end month one

A month ago today I got on a plane at Dulles, and when I got off of that plane, I was in Amman.

Actually, I was in Chicago O'Hare. Then I walked about a mile to the Terminal that God Forgot, where I waited in line for twenty minutes to find out I had waited in the wrong line. I waited in another line, at the end of which I was assured that my luggage was being checked through to Queen Alia International Airport. Another half-hour in line took me through security for the second time in three hours, and to the very last gate, where it turned out that there was no food.

These things are never as romantic as they sound.

Despite that—and despite the lost luggage, the homesickness, the language barrier, the weird food, being labeled immediately on the street as, at best, just another a Russian prostitute and, at worst, just another American tourist—despite all of this, I am having a wonderful time in Jordan.

I said recently, in a letter to a friend, that I decided to study abroad when, in a flash of perspective, I realized that since what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and that since four months in Jordan was unlikely to kill me, I should just. do. it. And I did.

I don’t want to jinx anything, but every day it’s looking more and more like I’ll make it to May, and as a result I wake up every morning with a vague sense of pride that I’m doing it. I’m in Jordan. And the greatest surprise of all is that actually it’s not painful at all! I’m having a wonderful time! If summer camp had been this fun, my parents wouldn’t have even had to pick me up early! And definitely not two years in a row!

The first month of fairy-tale like revelations is over, and I’m beginning month two—the month that IPO and Bruce have both warned us will be the month of homesickness, accumulated culture shock, and irritability. We’ll see what happens. What I know for sure right now is this:

Since coming to Jordan, I’ve done things that I wouldn’t have done if I stayed at Earlham. And I don’t mean seeing the desert and the Umayyad mosques and stuff like that. I mean:

I have spoken to strangers in the street in a foreign language when previously my foreign language teachers had trouble getting me to talk in class.

I have worn the same smelly underwear for three days while waiting for my lost luggage to arrive.

I invaded a family’s home and have yet to (I think) terrify them with my crazy and disgusting American habits and customs.

I went to the wedding of a couple I had never met and danced until two in the morning.

I have filled a journal and started writing a novel. My point is, being here is exhilarating, and it’s not just huge cultural revelations, it’s the tiny exhilaration of Something Completely Different. And, of course, been to the desert for the first time, seen the road sign that says “to Iraq”, been inside three desert castles, met a Bedouin, seen the temple of Hercules and a Roman amphitheatre, eaten mansaf, walked through the souk.

And it’s only been one month!

So: it’s been good and will (hopefully) only get better. Thank you to all of my family and friends for the love and support and letters and phone calls, and for reading my blog.

More soon, as we start Month Two.