Maa Fiih Fraatah.

Around the end of each month, students in my study abroad program receive a special monthly offer from the administrative offices.  In exchange for your tidy John Hancock, you get a couple crisp, sand-orange bills of legal Jordanian tender slapped into your greedy little fists.  Officially speaking, you’re getting a travel stipend, since you’re taking taxis (or maybe even the bus, adventurous student that you are) daily to the university for classes and back again.  Really, though, this monthly gift is more than anything else a challenge.  You’re going to step out onto the street loaded (like the good American that you are) but sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with the fact that those bills you have are toxic.

You see, you have in your hand there several fine specimens of the fifty-dinar bill, largest printed denomination in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan and king fish in the Amman currency pool.  In pretty much any everyday scenario, whipping out one of these bad boys is akin to reaching for your checkbook at a neighborhood lemonade stand.  While you’ve technically got plenty of credit to cover your little Dixie cup of sugar water, it’s safe to say that young Johnny here isn’t too thrilled to have to schlep on down to Citibank to add your contribution to his jar of quarters.