I did not know what to expect. Obviously, I wanted the best experience and wanted to have fun and learn, but I did not sign up for all the emotional distress studying abroad brought me. Now it wasn’t all black and blue, there were rosy days too, but they were far and few. My father and my father's side of the family was not supportive of my decision and when I told him I was studying abroad he told me he would not support me financially. I had a laugh at that, because he barely supported me financially, let alone emotional. Thankfully I had my mother, her side of the family and my third family supporting me. Can you imagine how badly I wanted to prove my father wrong? He thought this trip would be a bad idea, and I did not want him telling me 'I told you so'. For the longest time, I kept it to myself and did not admit what was truly going on. Until the last month or so of the trip, I allowed myself to feel and cry it out to my grandparents. I felt like I was alone, and didn't want to inconvenience anyone. I felt like the biggest loser and had to pretend everything was great on social media. Or when someone would ask me, how is, I lied. I couldn't even be honest to myself, how was I supposed to be honest to other people?

I'm glad I did it because I built some strong skin. But it took a while to undo the damage. I'm thankful for the experience, but it has taken a while to come to terms with it. I met some of the most amazing people in my group, and as I am typing this, I am texting them. And my new host family was the sweetest! From time to time I miss Rhanda, my second host mom.

It was DePaul’s first-year program, so I prepared myself to be the guinea pig. There was only one mandatory class during the summer, which I could not attend. I received the power point of the meeting, and it seemed like very little information. At the time I did not know this, but I thought that going to Jordan was going to be like any other third world country; newsflash that is a HARD no. Roughly two weeks before my arrival to Jordan, I received an email informing me of some changes made, which were not the agreement that I signed up for.

The email sent August 23, 2016, read “When you arrive, you will have an orientation with AUM (American University of Madaba) staff, which will cover important information like health and safety, culture, academics, and logistics”, which did not occur. Upon my arrival to Jordan, I was supposed to be staying at the Language Center in Amman, the capital, with the other students; but “according” to the email, due to the religious holidays we would be staying with host families in Madaba instead. Truthfully I did not care, yet.

Flight to Jordan

The first moment I realized I was in deep trouble was on my flight from Istanbul, Turkey to Amman, Jordan. I was wearing high waisted mom jeans and a white oversized tee. I did not look cute! I even had my glasses on. I tried to blend in as much as I can, but I am 5’9, so it was a little hard. As I boarded the plane I was assigned a seat next to a Father and his thirty-something-year-old son. They were both drunk. Now mind, I am jet lagged, tired and in a foreign country, so excuse me if my instincts were not picking up the bad vibes. The father starts talking to me and joking and being friendly, and I, being the social butterfly that I am, kept the convo going. Didn’t think it was weird until he put his hand on my thigh. My entire demeanor changed, because I am not comfortable with PDA (Public Display of Affection), let alone when it is directed at me. I put in my headphones, music wasn’t even playing, and closed my eyes, clearly ending the conversation. Then they started speaking Arabic and laughing. And the woman in front of me said something to them in a disgusted voice, and then turned towards me and asked me if I wanted to change seats. Not sure of what was going on, I stared at her blankly and said no. I’m not going to let these men intimidate me. Did I miss something? Do they even know they are being rude? I was confused and angry, so I let it go.

Excerpt from my journal entry during the first week:

September 13, 2016

Coming here I clearly expected a couple of things, and I did not expect on having to deal with other people’s issues. The first day of class one of the study abroad students had an anxiety episode, and maybe informing everyone on the trip would have been nice. Yet again, I actually do not know. I feel guilty for even complaining, but then again I do not. This is a once in a lifetime trip, and my memories and experiences are being shaped by this other person that needs certain things and has certain triggers. I know it is up to me, and how I chose to take things in. I just did not think I had to cater towards someone else’s anxiety when I am going through my own issues. There have been some incidents where it has made me uncomfortable and whenever I am having a good time, it suddenly becomes uncomfortable. I guess it is more annoyance than anything, and if I said I did not mind I would be lying. Yes yes, I know, blah blah blah, this is real life and there will be situations that I have no control over, blah blah. I understand, I just wish I could have the option to not be around that. I know this trip is not just about me, but it is also not just about anyone person in particular. It is about all of us as a group, but it is starting to feel like it is about this girl and her panic attacks.

I wouldn’t mind as much if her panic attacks were subtle, but they were loud and they were uncomfortable. Looking back, I think this put everyone on edge from the very beginning.

My first host family

My host mother is one of the sweetest women I have met in my life and has certain mannerisms that remind me of my grandmother. I have noticed that every time I leave my bedroom door open, she asks me if I am okay or if I need anything. And it has become annoying when I am consumed in my activities. I have noticed that people here are always offering me food, or tea, or coffee, or anything of that matter; which I appreciate and will miss, but as of right now it is hard to get used to that. I guess I mind being interrupted in the middle of my writing, or movie or whatever it is I am doing. And I love leaving my door open, but it seems like I have to close it otherwise I will be bothered. Just the other morning, I left my door open and my host mom walked in four different times. I am not exaggerating! And when it is 5:30 in the morning and you are trying to do your homework before class and are running on a time crunch, being interrupted did not put me in the best mood.

You’re probably thinking, oh this girl is going through culture shock, but I knew the source of my disturbance. And there is a difference between knowing and not knowing. I wish some sort of booklet was given that explained the cultural differences because I had to find out the hard way that when someone offers you food it is rude if you deny it. But like I don’t eat chocolate cake at 8 a.m.! Whenever my host mom would offer me food, or a snack, she would never ask me first, she just did it. I felt so bad rejecting tea or cut up fruit, but she did it, it was a little too late to say no. I thought that talking to 'Assistant', (not sure how to describe her, the assistant of the person in charge of the language department at AUM) would clear the air. I told her what my host mom was doing, and it actually made things worse. My host mom, then thought that I hated her or something, or that I wasn’t happy. Which was not true, and at this point I was even more annoyed because I couldn’t even talk about how I felt without being misunderstood. This is where things started to get weird because if I am experiencing a discomfort I will talk about it, I can’t just hold it in because I will explode.

Not to spoil the ending, but I ended up moving out. My host mom started acting weird, she would stay up past midnight singing religious songs. One time I walked into the living room and found her standing in front of the TV just staring hardcore, it made me feel weird. I was in her home and I wanted to be grateful, but I just kept feeling uncomfortable. The more I tried to be nice and engaging, the more weirded out I felt. Then Assistant mentioned that she took medication, and like the intuitive driven person that I am, I decided to do something about it. She left her medication out on the kitchen table and I wrote down the names of them on my phone and looked them up! It was Depakene and Kemadrin. I informed Assistant about this and she apologized and said that she had no clue, but it’s hard to believe because she was the one that mentioned it. I called her out on this, and she said she thought she was on medication but was not sure. Another lesson about the Middle East: they do not speak about mental illnesses.

I moved into a new host family that was related to my old one, and they were amazing! Rhanda was the perfect housewife! She loved to cook, and was so attentive and even helped me with my Arabic homework! She would freak out if she found out I have not had lunch and always knew when I was sad before I even knew I was sad! She was the master of interpreting vibes!

At first, I thought I was the problem. Until I found out that I was not the only one having family issues. The families did not seem to be well chosen. Apparently, the families were chosen according to how well Assistant knew them, so she could keep a ‘close eye on us’.

Classes

Three students were first-year Arabic students, and the other two had learned Arabic for three years. Clearly, we were on different levels. Yet we were taught the same? I brought this up, and no one did anything about it. Am I crazy for thinking this is not right? How are we going to be graded on the same things when we are on different levels! Someone, please explain it to me. I voiced my concerns, and nothing. Then Kate, my colleague, brought it up, asking if we could get more material, power point, a book, lecture notes, anything! Nothing. Then the staff at AUM suggested another class, which we went to and was purely taught in Arabic. Even the students that took Arabic for three years did not understand what was going on in that class. Then, the staff told us that if we wanted a class for ourselves it was going to cost us. You’re joking, right? We are paying to take Arabic classes here, yet we are not taking Arabic classes that help us. We had two Arabic classes, one was too difficult and the other one was too easy. One was taught in Arabic and the other one was going over the alphabet! What a joke! There were other students in our classes, so the difficult one, syntax, was mandatory for certain students to graduate so our professor said she couldn’t cater to us. So we tried to pay attention. We all improved, but it was minimal. Then the easy class, Arabic conversation, was split halfway, 45 minutes for the Arabic beginners, and the other 45 minutes for the DePaul group.

Culture Shock

I was expressing these concerns to the people in charge of me in Jordan and hinted that maybe this host family was not ideal from the very beginning. Off course, I was not taken seriously, until things worsened. In Jordan, adults are treated like children, until they marry. I mean, it makes sense! Adults don’t trust you because they think you are always going to do the worse possible things and everyone treats you like you are incapable of taking care of yourself. Thirty-year-olds still live at home with their parents, and the women do everything. I come from a Colombian society that does exactly the same, so I am not saying this out of pure ignorance. But imagine moving out during your late thirties. Here you have a bunch of twenty-year-old college students studying abroad and had lived on their own for at least a year in Chicago. It is safe to say that moving away to go to college teaches you a lot. But then you have thirty-year-olds here that have recently moved out and have about the same life experience as you. Not to mention the schooling situation. High schools are gendered, so boys go to one high school and girls go to another one. College is the place where people experience their first crush and awkward stage. All that, “omg he likes me, she likes me” phase. And the, “I’m too nervous to talk to her, can you talk to her for me” junk. It was driving me nuts! I hated high school, I worked my butt off to graduate a year early, all for what? All of that effort, to find myself in that environment again!

The dynamic was just weird. The person taking care of us was less mature than us, and she was older... When we were in Petra she didn't let me ride a camel because it was 'too expensive', but like it is my money...? She yelled at me when I went near the camels. She also said that it wouldn't be fair if I rode a camel and the other people didn't, hello! The world isn't fair! So what is your point? That woman would not let me ride a camel!!!! What the flip? And the weekend before my birthday we went to a rooftop, and some guy from school approached me and we were talking and Assistant came to me and grabbed me and warned me to be careful because he was hitting on me. What? Uh, yeah I noticed. Did she think I was going to fall in love with him or something? It seemed like I couldn't talk to a male because otherwise, I was going to marry him? Weirdest feeling. (I am using the word marry as a euphemism). My actions were constantly being judge and misinterpreted, I didn't have any ill intentions, yet people chose to see that.

And to add more disappointment, we were supposed to have an internship during that time. You guessed it! It did not happen. Rather, it did happen, but no one did much interning. We were supposed to intern with Caritas, but the entire month we went we organized paper for an hour once, and the other time we cleaned out the attic, and that seemed like busy work.

Organization Denial

To make things worse, I brought to everyone’s attention how ‘disorganized’ this study abroad seemed. At first, everyone in charge was defensive, saying, “it is not true, this program has been planned for years now”. Then towards the end, Assistant admitted that they only had a month or so of planning, because not enough students signed up, so they didn’t know we were coming until a couple of months prior. So which one is it? Up to his day, there is no clear answer.

The original person we had contact from DePaul left for maternity leave. And for an entire month, we were forgotten by DePaul! Someone else was supposed to be checking in on us but did not reply to our emails. We also had reflections that we were supposed to write every week, which did not happen, and was actually crammed to the last possible minute! Not only did we have finals, our professor at DePaul expected us to complete two months worth of class in two weeks during that same time! After a month of no reply, I emailed DePaul a fourteen-page essay! An essay I which I poured out my feelings of discomfort and neglect, and things started happening. Yet again, it was just a false illusion, in my opinion. At first, DePaul staff seemed eager to help to me, but then I was forgotten. The newly appointed staff allowed me to vent, but that was about it. She defended the program and agreed with some things, but ultimately diagnosed it as a simple ‘culture shock’. I am sorry, but culture shock is not a person. She advised me to talk to 'Boss', and it was a shit show. Boss, the director of the Language Center, asked to speak to me one afternoon. She attacked me and made me cry. For someone that is forty years older, she was throwing some low blows. Then I sent an email to DePaul:

Good morning! Today I met with Boss. It was not as pleasant as I had hoped. She denies that the program has been unorganized, and claims the opposite. She also said that I need to stop being so negative, and stop picking at the little things. She also touched on how at the beginning I was "not trying". Which by this point I started to cry. I have heard it before, that my teacher thinks I was not trying, but I did every single day, I was just that behind, and being told in front of my peers, that I was "the worse" of the group did not encourage me to try hard. I feel like from the beginning I was the student that "did not try" or "was not trying", and has been kind of hard to break from that reputation. I felt like Boss was more concern of her reputation, and the program than how I was, talking to her felt like I was trying to defend myself and my believes of the program. I was not trying to "complain" and make everything seem "negative", I was trying to voice my concerns of certain things that been brought up and not resolved. Boss insisted that I was picking at "little" things, and was not looking at the full picture. She asked me if I was willing to "start looking at things more positively". I understand I cannot just go back and change my experience, and with so little time left I am not sure what more can really be resolved since I have gotten used to the situation. She also said that if I was going to be this "picky" I should not have come to this program. Again, I was not trying to say this program was bad, just somethings I felt needed attention, and when I brought it up I felt attacked for even thinking or feeling these emotions that are mine to feel. I do not know how to talk to her without making her feel like I am attacking her. Hopefully, we can speak tonight. Thank you so much for your time!

When I described the program as ‘unorganized’ I meant that things were not planned in advance, and seemed to get planned within a week. The first month we attended private classes through the University because classes did not begin until October. You would think that most of our trips would be planned in this month. But it did not. If I had not gone to the Dead Sea on my own, I would have never seen it! A 20-minute drive and I almost did not see it! Also, in that first month we went straight from our stay to school, and right back home. We wondered around Madaba and got to know the five restaurants it had to offer within the first two weeks. Later, I became friends with Aya, and she asked me how I wasn’t insane. I was confused by her question, to later find out what she meant. She told me that Madaba was a ‘tribe’. I was confused at first, but then it all made sense! A tribe, seems like such a ‘primitive’ description. But that was exactly what she meant! The capital tends to hold a more advance (westernized) outlook, while any other city, is far behind, and tend to culture more old fashioned ways. I think this environment would of been great to be exposed to, but to be in it for the entire stay was tough! And had we had the right tools, I would have coped better. There was nothing to do in Madaba, compared to Amman. Honestly I would not have cared as much, had the program had not promised at first to be staying in Amman.

By now, you can probably hear the annoyance in my tone. The part that upsets me the most, is that no one took responsibility of these things. They kind of just disappeared into thin air. No one talked about it, and when I brought it up people just nodded. The closing statement was that things did not go as planned, and I needed to deal with them. I have been dealing with them, for four months!

The Fun Part