Finally, after being gone eight long months, we returned last week to Jordan.
It is hot, and it is dusty.
And there are a few things I'll need to get used to again.
Number one, we are back to having no car. In the States, most people drive everywhere, in their own car, and during our eight months there, so did we. Our new reality hit hard a few nights ago, though, as we took a trip to the Western style grocery store on the other side of town, bought ten bags of food and supplies, and then hit the streets to find a taxi. It continues to hit hard every time I walk to our local store in the mid-day heat for anything else we have needed.
Number two, we are back to conserving every drop of our water. In the Land of 10,000 Lakes, water flows freely from our taps. Not so here, though, where our water for the week is stored in rooftop tanks. Once it's done, it's done, until--in our neighborhood--Tuesday night, when the government pumps in our next weeks supply.
Number three, we are back to needing to be careful about what and where we eat and drink. One fantastic aspect of being back home was never needing to think about the cleanliness of food and water. Sure, people get sick from time to time from undercooked meat, and maybe there is an outbreak of some food borne illness occasionally, but generally speaking, one has confidence that when one eats at a restaurant or at someones house, they are not going to get sick. I do not have a similar confidence here, though--not after having fallen ill several times. Even the government has very little confidence, having shut down all the shawarma (like a gyro) shops in the country for a time a couple years ago after several bouts of mass illness stemming from the tasty little sandwich.
Although Jordan isn't the most difficult country in the world to live in as a foreigner--I can think of plenty of much more difficult places--it is true that I find myself needing to think more when I am here.
I don't have a car. Can I get to a certain location in a taxi? In a bus? How long will it take if I walk? When is the easiest time to get a taxi? Can I get back? Water is scarce. How can I plan my day to do laundry on water day? Should we share a flush? How much water is left? Can I shower today? Food and water can be dirty. Should I eat at this place? Is this salad clean? Was this water bottled? Is this the sandwich that does me in?
In eight months in America I grew accustomed again to doing whatever I wanted. I went wherever I wanted, when I wanted, ate whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted and--perhaps cavalierly--ran water whenever I wanted, and for however long I wanted. It is almost as if no thinking is required to live there (non-Americans, hold your jokes please). Thinking is required here, though. I'm glad to be back, but I do miss not needing to think.
It is hot, and it is dusty.
And there are a few things I'll need to get used to again.
Number one, we are back to having no car. In the States, most people drive everywhere, in their own car, and during our eight months there, so did we. Our new reality hit hard a few nights ago, though, as we took a trip to the Western style grocery store on the other side of town, bought ten bags of food and supplies, and then hit the streets to find a taxi. It continues to hit hard every time I walk to our local store in the mid-day heat for anything else we have needed.
Number two, we are back to conserving every drop of our water. In the Land of 10,000 Lakes, water flows freely from our taps. Not so here, though, where our water for the week is stored in rooftop tanks. Once it's done, it's done, until--in our neighborhood--Tuesday night, when the government pumps in our next weeks supply.
Number three, we are back to needing to be careful about what and where we eat and drink. One fantastic aspect of being back home was never needing to think about the cleanliness of food and water. Sure, people get sick from time to time from undercooked meat, and maybe there is an outbreak of some food borne illness occasionally, but generally speaking, one has confidence that when one eats at a restaurant or at someones house, they are not going to get sick. I do not have a similar confidence here, though--not after having fallen ill several times. Even the government has very little confidence, having shut down all the shawarma (like a gyro) shops in the country for a time a couple years ago after several bouts of mass illness stemming from the tasty little sandwich.
Although Jordan isn't the most difficult country in the world to live in as a foreigner--I can think of plenty of much more difficult places--it is true that I find myself needing to think more when I am here.
I don't have a car. Can I get to a certain location in a taxi? In a bus? How long will it take if I walk? When is the easiest time to get a taxi? Can I get back? Water is scarce. How can I plan my day to do laundry on water day? Should we share a flush? How much water is left? Can I shower today? Food and water can be dirty. Should I eat at this place? Is this salad clean? Was this water bottled? Is this the sandwich that does me in?
In eight months in America I grew accustomed again to doing whatever I wanted. I went wherever I wanted, when I wanted, ate whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted and--perhaps cavalierly--ran water whenever I wanted, and for however long I wanted. It is almost as if no thinking is required to live there (non-Americans, hold your jokes please). Thinking is required here, though. I'm glad to be back, but I do miss not needing to think.
