As I zipped my small suitcase closed, I could hear the crickets chirping through my open window and feel the cool breeze. It seemed like a quintessential late summer’s evening in Missouri. I suddenly became aware that the familiarity of home would soon be speeding away at the precise velocity of a Qatar Airways jet. My mind full of details and pre-departure to-do lists, I hadn’t had time to process that almost two years of planning was about to be set into motion. After deferring scholarships during the pandemic, deciding to take an extra semester post-senior year, months of reapplying and awaiting formal approvals, everything was — “insha’allah” or God-willing — finalized.

I was hesitant to be excited until we touched down in Amman, but things were beginning to feel real. I’ve wanted to study abroad in an Arabic-speaking country since high school when I first became interested in the language. It was, in fact, nonfiction films produced in the Middle East and South Asia that inspired me to study documentary journalism at Mizzou in the first place. My heart was broken over the misunderstandings and underrepresentation of these cultures in my home country; and the ensuing prejudices and policies that followed. I felt God drawing me toward the Arabic language and Arab people. Though the idea was overwhelming, it also continued to motivate me. I knew if I were to be a part of reconciliation between our cultures, I would need to be able to listen to people’s stories in their language directly.

Fast-forward about 25 hours of cars, planes and airport security lines, and I found myself staring out the taxi window at a seemingly endless desert with a horizon line glittered by the city lights of my new home. Though many of my loving family and friends were a bit terrified of this moment on my behalf, I felt a quiet wave of wonder and peace wash over me. I didn’t know what to expect from the coming months, but the corners of my mouth drew upward as I thought, “Ok God, the ball’s in your court now.” Though I never really felt a distinct moment of “culture shock,” the weeks that followed were saturated with degrees of “culture strain.” There was of course the perpetual thrill ride we call: crossing the street. Then there is the confounding nature of trying to order a “chai” tea latte because the word “shai” simply means tea in general. Shower drains that don’t actually drain. And the ubiquitous fumes including car exhaust, strong perfumes, cigarettes, my neighbor’s incense and everyone’s favorite: argilla (that is shisha, or hookah) in every café.

On a more serious note, the differences in the way women, and especially foreign ones, are perceived has been one of the most impactful elements of culture strain. I am still learning when it is appropriate to make eye contact with men and how to balance authenticity and guardedness around male Arab acquaintances. I am acutely aware of my “foreign woman” status by the frequent honking, ever-present stares on the street, common inferring of marriage proposals and up-charging in markets. At first, I was insecure that I was unknowingly offending everyone that could see me. Should I be more confident, or more subdued? Was I judging others too quickly, or being too naïve? It took time, but as I warmed up to the area I realized that these actions were usually not meant to be threatening and I didn’t need to take them that way. Though frustrating, they were not representative of most Jordanians who were otherwise extremely welcoming and kind. Though Jordan is considered one of the most progressive countries in the region, views on women’s roles are still heavily influenced by cultural norms that I have never experienced before. Being respectful while feeling comfortable operating here is something I am trying to navigate with a posture of humility and wisdom; and of course, with the help of my female Jordanian friends.

Though adjusting to a new culture can be challenging, I believe it is not only worth it but one of the most important things a student can experience. When culture strain is high, I have found a few things to be really helpful. Splurging on that expensive almond butter at the American grocery store is worth it. Taking time to put earbuds in and listen to some of my favorite music reminds me that I can feel at home in my new environment. Closing the blinds and dancing in the kitchen is never a bad idea. Don’t underestimate the encouragement of a quality phone call home. Don’t feel stupid for crying. Sometimes you just need a nap. I like to make little notes that remind me of my “whys” and stick them around the apartment. I have found my greatest joy, peace and purpose knowing that God is intricately weaving my life together in powerful kindness and grace. Spending time with Him is something I cant recommend highly enough. Finally, I think that when things are overwhelming, it is so easy to become cynical and defeated. It is in that moment that we must choose to fight for thankfulness. Even just spending a few minutes on my walk to school, listing things that I appreciate, can change my whole perspective. At the end of the day, adapting to life in Jordan has been so many things: challenging and exciting, confusing and interesting, intimidating and invigorating. I know that I have only yet skimmed the surface of life here. I’m excited to take a deep breath and dive deeper.