foothills, and there happens to be a vacant lot across the street. A month or so after moving in a Native American decides to take up residency in the vacant lot, sets up his teepee, brings an assortment of farm animals, and then knocks on your door and asks to borrow some power to run his TV. Hard to imagine? Of course. We fucked the native inhabitants of our country. But here in Jordan, the Bedouin do whatever they please, and yes, set up camp wherever they please, like across the street from my friends' lavish home. They are above the law. So I walked about 100 yards from my friends game room and asked if it was ok to take their pictures, got the nod of approval, and took my first interesting photos here in Jordan.

I learned later that some of the Bedouin in Jordan are involved in a bizarre sex trade. Women from other countries come here and pay big money for the opportunity to sleep with one of these constant roamers. I believe the saying is, "once you've had Bedouin, you never go back". I tried to confirm this information online, but couldn't find anything on the subject. So, seizing on the opportunity, I've decided to become a Bedouin pimp. If you have any desire to sleep with a Bedouin in Jordan, please click here. 

DOES THIS HAPPEN IN NORTH KOREA TOO?

Anyone who has traveled the world knows that no matter where you go on this planet, inevitably all the billboards and advertisements will feature white Americans. Here in Jordan it's no different. That got me thinking about countries like Somalia and North Korea. I think it's fair to say without being stereotypical that these particular countries do not like Americans. Perhaps in those countries their billboards actually feature local models? A young strapping Somali wearing a shiny new Rolex, or a hot North Korean clad only in black lace panties. If it wasn't a hazard to my health I'd travel to these places to find answers, as I'm sure my many loyal blog followers want to know. 

The bottom photo has nothing to do with my heading. It is just a view from the roof of Kulacom, Amman's best wi-max provider, despite the fact that their marketing department has chosen to use the phrase "super-size" in their package options. Even McDonalds has moved away from that one. Why not call it the "2M on crack" package. That's original and euphonious.  

MY FRIEND BRYCE

My friend Bryce is the most generous person I know. He also hates to be photographed or to have his generosity noted, so I hope he misses this entry. I snuck outside to take this photo while he was smoking, which is a perfect example of his generous spirit. Since I arrived in Jordan a few days ago, Bryce has taken to smoking outside, as he knows I hate the smell of smoke. I told him, "Bryce, it's your apartment, do whatever the fuck you want." But he goes outside in the 90 degree heat to smoke. A little irony here is that I'm an ex-smoker who got Bryce smoking in the first place back in college. The world could use a few more people like my friend Bryce.    

MY FIRST WALK WITH A CAMERA

Well, these aren't much, but they are my first shots here in the Middle East. The fact is I'm living in West Amman. This is where the haves live, totaling about 7% of the population. The other 93% are the ones I need to be out meeting and photographing, like the roughly one million Palestinian and Iraqi refugees living in squalor just outside the city. But just because you're in the Jordanian elite doesn't mean you can't have random horses hanging out in a vacant lot across from your million dollar home. On my walk today I passed a Safeway, a Porsche dealer, and a Lamborghini dealer. American consumerism is alive and well here, at least for 7% of the population. One thing that would make a tree-hugging Portlander cringe is the amount of trash everywhere and that recycling is unheard of (I threw away 2 Coke cans today alone). Another foriegn concept is the idea that smoking is bad for you. After coming home from the bar last night, where I was literally the only non-smoker, my metal watch even reeked of smoke. After I showered, the Q-tip I used smelled like smoke. An ex-smokers nightmare. Another thing to adjust to from Portland, arguably the beer capital of the USA, most bars here serve only one beer: Amstel.