There are two aspects of Arab culture that have really had me thinking lately.

First up is the great fiasco known as the family meal. We’ve all seen the stereotypical view of large Italian family meals. Well Arabs are no different.

So a large part of the family sits down at a big table piled high with food. It’s a well-known fact that Arab hosts cook too much food on purpose, never knowing exactly how many family members are going to show up. The more the merrier.

Now, as Americans, we’re used to everyone serving themselves food at their own comfortable leisure. No such thing in Arab culture.

The host starts serving the food. While we eat the conversation carries on at a high volume, it’s the only aspect of the meal that’s equal in importance to the food.

Now the moment of truth has arrived. Before I get a chance to take a break from the first onslaught of food, there’s my uncle or aunt piling more food on my plate. Generally regardless of the protests, the food is put on my plate. “You are looking a little skinny today, you can eat more,” they joke.

It’s at this point that I am reassuring my aunt that I am indeed full, can’t eat any more, and that I am in fact in good health.

Second, there is the matter of hospitality outside of the host’s home. It’s one of the first things one notices as a guest in Jordan. According to Arab tradition, you are a guest for three complete days. The tradition dates back to long ago times among Bedouin people. A host is to feed, water, and shelter a traveler, no questions asked, for three days.

When I first got to Amman, I didn’t pay for anything for a good week or two – every sandwich, every museum entrance fee and every taxi ride. It’s considered incredibly impolite to pay for yourself when you are the guest.

Used to the generally Western notion that everyone covers his or her own tab, I got tired of it after a while. I know, I know, you’re thinking – what kind of an idiot wouldn’t want people to pay for him?

Well, when I was constantly being paid for, I felt like I was always indebted. When it came time to pay, I would try nonchalantly to approach the register with the money in hand.

You’ll never see an Arab move faster in your life.

They would, all in one fluid motion, quite deftly step right in the way and pull out the wallet and money and have it in the cashier’s hand in a flash. The entire matter happens so fast that the level of cunning and premeditation required becomes apparent.

I usually got a response like (rough translation): “Next time, next time you can pay,” or “I invited you, so if you don’t let me pay, I’ll be angry with you for a month.” The words were always accompanied by the most innocent of facial expressions. To avoid creating a big commotion at a busy cash register, I usually relented.

Obviously, the “next time you can pay” didn’t happen until the third or fourth time later.

My personal favorite was when I managed to reach the counter at the same time as a relative and he actually demanded that the cashier take HIS money and NOT mine. The poor chap, not sure where to turn, finally opted for seniority and took my uncle’s money.

I always thought that it was this goofy game that my relatives and friends played to be polite. It wasn’t until later that I realized it is a custom that is not to be messed with. Although on the outside it seems all fun and games, if the host isn’t allowed to pay, he or she considers it extremely impolite and often gets upset. It’s something hardwired into every person and sometimes you just have to let it be. In the end I just gave up and waited for the guest period to run out.

It’s traditions and customs like these that provide for some of the best memories and make a guest to the Middle East truly feel like a guest.

Omar Tesdell is a sophomore in journalism and mass communication from Slater.