What Don't I Know About Jordan?

As I write this, I am returning to Amman after two and a half weeks in the U.S. - a time for family and reflection. What has the first half of my year in Amman been? What have I learned? What do I want the second half to be?

“Well, here I am in the First World again.” This was my first thought as I peered with groggy eyes out into rainy Britain from the window of the Heathrow inter-terminal bus during my layover. I was not yet jetlagged, but I had (as usual) not slept the night before my travels. There were not too many people on the Amman-London leg of my flight, so I was able to stretch out and sleep, surrounded by empty seats and some hungover Brits who were put up the night before at the Amman Holiday Inn, in transit from Baghdad.

So, I asked myself, what’s so different about the “First World” anyway? At least, in comparison to West Amman? As we drove underneath Heathrow, the cement columns and cars parked along the side of the roadway seemed that they could easily still be in Amman.

Ok, so I guess it was new that the drivers were actually staying inside the lane lines on the street. And the security at Heathrow was much more serious – the inspectors in Amman missed a full water bottle in my purse that I forgot I wasn’t allowed to take on the plane. And perhaps there was a subtle difference apparent in the nature of the commercialism in Heathrow. Materialism and consumerism are still relatively new phenomena in Jordan, and people in Heathrow seemed much more nonchalant about spending time in the expansive duty-free shops that dominate the airport geography.

During my plane ride I was listening to Elissa (a famous Lebanese popstar) and watching Bab al-Hara (a popular TV series – think Sopranos set in old Damascus with less crime) for my daily Arabic practice. I already missed Amman. I have grown to love it, as a place where I have come to know another culture and fascinating people, and as a place where I have gotten to know myself. I already missed knowing that I was one of few Americans in a place. It’s rather boring, truth be told, to be similar to everyone around you.

I also miss the prices! I bought a sandwich, a bottle of water, and a fruit cup at Heathrow for the equivalent of $13 – this will buy you a classy night out in Amman. Or five taxi rides across town. Or 40 falafel sandwiches!

When I first arrived in America, I tried to look at it the way an arriving Jordanian might see it for the first time. I imagined that I saw everything was bigger – the cities, the roads, the people, the food portions, the stores. The politics! I was in the States for Super Tuesday, and it was wild. I am excited that Americans are turning out to vote in huge (sometimes record) numbers and getting involved in the choice of our next president. Change is in the air. People seem more interested in contributing to politics than I have ever seen before.

I also hypothesize that a Jordanian might be struck by how kind and talkative Midwestern and Southern (I took a trip to Nashville to visit my sister) Americans are. I was surprised myself to remember how smiley people are and how willing they are to give - whether you want directions or a place in a line of traffic. In Nashville I was startled several times when someone I didn’t know said “Hello” or “Good morning” in the street. I would turn around nervously as the person passed. “Who was that?” I wondered suspiciously. But it was just someone going about his or her jolly day.

When I think of being a Jordanian (or any foreigner) trying to get a sense of America, I feel overwhelmed at the impossibility. It is such a diverse and complicated country. I feel overwhelmed in my task of trying to understand Jordan, which has only 6 million people, not 300 million!

Temporarily distancing myself from Amman has also given me a new lens through which to view the city and my experience thus far. I think the most frustrating aspect of my time has been that I feel a little “stuck” inside West Amman. Don’t get me wrong - I like this modern part of Jordan which is a subculture unto itself, but I fear my future conversation with someone who knows the Middle East. “Do you know much about modern Jordan?” he or she will ask me. “Have you experienced life there?”

“I spent a year there,” I’ll say. “I know a fair amount.”

“Really? Where did you live?”

“In Amman.”

“West Amman?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You don’t know Jordan. You know West Amman.”

Is this true, and if so, is this enough? Although I can’t learn simply everything about a country in a year – or ten years! – I would like to spend the next couple of weeks of my time in Jordan learning about what it is that I don’t yet know.

**If any Jordanians reading this would like to make suggestions as to how to answer this question, I would love to read your answers. What parts of Jordanian society and daily life could I spend time discovering over the next four or so months? What have I missed?**

In the meantime, my second semester of classes begin this week and our conference is whirling through new stages of progress (look for more info very soon).