Cultural Differences

I was sitting on the floor of the hallway, chatting with one of my dormmates, Randa, the other night while she cleaned a pair of shoes. We chatted about her classes, about Ramadan, and other things. Every once in a while she would start apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" she said.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what in the world she was apologizing for. So I replied to her, "What are you apologizing for? I don't understand."

"My shoe. I keep accidentally pointing the bottom of my shoe at you."

Right, in the Middle East it is an insult point the sole of your shoes or your feet at people, because they are dirty and are in contact with the ground. There are probably other reasons too, but I don't know them. That's the reason I tend to be careful about how I cross my legs.

I giggled, "Oh right. I didn't even notice. That's not a thing in my culture, I didn't think about it. Don't worry. I won't take it as an insult. Do what you need to do!" And we continued chatting.


 I can't believe I have less than 3 weeks left in this country. I have been blessed to experience this culture and to start to understand some of the nuances involved.

How Big is Your Life?

How big is the radius of your life? I mean it, think about that question. How far do you travel for work? For School? How far do you live from your parents and other family members? How far do you travel to go grocery or clothes shopping? How far are the other places that you go regularly? You got that mapped out in your head? Great! Now, how many people are involved in that life? How many people do you work with? Are these different from your friends? How about the people you go to Church with? Next question for you: What does the size of your life mean?

Back in the US, I was always working to give my life a bigger radius. When I stayed with my parents, my life wasn't very small. I went grocery shopping at the Walmart that was a 10 minute car ride from my house. The mall and movie theater were 45 minutes away in one direction, the place where I worked 45 minutes in another. My church happened to only be a minute or so drive from my parents' house, but the people who attend come from all over the area. But the town with my high school and favorite coffee shop and my friend's barn was a 20 minute drive away. And most my friends lived even farther. I went to college 3 hours away from my parents house and made my life there for 4 years. The daily life I had there had a physically smaller radius, I slept, studied, went to class, ate, hung out with my friends, and worked on campus. But I had ways of extending that radius. I took babysitting jobs off campus- one involved a 30 minute walk. I went to mall 20 minutes away. I took trains into Philadelphia. I rode horses at a barn 20 minutes away. I took summer jobs in different locations, one in Akron, PA another in Philadelphia, PA. In Akron, I walked around town, and took my car to a coffee shop in the next town over, and met up with friends 20 minutes away in Lancaster. In Philly, my job involved traveling all over the city and when I needed it I escaped to Swarthmore, to my college in the suburbs. I always wanted my life to involve more and new places. I tried to know people in a variety of places.

My life in Jordan is much smaller. I do most of my grocery shopping on the street next to the YWCA. I go to church a little farther up the street. School's farther away, 20 minutes by car, about 40 minutes if I'm walking and taking the bus. But, I do very little in between those two. I sometimes go to Church events at AES. Sometimes I go to University Street for coffee. When it feels too small, I run away to Amman, which is about an hour and a half away. But, all of this is augmented by the fact that I have family and friends that I keep in close contact with back in the US.

For me, the size of my life meant, and still means, that I didn't see my parents very often. Even when I was living with them there were days that we didn't see each other. Seeing my sisters was rarer. It meant that I spent a lot of time along commuting. It meant that I maintained friendships where I wouldn't see or sometimes ever speak to person in weeks, or months. Despite that, I always felt close to people.

In America, I always felt like I had a normal sized life. A lot of people commute to work and live far from their parents and go to school away from home. Sometimes, thinking about it makes my life in Jordan feel extremely small. But, in the Jordanian context my life is actually pretty big. Most Jordanians live with their parents until they get married. It's common for Jordanian young adults to tell their parents everywhere that they go. Often, young, unmarried women need their father or brother to drive them places. It's normal to shop in only a few stores, because customers are intensely loyal. Many of my students when asked about their dream vacation talk about going to Aqaba, which is about the same distance from Irbid as from my hometown to New York City. After spending my life in a culture that appreciates bigness, it's not always comfortable to step into one where smaller lives are common. It can feel like you're being watched and judged. But culturally, it means that people are much closer to their families. Decisions are made by the family. Friendships are made by the family. The people in your life are involved with everything. It means that people are more interdependent- as evidenced by the fact that people always assume that I'm lonely since I don't live with family.

So, I ask you again: How big is your life? And what does that size mean?

Hiking, Missing Home, and Finding Strength

 I've lived in Husn for two weeks now. And for those two weeks I've been struggling to find my place in this town. I'm a stranger and a foreigner, I don't know anyone. Most of my interactions happen with shopkeepers. Though, increasingly I've been spending time with the other girls at the YWCA. It's still not the same as knowing the place where I live though. I've been a bit homesick this week. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss sitting in coffee shops. I miss going out with my friends. I miss having easy opportunities to meet and interact with new people.

Last night was a particularly bad night. I made the mistake of watching the groups of young men hanging out in town, there were no women out, I was jealous of their freedom. Today, I spent the morning reading and drinking tea, still feeling mildly stifled. I decided to go on a hike to feel more independent. So, I put on my hiking boots and trekked up the hill. I took a big road that I've been told leads from oil fields in Iraq to ports in Israel/Palestine. In total I was out for less than two hours, but it did the trick. Standing on the crest of the hill, with the wind billowing around me, I felt freer. I felt like I could do anything. Even the stares from the passengers in the cars driving by couldn't dampen the feeling. I was doing something by myself and proving my ability, strength, and independence to myself in the process.

The hike reminded me of why I love doing what I do. I love getting to see new places and to try to understand them. I love the chance to get to know people and to start to learn their stories. And to hopefully have a positive influence in the midst of all of that. Yes, some days it's hard, and sometimes I want to do go home and be somewhere familiar, but really, I would not give this opportunity up for anything.

Has it really been a month?

 It's hard to believe that I've been in Jordan for over a month now. Sometimes it feels like I've been here for so much longer. It feels like it's been years since I was in Akron at Orientation. But, at the same time I feel like I just got here. It feels like just yesterday I was standing in downtown Amman for the first time, marveling at the little blue lights that decorate the street. It's been quite a month. I started to learn the layout of Amman. I took Arabic Language lessons. I visited Ancient Roman, and Byzantine, and Islamic ruins. I saw Irbid and Husn for the first time. I went to Bethany Beyond the Jordan, Mount Nebo, and Madaba. I attended a Lebanese indie band concert in the Roman Ampitheater. I made friends with many interesting ex-pats and a wonderfully welcoming Palestinian family. The craziest part is that at after all of that I moved into the YWCA in Husn (which is a 15 minute car ride away from the Arab Episcopal School), started living on my own, and finally started volunteering at the Arab Episcopal School.

On Saturday morning, I moved all of my possessions into the living room and ran to my last Arabic class. After that I said my goodbyes to my classmates, made promises to let them know when I visit Amman, and hopped into the Country Reps' car. We dropped Caleb off at the airport shuttle to take him to his new home, and set off to Husn. The Country Reps helped me move my bags into my room, walked around the town with me while I found grocery, said their goodbyes, and left me on my own. My Saturday night, I was officially living on my own at the YWCA.

I enjoy the independence of living on my own. I like making my own schedule and routines. I enjoy the opportunity to explore the town at my own pace. But, it's a challenge as well. I'm still learning what amenities the YWCA has, and its schedules. I know where I can store my food. I've built up my bravery to light the gas stove with the lighter, even though I think I've going to burn myself every time. I figured out how to use the showers, though I've been taking cold showers since I still don't know when the hot water is actually on. I figured out where I can buy fruits, vegetables, hummus, and bread. Meat it still an issue because most of what I've found in the stores here is processed (i.e. chicken nuggets, that sort of thing.) I've discovered that cooking for one is not nearly as much fun as cooking for several, and thus have become extremely lazy about actually making food for myself. Since Saturday, I've made 3 or 4 salads and eaten too much pita and hummus. Can you blame me for eating so much hummus and pita though? It's so good, and super cheap! I get the hummus fresh from a shop down the street and a kilo of pita still warm from the bakery a few doors down for less than $2 combined. I've made pasta a few times as well, but until I get a better plan for buying meat I don't think I will do much actual cooking.

Monday was my first day at the Arab Episcopal School (AES). I felt pretty lost most of my first day. School has been in session for several weeks now and the schedule is pretty routine for everyone else by now. I just tried to follow along. I'm working with the 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd, and 7^th grade English classes. I love being around kids and teaching. All of the classes are fun. The 1^st graders all clamor for my attention and want to tell me what things are called in English. The 2^nd graders have started trading the Arabic names of things for the English names with me and desperately want me to call on them when I help with conversation. The 3^rd graders impress me every time I'm with them, with their vocabulary and their quick grasp of English grammar. The 7^th grade is silly, and has much better reading comprehension than I had after 3 years of high school French.

With all of the classes, I particularly work with the low vision students, helping them write and making sure they are paying attention and comprehending. In the lower grades I've also been assisting with conversational English and checking work in and out of class. I'm supposed to run a conversational English class once a week, I'm not sure what exactly that entails but I'm excited. Tomorrow I'm going to start assisting with the English correspondence in the office.

There is no doubt in my mind that the next 10 months at AES is going to be a challenge, but I'm excited to face it. I love every minute I'm with my students, even when they are driving me up the wall. I can't wait to look back in July and see just how far both my students and I have come.

(I apologize for the lack of pictures, my internet here is too slow to load them. I will post some the next time I'm in Amman or when I have access to faster internet.)

So the Transition Begins

Amman's skyline at sunset.

Adjusting to a new place is always rough, even moving to a new town. When you move to a new town you don't really know where things are, you aren't always sure of the best way to get around, you don't really know anyone, and you have to figure out how the community functions. Now, imagine doing that when you don't speak the language and are functionally illiterate. That's been my last week, and will probably be my life for most of the year. It'll be smoother at some points than others, but that's okay.

Caleb and I at the Roman Amphitheater.

My first week was more rough than I'd like to admit. Back home, I enjoy being independent, I love going places by myself or making plans with friends and going where ever I chose, especially in the evening. That's a little more difficult here for many reasons. One: I don't really know where anything is or how to get there. And it's really hot during the day so I try to avoid long walks during that time. Two: it's not all that common to see young, unmarried women out alone, so I feel like I awkwardly stand out. Three: I really do standout when I go places because I'm so obviously a Westerner. (I'm trying to get used to thinking of myself as White in this context, even though I would never identify myself that way.)

The Temple of Hercules.

Last Monday, I started taking Arabic lessons. I've had a lot of mixed feelings about them. While I'm in class I feel really stupid, and mildly defeated. Arabic's really hard, the structure is different and there are many sounds that we don't use in English, or at least that we don't distinguish as separate sounds. And I'm only taking it for 4 weeks (3 to go!) so I often feel like there's no point when I'm struggling to remember or pronounce words. But then I go out and I hear people talking and I can recognize words. Or like last night, I had a taxi driver who didn't speak English, and I was able to understand a little bit of what he was telling me about where we were and where we were going. In these moments, I feel encouraged. My struggles in class aren't in vain. I am learning something.

In the Umayyad governor's palace.

Arabic lessons have dominated my life for the past week. They take up the whole morning, and are exhausting. Afterwards, Caleb and I either head to the MCC office or back to Reps apartment, where we hang out, relax a bit, and study. My life can't be all work and no play though, so I have been trying to do fun things when I'm not studying. Before classes started, I had some time to get to know the city. The MCC Reps took Caleb and I to the Royal Automobile Museum last Friday. And on Saturday they introduced us to an American student, Clara, who is doing an internship and studying Arabic here in Amman. That day we walked around the hill she lives on, saw the old Roman Amphitheater, and hung out on Rainbow Street, which has a lot of cafes and is a popular hang out spot for young people and expats. Tuesday was a holiday for municipal elections (yes, after one day of class I had a day off!), so Caleb and I went to the Citadel. The Citadel is a historic site in Amman, with artifacts dating back to the Neolithic Period (which began around 10,200 BC and ended around 2,000 BC). The excavated architecture includes a Roman Temple of Hercules, a Byzantine Church, and early Islamic Mosque, and a Umayyad governor's palace. It is absolutely amazing to see. Caleb and I spent most of the day exploring the Citadel and taking pictures. While there we were, we ran into a group of young boys. The moment they saw my camera they asked me if I could take a picture of them, so I did! They looked at the picture after and were excited and went on their way. It seems that that's a thing here, the kids want you to take a picture of them because they like posing for pictures and the idea that you have a picture of them.

The concert we stumbled upon.

Thursday nights are the Jordanian equivalent to Friday nights in America, and the big thing that people do it just hang out. One popular spot to this is outside of the Abu Darwish Mosque. So Clara, Caleb, and I hung out there. We had ice cream and some sweets, and listened to a concert that we stumbled upon. I think the concert had something to do with a Islamic theology class that some boys just finished, but I'm not really sure. It was a great time. We attracted a lot of attention as a mix gender group of Westerners though. Some of the attention was from adorable little kids. There was a group of little girls who really wanted to talk to us, but were really nervous and didn't know much English. When they finally built up the courage they came over and told us hello, ran back giggling to who I think was their Dad. They came back and asked our names, and ran away giggling. They returned and told us their names, then ran back to their Dad. They asked where we were from, ran away, came over and told us they are Palestinian, and ran back. After that they had to leave so they came back one last time to tell us "Welcome to Jordan!" before heading home. Some of the attention is from random weird people. One guy was talking to Caleb for a long time, and slowly a circle of teenage boys joined the conversation, Clara and I were commenting that he had a fan club. When the original man left one of the boys told us, "He's crazy," so really they were just trying to save him. And some of the attention is from young men. There were several groups floating around us, who seemed to be trying to get the courage up to talk to us for most the night. It was all very fun though.

I'm excited to have more adventures this week, and my goal is to face the awkwardness and culture shock. I'm going to find a coffee shop to study at in the afternoons, and I want to try to go to the market at least once by myself. I'm trying not to retreat from the roughness of transitioning, and hopefully that will make it smoother in the end- especially when I move to Irbid where I really will be on my own.