If you’ve been following me for some time, you’ll know that I spent the last nine months studying Arabic in Amman, Jordan. I planned to stay for eleven to thirteen months, however, my trip was cut short by the Covid 19 pandemic.
Before I moved to Jordan, my experience in the region was limited to my time in Iran. I had never even been to an Arabic-speaking country, save for a short trip to Egypt. I didn’t know how to speak Arabic, and I hadn’t spent more than a few months away from Michigan since I moved back from Iran in 2015.
After a day or two of exploring Amman, I attended my academic orientation. I remember when the speaker asked how many students how planned to stay in Amman for more than two semesters: Of the hundreds in attendance, I was among the very few. The extent of my commitment made me uneasy, and I began to feel alone. I didn’t speak Arabic, I didn’t know Amman, or anyone living there.
Alhamdullilah, I was able to find many good friends — both locals and fellow students — who were able to help me explore Amman and enjoy my time there. My daily Arabic progress motivated me further, and I began to feel more spiritually and socially fulfilled than I had in years. I fell in love with life in the Levant, and I stopped missing the United States.
At first, I doubted my decision to stay for a year. After the halfway point, I began to regret staying for so little. On the night I left, I was lamenting my sudden departure, without a chance to say properly bid farewell to a city that was just beginning to feel like home.
Letters from Jordan 