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Less than 24 hours of having stepped foot into my first Middle Eastern country, I, a Thai woman from Los Angeles, found myself sitting across a Polish woman from London, whom I had just met, at a tiny makeshift coffee stand run by two conservatively-dressed Jordanian women who were passing lull time between customers scrolling through their phones. The tarp-covered coffee stand was connected to a brick-and-mortar, Johud Al-ayadi, which we found out from the sign in the window and through the limited language exchange with the Jordanian women, was actually part of a social enterprise project sponsored by Jordan's Princess Basma Bint Talal aimed to provide the women of Aqaba the opportunity to sell locally-made handicrafts and food products to visitors as a way to make a living. The coffee stand didn't have signage and we only inferred from the folding table and kerosene stove set-up with tiny mugs and Jordanian pastries under plastic wrap that they might be selling treats. Upon the first exchange about whether they had coffee in broken English and Arabic, one of the women took a ringed pastry out from under the plastic wrap broke it in half and handed one half to me and the other to the Polish woman. I have a slight intolerance to the gluten in baked goods but not wanting to be rude to the welcoming gesture, I quietly ate the pastry savoring the subtle date and cardamom flavor contemplating how my body might revolt later as my new Polish companion tried to order a cup of Turkish coffee for herself since I am also sensitive to coffee. They invited us to take a seat at the smaller table and while one woman quickly grabbed another folding chair, the other fired up the stove to boil the water for the coffee. A moment later they brought us another ringed date treat broken in half and handed one to each of us. Which I ate, figuring the damage was already done that I might as well enjoy the moment. Shortly, TWO cups of thick Turkish coffee came out, with it a small plate with two more ringed treats. This time, one whole one for each of us. Again, not wanting to be rude I sipped the thick, aromatic coffee and drowned the un-acquired bitterness with half of a treat, which paired together very nicely. My Polish companion finished the remaining of the treats. The moment the the women noticed we finished those they brought out two more. Then it dawned on me that while we were not wanting to be rude about not finishing the treats that they might also be thinking that it was rude to leave their guests' plate empty. I quietly mentioned this to my companion and we intentionally left a quarter of a a ring on the plate and then finally the treats stopped coming. We finally left laughing at the unspoken hospitality, our bellies jostling full of date ringed treats wondering if they were also laughing at the inane amount of treats we consumed.