GRIN AND BARRETT

Angry Aggies: Retraction

2011-12-06T15:35:00.001-08:00

This is my formal apology to any who participated in the silent protest in a recent Utah State game.

In my previous post I employed no restraint as I criticized Aggie basketball fans. I went so far as to call them "classless" and their actions "ridiculous." My words were premature and founded on a single article, cited in the scathing post. Any who took offense at my article were victims of my failure to further investigate the incident. I am sorry.

The Salt Lake Tribune article specifically stated that the three minutes of silence came because the students were "angered by a formal letter of apology from USU President Stan Albrecht." It has been brought to my attention that the silence came about for a different reason.

I was misled by the Tribune.

The Herald Journal was cited on ESPN.com as saying that "Utah State students remained silent during the first three minutes of the game in protest of an usher [who] had told them before the game that cursing and pointing at opposing players was not allowed (emphasis added)."

That changes everything.

What would sports be without trash-talk, yelling, or taunting? Sports can be an outlet for what can't be done elsewhere. While tackling someone to the ground accompanied by a triumphant chest-slap is perfectly acceptable in a football game, doing so in a Dick's Market bread aisle would merit some jail time. Imagine boxing someone out for a position at the drinking fountain. Without this outlet for both players and fans, the world would be a much crueler and violent place.

As it turns out, it was an usher who prompted the silent protest. And, admittedly, I probably would have participated. Although I still think that Aggies went too far with Brandon Davies, I agree that sports would not be the same without passionate fans who do whatever they can to help their teams win. That's why home-court advantage is so vital. All courts are the same: 94 x 50 ft, 10 ft high rims, and 15 ft free throw lines. The key difference is the atmosphere created by the fans.

Aggies, I beg your forgiveness. Please understand that I was misled by the Salt Lake Tribune. I should have researched first through ESPN, the source of everything sports.

Angry Aggies

2011-12-01T09:35:00.001-08:00

Classless.

Such a belittling word. The most famous usage of the adjective in recent Utah history was made in 2009 by BYU Quarterback Max Hall. After squeezing out a 26-23 victory in the once hostile rivalry, Hall rattled, "I don't like Utah. In fact, I hate them. I hate everything about them...I think the whole university, their fans and their organization, is classless (emphasis added)."

Although Hall issued an apology note, those lines will never be forgotten by Cougs and Utes. What a pity it is that Hall decided to end his (somewhat) successful college career on such a negative note. As a Ute alumnus myself, I initially was angered by Hall's words. Over time I have chosen to believe that Max was "in the heat of the moment" and extremely exaggerated his emotions. He knew nothing about the University outside the realm of football. That's what I choose to believe.

However, classless is the one word that came to mind when I heard this story on the news last night:

"Angered by a formal letter of apology from USU President Stan Albrecht to BYU for the students' treatment of Brandon Davies during a season-opening win over the Cougars, the Aggie students sat and watched in retaliation. They started cheering as usual at the 17-minute mark of the first half, but even then the atmosphere was quiet, lackluster and not anywhere close to its usual noise level."

(You can read the rest of the article here.)

That is a classless act.

I understand freedom of speech and the right to express your opinion. I understand (and am even guilty of) taunting opposing players. However, there is definitely a point past which the taunts are too personal, too degrading, and downright too much.

My dad once told me about a college basketball game in which the students were holding up posters that read, "Are you making daddy proud?" and the like. The posters were directed at an opposing player whose father had passed away the previous week. That is going too far.

Yes, Brandon Davies broke the honor code. True, he was suspended from BYU. We don't know all the details, nor do we need to know the details. What we do know is that Davies faced this ugly situation like a man and is back on the court.

Utah State Aggies apparently don't care.

Students made posters with humiliating phrases (that I dare not repeat to keep this blog family-friendly), chanted, and yelled things at Davies all night. The Aggies came away with a win over the in-state rival, even if it was in poor fashion.

I'm not referring to the posters nor the chants. Those are to be expected, even though I like to think that I wouldn't participate in something so petty. I'm sure Davies goes into every Away game expecting the shallow signs and chants, but remember that it was Davies who overcame humiliation and fought to become eligible again.

What really bothered me was this retaliation effort in the game immediately following the university-issued apology to BYU. The usually loud and riotous crowd sat silently for a whopping three minutes to prove...what exactly? To prove how childish college students can be? To prove that they really meant every demeaning word they directed toward Davies, as if he had personally offended them? I struggle to find the purpose in this little protest they pursued.

Like with Max Hall, I'll choose to believe that the ridicule towards Davies was carried out "in the heat of the moment." Utah State students are passionate about basketball, the only athletic program that puts several W's on their schedule each year. But the in-game protest was too much for me to accept as "ok."

To put it kindly, I am disappointed with the Utah State students who organized and participated in the three minutes of silence.

If I were to be mean about it, I would tell the student body (at least those at the game) to get over themselves. Your president did the right thing by issuing an apology. Your temper tantrum was a little ridiculous.

Again, that's what I would say if I were a mean person.

Book Review: The Holy Temple

2011-11-16T18:04:00.001-08:00

Two months ago I began a new job. On the morning of my first day, I remember thinking, "I should take a book with me - you know, to read during lunch or something." Quickly scanning the bookshelf, I grabbed an older looking book called The Holy Temple by Boyd K. Packer. The lessons taught from that old book would soon surprise me.

The book has been republished several times. My book was from the first printing in 1980, a hard-cover book with a grey cover and an image of a handle that can be found on the doors of the Salt Lake Temple. Inside the front cover is an inscription to my parents. "Dear Brent and Ginger," it reads. "On this important event, we wish you all the choicest blessings of the Lord as you begin another eternal family." After a few more words, it was signed by my parents then-bishopric.

Reading that inscription made the book much more important to me. I imagined my 31-years-younger and unmarried parents. They had no idea what lay ahead. How can a young couple prepare for seven children and all that accompanies them? Very carefully indeed. I'm not certain, but I feel confident in saying that my parents read this book together as they began their vicious and vivacious voyage known as 'marriage.'

A better part of the book addresses the doctrine behind temples: why we have them, what is done in them, what their role is in the eternities. I can't tell you how many times "turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers" appeared on the pages. Elder Packer outlines the origin of temple ordinances, the role of Elijah, and the restoration in the Latter days. He also explains the importance of making and keeping the covenants made within the holy walls of the temple. The chapters are truly a textual feast, requiring a vigilant eye for complete comprehension.

Admittedly, this portion of the book was somewhat difficult for me to enjoy. Not that I found its teaching unimportant, because I do, but because I was not giving the information its due attention. In retrospect I wish I would have a notepad and pen with my scriptures nearby. So much information is fascinating during the moments of reading, but I find it hard to reproduce. "I read the most amazing chapter today, but I can't tell you what it was about." Internalizing the information was difficult for me.

The last section of the book fortified the link between temples and family history. They are one and the same, actually. Elder Packer expounded on the extreme importance for each member of the church to discover their family story. It is not enough to go to the temple to perform ordinances for names that have been found. Good, yes. Best? No. As I finished the final page of the book I felt a new vigor for family history. It is the most important work we can do on Earth and in heaven.

Why is it so important? Read the book. You'll understand why. I always considered family history to be something we can do on the side if we have time when we're older. Only now do I realize that this is to be a priority in my life.

But how to begin....

Calories from Technology: 4G

2011-11-14T21:25:00.001-08:00

I saw a commercial tonight. It was an advertisement for a bank - I can't remember which. It showed a man, well-groomed, sitting in a chair. He stands, puts on a jacket, a hat, a scarf. Then he just stands there, ready to go. He then takes the smart phone from his pocket, taps it several times, removes his scarf, his hat, his jacket, and sits back down. The ad effectively showed the foolishness of actually going to your bank to do banking. Why drive to the bank to make a deposit when you can do so from your home, car, or seat during a football game? Get it done now, from anywhere, because you deserve it.

As the commercial ended, I couldn't help but feel angry. "What a lazy dope," I thought. Instead of marveling at the ease of online banking, my catalog of memories brought forth images of fat people in suits of red and blue sailing around in hoverchairs.

Yes. I thought of WALL-E.

I remember watching this Disney delight for the first time and thinking, "Wow. We read your message loud and clear, Disney." The film's charming robots disguise to children what can be a fear for adults: we're losing ourselves.

Is technology making us more lazy? Or is it freeing up more time so we can do other things?

Although I think technology is great, I have my reservations about it. Yes, it's wonderful that we can text. It's very appropriate in some cases. Not so in others. It definitely takes away human element and can be very misleading. I remember when someone would actually care enough about me to make a personal invitation over the phone - with their voice - to a party rather than a thoughtless mass text.

There are two kinds of Bluetooth users: those who understand the purpose of Bluetooth, and those who don't. I giggle inside when I see someone holding their phone in front of their face while wearing a Bluetooth receiver. The whole point of Bluetooth is to be "hands free." Is it really easier to have the phone a few inches away from your face? Why not go a few inches more, remove the Bluetooth, and use it like a normal phone? Apparently some people don't understand that you can leave your phone in your pocket and talk.

Another technology I find amusing: electric staplers. Electric pencil sharpeners is something I can get behind. They're fast and can get your pencil as pointed as a needle. (I hated those sharpeners fastened to the wall. You change the angle of your pencil by a few degrees and you had to start all over again.) But staplers are hard to use incorrectly. You hit the top part hard enough to put the staple through the paper. I witnessed a man who would was using an electric stapler to attach two sheets of paper to each other and remember thinking how pathetic it was.

The point is that technology goes too far in some cases. Here I am criticizing technology when I saw a commercial over the internet on my laptop, which I am now using to type this outrageously long blog post about nothing.

Why me?

2011-10-28T13:56:00.000-07:00

All active Facebookers will remember a time not too long ago that I like to call the "doppelgänger era." Officially, a doppelgänger is "an apparition or double of a living person." So someone in the facebook realm decided to popularize that word by encouraging people to search out their celebrity double.

It was my favorite facebook period ever. I usually don't spend too much time perusing through profile pics, but some were just too precious to pass up. Very average to below-average looking friends of mine would choose the most gorgeous/handsome celebrity to be their look-alike. All the sudden girls realized (more like hoped) that they looked like Carrie Underwood. Dudes would put up shirtless pictures of Matthew McConaughey or some other hunky male. And the best thing was that we, the Facebook public, were supposed to buy it. It pleased me to know that some people think so highly of themselves.

As for me, I never posted a doppelgänger. Why? Because up to that point I was just Brady Barrett, an individual without a look-alike. I wasn't about to post a Bradley Cooper or Brad Pitt mostly because I look nothing like them. But within the last year, I have been getting "You look like..." comments. I'm not flattered by them, either.

Seth Green. I've gotten this one several times. For some reason being compared to Dr. Evil's outcast son doesn't tickle my fancy.

Seth Rogen. Can't say I'm hot on this one either. And why "Seth?" Two Seth's?

I'm extremely upSeth about this.

Perspectives

2011-10-27T10:04:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how we all have different perspectives.

I roll my eyes when I see hipsters with their weird clothes and music because I feel like it's all an act.

I question heavy metal "musicians" with their screaming and guitar shredding because I find them to be completely nuts.

I finally look up Pinterest to see what the big deal was and found it to be boring and rather worldly.

Don't even get me started with women and their obsession with "Twilight." I have even more to say about BYU fans with their fight song, Davis High with their mascot, and why people think gift cards are better than cash.

My curse

2011-10-21T14:57:00.000-07:00

A curse is "a solemn utterance to invoke a supernatural power to inflict harm or punishment on someone or something." Sounds about right.

I am 100% serious in saying that a curse besets me. I believe in supernatural powers. How else would you explain this?

You would not believe how many times in a week I see this time. 11:34. Before lunch. Before bed. It doesn't matter. It's the most mind-numbing thing I've ever witnessed. Often I see this time twice in a single day. Absurd.

Normally I wouldn't care much about something so trivial as this. In fact, I would almost welcome it in most cases. But not this. Everything was groovy in life until I realized what I was seeing. You see 11:34. I see this:

hEll. I see hEll, and I see it a lot. It's been disturbing me since I laughed at some kid's solo tryout in choir.

The songs in my head.

2011-10-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

My little brother was watching Spongebob Squarepants when I walked into the living room on Sunday morning. After pouring myself a bowl of granola, I sat next to him, took hold of the remote (we call it "channel changer") and said, "Really, Ben? Spongebob?" Noticing my determination to change the channel, Ben simply said, "Just watch this one episode, Brady. You'll like it."

I watched it. And I liked it.

In this particular episode, Spongebob finds himself smitten with song: one song. "Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doodle. Listen again to my musical doodle..." Over and over he sings, whistles, and hums this tune. In the beginning he loves the song, but he slowly realizes that it's plaguing every aspect of his life. He can't sleep. He can't work. That darn musical melody encumbers his entire existence. In the end, Spongebob finally rids himself of the tune and can return to normal life. It was actually pretty hilarious, and I thank my brother for introducing me to the humor under the sea.

I find I have a similar problem.

I'm not an iPod junkie. Yes, I own a 2nd generation 4G nano that holds a small assortment of Michael Jackson, Boston, Journey, and just a pinch of Empire of the Sun that I occasionally use on runs. But I find no satisfaction in seeking out the no-name bands to make myself "unique" and "cultured" so that I can say, "Well, I liked [enter band here] before they were popular." I know some people (self-proclaimed 'hipsters') think that saying this is impressive or cool, when it is, in fact, plain annoying. So you found music that everyone likes before everyone liked it. Great job.

Back to Spongebob: I've gone through my share of song-stuck-in-my-head phases. Throughout high school when I felt the desire to sing, the only tune in my head was "Goin' Courtin'" from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. For some reason that was my go-to song going through puberty. After that it was "And I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston. It wasn't my fault. When I get a song in my head, it stays there for a long time.

I have occasional relapses, but for the most part I sing a song to a gruesome death and move on, never looking back. You're wondering what my current song is, aren't you? "Play that Funky Music" recorded by Wild Cherry. At least this tune is somewhat hip rather than a song from a musical or a song about love.

My hobby.

2011-10-13T15:55:00.000-07:00

Google defines "hobby" in this way:

An activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure.
A migratory Old World falcon (genus Falco) with long narrow wings, catching dragonflies and birds on the wing.

While the second definition is certainly intriguing, as I had never heard of a hobby in this sense, I wish to discuss how the first definition applies to me. I have thought much about hobbies during my lifetime. I see others who read, bake, craft, build, hunt, game, work, watch, and date for their hobby. Often I find myself upset that I don't seem to have that one thing that defines who I am.

I suppose I run. Running is definitely an activity done regularly in my leisure time for pleasure. I guess you can call it "pleasure," anyway. It's something that's been a part of my life since my early teens. I have my older sister to thank for that. When she was in high school/early college she would invite me to join her on her jogs. I found myself enjoying it so much that I became the first Barrett to join the cross country team. Three years of running with the Viking produced some of my best memories and friends from high school. And the legacy continues today.

My older brother joined the team the same year I did. One of my sisters ran all three years of high school, and another sister is just finishing her second year. I've been more than proud of them and have been privileged to run with them in other events. We've run several 5k races together and even a half marathon or two. My brother and I even competed in a triathlon which turned into quite the running event when the swim was replaced with another 5k. Run, bike, run. We did well and had a blast doing it.

I've decided recently that running without an iPod can be quite soothing. Maybe I feel that way because it's easier to keep a steady pace when you listen to yourself breathing rather than the beat of the radio. I find myself speeding up and slowing down according to the rhythm of songs. Lately I have been running with a buddy and we sparsely chat throughout our miles. Yesterday, due to my friend's sprained ankle, I ran by myself. Without music. And it was one of the fastest runs I've ever done for that distance. My testimony of music-less running was strengthened when I exercised confidence in silence.

So, running is my hobby. It's what I do regularly for pleasure.

Politcally incorrect

2011-10-12T15:51:00.000-07:00

I recently graduated from the University of Utah with a degree in Business Information Systems and Political Science. Thankfully I was able to find employment that will use, and expand, my technical knowledge and skills. What a blessing and relief it was to find a good job amid such economic lulls. In the first few weeks of my job I have faced satisfaction and frustration, with glimpses of greatness and even bigger glimpses of failure. But that's how a new job is, I suppose.

Why the combo of information systems and political science? Because I found myself in the business school disliking accounting, which led me to do an internship in DC where I became interested in politics. I enjoyed being in the political world, especially the nation's capital. Since then I have followed political activity, though somewhat casually.

Maybe I didn't take the right courses. Maybe I didn't pay attention in class. And maybe I just don't care that much about politics, but I think it gets so silly.

I like the political process. I think it is good that laws cannot be passed all willy-nilly.

What I do not appreciate, however, is the childish bickering that we see every day. I don't like the personal attacks on personality, religion, family, or anything else of that matter. America is like a business, in my opinion, so the person in power should be qualified. Besides that, especially in this time of crisis, little else matters.

Why does it matter if the president is man or woman? Black or white? Muslim, Christian, or Jew? I spent my summer in Jordan and have seen incredible Muslim people. I've seen horrible Muslim people (who steal backpacks that contain everything necessary to live in the Middle East). I know excellent Latter-day Saints and pathetic Latter-day Saints. You'll find what you are looking for in any religion, or atheism for that matter, so I don't understand how that matters in any way.

I get confused about the stark divide between Republicans and Democrats. Once, while discussing politics with some friends, I was told that "people who say they're Independent are ignorant and don't understand politics at all. They're stupid."

What's more stupid than refusing to budge on some issue because of political parties? From what I know, Independents consider themselves to be in the middle, willing to work with either side. And the problem with that is....?

Some bosses are jerks. I dare say that most bosses are jerks. But why are they the bosses? Because they do things. They finish things. They delegate things. No one cares about their personal life.

I realize there is much to consider when talking about politics. America isn't a business. America is not a religion. But seeing what happens every day in the political world is sickening to me. Never would I ever consider running for political office. I wouldn't want to give anyone the opportunity to write about how incapable I am of running a town because I eat at a certain restaurant or read the wrong newspaper.

For fear of sounding anti-American, I end my rant here. I love America. I cherish America.

(Cue Neil Diamond's "They're Coming to America.")

It's all about the execution.

2011-09-22T15:24:00.000-07:00

I like to watch sports. Basketball, soccer, football, tennis, and most other sports. I even remember watching Olympic Power-Walking and enjoying it very much. It was very weird, though, especially during the slow-motion replays. Seriously, does Power-Walking need slow-motion?

The commentary during sporting events is 100% necessary. Watching a game with no volume is bothersome because there is so much to learn. Rules that need explaining. Inspiring stories that need to be told. And those magical moments just wouldn't be the same without a good scream of excitement. Imagine watching the Jazz vs. Houston without someone yelling, "John Stockton sends the Utah Jazz to the NBA Finals!" How was it? Thought so.

Commentating is great. But what really is beginning to irk me more and more are the post-game/post-match interviews. While I enjoy listening to others giving their educated opinion about the game, I find no reason to question the coaches, whether they won or lost. They all give the same darn reason for the outcome of the game: execution.

"Coach Mendenhall, why did you lose so badly to the Utes?"

"Because we didn't execute our plays."

(I think he is the coach that is most guilty of using the word "execute." I like Bronco as a man and coach, but my goodness, choose another word.)

If a team won a game, it's because they "executed" their plays. If a team lost a game, it's because they "didn't execute" their plays.

Are we stupid? Is there really nothing else to be said about a game? "We didn't execute our plays, so we lost." "They executed and ended up winning the game."

I feel like executing the next person who talks about the game's execution.

And what does "execute" even mean?

Think of a complicated basketball play: Stockton at the top of the key. Malone and Ostertag underneath. Hornacek and Anderson on the elbows. Malone steps up, sets the screen on Kevin Johnson, then rolls toward the basket. Stockton lobs the ball to Malone, who attempts a lay-up. He misses. Bulls rebound and gain possession of the ball.

Was the play "executed?" Is a play only "executed" when it puts points on the board? Maybe. But people (Bronco), please find a different word! Or a different excuse. Or just something better to say. Using "execute" over and over to explain both wins and losses is getting super old.

Recent doings.

2011-07-31T01:54:00.000-07:00

It's been a few weeks since my last post. Losing many important things wears on you a bit, and I haven't dedicated any amount of time to blogging. I'm sorry to you, person who follows me, for having deprived you of such blogging bliss.

"And then there were few."

The summer has been very dynamic with many departures and arrivals. The Zaytoon group staggered their interns throughout the summer. Some have been here since April. Others were here for only 2 weeks. At one time there were about 16 of them here. Now that things are winding down there are but a few. So few, in fact, that they have consolidated all into one apartment. I am fortunate enough to be living in that apartment, though I have nothing (legally or internship-ly) to do with Zaytoon.

One of the interns who went home was kind enough to lend me her camera for the remaining three weeks. I'm glad she did, because if not, I wouldn't have been able to capture this:

Mansef. The traditional plate of Jordan. Me (with my buzzed head) and Skye (with his old-man goatee) traveled to Aghwar, an area to the south of Amman. We were their on behalf of the Ministry of Social Development to help with a training presentation. Afterwards, they provided lunch, hence the mansef. It's a rice-lamb combo with some sort of yogurt sauce all piled onto some tortilla-like flatbread. Delicious. Here's the best part: although they brought out some plates and spoons, only few were needed. Why? Because that's not how you eat mansef.

After this picture was taken, the men "dug in," as we say. They use nothing but their hands to scoop the rice into little piles and squish it into meatball sized balls. They do a few tosses in their hands and pop it into their mouths. It's pretty bizarre, actually, and seems primitive at first. But then you realize that these people grew up this way and it has worked their entire lives, so why change now? They are proud of their heritage, and eating mansef utensil-less is another small way of preserving that heritage. As for me, I used a spoon. Lame, I know, but that's how I roll.

I didn't shave for 2 or 3 weeks and had the acceptable beginnings of a beard. I wanted to try a stache because if Tom Selleck can do it, so can I. It lasted about 20 minutes before I shaved it off in shame. There really is something eerie about upper-lip hair.

Here's Tyler, Joel, Matt, and I waiting on Rainbow Street for this place to bring us our something-I-can't-remember-the-name-ofs.

Look at the size of this thing! It's a mosque near Jabal Hussein that is beautiful from the outside. We haven't been able to go inside yet, but this is one of the prettier mosques around Jordan. Most have green neon lights on the outside because that was the Prophet Mohammed's favorite color.

Yesterday I spent a typical tourist day in Amman. We went downtown, visited Book@cafe, ate at Hashem's, and saw some sites. This is a food market that I think is fun. If you look closely you can see someone making a face at me. Apparently he didn't like me taking the picture.

Then we went to see the Roman Coliseum in the middle of the city. I've seen it before but was never able to actually go in. It's overwhelming to see this huge structure carved into the rock, and I like to imagine it full of people ready for a show or presentation. Those stairs get steep.

I have just under three weeks left. Most of my remaining nights will be in a room with this painted all over the wall:

an evil image of Winnie the Pooh. I'll be tired when I get home...

Waterfalls, canyons, and theives

2011-07-12T03:23:00.000-07:00

In the immediate weeks after graduating high school, I was able to join a group of friends on an extremely fun trip to southern Utah. We were able to stay in some condos in St. George and party around town. The main purpose of the trip, however, was to hike through the Narrows. Located in Zion's National Park, the Narrows is described as "one of the best, if not the best, hike in the National Park System." I found its reputation to be true as my friends and I journeyed through the canyon with hanging gardens and perpendicular walls. I have never forgotten that trip, and I plan to make other visits throughout my life.

Last weekend I discovered that the Zion Narrows are not alone in the world. Jordan is home to Wadi Mujib - a Narrows-esque canyon located on the banks of the Dead Sea. As the only Americans on the trip, Amanda, Natalie, and I enjoyed the company. We have become friends with a girl named Abeer who invited us to join her and her family/friends on the hike.

I don't mean to sound blasphemous, but I enjoyed this hike more than the Narrows. We walked upstream, the water sometimes reaching my thighs, and encountered several waterfalls that we had to scale. I don't remember Zion's having quite the adventurous taste to it. Looking up from the bottom of the Wadi Mujib canyon, I beheld beautiful rock formations and colors. The twisting of the canyon maintained the mystery of the hike, as only section was revealed at a time. After climbing up and over one obstacle, it was only a matter of minutes before reaching the next obstacle. Birds and bats flew over our heads while little sucker-fishes nibbled on my legs and toes.

About two hours into the hike, we reached the destination: an amazing waterfall. It was odd to see so much water in the middle of a desert - especially in water-poor Jordan. The canyon above seemed to spit the water into the pool beneath where hikers rested before returning to the entrance. I have since learned that Moses may have walked through this canyon, which made the place even more wondrous. It was great to spend time with so many Jordanians, and I'll never be able to repay Abeer and her family for providing me with this excellent experience.

"Brady, why don't you post any pictures of Wadi Mujib? It sounds incredible!" Yes, friends. It was incredible. Luckily I'll always have the mental images I took because my backpack was stolen. In it: my camera, wallet, passport, cell phone, and everything else essential to my identity and financial well-being.

We returned to the apartments after Wadi Mujib. It was still a perfect day: sitting in the shade, chatting in the courtyard, and simply enjoying ourselves. After an hour or so of good conversation, my afflicted bladder caused me to go inside to use the restroom. Yes, I left all my belongings in the courtyard in the care of my fellow Americans. Leaving the restroom, I found an intern inside and we began to chat. It was several minutes later when I realized that everyone had come inside. I quickly stepped outside to retrieve my items, but was too late. They had been snatched. Gone.

How could one be so stupid to leave all those things in a bag? You shouldn't "put your eggs in one basket," as it were. It's true - I usually had at least my cell phone and wallet on my person, and I never carried my passport around. My camera usually remained in the bag. Again, why was everything in there? As you recall, Wadi Mujib requires treading through a river. I had been soaked earlier, and my shorts were not yet dry. So I put everything in my bag. Well, it was someone's lucky day because instead of stealing a bag full of boring food items and clothes, they got my money, identity, and memories. While it's true most of my belongings can be replaced (though frustrating and time-consuming it may be), some cannot. I'll mostly miss the pictures I took, my little orange Portuguese dictionary that was with me everyday on my mission, and my favorite hat that I won in a lunch basketball tournament. Those can never be replaced.

I have been surprisingly calm about the whole thing. While I lost some material things, I haven't lost the most important things to me. Whoever took that bag probably has had a much sadder life than I have. Maybe they thought they would be happier having so many things without paying for them. This person has made my life much more complicated (being in the Middle East without ID or a passport? Seriously...), but everything will be fine.

Don't get me wrong. If I ever find out who stole my bag, I will gladly slug him right in the face. More than once.

Look up Wadi Mujib.

Olive trees, women, and me.

2011-07-03T05:06:00.000-07:00

This last weekend reaffirmed to me that I know very little about the culture here. You get glimpses of true Jordanian/Muslim culture in Amman - the head scarves, the robes, the call to prayer, etc. But being around Americans all the time prevents one from truly experiencing Arab culture. My most recent mini-vacation was a great experience and one that I will never forget.

I received an invitation to go visit a member of the Peace Corps who is staying in a small village near Ajloun. Recognize that name? Yep, Ajloun is the place I visited about a month ago with the majestic castle atop a hill. We were to stay with the Peace Corps member (named Natalie) in a village called Ourjan. I went with Jini, Kinsi, and Amanda, and since we were visiting Natalie...yes...I was the only man spending the weekend with four women. Winning!

After the most frustrating taxi ride I've ever experienced and paying over triple what we should have paid for a short trip, we finally made it to the bus station. We boarded the "bus" (really a van) to Ajloun. From Ajloun we took a cab on tiny roads to Ourjan. It was like that scene in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid where Butch, Sundance, and their woman arrive in Bolivia. Stepping off the bus, we stared at the nothingness before us as the sputter of the taxi faded into the distance. There was no way, I thought, that we would be connected with our American Peace Corps friend. I was proven wrong when Natalie came down the street with her red hair aglow and big smile.

The five of us (remember, I was the lone man in the group) chatted for an hour or so in Natalie's home. It was actually quite nice - so nice, in fact, that Natalie considers herself to be part of the Posh Corps rather than the Peace Corps. She made a 24 month commitment to work at a school for disabled children in Ourjan, and she'll be alone the entire time. What a commitment, and congrats to her for doing a big thing to change the world in a small way!

We had a dinner appointment with a family across the village, so we took off. Since the village was a lot more conservative than Amman, the women had a few rules to follow:
1. Speak quietly
2. Don't speak to men.
3. Keep heads down.
4. Wear clothing covering arms to wrists and legs to ankles.

Me, the man? I could do basically anything I wanted. Natalie suggested that I walk in the front of the pack and say hello to the villagers. It was interesting, and though I felt invincible, I didn't like it.

We had an excellent dinner with this great family. Since the people in the village do not use furniture, we sat/laid on these foam pads. They made mansef for us, though it was served with chicken rather than the traditional lamb. It is served on a big plate on the floor and we were welcome to go at it. I ate so much food quickly that my stomach did not let me forget it all night.

After dinner we went on top of their roof where they had a little hut made out of bamboo. The temperature was perfect, and we had a great view of the rest of the village and beyond. More family members showed up, including Abu Yousef - the top dawg in the family. He came in his traditional garb - robe, red-checkered scarf, etc.

The family was great, and it was so good to see a family in the comfort of their own home. Sometimes I get the wrong idea about the people here because I only see them in public. They are very hospitable...and funny! I never realized that Arab women could be so funny. Maybe because I'm not really supposed to talk to them in most situations.

The next day we walked to the downtown of the village, picked up some falafel, and made our way to a olive tree orchard. Olive trees are absolutely incredible. They have so much character - you can almost see the hardship they go through. And they feel so old. These are the girls I spent the weekend with walking up a hill lined with olive trees:

And another tree:

I was surprised that there was a Christian church in such a small village. Only about 6% of Jordanians are Christian.

As I contemplate my time here, I feel growth. Life has a way of taking us along without asking for our permission. I mean, Jordan? How did I end up here? I don't know if this was part of my calling or destiny, but here I am. I don't know the precise reason that life took me to Jordan, but this I know: I have done things, been places, and met people that have changed my life. This summer will be one that I never forget.

(The above paragraph was meant to be dramatic. I needed something to go along with this photo.)

Buddy lied.

2011-06-28T03:00:00.000-07:00

The world was introduced to Buddy the Elf when a film documenting his life was released in 2003. Men, women, and children around the globe came to love the man who mistakenly thought he was an elf. His innocence was endearing, making it utterly impossible to have any feelings against him.

Until now.

I have come to discover that the man was a liar. Quoted frequently (and almost daily during the Christmas season), Buddy has instilled a sense of trust in popular culture. Even I was sucked into his charm when he exclaimed, "Watch out! The yellow ones don't stop!" He had been hit by a cab previously and was passing on his knowledge. An honorable thing to do.

I would like to set something straight: contrary to what Buddy said, the yellow ones DO stop.

Unless you have a car in Jordan, the main type of transportation is the yellow taxi. You cannot walk down a street without being honked at by several cab drivers wanting your business. It's a blessing when you need one; an annoyance when you don't. Cabs are fairly cheap with the meter starting at 25 piastres (around 30 cents). A ride across town will cost anywhere from one to two dinars.

If you look closely, you can see the pesky cabs in the photo below. They are the yellow dots.

Yesterday a group of us made a trip across town to CityMall, an uber-westernized megastore that rivals most American malls. The trip from Arjan: two and a half dinars. This is a hefty load to pay compared to most travel, but depending on the purpose of your trip, it may be worth it.

The cab to the mall took us for a ride. Either he was completely lost or completely taking advantage of Americans who don't know their way around. With some panic, and a little frustration, we finally made it to the mall.

That was the good part.

After making some purchases, we decided to grab yet another cab to take us home. My friend Amanda and I hopped in. Everything was going smoothly - so smoothly, in fact, that in my mind I was slugging the first cab driver in the face. Our pleasure was short-lived when our driver pushed on the brakes and came to a stop. "Sorry," he said as he jumped out of the cab. Sticking his head through the window of the now-closed door, he said, "Coffee. Coffee." For the next five minutes Amanda and I watched in disgust as he chatted up a storm with his other cab-driver friend. It was only after he noticed our disappointed glares that he moved...to get his coffee.

The numbers on the meter slowly raised. We were paying to not move. Am I missing something? Not only were we not moving, but our driver was not even in the cab with us. From what I understand, I pay cab drivers to take me from point A to point B as quickly as possible. I don't remember negotiating any pit stops or chitchat with friends.

We finally made it home. To top everything off we didn't have exact change, so we ended up giving him even more than what was on the meter.

What did I learn from this?

1. Don't come to Jordan unless you know some Arabic. And when I say "some Arabic" I mean you should at least know some scathing words to get upset with people. I was frustrated because he stopped for coffee, but even more so because I couldn't say a word.

2. The next time a driver stops for coffee, I'm stepping out. To me, that's a breach of verbal contract.

3. Jordanians are very good at never spilling their coffee. In all my cab rides I have never seen any sign of spills. It's amazing.

4. The yellow ones do, in fact, stop.

Despite the tone of this blog entry, I actually very much enjoy riding in cabs here. And I love Jordan. And Jordanians. It was just a funny experience, and I thought I would pass it on.

2011-06-20T23:37:00.000-07:00

After some big weekends, things have been pretty mellow here in Amman. It has given me time to appreciate some of the smaller things in Jordan. For example:

I enjoy seeing Jordanian attempts to translate. All over town there are mistakes: "dentaal" for "dental;" "saloon" for "salon;" etc. I saw a Spongebob shirt that you "You will always be in my hearth." It's charming, really. I especially like the slogan they have printed on their fruit cans...

Tourist: Best without taste.

What is that supposed to mean?

Living alone, I have the privilege to make a short walk through town to meet up with my American friends. As I left my apartment recently, I encountered a mass exodus...from one field to the other...

It is truly amazing how these goats stay together. It was fun to see them pleasantly walking on the sidewalk, side by side. This is a common occurrence on my street, and it makes me smile every time.

We live near an area called Jabal Hussein: a hip part of the area with modern shops and restaurants. Vendors line the sidewalks with their crafts and ripped-off items. In Amman, you have the luxury of looking high class at a low price. For example, why buy the expensive Hugo Boss, Polo, or Eternity cologne when you can buy Hogo Boos, Pulo, or Externity? Or why buy Nike socks when you can buy cheap socks with the logo printed on them? I took advantage of this principle and bought myself some workout clothes...

The picture may be blurry due to the pure magic of the outfit. These are the most comfortable shorts I've ever owned, complimented by my new adidos muscle shirt. Adidos is even better than Adidas because instead of three stripes you get four.

I have been learning to appreciate art this past week. Some of us went to the Jordanian National Gallery of Art near our home. Having been to some art galleries in DC, I wasn't super excited. Not that I hate art. I just don't understand it. I understand that art is a visual expression of an artists inner feelings, but the meaning gets lost in translation for me. I mean, can someone please explain this painting to me?

Great colors. I even like how it is off-center and super simple. But why is it in a national gallery of art? Abstract art is something I simply do not understand.

I actually liked this painting...

But my favorite was probably this one:

I enjoyed the colors and the scene that it painted in my mind. I could almost smell the fruit from the orchard. And the three tall trees in the middle were a good contrast to the rest of it. I enjoy art. I just would like to understand it.

There happens to be a film festival this week. We've been to two films. The first was called "Of God and Men," a story about a group of Catholic monks living at a monastery in Algeria. Although the town is being attacked by terrorists, the monks refuse to leave because they have become so attached to the community around them. It was touching to see the bond that the monks made with the Muslim community.

Last night we saw a short documentary about finding humor in the West Bank. It was refreshing to see people retain their humor among such controversy in that part of the world. Just watching Palestinian school girls make jokes and laugh was very tender. Truly. Not only was the documentary great, but the setting of the film was incredible. We were near Rainbow Street, the hippest part of Amman, watching the film on an outdoor screen on a hill overlooking the rest of Amman. To my left was the Citadel (the site of Roman ruins) that was lit with yellow lights. To my right lights shimmered from the homes and stores on a flowing hill. The temperature was, like most nights, perfect. I took a minute to ponder and really recognize where I am in the world.

What an experience this is.

Camels...who knew?

2011-06-13T23:29:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we went out to the Badia, or the desert. I was expecting tents, fires, holes for toilets, and a lot of nothing. As it turns out, the Badia is home to many wealthy Jordanians. Slash, the contact we have from out there, is from a very powerful family that owns several wells worth millions of dollars. The Badia, as I came to learn, is a series of small villages about an hour outside of Amman. Most people out there are related to each other somehow. They are more traditional than the folk in Amman. So you get an idea of what it's like:

The people of the Badia have homes just like (or better) than the homes in Amman, yet they set up tents outside their homes for social events. There is no furniture - only carpet lines the floor. In the middle there is pit with hot coals to heat the coffee, which is passed around in a small glass. (We, of course, did not perform this custom, but it was interesting to learn about.) They'll eat and dance the night away in these little tents. It would have been a perfect, relaxing afternoon if it weren't for the swarm of flies attacking my face 80 times per second.

Yes, this is in the Badia. Orchards of apricots and grapes dotted the landscape. I never thought I would see anything "lush" in Jordan, but this trip proved me wrong.

So we to see the camels. Here we see a mother with her newborn child. These camels were very mellow.

Then we met Bruiser. This guy had a big attitude to go with his big body. Slash introduced us to the beast, put a rope around his neck, and challenged us to ride him.

First step: have the camel sit. This things are substantially taller than horses, so it is imperative that they sit down. Slash gave me the rope and told me to tug in a downward motion to tame the camel-ion stallion. Bruiser didn't take me seriously and kept jerking back, almost to the point of lifting me off of the ground.
With some serious help, I finally got Bruiser to sit. Then I got ready...

...and mounted. Notice that these camels only have one hump. Am I the only person in the world who assumed most camels had two? As it turns out, the two-humped camels are the least abundant on Earth. You can imagine how awkward riding these things can be, especially for males. It was actually quite comfortable...until my adrenaline wore out and my nerves regained their sensitivity.

Victory. You sit on their back hips, hold onto their thick back hair, and hit them with a stick now and then. And that's how you ride a camel (and get completely nasty hands that smell like camel).

After taming Bruiser we visited another location with female camels. This darling is pregnant. We called her Sofia.

It took a random field in Jordan for me to finally understand Sting.

We went to a place called Black Mountain, which really was just a hill of volcanic rock. It was beautiful. And we were near Syria. I conquered camels and death on this quick trip.

Petra, Wadi Rum, and Aqaba

2011-06-05T23:04:00.000-07:00

Friday morning a large group of us (the BYU interns, the Zaytooners, and myself) hopped on a bus to explore the southern part of Jordan. A few hours later we were in Petra, an ancient city built by the Nabataeans thousands of years ago. They built structures into the rock - a city carved out of stone. You may recognize some of it from scenes in movies such as Indiana Jones and Transformers. I'm not so educated as to the history of this location, so I plan to research it soon. The place looks a lot southern Utah, doesn't it? It reminds me of the Narrows in Zion's National Park. Zion's, however, does not have this ancient city. Although I took hundreds of pictures, it is not feasible to upload them all onto this blog. Hopefully you can get a sense of Petra's wonder by viewing the following:

The main site of Petra, the Treasury, slowly creeps into view through the narrow crevice as you walk closer and closer. This picture does not capture the Treasury in the background because the sun was too bright, but I assure you that it's behind me.

This is what it really looked like:

Here's the Treasury in full splendor. As soon as you step into the scene, you are surrounded by Bedouin people. They offer to take you further down the canyon on their donkey, horse, or camel. There are dozens of Bedouin children who speak English remarkably well that try to sell you jewelry of all kinds. I did not ride a camel (because they are expensive and because I wanted to enjoy this place at my own pace), but I almost bought some necklaces from this kid. He used a "bait and switch" method. When I figured out what he was doing, I told him I didn't want anything anymore. But he persistent and followed me for a while. I had to learn that ignoring people is the best way to get them off your back here. But for a bunch of children with no education, their English and business skills are off the charts.

I didn't ride this camel, but I would eventually. Keep reading.

Isn't this amazing? I took a lot of pictures, but it is impossible to take this all in.

This boy's name was Solomon. He spoke great English. He offered to take me on his donkey, which I declined. We became good friends for about 20 minutes. Too bad his eyes were closed.

This is the Monastery, a good hour-or-so long hike after the treasury. It was just as beautiful.

This is the view from inside the Monastery. It was just a big square room with a stage-like structure from where I am taking the photo. I can't fathom how they were able to carve big rooms like this into the rock with such skill. The surfaces are perfectly flat and the room is perfectly square.

So that was Petra. We spent several hours there. I probably explored about 40% of what was there. It was such a big place with a lot of offshoots and different trails. It was a lot of fun, but we were without food for most of the day, so all the hiking and hot sun were taking their toll on our poor bodies. We hopped back onto the bus and drove down to Wadi Rum.

I was told we were camping in the desert...and I was not too excited. I was expecting very little of Wadi Rum: sand, heat, no amenities, etc. I was grossly mistaken.

We pulled up to our camp and I was blown away. It was like a hotel with no roof. These are the tents we stayed in. They had two or three beds (yes, with matresses) in each room.

They had a large common area in the middle of the camp. This is where all the eating and dancing took place later that evening. (Yes, dancing. Jordanians love to dance, which usually consists of a circle of men holding hands or clapping. Their clapping is usually off-beat, but man, these people love to dance. They love to watch Americans dance even more. Whenever we go out there, Arabs grab their cameras. I'm sure I'll make it onto Jordan's YouTube eventually.)

Dave, Joel, and Bruce kickin' it Arab style: touching each other as much as possible.

Wadi Rum was the most wondrous place I've ever been. There was a silent power throughout the whole place. It was majestic and marvelous in every sense of those words. While dinner was being prepared we all spread out and explored our surroundings. It was Lake Powell-esque with all its sand and rock.

This was a special moment: Jordanian sunset in the desert complete with camel. Priceless. (My Chaco flip-flops are also priceless. I love those things.)

I wish I could have spent more time in Wadi Rum. It was so great. As I mentioned, I was expecting very little of Wadi Rum. I thought it would be the least-enjoyable part of the trip, yet it turned out to be my favorite. It was a spiritual experience where I was able to witness God's glory.

The next morning, after breakfast, we again packed into our tour bus and drove even further south to Aqaba. This is a city on the shores of the Red Sea. It was hot. We drove to a beach, which was a slight disappointment because it was so rocky that it hurt our feet. Luckily there was a pier where from which we could jump into the sea. The water is gorgeous: such clarity in its shades of blue and green.

That night we took it easy. We walked around the city and walked to the beach. I had some delicious ice cream.

Standing outside of our hotel presented a first for me. This man came by on his camel and asked if we wanted a ride. We refused at first because they usually swindle you out of a lotta money, but he insisted he didn't want it. He took us on rides up the street and back. Jini grabbed the rope and led the camel for me. She ran...so the camel ran. I was bouncing out of the saddle. Camels are super tall and I was close to knocking my head on several low-hanging signs, but it was so fun.

Before the camel ride (these pictures are out of order), we jumped onto a boat. For the next couple of hours we made our way around the Gulf of Aqaba. This picture shows across the gulf to Israel:

This is our boat. There were about 10 of us Americans on board. The boast had loud speakers...and a big open deck...which means dancing was inevitable. They blasted Jordanian music for the first part of the trip. We knew they wanted "the Americans" to dance when they played I Know You Want Me by Pitbull. (They played the same song the night before at Wadi Rum. I don't know why they assume we love this song.) Before anyone was dancing, I was talking to Dave and Keri with my back to the dance area. Then suddenly I feel a hand grab mine. I turn around to find an Arab man pulling me onto the dance floor. I resisted, then gave it. That started a full on dance party. Eventually my American colleagues joined. Again, Arab people grabbed their cameras and phones to record us.

Smolder.

Arabs are so romantic. I've been hurt so many times that this wall explain my deepest plea:

So there's a snapshot into my weekend. It was 'mumtaz,' as they would say here. The whole thing exceeded my expectations and I gained a greater appreciation for Jordan the country and its people.

This blog entry didn't satisfy you? Left you with questions or comments? Try writing me. I'm more than happy (and begging) for communication.

Journey to Jordan - Istiklal

2011-05-29T02:33:00.000-07:00

This week Jordanians celebrated their independence. A group of us ate some shawarma and kanafe in Jabal Hussein before we walked over to Dawaar Dakhliah. It was awesome. Here are some pictures from the event:

What is kanafe? A Jordanian treat. It's like a sweet cheese. I don't know how to describe it. It clogs the arteries, for sure. Here it is:

Amman is built on hills. It has the most hills I've experienced from a city since Funchal. To make the city walker-friendly, staircases are built all over the place. They can take one from the highest road to the lowest. There are easily hundreds of steps in each staircase. On this particular staircase there are homes on either side. Could you imagine having to carry your groceries and/or (even worse) furniture from the road to your home? Insanity. Here's an example:

While most Jordanians have at least some grasp of English, misspellings are found all over the city. Signs that say "Family Dentaal" and the like line city streets. Following are just two examples. I had never been to a Grilled and Restaurant before. And no, I never found out what nargels actually are.

This weekend, my friend from Zaytoon visited Israel and my friends from BYU went to the Dana Nature Reserve, so only 3 of us remained in Amman. Bruce, Carol, and I explored some parts of the city together over the last few days. On one of our outings we were able to see an ancient Roman theater which lies in the middle of the city.

Journey to Jordan - Ajloun and Jerash

2011-05-21T22:40:00.000-07:00

There was a bit of confusion when I came out here as to whom I belonged. There are two groups of BYU students out here: BYU interns and Zaytoon. There are about 7 BYU interns, all working with the Ministry of Social Development in one fashion or another. Zaytoon, on the other hand, is associated with BYU, yet semi-independent of any organization. All of its members just happen to be current or former BYU students. The BYU interns live across town; the Zaytoon people live in my neighborhood. Both groups thought I was from the other, so I think they were confused on how to include me (or if they should). I had to explain that I came from the U of U...and I came alone.

I tell you this because, though I live near and spend time with the Zaytoon fellows, the BYU interns are kind enough to include me as well. We had a delicious dinner at the girls' apartment on the other side of the city.

It was some mixture of meat and rice stuffed into zucchinis. The same combo was wrapped in grape leaves. Skeptical at first, I turned out to love the stuff and probably had way more than my share. It was great, and the company was even better.

There's a Marriott Hotel here. I walked in just to look around, and somehow ended up at the pool area. I'm sure I would have been able to take a swim without being challenged at all. I may need to go back and try it out.

One of my most favorite places in Portugal was Carrefour. It's a huge grocery store, comparable to Walmart, and it was always nice now and then to walk in and feel like I was home. Well, they have Carrefour here in a place called City Mall. It had been about 4 years since I last stepped into one and it was almost emotional. Imagine my response, then, when elsewhere in the mall I saw a Barrett family favorite:

This mall is great and rivals any mall in America that I know of.

Saturday a group of us hopped in a van and took off to see some sites. Destination: Ajloun castle. I wish I could tell you all the details and history about this place, but I can't. I can say, however, that it was an amazing place. There were so many different chambers and "secret" passages that after spending a few hours there I still am not sure we were able to see the whole thing. It sits atop a hill that gave an excellent vista in all directions. The location was obviously chosen in order to see any armies that may be approaching. Here are a few pictures...see for yourself:

Well, after the amazing castle at Ajloun, we packed back into the van to head to Jerash, a land of roman ruins. This place was intense - so many old structures. Pillars, arches, and articulate work was found all over the place. We spent several hours here as well. I don't know what else to say about it other than it was awesome!

Yes, those are Roman soldiers. Actual Roman soldiers.

In the amphitheater. You speak in one of these holes on one side and can hear the other person on the other.

Best bagpipers of all time. It started with one, then the other three joined. At one point a Scotsman stood with them to get a picture and they started playing "Yankee Doodle."

I have many more pictures, but hopefully that gives the idea of the place. It was incredible.

We really enjoyed ourselves.

Overall, the trip was great. I am sunburned now, but the experience was something that I'll never forget.

Journey to Jordan - Post 2

2011-05-17T23:42:00.001-07:00

Marhaban! Welcome to Jordan!

This is where I will be working for the next three months (I come home exactly three months from today). It's the Ministry of Social Development, and it's about a 2-minute walk away from where I am living. I am in the legal department and share an office with a man named Marwan. I'll be doing other tasks as well, however, and I'm excited to stay busy.

Sleeping in an apartment by myself is interesting, to say the least. I've lived in foreign states and countries before, but never by myself and never not knowing the language. I must look Jordanian because people try talking to me all the time. I just have to stare, shrug my shoulders, and walk away in shame. I'm trying to learn some Arabic, but come on...Google some Arabic and tell me it's not the most intimidating language out there.

The people here are super nice. Almost too nice. Walking to work yesterday I was stopped by a man named Rashed. He spoke English (most people know at least some conversational English) and seemed genuine. He called his friend over, Eunice (a man) and we all spoke for a bit. Then Eunice asked for my phone number because he wanted to hang out sometime. Never thinking he would call, I didn't think much about it. Well guess what? Sitting at my desk today my phone rings....and it's Eunice. Why he thought of calling me then is unknown to me. Rashed got my number this morning and wants to go out for drinks. I had to learn the phrase "Haram fi diini" to get out of coffee and tea (it means "It's forbidden in my religion.").

Have I mentioned I live in a great location? Yes, I am by myself. And yes, my apartment smells weird and isn't the best. But I live directly behind some BYU students, and some more live down the street. I'm making some friendships, even though I'm forcing myself upon these people. They're all super nice to include me (or let me include myself). A few of us took a cab to a member's home for institute last night. The lesson: watching the first half of "The Ten Commandments" with Charlton Heston. It was awesome. I've never seen the movie all the way through. There are some great lines in it! Plus I had no idea that Moses' wife is the same woman who plays Mrs. Warren in "McClintock," one of my favorites.

Again, the BYU kids are great. We're planning a trip south the Petra, Wadi Rum, and Aqaba soon. And there's a possibility of me joining them on a trip to Israel. Wouldn't be foolish of me to live in Jordan and not go to one of the most historic, controversial, and spiritual places on Earth? I'm definitely leaning towards going.

Anyway, there's an update for the two who read this blog. More to come for sure. I'll leave you with a picture I took on the way to work. A little field jam packed with sheep. The field had no fences. When I walked by on the way home, the field was empty. I thought it was pretty funny.

Journey to Jordan - The beginning

2011-05-15T22:23:00.000-07:00

I have been in Jordan for 3 nights now...only about 94 more to go! I don't even know where to begin. People kept telling me that this would be an adventure, and they certainly were right. I knew that coming here would put me out of my comfort zone, but I wasn't expecting such a drastic change. This truly is lunacy.

I arrived at the airport in Amman around 7:30 p.m. on Friday night. No cell phone, no internet service: just me and my bags. Luckily most things in the airport were written both in English and Arabic, so I was able to find my way around somewhat. To make a long story short, I bought a cell phone, called some Church members in Amman, and ended up at the "chapel" after a wild ride on a bus and taxi cab. I made a friend along the way - Vladimir from Russia. I wonder how he's faring.

I had tried to set up housing before arriving, but to no avail. I was able to crash on a bed at the chapel for my first two nights. There are BYU interns here, though they either wouldn't let me stay with them or there was no room for me "at the inn," so housing was left up to me. A man (now friend) name Bader helped me find a few options, and last night I got an apartment. Apparently it was a good deal, and though it isn't an amazing place to live, at least I have somewhere to go at night.

Yesterday the other interns and I were able to meet with the Minister of Social Development. It was interesting to hear her speak and see her desire to help her fellow Jordanians. *(There is way too much to write about here.)* Let's just say it was a good meeting and I'm glad I could meet the other interns here.

Loren and Brenden, brothers out here working in conjunction with the Ministry, were kind enough to show me around town yesterday. What an experience! We took a cab downtown, had amazing food at Hashem's, and just walked around. Roman ruins, right in the center of town. Pirated dvd's. I honestly don't even know how I can explain it. It was awesome. I didn't have my camera with me, but I'm sure I'll return. Pictures pending.

I was fortunate enough to land that apartment in the midst of other BYU interns and workers. It's so nice to have friends out here - people that understand as little Arabic as I do. I plan on learning some, but it is insane how different that language is from English.

Overall, I'm very excited to be here. It will be a huge growing experience, as I am doing things I never saw myself doing. Six months ago I would have slapped you silly had you said I would be living alone in an apartment in the country of Jordan for 3 months.

He's at it again.

2011-04-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

And I thought "Double Dream Hands" was amazing.

Summer 2011

2011-04-27T09:18:00.001-07:00

I haven't really had a normal summer for a while. The last two years I took a full schedule of night classes at the U, so I never got to fully enjoy a good Utah summer.

Well, this year is no different. This will probably be the most unique summer in my entire life...because I'll be spending it in Amman, Jordan.

Why am I going to the Middle East during a time of social reforms, violence, and constant turmoil? Don't ask.

Ain't gonna...what?

2011-04-08T09:44:00.000-07:00

Shake your body down to the ground.

2011-03-03T09:51:00.000-08:00

He gets progressively worse. He even kicks off his shoes at one point.

See more funny videos and TBT at Todays Big Thing.

Double Dream Hands

2010-12-14T11:17:00.000-08:00

I only hope someday to be half the dancer this man is. I love the music, especially when they begin to list all the planets.

Always a Believer

2010-11-10T08:09:00.000-08:00

I entered into the classroom at the University of Utah's Bountiful extension last night like every other Tuesday night. That's where I have my State and Local government class. I really enjoy that class - my professor is very pleasant and she makes the subjects interesting.

Last night was different. My two younger sisters, Tawni and Brittany, had a voice concert at a library. I enjoy watching them and usually make time to see them, but I couldn't miss class. There was something else afoot, however. Something far away.

The Jazz started their eastern road trip last night against the most hyped team in the league, the Miami Heat. (I think it would be inaccurate to say the most feared team in the league.) It started at 5:30 p.m. MST, so as I waltzed into class the game was already underway. A quick check of the score before started brought no surprise to my eyes: the Jazz were trailing by double digits. ESPN's GameCast showed the Jazz getting handled early in the game, and I assumed the beating would continue. I turned my computer off and participated in a discussion on Health Policy.

My class is three hours long, so naturally my attention span wanes before the end. "Time to check out my Jazz," I eventually thought to myself. My boys in blue were still down by double digits. I casually checked the score over the next few minutes. Suddenly I found myself completely enveloped in the GameCast as the Heat's lead slowly diminished to single digits. When the game was tied with mere minutes left I had forgotten where I was. An actual video feed would have been nice, but I kinda liked the intensity of waiting for the next play to be broadcast.

Jazz up by two points. Minutes left. I wanted to believe they could pull it out, but after years of watching the Jazz give up leads, I just couldn't. My doubts became reality when the Heat easily regained the lead and took the game over. Cue the magic.

Ronnie Price: 3-pointer. Deron Williams: 3-pointer. But nothing compares to the performance of my long-time Jazz love, Paul Millsap. 3-pointer, 3-pointer, 3-pointer. When these plays popped up

on my screen I almost gasped loudly. Millsap? Really? Never have I seen him make a 3 in a game. At the Leapin' Leaners charity dinner every year, yes, but shooting around the ESA in dress clothes is different. That isn't a real game. In Miami. Against LeBron, Wade, and Bosh. With people in his grill. The best part was that he wasn't getting lucky. The ball graced only net on all three shots. He topped it off with a last second put back to force the game into overtime, totaling 11 points in 30 seconds. THE JAZZ WERE DOWN BY 8 WITH 30 SECONDS LEFT! Amazing.

Jazz clinched the win in overtime with help from Anrdre's trey and two deafening free throws by veteran Francisco Elson. A huge win by any standard, but it was that much sweeter against the Heat.

To all those sudden-Millsap fans out there, I want to say "shame on you." I have been a Millsap proponent since I first saw him play in Utah. All through the Boozer years I pleaded with Jerry (through mind bullets) to play Paul over Carlos. A consistent player, Paul has always impressed me with his game. I saw a scrambler in the post develop an outside shot that was smooth as lotion on a baby's bottom. Playing "backup" to Boozer, Millsap amazed me with his ability to play against the bigger man. (He's listed as 6'8'', but he's got to be shorter...6'6" maybe.) Always a love of mine, I am glad to see that Utah is finally appreciating Paul Millsap: the man who dethroned the king.

After the game I watched the video of Tawni and Britt singing at their recital. They did excellent, and they are so gorgeous.

Ragnar Revisited

2010-10-25T11:29:00.001-07:00

My first experience with the Ragnar Relay was in June when I ran the Wasatch Back with 11 good friends. The whole idea seemed pretty stupid to me: run, don't sleep much, run again, don't sleep much again, run a third time, suffer the pains of sore legs and headaches. I couldn't quite get a grasp on what the draw to these relays was, but I (somewhat reluctantly) joined a team.

Well, you can read a blurb about that experience here. It was truly amazing, yet I wasn't quite satisfied with my performance.

Enter Kari and Genevieve: two good friends who also caught the Ragnar bug. They had a team who registered for the Ragnar Las Vegas Relay with a single vacancy and somehow decided to invite me to fill it. I blindly joined, not knowing any of the other 9 runners. I took the training only slightly more serious this time, consistently running about 4 times a week.

The week of the race came not soon enough. It was in the back of my mind for so long and, based on the extremely sore legs I had from the Wasatch Back, I couldn't wait for this race to be behind me. Our team, Baby Got Swack (don't ask) had a start time of 10 a.m. Being in Van 2, we left Farmington, Utah around 8 a.m. on Friday morning.

After a pleasant 7+ hour drive to Lake Mead, we went through safety training and anxiously waited at the exchange point for Runner #6. He finally came and we were officially a part of the race. As runner #11, I didn't run my first leg until about 7 that night. An easy 2.5 miles, slightly uphill the whole way. My second leg was 7.2 miles, mostly uphill and flat. It's so fun to run in the middle of the night (at this time it was between 2 and 4 a.m.). I love looking ahead of me to see hundreds of flashing lights bouncing up and down as runners span miles of desert. The weather was perfect – in the 50's or 60's with a gentle breeze. I was happy that my first two legs were run in the dark.

My third leg started around 1:45 p.m. on Saturday. The sun was high, the temperature was hot, and I had 4.8 miles ahead of me. I had two goals when I began this last run: 1. Pass as many people as you can; 2. Don't stop. I had stopped several times during the Wasatch Back and always regretted it, failing to push myself harder. Not this time. I ran at a steady pace, trying not to overexert my already worn leg muscles. "Downhill?" you think. Downhill isn't as easy as you think. My legs feel just as tired going downhill as going uphill, especially after miles of pounding the hard asphalt.

I finished my three legs without ever stopping. Mission accomplished. I was shooting for 7 minute miles for my last leg and ended up running 6.48 minute miles, so that was pleasing.

We finished in less than 29 hours, even after a half-hour mishap by the other van. We showered, hit the buffet at the Red Rock Hotel, and relaxed the rest of the night. It was a great experience, and I definitely have Ragnar fever. I'm looking for people to join me on my next Ragnar adventure, whenever it may be. Let me know if you're interested. You won't regret it.

Hot Days and Conference

2010-10-02T14:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, October 1, 2010, was the hottest October day ever in the history of Utah. Not surprisingly my dad convinced Ben and I to go swimming with him in our doughboy pool to celebrate this feat. To seal its significance in history, Dad grabbed an empty pizza box and a marker to make a sign. Here is a photo of Ben and I modeling in front of the pool to commemorate this day:

Today, October 2, was another special day in my life. I came upon some conference tickets on Thursday for the Saturday AM session for General Conference. I, of course, decided to go on a triple man date with Nate and Shawn. I hadn't been to a session of Conference for a long time, so I was anxious to go and sit in the marvelous Conference Center. We sat on the far east side, looking almost completely sideways at the speakers. We were by the "red carpet" of the Conference Center where all the General Authorities enter.

I very much enjoyed the talks given in the first session, but I have to admit my mind was elsewhere. My mind was here:

My beautiful Portugal is soon going to have a temple! Tears came to my eyes when President Monson announced the construction of a temple in Lisbon, Portugal. I never imagined that I would see the building of a temple in my mission land so soon. I am so grateful to have served in Portugal and am so happy that those people will no longer have to travel to Spain or England to attend the temple.

The Lion King

2010-08-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

Last night my little sister Tawni and I had the opportunity to go to Capitol Theatre in downtown SLC. The tickets landed in my lap through a friend who unfortunately (or fortunately, for us) couldn't go.

It was opening night and a full house. We had excellent seats, actually. The show stayed pretty true to the Disney cartoon. It included a few new songs, a couple of which I really enjoyed. Simba's "Endless Night" and "They Live in You" were great. I could almost quote the entire show because the writer's didn't change the script that much. Rafiki, to my surprise, was a woman. A sassy monkey woman. She was hilarious and a superb singer. Mufasa, Pumbaa, and Timon had voices that were very similar to the cartoon characters.

The symbolism in the show was neat and unique. The scenery was incredible along with the costumes. I wonder how they came up with everything the way they did.

Overall, the show was deluxe, and I'm so glad I was able to go. I'm also glad I could go with the prettiest girl in the whole theater: my little sister, Tawni. Heck, we even saw Kyle Korver there with some girl and she wasn't half as pretty as Tawni...

BCHM 2010

2010-08-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

On July 17, I ran (and completed) my first half marathon. It was in Bryce Canyon, which is absolutely gorgeous. Those running the race were my dad, Brandon, Michelle, Kim (Michelle's sister) Tawni, and myself. Brittany, my cute little sister, was registered but pulled out due to a stress fracture on her right leg. So literally days before the race my dad, who had not planned on running at all, decided he would take her spot. I was so proud when he came across the line in awesome time.

We stayed in Fosters Motel, a quaint place that was so perfect for the occasion. (Did I mention that yiddle Ben joined us? He took video/photos at the finish line for us.)

Here's Britt with her monster Frankenstein boot. Dang stress fractures. Tawni finished in great time and actually took 2nd place overall in her age group!

Thanks to Brandon and Michelle for motivating us to run this fabulous race! I think it should be a Barrett summer tradition!

Long time coming...

2010-08-03T21:19:00.000-07:00

A couple years ago I first heard about the Wasatch Back, put on by the relay racing company Ragnar. It sounded fun and tedious, and I was excited. My running hopes were trampled when I made Footloose at Rodger's Memorial Theatre. The rehearsals were very time consuming and in the end I had to withdraw from the race.

Last year I was also invited, but for some reason the race didn't sound as appealing. So I didn't do it.

This year, however, I was determined to do it. And I did. Finally.

I love the middle picture because I look dead...and that was during my first leg.

It was a blast. My van consisted of myself, Jessie, Mary, Emiliy, Spencer, and Ryan. We slept at the wrong exchange station on the ground and it was freezing! But ending in Park City with some free stuff and a massage made everything totally worth it.

Return to Reality

2010-05-25T16:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been awhile since my last post. Maybe if anything exciting ever happened I would write more. Life was just as I left it when I returned home from DC. Same bedroom, same clothes, same job, same school, same family, same car, and pretty much everything else. I had to wonder if the monotony would be disrupted.

Then change happened. On my second Sunday back the stake presidency announced the division and reorganization of the 32nd and 13th wards. This came as a pleasant surprise, because I was actually seriously considering changing wards anyway. It turned out that a small section of the 32nd ward was combined with the majority of the 13th ward to create the new and improved 32nd ward. Same bishopric - mostly different congregation. Of course it is sad to be apart from my ward friends. But DC taught me that meeting new people isn't such a bad thing. I met some phenomenal people back east and thought I should do the same here.

After missing more than half of the Jazz's season, I was so excited when my dad handed me some playoff tickets. Jazz vs. Lakers. (I love how everyone treats it as a rivalry, though it completely isn't.) I went with the younger version of myself. Ben is my 12 year old brother who is absolutely hilarious. We were super excited for the game and even wore the fuzzy Jazz-hair hats. Well, that excitement balloon burst before half time and we ended up leaving with 2 minutes left because the slaughter was too much for us to take.

ROAD TRIP:

A large group from my ward had plans to go to St. George to stay in some condos and enjoy the perfect weather. At the last minute I joined them for a mind-blowing weekend. We arrived Thursday night. Friday was chill-around-the-pool day. Saturday was go-on-a-terrifying-hike day. We decided to hike to Angel's Landing, one of the most popular (and most deadly) hikes in Zion National Park. It was a great hike. My already-bad knees were destroyed by the end, but it was worth it. As the hike ensued I kept thinking that we were the first group of people to ever hike to the top. I can't believe the park lets anyone do this! They have a chain - A CHAIN - for people to hold onto. No chain = 10+ seconds of thoughtful freefall until a splattering death. Children younger than my chest hair were going on this hike. It was insanity at its best. We ended the day with some Cafe Rio and an impromptu trip to Snow Canyon to see the stars. Southern Utah is one of the most beautiful places in the world. We also played some wicked Ninja Destruction.

Other than that, I'm back at the U this summer taking a full schedule. I have about 4 days of being 23 left. 24 doesn't sound half as great. I'm entering "weird guy" zone.

Great Falls, Great Fun.

2010-05-03T17:06:00.000-07:00

Just minutes away from DC is a great place called Great Falls National Park. It's located in Virginia. I find it interesting how the East is so compact with small states, whereas the West has monsterly-huge states. If I remember correctly, we passed crossed a few state borders just in few minutes it took to get to this park. Shannon was nice enough to drive and accompany me out there for a great picnic and hike.

Here are a few pictures from our adventure:

This is a certain Shannon Crowley standing in what is called a "pothole." Apparently it took 500 years for this hole in the rock to form. Notice the skirt and flip-flops Shannon sported for our excruciating hike.

This is a certain Brady Barrett posing on a rock overlooking the Potomac River. There isn't much more to say about this picture than that.

This is the most impressive view of the Great Falls. Right next to my left elbow was a little spot where kayakers liked to spend their time. They would paddle in there and ride the "never ending wave."

Needless to say, it was an excellent afternoon. It was highly enjoyable, and I know the mosquitos had a great time as well. Shannon and I have the bites to prove it!

Winding down in Washington

2010-04-21T19:58:00.000-07:00

It's 10:58 p.m. on April 21, 2010. Coming up with something entertaining to say is actually quite a task. The only reason for this post is for a change of scenery. I'm afraid that the 3 people who actually read my blog will lose a bit more respect for me every time they see a picture of Barbie and the Rockers. Although those memories are dear to my heart, I don't think they should be the welcoming face to my blog.

Thinking about my time in DC is interesting. It feels like I have been here for so long sometimes. I've finally started feeling pretty comfortable at the office (handling angry constituents has become a pleasure, really). I guess the main reason this journey has seemed so lengthy is because of the relationships I've made here. I've reached the point that it's hard to understand how I had a life before knowing some friends I've made. People in the office, in the ward, and in my home have been a huge influence on my life - and mostly good influences.

One of my all-time pet peeves used to be when people would say, "I've learned so much about myself," or something similar. I now know what people mean when they say that and why they say it. I have learned some good things about myself - surprising and reassuring. Other things aren't so good, again surprising but certainly not reassuring.

Coming home will be, as the saying goes, bitter-sweet. I'll miss the eye-popping buildings and mind-boggling history this city has. It will be nice to have a car, though (I don't feel bad at all for missing the Metro cars jam-packed with summer tourists who get in the way and sweat too much). I'll miss most the relationships I made that will be left here, especially those I wish could have been stronger.

Anyway, I hope those are enough words to push Barbie to the bottom of the screen.

Brooke, Brandon, Brady, and Barbie...

2010-04-01T06:40:00.000-07:00

Yes, Brooke speaks the truth. Barbie and the Rockers were a big part of our lives growing up. That cassette tape was the best. Looky looky, a little keepsake for you guys...

Barbie and the Rockers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erIOdDhSMMg

The other song I remember so well is "Dressin' Up:"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klQE1-tPXpo&NR=1

I really think we should do a remake of our "Barbie and the Rockers" dances. Of course, we'd have to remake our "See Me Run" days too. If we broke Tom's arm and really ticked off Mom, we'd be set!

The Man from Snowy River

2010-03-31T06:38:00.000-07:00

No, you didn’t misread the title. Last night, I watched “The Man from Snowy River,” and I did it voluntarily. Not only voluntarily, but eagerly. The film brought back a long lost yet treasured childhood memory. Simply the title of this movie makes me think of two people: Ginger and Brandon.

I must admit that the plot of the film was almost completely foreign to me. I guess growing up I never paid attention to the story, for it is one of love, growth, and courage (as so many films today are). The movie lacks those elements that catch the youthful eye like Ninja Turtles or Gummy Bears. This story, instead, is about Jim Craig, an older boy who witnesses the accidental death of his father. The accident requires Jim to man-up, now the last living member of his family (I didn’t not catch the details of his mother’s death.) He begins to work at Harrison’s cattle ranch doing such menial tasks as shoveling manure and throwing hay. Not surprisingly, Jim falls in love with Jessica.

The funny thing about this movie is the mob of horses that cause the people to fear. They refer to the mob as the “Brumbies,” and talk as if the horses were the mafia. Anyway, the story is easy to follow and culminates with the phrase, “He’s a man. The man from Snowy River.” Classic.

The best scene in the movie comes when a large number of men are chasing the Brumbies to reclaim the uber-valuable horse that was let loose by a couple brutes who then blamed the escape on Jim. As the chase ensues, the Brumbies go charging down a super steep side of the mountain. All the men stop, not willing to follow in such a dangerous situation. Suddenly, from behind, Jim and his mountain horse charge through and leap from the hillside. They then follow right behind the horses. Music stops, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and falling rocks. The scene is truly stunning and very inspiring: jump off cliffs that scare most.

So why do I think of Ginger and Brandon? Well, Ginger, my mother, introduced me to the film long ago. As if the movie itself isn’t good enough, the music is brilliant. We had the soundtrack on cassette tape and I remember listening to it frequently. The memory of music is inseparably connected with Brandon, my older brother. We would play and act out scenes to the music. Pretending to be horses, we’d prance around quickly to the up-tempo part and go in slow motion during the intense parts. It was hilarious.

I’m glad I was able to see this film in my adulthood, and I’m confident it won’t be the last. The show is so romantic that I can’t imagine myself going through marriage without a good woman cuddled up to me watching “The Man from Snowy River.”

Madeira

2010-02-24T07:05:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about Madeira lately, mainly due to the devastating floods it has been experiencing lately. I find it ironic that I find this article on CNN today. I have flown into this airport:

http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/the-worlds-scariest-runways/5