This is likely to be one of the few long posts I write, but after a month in Amman, you simply have to stop and take a moment to think about what is going on.
The past weeks have been phenomenal for me. A strange mix of insane excursions, awkward family conversations, strange food that you gradually begin to become addicted to, absurd taxi rides, interesting classes, group outings, and, as usual, antibiotics.
Here one thing bumps you to another, and you lose touch with what brought you to a different country.
For me it's never been about "experiencing a different culture in order to become globally aware." Those phrases, neatly advertised on study abroad leaflets, simply do not correspond to reality. You come into a place full of Hollywood-like expectations, you buy yourself a kefiah, you take artsy pictures of people in the market, and then you go back to Westernville.
Sure, I want to experience a different culture. I also want to keep learning an insanely complicated language I’ve dedicated so much time to. “The key is in the language,” they say. Yet, I am not going to integrate myself in four months. I may be able to continue learning the language, have funny conversations about food and Arab stereotypes with cab drivers and waiters, but that’s not integrating. That’s adapting. Adapting temporarily, until you go home, to your habits, your routine, and your illusion that you really understood a different lifestyle and fit in.
I love this place. I don’t fit in. The two things are equally true at the same time. I think it’s important to understand that four months in a place doesn’t make you a piece of the puzzle, but a close observer. While this may disappoint many, the sooner you realize it, the earlier you understand how to make the best out of a fantastic situation.
Things here are different. Customs are different, along with eating habits, morals, expectations, norms, religion, politics, sex, communication, music, media, opinion, attitude, groupthink, and sense of appropriateness. It is not monolithic either. There isn’t a big model called “Arab” that incorporates all these things. Variety exists everywhere, and you hear stunningly different things from different people.
To quantify, I would probably say I do not fit in within 90% of social norms, common beliefs, and normal expectations in Jordan. It’s singular. We are on different pages. But the energy is palpable, even in what has always been considered one of the mildest and most organized societies of the modern Arab world. It is chaos at its finest, and it smells nice.
I try and observe. Being here does not change much of the amount of information you can retain about current affairs in the region or other social and political issues affecting the Middle East. I may be in Amman, but I still read the same publications, watch the same news broadcasts (except for occasional entertaining Syrian Ba’athist propaganda), and listen to the same music. But what you feel around you is that there is something else. The mentality is different, and it lies at the core of everything that happens in a 1000 km radius from here.
I do not know what it is. Maybe I will never fully comprehend it. It is like there are two parallel histories that interact but speak different codes, as if causality works by different laws. What is certain is that there are some social forces, human and real, that move these places. They are above history, above a lifespan and above a government, beyond religion, across families. They run history, they choose the rules. It’s not Obama, Assad, or any other figure or fancy party or speech that defines this area. There is something else, at the lowest level.
I can’t identify it yet. Maybe I never will. But it keeps you going.
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