From Almonds to Olives, One Chicoan's Adventures in Jordan

I feel a bit guilty for not having blogged in awhile, but as usual life seems to take twists and turns. There was another incident at my home where someone rang my doorbell and waited in the dark for me to answer. After 10min of asking who it was I called my landlady to see if one of her young sons had come down. She said no and I asked if she could check my door because I couldn't see a thing and didn't want to open it if someone were there. Sure enough, when she opened her door someone ran away. About a week later I was in the city near my village and as I went to get onto the bus (there were over 40 of us trying to squeeze through the door) some man behind me stuck his hand between my legs. I didn't get on the bus and instead turned around and began screaming at him. A few women took me to the security at the university (where the bus stop was). By the time we got security to come with us the man was gone.

I am tired of not feeling safe. I am emotionally exhausted from never escaping the constant incidents/stress of incidents occurring. I spoke to Peace Corps and within a week of conversations we were able to find a new apartment on the second floor of a building in my village. Men here will always push the limits with foreign women (yes, I am generalizing, but based on my year and a half this is what has happened to me). Most the things that have happened to me have been "crimes of opportunity." I am done waiting for something to happen and reacting. It's necessary to be proactive. I have less than 5 months left but wish for them to not be spent scared inside my house. So I'm moving.

My new house is amazing. It will be finished within the week and I will move around Thursday. 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, kitchen, 2 balconies, roof top all to myself and the most amazing part--a sit down toilet! My new landlord couldn't stop laughing at me when he saw my reaction to it. I cannot wait! No one can see me on the roof so I will be doing yoga and sunbathing quite a bit. I want to wake up to sunlight coming in through the windows and know that there is no way someone could peep. I'll drink coffee on my balcony overlooking the valley that's blanketed in green and wild flowers. I'm ready to end my service in peace. It's only a 10min walk from my current house so I will be able to visit my old landlords often.

Work has been difficult, but that comes with the territory. My favorite moment this week was when a student threw up, missing me by inches, giggled and then tried to hand me what he caught in his hands. Horrified, I pointed him toward the bathroom and washed my hands. I'm trying to find a way to leave my center intact and walk away with all ends tied neatly. I understand that this will probably not be the case, but it's a goal to strive toward. I am working with a teacher to make a laminated book of all our worksheets so that when we get a copy machine they will have everything in one book that'll be kept in the director's office. Today the teacher suggested making another book with examples of work that are colored for the teachers. Along with the two books I am attempting to do some verbal exercises with the young students and spending time in a teacher's class every day. With a new director things are always hard. There isn't a relationship of trust built. Usually the last semester is a time of saying goodbye and feeling relaxed with your co-workers. Everyone is trying to be on their best behavior thus creating a very different atmosphere.

Things are not all terrible. You learn to grab the silver lining and use it like an umbrella for all the bad to slide off of. The wild flowers are out in full force adding rich yellows and reds to my already beautifully green world. I am planning my life after Peace Corps and have an amazing person to do it with. It's amazing looking back on all that I've been through to see how it has allowed me to appreciate what is to come. I have never given my heart more to anything in my life. It has been stepped on, beaten, neglected and hurt but it has been given the love and trust of my students. Children that are outcasts and considered shameful. A population that is more likely to be hid in the back of a house than to go to a center. I have embraced them as my own and allowed them to be who they are--children. We have laughed, danced, cried, yelled and held hands. I would be blessed to have a child of my own one day that loves me to the extent that Raneem does.

It is a few days later and I am adding to the entry because...I met Joseph Biden! The volunteers were invited to the embassy for an opportunity to have our photo taken. Before his speech we were lined up to have him take a picture with us. About an hour late the cars rushed into the embassy and he walked right on over. After posing he could have walked over to give his speech but instead turned around and talked to us! An incredibly personable man, I was touched and impressed. He asked our group, "Who here is protecting Petra?" A few volunteers raised their hands. "I always feel like I'm in an Indiana Jones movie there." I responded, "You can always ride a camel and sing the song. Da dun dun, dad a dun..." and proceeded to sing the theme song of Indiana Jones to the vice president of the United States! He laughed, made another joke and went to give his speech. I stood there for some time thinking, "Did I really do that? Out of all the things that could have been said, I sang a song to the VP?!" Honestly, it does fit my personality that I did something silly. After telling my parents, Dad commented that my grandpa would have done the same thing. That made me feel better about having made a fool of myself. His speech was short but good.

I am in my new home finally and love it! Currently, I'm sitting on my balcony typing this up. There is still a lot of cleaning that needs to be done. But I am happy, finally happy and safe. It is time to end my service strong, proud and humbly. I am thankful for what I have been through, both the good and the bad. They have turned me into a woman that can face any problem with a grounded outlook and ability to find solutions.

(Another volunteer and I waiting at the embassy for Biden)

America. We take it for granted. Trust me. I knew I needed to go home, be with those I love in a land I knew. But I never realized I had taken it for granted. As I stepped onto my first flight I fought back the tears of a year. A year of great things, but also a year of hardships, trials, failures and isolation. I was finally going HOME. As each plane took off I cried and as each plane landed I cried. My last flight left me incredibly humbled.

I was exhausted and knew that within a few hours I was going to be in California hugging my sister. Trying with all my might to not be seen as crazy I held back the tears. A flight attendant, Karl, came by and started talking. When he found out what I was doing he gave me the most genuine "thank you" I had ever received. A few minutes later he came back with all the first class food. He said that they treated the military well and felt that I was also giving an important service to the country. I shared with my neighbor and tried to not cry while drinking a glass of wine. At the end of the flight he gave me a bottle of wine to bring home to my family. I was overwhelmed. I had not heard or felt genuine gratitude toward what I'm doing, at least not in person, for a long time. I will always remember that flight. When landing the man next to me gave me a high five and said, "You're home." I couldn't speak. I'm crying while typing this. I was finally, after a year, home. Practically running through the airport I threw myself into my sister's arms and began sobbing. Sure, I was making a scene, who wouldn't?

Chico is amazing. It really is a part of me. Going to the gym with my mom. Walking the dog with my dad. It was therapy. Just sitting with them at night and watching 24 helped release so much. I knew it was going to be hard, that I would have a few freak outs and breakdowns. Naturally they came but I worked through them and had an amazing time.

A day before my birthday I was baptized in the Catholic Church. My search for the right church has been one of many years and I am blessed to have made my decision. I am not saying I agree with everything about the church or that I think everyone should be Catholic. Not at all! My sponsor/god mother was my aunt and my uncle (her brother) was my godfather. My uncle is Buddhist. I felt that it was fitting to have him as my godfather. Your godparents are the ones you turn to with questions about faith and faith transcends religions. It was a small and intimate ceremony which was exactly what I wanted. This was me confirming my relationship with God and I didn't feel that I needed to publicize it to the world.

After my baptism I headed back to Chico. Along with me came my fantastic, constantly devil's advocate, friend Rachel. I would not be so well researched in my arguments if it hadn't been for her always forcing me to see the other side. Aaron, who I am so grateful to have in my life, flew from his home state on the east coast to be there. Being the proud Chicoan that I am, I drug Aaron to Sierra Nevada where he had the sampler. Yet, after the sampler, he and dad began talking guns/hunting so mom and I left them to head home. Jon and Bons, downtown, Chico State, the park and other locations were also on his agenda. We are a proud people and I believe in showing people why.

I then spent a day cooking with Rachel, Aaron, my mom and sister to prepare for a Jordanian party. Sadly, I am not as good a cook as them but think I pulled off a few dishes alright. We hung the flag that was given to me by a women's charity in my village and opened the door. You know that you are loved by the people in your life when family friends, relatives and people from all parts of my life flow through the open door. The support they have given me throughout my service can never be thanked enough.

Next on my list of things to do was speaking at my old high school, Chico High. I had made a powerpoint that was just a slide show of some pictures. That was all the preparation I felt was necessary. After speaking to some staff we decided to focus the talk on my path from Chico High to now and the opportunities outside of Chico. Don't get me wrong, I know many great people who stayed in Chico and have good lives, but some feel trapped. I wanted to show that even with average grades, not a lot of money and without a set career path you can do amazing things anywhere you want. 3 out of the 4 teachers who brought their students were my English teachers. They helped mold me into the academic I am today. As I shared with the students, Mr. Craig made me cry my first week of class. Yet, after that week I worked harder than I ever had and proved to myself (though at the time I thought I was proving to him) that I could be more than an "emotional writer." Seeing them there made me proud to know that my work, wherever in the world I go, represents them. I was impressed by the questions of the students and the fact that only once I had to stop to get a few girls to stop talking. Being approached after with questions and comments made me feel optimistic that some of these kids (Yes, I realize I'm not that much older) want something more out of life. I ended up having coffee with one student who I can honestly see doing amazing things some day. I told them that they could contact me via e-mail but this one student went above and beyond to schedule a coffee date. I don't think I'm inspirational, but at least being able to possibly help someone really meant a lot to me.

After Chico High I went to my sister's 3rd grade class and gave a small presentation. I had made them all bookmarks with their names in English and Arabic. My sister is fantastic with children. A born teacher to say the least. Just like my old English teachers showing up to my talk, my sister will have influenced these children in the best way possible. People think that what I am doing is great, but sometimes I want to remind them that without my sister there would be no me. She is the one forming minds and influencing our future. Those kids are darn lucky to have her.

From Lincoln (where she teaches) we headed to Monterey. That city is where I became an adult. Chico raised me and Monterey made me form myself into who I wanted to be. The ocean, cold and beautiful, crashes against rocks to the beat of my heart. My mom was raised in Carmel so I have been going to the area since childhood. But it was going there after high school, having to work while going to college that pushed me into adulthood. Years later I can still go by the places I worked and be remembered. I cannot say enough how lucky I am to have such good hearted people in my life (Britt the Pit, you are now my seahorse buddy!). Toward the end of my time in Monterey I went to my old professor/adviser/dear friend's class. I gave them a scenario about my life overseas and their job was to respond. Out of all the talks that was the most honest and raw. I was asked to make them see what it was like to be a humanitarian worker in the field...and though I cannot speak for other fields I believe that I did show them many of the difficulties and successes I have had. After the talk I got Mexican food with Ashley, my partner in crime, and then drinks with some good friends. Being there was a bit strange. When going through hard times in Jordan I used to pretend I was in Monterey. What a perfect day with Ashley would be (bike trail, wine tasting, hiking, people watching, movie at the Osio, etc) or exactly how kelp moves with the current. I got so good at these thoughts that when I was there I had moments where I felt that I was actually in Jordan day dreaming. It's like when you read a book about a place and then go visit where the book was talking about. After saying goodbye to beautiful Monterey we drove back to Chico for the final farewells.

My flights back were uneventful (I almost missed one but am fortunately used to running in airports). I am happy to be back. I have 6 months left and am determined to do my best to finish. Many volunteers have been leaving for various reasons but it puts our group at about 50% of its original number. I'm proud to be on the 50% side that stayed. Not to say that those who left quit. I don't look at it that way. We all have reasons for staying or leaving and it takes a bigger person to do what is right versus staying out of pride. I am back in my village and just completed my first day of work. Seeing my kids and the joy they bring me was enough to remind me why I'm here. At break I was watching one student eating and he caught my eye. We smiled at each other and I had to turn away because I thought about how I was leaving him in 6 months and an overwhelming sadness hit me. I have never had a group of kids effect me so deeply.

So with all the said, I am ready to move on. I have a family that loves and supports me through all my crazy adventures, friends who keep me grounded and constantly laughing and a man who brings me more happiness than words can express. My life is good, I am lucky. I will never take America for granted again and cannot wait to return to a life there. Yet, I am happy to be back in this crazy culture of buses, olive trees, sheep, tea and coffee. When the post office women force you to have tea with them and talk about how much they missed you...well, you know you're in the right place.

These are my opinions only and do not reflect those of Peace Corps and the United States government.

Many things are going through my mind. I'm in the final stretch of my service and now must make the frightening next step. What do I do? Go back home, get my credentials in Special Education? Find a government job in Sacramento and live with my sister? Go further into debt and head to grad school? Apply for jobs with nongovernmental organizations? The government? USAID?

I know that I must work and not head back to school. For some volunteers it is the right choice. Peace Corps opens the doors of many schools that offer us scholarships and other forms of financial aid. I can't do it. I love learning new things, reading books about what I'm interested in, researching for papers, all of it. But, I can't do it. The thought of sitting in a classroom after all this seems like a nightmare to me. I need to work. I need to actually make money and work toward a career. Going from a poor college student to a poor volunteer was the right choice, but I don't want to continue being poor. The past week has been spent applying for government jobs online that may keep me over here or a bit more east ...that wouldn't be a first choice, but I won't turn from a good opportunity (and I do want to attend grad school in the future).

I go home to visit for about 3 weeks in early January. The time will be spent with friends and family. I will also be talking at my old high school, college and a club that I helped make at college. I think that it's important to share my experience. Not only here, in a blog, but to reach out to those who aren't reading it. Returning to my high school, looking in the eyes of students who are about to start their life journey and say, "You can do anything you want. No matter where you've come from, no matter how little money you have...if you believe in your heart you're meant to do something, then do it." If someone told me in high school I was going to end up living in the Middle East I would have thought they were crazy. I still get the thoughts, "What in the world is a girl from the orchards of Chico doing here?!" It shows that those from humble roots, whose lives have been built on hard work and caring for others can bring hope and inspiration to people all over the world. I don't think that I am inspirational. I feel pretty darn average. Yet, I care deeply for others and if I can motivate even one person to do something good in the world, well then call me an inspiration.

I don't know my next step but I know that when it comes it will be the right one for me. I am proud of what I have done here. A woman I know once called this, "Life school." What I have experienced and learned here will serve me in so many ways. I am pretty sure that I can take almost anything that comes my way. I have dealt with being attacked, harassed, rejected and loneliness like I have never felt before. Yet, I have had moments of joy that left me speechless and people opening their homes and hearts to me. I've laughed when my students pretended to be cars. I've become angry when they've fought. And I've cried when they showed me love that transcends all cultural boundaries. There have been days that I've wanted to quit. Scream, "I'm done!" and walk away. There have been times that I've locked myself in an office and cried. I can still remember one of those days when I was crying that I heard a knock at the door. Hoping it wasn't a teacher I turned around. Instead it was 3ft tall Jaz wanting to play. I was so upset that any distraction was needed. Once in he pretended to be a teacher, drew, put the pens away neatly, played some soccer and made me laugh. Jaz saved me that day. It seems there is something every day that saves me.

Today I had to get a package in the city. I've been feeling quite sick but knew the package would cheer me up. Fortunately a bus came quickly and I was whisked into the city. I knew the bus driver to be a good man. On several occasions he has refused to let me pay. Today was no different. I stood there with my money in hand trying to convince him I could pay. He just told me, "ruhi" (command form of "go"). I went to the post office where I chatted with the woman who is in charge of calling those with packages. I like her; she's kind and doesn't force a conversation further than it needs. The man working opened the package, pulled out a yoga dvd, became uncomfortable with the woman in tight clothing and a tank top on the cover, put it away and handed me the box. When I arrived back at the station I was glancing into the buses to see which had the most people. Once a bus is full it leaves so I try to get on one that seems like it would leave soon. The same bus driver that refused to let me pay flashed his lights to get my attention (usually bus drivers do this to me since there are 5 different ones I can take). Though his didn't have a lot of people I felt I owed it to him. As I got off the bus I handed him a dinar (approx. a dollar). He took it and handed me change. There were many people on the bus so I shoved it in my pocket and got off. While walking home I took the change out of my pocket. It was two 50 cent pieces (which equals the amount I gave him). Again, he didn't make me pay but held up the appearance that I was. That bus driver saved me today.

Sure, we can call it the little things, silver lining, etc. To me, it's life. Just like how I don't know my next step, I don't know what will save me tomorrow. I only have about 7 months left until I am done with my service. That's about half a year. It is a time for reflection and the tying of loose ends. I feel confident that I have given my heart, mind and soul to this country. Yet, I am a drop in the bucket. It will take many more like me before what I have started will see progress. I believe that there will be progress and maybe one day my future children can return here knowing that their mother was a part of history. And that all of you reading this have helped me fulfill a desire to bridge the ignorance that exists between both our cultures thus making you part of history as well. Maybe one day you'll see me on the news giving a report for the United Nations, or perhaps, you'll see me at a back to school night for one of your children. It's an exciting future to think about.

These are my opinions only and do not reflect those of the Peace Corps and United States government.

You know it's winter in Jordan when:

-Your entire life is spent in one room

-Ugly sweaters donated by locals become the only acceptable clothing to wear

-2 blankets and a sleeping bag still don't keep you warm

-The amount of harassment on the street lessens because the teenage boys can't handle the cold

-You refuse to go anywhere in your house without wool socks on

-Showering once a week is completely adequate

-All doors are closed and blankets are shoved in the cracks underneath

-Occasionally you go to bed in the same shirt you wore to work because the thought of changing sounds miserably cold (ok, sometimes the same pants as well)

-You know you should clean, you make a to do list of chores, you see the mess...a week later you fold some clothing

-Minimum of 2 movies a night are watched

-The rain forces you to walk the long way rather than cut through the orchard thus making you at least 2min late every day

-All you can do is think about leaving to go home so as to avoid the worst of the winter

-Your wish list on amazon.com becomes very well organized (knowing that only you check it but being totally ok with that)

-Way too much time is spent on craigslist reading the "missed connections" section

-Spiders feel the need to cuddle with you

-It may be the beginning of November, but Christmas with the Rat Pack is already playing on your ipod

-All the windows are closed on buses and people are coughing which makes you go home and take your multivitamin

-The students at the center are crazier than usual (I caught a few dancing on tables yesterday)

-That one darn mosquito haunts you and by 2am you have no choice but to stalk about your house with a flip flop trying to kill it

-Your teachers start asking what you want for Christmas and what they want you to bring back from America

-Watching Happy Feet makes you content because you realize there really are places colder than Jordan

-Your olive oil becomes a solid mass from the cold

-You think it's HILARIOUS to make videos of yourself lip syncing country songs (no, I will not share them)

-Care packages finally begin to arrive for the holidays!

-The first thought after waking up is, "5 more minutes, please just 5 more minutes."

-When skyping family back home you notice how ridiculous you truly are with long underwear, wool socks, fleece jacket, blanket, beanie and scarf tied around your head.

My Christmas Traditions:

*Cut a branch from a pine tree at my center and drag it through the village being stared at the entire time, crazy foreigner.

*Stick it in the living room and make ornaments from construction paper (and a paper chain!).

*Find some pinecones to put glitter on and set around the house.

*Bake lots of cookies and consider sharing some with the teachers (if you don't eat them all the night before).

*Download/listen to LOTS of Christmas music.

*It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, Love Actually and The Holiday are watched at least once a week.

*Drinking Trader Joe's chai latte mix donated from America becomes an amazing treat that must be done at least once week (if I have enough).

*Finally lighting the one smelly candle I have and letting it fill the room with cinnamon and spice makes me feel like I am home

Please note these are my opinions only and do not reflect those of the Peace Corps and United States government.

After talking to my parents they said I needed to write another blog. It has been quite some time since I have posted. I wish I could say it's because I've been busy, but the truth is that it's because I didn't have anything positive to type. Things have been very hard. The difference in cultures, value systems, treatment of co-workers and loneliness of living in a village have worn on me. There are many people I could spend time with in my village, but the fact is that I can't be myself 100% with anyone here. It's not a bad thing, it's reality. The difference in cultures is too great and if I were to truly open up the judgment that would be passed is something I am not emotionally ready for and would ruin my integration. Yet, hermitting (yes, I know, not a real word) inside my house leads to loneliness, depression and opens up time to dwell on the negative instead of the positive. This is the life I have chosen. It has been my life for over a year and will be for another 10 months. Like all things in life, one must find the silver lining; that something to keep you moving forward. I'm not talking about a light at the end of the tunnel, but something that gets you through each day. When talking to Mom she made the point that when all others get me down I need to remember that I am there for the kids. That because I care for them I must push through all other issues. She said that people read my blog for the honesty it portrays of this area and that I can do such a thing without sounding offensive. I considered her words for quite some time and then decided on what to talk about. Not about what is haunting me, hurting me and making me struggle. But the reason I survive, the reason I show up to work every day. The students. And so the following will be about certain individuals at my center and the light they bring to my heart.

Ralph-

Our newest student Ralph is quite a feisty boy! He loves running around, pretending to be a ninja and coloring on other students' notebooks. When observing him in class he came over, set his paper on my notebook, made me hold the pencil with him and then drew some squiggly lines. Once we were done he gave me a kiss on the cheek and ran off. At that moment I knew he had won me over. Whenever he hears the truck driving by with live chickens being sold (it has a recording yelling, "Come Chicken!") he makes a clucking noise and then drags his thumb across his neck to show that soon those chickens would not be alive. At times he gets upset and throws things but those rare moments that I am able to get him to set the block on the table is a great accomplishment. My ball of energy.

Anya-

She's about 3ft tall but 9 years old. On occasion she'll be "on the phone" (a block she pretends to be her cell phone) and will walk up to me and inform me I need to be quite because she is talking. Every day I come into the center she is one of the first students to run up and shake my hand. All smiles she wanders around trying to be everyone's mom. Today was an especially hard day for me but she pulled me out of my rain cloud. As I was drawing something I felt the presence of someone, I had no idea she was in the room and turned around to see her about 6 inches from my face. I jumped about 10ft and she couldn't stop laughing. About 10min later she came in looking like she had something urgent to tell me. She cupped her hand to my ear like she was going to whisper something but nothing came out. A few seconds later she pulled back, gave a big smile and ran off. My bet is that she has seen people whispering like that but doesn't realize they are actually talking. During break she will walk up to me just so I can see that she has a sandwich and it is for only her. My little grown up.

Marty-

The second he's off that bus all I can hear is giggling. He comes up, shakes my hand and the giggles his way into the center. I once heard in a Shakespeare play someone described as "spherical" because of how round she was...and well, Marty fits this quite well. He is a force to be reckoned with if he comes into a room and doesn't want to leave. When I'm missing a pen cap I can almost guarantee that it's ended up in his mouth. Once I made a beanbag out of a shirt sleeve and filled it with lentils. Marty has to be constantly touching something so I thought a beanbag would be a good distraction. I underestimated his craftiness. Within an hour he had taken it apart and was eating the lentils (we had a similar incident when I attempted to make play dough with him). And whenever I leave the center he runs out into the lobby area, yells as loud as he can "BYE!!!" and gives me a big wave. Even on bad days, he helps me leave on a good note. My mover and groover.

Rose-

She's one of our older students. Rose loves to be the first to shake my hand and open the door for me in the morning. She's constantly helping the other students and cleaning classrooms for the teachers. A few of our students like to pretend to be sick in order to get attention and Rose seems to always have a "cold." During break she'll bring her chips or candy to me so that I can open them for her. I'm pretty sure she can open it herself and never asks any of the other teachers which makes me feel wanted; like it's our own little moment we can share. It bothers me that the teachers call her "rice" (her name in Arabic is close to the word "rice.") because she is quite large. Every day I find something to compliment her on so that she knows that she is beautiful and wanted. My helper.

Mark-

What a goof ball! This little boy always has a mischievous smile on that makes you look twice at your surroundings. I always think he's planning some practical joke. Really, he just loves people and wants to be your friend. Turning on light switches, opening doors, handing papers to people...any task big or small he is all about. Though the minute you turn your back he is standing on a table dancing for the other students. The best was when we were finger painting and I turned it into face painting. He was so nervous to make a mess on his face and slowly lifted an orange covered finger to his cheek. After smearing some on he lit up. Within seconds his face was covered in about 4 different colors. If smiles could melt I'd be a puddle of goo every time he looks my way. My artist.

Heidi-

Not only does she shake my hand every morning, she also gives it a kiss. Always helping, listening and being attentive Heidi is an all-star student. Whenever I am near she pulls me over to show me her notebook where she's written 1 in Arabic multiple times on the page. We talk about what she's done, the number 1, and then I attempt to move on to what I was doing. The other day I was tying a student's shoe and she came up to say hello. My hands were busy so she pet my head and then kissed my cheek. I was a bit shocked at the kiss but realized she really does love me that much. That love is power and reminds me that she is the reason for me being here. My sweetheart.

I have over 35 students at my center and all of them are just as wacky, beautiful, funny, creative, trouble-making and heartwarming as these 6. And so through the isolation and sadness I have these children, all offering me the gift of love and trust. I am blessed to have them. Even when they are throwing blocks at me, spitting in my face, smearing poop on me (yes, this happened today), sneezing in their hands and then trying to shake mine, screaming out of frustration, crying, fighting with others and being all around crazy children I still love them. I understand it may be slightly unhealthy to be so close to them since I have to leave in 10 months, but in order to do my job these are the connections I need. If I could I'd take them all with me back to the states. It's hard being Eeyore with that silly rain cloud following me. Fortunately these kiddos have given me an umbrella.

Please note these are my opinions only and do not reflect the Peace Corps and United States Government.

As an American woman I face many challenges living here. The moment I step outside my door I will be stared at, harassed and judged on everything I do (how I speak, how I walk, what I wear, where I sit in the bus, etc.). The one escape that we have is our home. It is the only piece of America that we can hold onto. Inside our houses we can wear a t-shirt, not be stared at and feel like we are 100% ourselves. And so, when that one place is violated you feel lost, upset and terrified.

About one week ago I was in my bedroom reading around 11pm. One window in my room is about 8ft from the ground and has a large olive tree outside it. Because the window is so high no one can see in unless they climb the tree. I usually do not close the curtain because I enjoy the breeze and light when I wake up. A few times in the past when I've had other females over we have heard someone try to climb the tree. But once we turned the light on that is outside the person had run away (we've never seen him because the light doesn't shine that far and the back part of my house is in an olive orchard and its incredible dark). As I was reading I could hear someone climbing the tree, so I went and turned on the light. Sure enough, I could hear the person running away. Though a bit shaken, I figured that would be the end of it.

I settled back down to keep reading and I heard footsteps outside my window. Not the one in the back, but the one directly next to my bed where I was. This window is not as high and if you stand in front of it you can see in. I have a blanket that I cut for a curtain but it does not cover the corners of the window and if someone were to stand directly in front of the window he'd be able to see in. There is some dirt outside that window and then a little concrete ledge directly under the window. I heard him walk through the dirt and step onto the ledge, making him less than a foot from where I was. It is a requirement that all houses have steel bars on their windows so I wasn't worried about him coming in...But I was terrified that someone was trying to stare at me, destroy my only safe place.

I automatically called my good friend Chris and told him someone was outside my window. Once he had calmed me down he had me call my landlady and the security officer for Peace Corps. 30min later my landlady had returned from her mother's house and woken up my landlord to check the house. She also had brought her brother, sister and 17 year old son. They were upset that someone would do such a thing and also that he'd disrespect them by harming me. I am viewed as something between a guest and family member. They feel it is their responsibility to protect me so when something happens they take it personally. My landlord explained that the next time he came back I was to go to the other part of the house and call him because they want to catch him in the act. I finally had to admit that I was also being harassed by the high school boys on the street and there was a teenage boy that worked near the house that has harassed me every day for the past year. They asked why I had not told them earlier. It is not an excuse to say that I thought it was normal. But when men stare and say things every day, do you report it and look like you are overreacting because of how often it happens, or try to let it slide? That night was miserable. I felt violated and broke down. Thankfully, I have some amazing friends; Chris and Cian (even though he's all the way in Ireland, he still called and talked to me until I was ready to sleep) helped me so much.

The next day I decided it was time to go on the offensive. I would not be a victim. The security officer came to my house from Amman, checked everything out and informed the secret police of what happened. Because of our unique situation as American volunteers in the Middle East our program has a relationship with the civilian clothed police so that we may be checked in on without making a scene in the village. At work I informed my boss of what had happened and asked him to talk to the boys' school principal informing him that I was not to be harassed on the street anymore. I went to the local minimarket and informed the man working there (it's directly across from the boys school) that he needed to help with them. I then went to where the one boy yells at me and told a group of old men the situation. Explaining to them that I knew this behavior wasn't part of their culture and that it is shameful he is doing it. They agreed and said they'd talk to him. That night I had dinner at a family's house and informed them as well. One son is a police officer and he walked to all the shops near my house and told them they needed to help me. While all this was happening my landlord was also going to all the homes near me to inform the families to keep an eye out for me.

The principal of the boys' school made an announcement the following morning that the students were to leave me alone and that any students that didn't would have the police called on them. The security officer at the Peace Corps office and my director told me about the announcement. That day I walked home and not one person said something to me. It was almost like they all just disappeared, it was amazing. Of course I was still afraid at night. It is now a week later and last night was the first time I slept with the light off. I have a curtain that I put up at night over the back window and have added more fabric to my other window to block the holes.

One of the reasons I can feel my safety returning is because of the overwhelming support I've been given. No one blamed me for what happened, no one said it was normal or that I should wear "modest" clothing in my house. People were upset and wanted to help. They went out of their way to make me feel like I was an important part of their community. I believe the person won't return because he knows that the entire village is out to get him. I feel protected and when so far from my family, friends and everything comfortable, that means the world to me.

Please note these are my opinions only and do not reflect the Peace Corps or United States government.

My teachers with me at the workshop in Amman.

That song has been stuck in my head recently and is pretty fitting. The new semester is almost upon me and it's time to figure out just what I want to do. I'm officially into my final year, my last chance to do some good before I leave. All the words pounded into our heads during training keep coming back, "Sustainability, capacity building, modeling..."

How do I want to be remembered? What can I do that won't be stopped once I'm gone? The more frightening questions that have to do with post-Peace Corps I'm trying to push away though they lurk forever present in my thoughts. But, we prioritize, and right now it's the final year that must be dealt with. All volunteers know that making plans, schedules and goals sound wonderful in theory, but the reality is that things change daily and sometimes we must lower our expectations. I still think I can save the world, but the world I want to help has become about 15 students, 1 center and 4 teachers. We have 40 students but the reality is that in order to create change we can't just spread everything surface level. I can't help every child. It's heart breaking and I want to, but even in the best of situations, 2 years is not enough to do so. If I am able to help the teachers they will in turn work with the students which is a more "sustainable" way that will "build capacity." ;-) There are a few students with more severe disabilities that I have dedicated myself to with the full understanding it's not sustainable. Sometimes we need mental health projects. Those are the ones that may not make sense to others, but to keep our sanity we must do.

The Special Education volunteers from the north (there are 4 of us) recently put on a workshop. It was all about behavior modification using positive outlets, reinforcement, consistency and going over Autism and Down Syndrome. I was given 3 parts. First, I spoke about fighting in centers and the correct way to deal with fighting (watching our body language, separating the children, breathing exercises, etc). Then I demonstrated actual activities teachers could make and do with children in the class to improve behavior (student helper charts etc.). My last section I went over characteristics of Down Syndrome and different ways to work with the students. People always talk about having stage fright, not liking to talk in front of crowds and other fears of public speaking. I see how that should be an issue, but I feel most at home when I'm giving presentations. Half of what I said was in Arabic and it felt good showing them that I was trying to speak in their language. But, if we focus on the Arabic then we aren't able to show the passion and depth we have for our topics. It's fun getting the teachers involved, asking questions, working together. The first workshop was with all the northern centers. We stumbled through and it wasn't pretty. The second day was with the central centers and went a lot smoother. By the third workshop in Aqaba with the southern centers we were pros. Those workshops are something I can be proud of and say I showed teachers an alternative to hitting. So now, on to my last year's game plan-

Pretending to eat a kids sandwich in the workshop.

My first priority is the play room. I have been talking about it for a semester, moved out of the classroom into a small office to make it and then it became a storage room. Because of other projects and holidays I wasn't able to follow through. The winter is approaching and once it's here those students won't be able to go outside to release their energy. A playroom is necessary to give the kids a chance to be kids and the teachers an outlet for them instead of having their classrooms destroyed. I feel it is a good project to leave behind, something that will always be used. Of course the teachers will be helping me make it. I'm not here to give things; I'm here to help them. This playroom was their idea, so it will be done by their hands and mine.

The second goal is to get a copy machine for the center. Each volunteer is allowed to do a SPA grant (USAID money). Half the time spent in the classroom is used to hand trace worksheets for the students' homework folders. By having a copy machine the teachers will (in theory) have more time to teach.

The third project is making my office into a resource room. I have been blessed with amazing friends back home that have donated to my center. Along with a charity in Jordan my center has become well equipped within the past year. Soccer balls, tennis balls, jump ropes, gardening tools, art supplies, paper, books and toys are all in my office. Most have been distributed to the teachers but students tend to find everything and destroy resources quickly. By organizing and rearranging my office we can have a safe place that the teachers may get what they need. And how is this sustainable? The organization that funds our center also delivers supplies, so there will be a constant stream of things to be organized. Any teacher that requests help with an in-class activity I will of course help with. But the teachers know what to do and have the supplies; it is a matter of them being motivated to utilize the resources.

My fourth goal that I am crossing my fingers for is to be given a new volunteer at my center. The incoming volunteers will be done with training my last semester. This would give me a whole semester to go over what I've done, what goals I had, help him/her integrate into the community and give advice about how to deal with certain individuals. If I do not get a new volunteer my center will not have one for 6 months. It may seem like a short period of time, but it is just enough for them to go back to their old ways and counteract any work I've done. A new volunteer is vital to my center's success. I am the only volunteer they've had for over 4 months. The center has amazing potential but as I have seen, will side with what is comfortable over what is harder but with a more positive outcome.

And finally, my fifth goal. I have been working for 3 months with Habitat for Humanity. It's an amazing organization and I firmly believe in how the operate within Jordan. The organization finds local charities that they trust. These charities find the families that need help and Habitat gives them the money to transfer to the families. This isn't a handout, it's a loan, but is very easily paid back. They don't start with building houses and instead work on improvements and other small projects. Once a firm relationship has been made with a charity they will look into bigger loans for houses and such. I have been meeting with local government agencies, charities and union groups. There have been many obstacles, but the networking knowledge I'm gaining is priceless. There is one charity I am incredibly impressed by and can't wait to start work with. Hopefully this work will also increase my ability to get a job in an economy that doesn't seem to have any place for new people.

I feel that the goals I have set in place are reachable. A year ago I would have had about 10, but once in for some time you see the necessity to start little. It's like the old willow tree said to Pocahontas (yes, I was raised on Disney movies), it may just be a pebble in the stream but look at the ripples it makes. I'm hoping my pebble will have a few ripples in the future and the work I've started continues on. What is after this will have to be another blog, because the options are plentiful and all equally as scary, as most life changing decisions are! I hope you all are enjoying the end of the summer and to those of us going back to school or work, good luck!

Watching the workshop.

Please note that these are my opinions only and do not reflect those of the Peace Corps and United States government.

It has been almost a month since I last updated all of you. Time seems to go two different ways here. Either it is incredibly slow and you catch yourself staring at a wall for hours. Or you are running around nonstop and not sure where your free time went. The past month has definitely been the nonstop one. We'll start with Ireland-

AMAZING. Just what I was hoping for and more. The weather was cold, rainy, windy and a few days were sunny with big puffy clouds floating by. I can remember our first day there and it started to rain. Everyone put on their hoods and opened umbrellas. I on the other hand, walked out into the middle of it and looked up smiling. After spending the summer in Jordan the rain felt like an early Christmas present! Our first day was in Dublin and the next we took a train to Galway. There we rented a car and drove north to a little town called Clifden. We stayed two nights in a super cute lodge. The first night was fantastic. We found a pub and met two Irish guys who were incredibly friendly. The entire night we sat at the table with the musicians (a guitarist and banjo player) while Barry, one of our new friends, told us about the history behind the songs. I even met an amazing lady named Mo who got up and sang. One time an old man put a door on the ground and began to do some type of Irish jig. It was great! The musicians knew we were the only Americans in the pub and played "West Virginia." I think that the ciders I had been drinking helped, but I cannot remember any other time in my life where I sang so loudly and proud. It was freeing.

On our way to Doolin

Clifden

The following day I went for a walk down to the ocean (about two miles away). Along the road I met a little dog named Skipper and the 10 children running around telling me all about him. "He doesn't bite, just barks." Skipper and I became instant friends. There were a lot of trailers around the kids and they told me they worked at some Carnival that had just finished. Irish carnies! There was one trailer that I could hear arguing from and a few cops trying to quiet things down. Naturally, there were the old men smoking outside watching everything go down. I continued on and sat by the ocean for quite some time before returning. On my way back I encountered Skipper again. He wanted to come with me, and the owner was willing to let him, but God only knows what would happen if I tried to bring him here! After we finally got him to stay put a woman in a nearby trailer said, "Love, I think he likes you." I smiled said I liked him too and kept walking. What I was really smiling about was that she called me "love". True, it's small and just a thing they say, but after a year in the Middle East, hearing that word in English used in a caring way was...touching.

After one more night there we then drove south of Galway to Doolin, near the Cliffs of Moher (anyone watch the Princess Bride? Cliffs of Moher are the Cliffs of Insanity). Along the way we stopped at a pub for lunch. I noticed they had money up from around Europe and asked if they collected. He said yes, and I donated a Jordanian dinar and Burundian franc. We also signed a dollar bill and put it up. I liked knowing that now there is a little part of me in Ireland. The town of Doolin consists of about five shops and a few bed and breakfasts. When we first arrived we attempted to go to the cliffs but once outside the car the rain hit us with such intensity that we couldn't see in front of us. After about five minutes our clothing was soaked. So we went back to our room and I walked, again, to the ocean. The ocean there is stunning. The waves are as big as the Pacific, mixed with dark grays, blues, white foam and mist spraying you from when they crash down upon the black rocks. There was an old man fishing nearby and he had an equally as old dog. The black and white herding dog was wandering near me and eventually we sat together while the man fished. I sat watching the waves, examining the green grass around me and petting the dog for about 30min before the rain and wind pushed me to move on. That night we went to a nearby pub and met three great Irish guys who hung out with us the entire night. The following day we went back to the cliffs and were much more successful. The wind was incredible! That afternoon we headed all the way up to Bushmills, north of Belfast.

Find the Jordanian dinar and Burundian franc

The drive was about seven hours but beautiful. It's interesting when you cross into Northern Ireland. The green is a different hue, almost brighter, and the architecture changes. More homes are made of brick and placed closer together. Things are in miles and yards instead of kilometers and meters. The euro becomes useless and the pound essential. The people are different as well. They seem to be tougher, more straightforward. I'll admit, I liked the Southerners more; they were open and friendly at all times. The Northerners are friendly, just takes them longer to warm up. The only way you could tell there was a conflict there was when you passed a police station which would be barb wired and gated. The next day we went to the Giant's Causeway and stumbled around the strange cylinder stones. Then we began our last day and headed down to Dublin.

In Dublin we met up with my friend, Stuart, who flew from England for the day. We got incredibly lost and it took Stuart and me over an hour to even figure out where we were. Eventually we made it back, got changed, and went to find a pub. Because Dublin is very touristy we knew it'd be hard to find a local place. There was a Gaelic Football game earlier against Dublin and Kerry. Dublin lost, so those who came in from Kerry were out celebrating. First, we found pub where about 5 old Irishmen and women were singing. No instruments, just them at the bar belting it out. The bar tender asked where we were from and hearing I was from California automatically said, "Arnold! The terminator is your governor!" One of the singing men stopped when he heard that, smiled and said, "I'll be back," and then continued to sing. We moved on to the next pub that Stuart at first didn't want to go into. I could hear loud pop music blaring and when the door opened many old people (ages 60 and up) were dancing. I thought it looked hilarious and wanted to see. Sure enough we met some good ol' boys from Kerry and a bunch of crazy old people dancing the night away. There was a woman who was in her 30s there that was definitely American (she had a shirt that said, "Obama 08"). We ended up in the bathroom together so I struck up a conversation (the entire trip I kept meeting people in the bathroom...don't know why). Well, come to find out, her name was Whitney, from Texas and on her way to teach English in China. How I found another American Whitney in a pub full of Irish people is beyond me, but it was great. We spent the rest of the night drinking and laughing. A great way to wrap up the trip. In the morning we drove to the airport, dropped off the car, said goodbye to Stuart and headed home. By 2am I was back in Jordan.

The trip was incredibly needed. My mom and dad mentioned to me how happy and pretty I looked in the photos. I thought about it and my response was, "For the first time in a year I felt 100% ME. I felt like it was ok to laugh and smile in public, to be goofy and have fun. No one was constantly staring at me, saying things and making me feel uncomfortable. And it was really the first time EVER that I could act my age. Sure there were a few times in college I got to be silly and young, but I worked full time. In Ireland it was ok for me to make a few mistakes, to let go and sing at the top of my lungs." I was surrounded by a beauty that words fail to describe. Since I've been back any free time I've found has been spent researching jobs, work permits and universities in Ireland. And so that is my trip to Ireland. One week of freedom I had never felt before in the most beautiful area on earth.

Right before the old dog came to sit with me

It has been quite some time since I last posted a blog. The past few months have been filled with great friends, amazing sights and some memorable moments. To tell you everything would take days, so I am hoping this will adequately explain the amazing journeys I have been on.

(Petra) (Wadi Rum)

My dear friend M came to visit me in June. We went everywhere in Jordan, Um Quays, Um Al-Jamal, Ajloun, Jerash, Petra, Wadi Rum, Dead Sea, Bethany, Aqaba, Kerak and Amman. She helped me get out of my village and truly explore the amazing area I live. We hiked in valleys filled with stone with oak trees springing forth from the smooth sand surface. She learned how to become a Jordanian driver and make up road rules as we went along. Singing to classic love songs of the 90s (I was given some old tapes from a man in my village) we dedicated ourselves to having an adventure. In Aqaba we snorkeled in the Red Sea and got to touch a puffer fish. In Petra we rode camels. Wadi Rum amazed us with its humbling beauty as the sunset and camels grazed nearby. And the most amazing part of the trip came when we stepped across the border and entered Jerusalem.

(Jerusalem)

There is more to share in this blog so I will try to make my experience in Jerusalem brief (though the reality is far from it). I have never been so deeply moved by a city. The old city of Jerusalem holds something that words seem to fail at describing. There were Jews, Christians and Muslims walking the same streets. Not interacting, but not fighting. Going to the Western Wall, bowing your head to the stone and whispering in the ear of God, slipping a note into the cracks filled with prayers for those you love. Entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchtre, where Jesus was crucified, and listening to Monks sing on a Sunday morning. Their voices lifting up mixed with the hope for a better life and the pain of his death. It brought me to tears. Standing quietly near a Mass and lighting a candle while praying. The magnificence of the Dome of the Rock where prophet Mohammed ascended to heaven. The hard work and dedication that went into each perfectly placed tile. Waking up to church bells mixing their rhythms across the skyline, filling the air with love. Busy market streets, shops spilling their goods into the small halls, "Come see my shop. Welcome. How are you? Please, come in. Obama!" Even the bells hanging off the belly dancing outfits high above our heads would be touched by a breeze and sing the song of something sacred. You become connected with the city; a part of you belongs there. I miss it terribly.

(Um Al Jamal)

Well, that part was not as brief as I was hoping, time to move onto some other fun adventures! 4th of July! Probably one of the best holidays I have celebrated in Jordan... Let me take that back, the BEST holiday I have celebrated here! We went to the embassy for a party and had a blast. Peace Corps came out in style and for the first time we could see, as a group, what we all might have looked like back in America. Short sleeves, skirts, hair down, almost normal! It was amazing. Toward the end music began. I believe that once you have been here a long enough you seem to lose all shame of making a fool of yourself. Soon all of us were dancing, singing and having a great time. You'd think, how could it get any better? Oh, it did...the electric slide. I'd like to thank my mother and junior high p.e. for teaching me the simple but fantastic steps to a line dance almost everyone knows. There were Jordanians at the party as well and I felt proud because we were showing them that in America we also have traditional dance (at least this would be my kind of traditional dance). Now the whole lot of us are grape vining our way around the court yard. It was hilarious. As the time wore on more people joined our dance party and eventually the embassy staff had to ask us to leave (we had stayed past the 7pm end time). The night continued with more dancing, new friends and ended for me at about 3am. It felt good to line dance and proudly shout, "I'm PROUD to be an AMERICAN!"

(Petra)

And after all that excitement we come to now, with me sitting on my bed in my pajamas typing. I'm happy to be back to the quiet of my village. Well, I can hear fireworks in the distance and the horns of a wedding party, but to me those are welcome sounds. They are celebrating the union of two people, the chance for others to relax and have a good time. I am so thankful for what this summer has given me. And it's not over yet! At the end of this month I will be spending a week in Ireland! It is a long story, but let's just say I am forever grateful to a good friend. Before all that I must prepare for a behavior management workshop, plan a sports/art day, visit many families, continue my work with Habitat for Humanity and start to organize the next year. I hope that all of you are having a wonderful summer!

(Wadi Rum)

These are my opinions only and do not reflect those of the Peace Corps and United States government

Abdullah (student) and me at a party

Sometimes I wonder if all the differences I encounter are because I'm American. Yet, looking at my experiences I see that it's so much more than America. The culture, my gender, where I live and the language account for so much misunderstanding. Eventually there is a shared consensus, but the road there is often confusing and full of obstacles.

Example 1

I was recently given money from a charity to purchase first aid kits for my center. After speaking to my director about how much we had he told me to go with my bus driver to acquire everything. The bus stopped about half a mile from the pharmacy and I kept asking why we weren't there. He said that we were and after a very confusing conversation I decided to explore wherever he had taken us. We entered a shop that was making drawers and other furniture. Am (name of my bus driver, it has been changed from his real name) walked to the back of the shop and pointed to a cupboard hanging on the wall. He said that we wanted this but smaller. A part of me wanted to protest. We only had a small amount of money and I considered bandaids and other equipment more important than what all of it goes in. This is where the differences begin. I saw that unless we had something to put everything in my director would not want one at all. That I had to make this sacrifice and have one built so that I could then work on filling it. Nothing is completed in one step here. So we told them how big, what is for, drank coffee and left.

Example 2

A friend from the village next to mine called and asked if I wanted to visit. I knew she had wanted me to stay overnight so I agreed and packed a bag. She picked me up after work and we began driving in the opposite direction from her house. About 10min into the ride I asked her where we were going. She said to her sister's house, an hour away, to stay the night! I thought it was going to be just the two of us and had packed my laptop with some movies and pajamas that had a tshirt (not appropriate to wear if there are men in the house). Sure enough her sister has 3 children and is married. Her husband is an amazing artist so the trip was not wasted. Sadly, I got violently ill and ended up throwing up on the side of the road while the family sat watching me in the car after a picnic. I begged to go home because I couldn't handle being sick in someone else's house (actually, I had to lie and say that my medicine was in my house). On the way back we had to stop to buy my friend dinner, bread and other things from a supermarket. I was furious but too sick to argue. While she went to buy bread, I threw up in bags sitting in the car. Again, differences. She was not expecting to go home so early and her village does not have many commodities. I had taken her from her family without time to eat dinner. I wish she would have driven me straight home, in America that would seem logical (there are some small markets in her village), but here it is normal to run errands...even if your guest is throwing up in the parking lot. She wanted me to get my medicine and stay in her house! I politely tried to decline and the minute I was safely in my house became even sicker. It was not that she wasn't thinking of my well being with all her stops, just that it was acceptable in her mind to do so. She cared for me and wanted to help, but thought she could nurse me to health within her house. Unfortunately, I was not willing to accept her offer.

Example 3

Bella. A little puppy had wandered into my center's yard and found a shady spot near a window. I had no idea she was there until I heard a puppy crying/screaming. Rushing out of my office I saw my bus driver with a large stick trying to beat the puppy out of its corner. She became defensive and scared, wedging herself between the window and the steel bars that covered it. I could not handle the situation and ran outside. My bus driver showed me where she had bitten him and I asked why the puppy had done that. He said because he was hitting her (which to us would make sense, but dogs are not understood or accepted here). I begged him to let me try. He gave in and walked away. After 30min of rest, I brought her water and some bread. All she wanted was nourishment and some sleep. After many attempts to put her in the field behind my center I gave up and asked my director to let her stay the night (it was the end of the day). He wasn't happy and agreed. The following day Bella was still there and I asked my bus driver to take me far away from the village so I could release her in some field away from humans. He said he knew the perfect spot and drove us into a valley where an old couple lived with a herd of sheep and some chickens. They had four dogs already but said she'd be safe. My bus driver explained that she'd have water, shelter and food here. Of course, if you see someone beat a puppy you get angry and upset. But that same person is the one to offer a safe place for her. Differences appear everywhere.

What I have learned about differences is how to wait and look for the similarities. If I were to focus on how unlike everything is to what I conceive as normal and right there would be no way for me to see this experience for what it is. I have been given a beautiful gift. It's the gift of patience and understanding that only comes through living. No book or movie can teach me what I am learning. Language, culture, gender, etc etc are all different. But our hearts? Those I believe beat to the same rhythm.

Bella and me

Please note, these are my opinions only and do not reflect the Peace Corps or United States government