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Critical Incident

I have had multiple critical incidents in my time here so far, but the most prominent happened in my second week of class. The topic of the day was globalization. I was placed into a slightly higher level German class than I was ready for, so I am able to follow the conversations well, but find it difficult to articulate myself when it comes to broader topics such as this one. I have a very diverse class with people coming from Russia, South America, Korea, Hungary, etc., which allows for very broad range of opinions and perspectives.

In this conversation, a Hungarian man began explaining his beliefs about the American dream and how it is toxic and infecting global cultures. In the moment, I viewed it as a complete attack on my culture and beliefs that I’ve grown up valuing. As one of two Americans in the class, I felt very frustrated that I didn’t have the linguistic means to defend myself and explain my perspective.

During our break, I thought more about why he might feel the way he does. I came to the conclusion that perhaps he feels some of his culture and traditions are at risk of being lost if American influence continues to spread. I can absolutely understand this concern and find it to be an interesting point of view.

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Blog post Three

I have had the rare opportunity to travel to a country which cannot be identified by the average American. As such, few stereotypes can be formed about Moldovans, save for generalities of Post-Soviet Eastern Europe. Even then, I reckon that the average American consumes too much lead to even identify that Moldova is in Eastern Europe. That said, I did have a lengthy conversation with a Moldovan native about Moldovan stereotypes. First, there is a stereotype that Moldova is just a part of Romania. The languages are essentially the same, and the economies are intertwined. I even had a tour to local Moldovan monasteries, guided exclusively in Romanian (rather than English, Moldovan, or Russian). Second, there is a stereotype that Moldovans hate their own country, and that everyone wants to leave. I, personally, have very much enjoyed Moldova. It is a quant, humble country, with a generous and kind people. Although the levels of alcoholism and a weather forecast may speak to the contrary. I have also heard from my mother and uncle that Eastern European women are like hawks, ready to swoop down and prey upon western foreigners, that Eastern Europe is the birthplace of models and mail-order brides. I can safely say that my loyalty and commitment to my girlfriend has not been tested in Moldova. I can only assume that the beautiful have already emigrated.

Regarding American stereotypes, these are well known. We are known as fat, materialistic, superficial, and above all stupid. Every stereotype is rooted in some truth, and the American obesity rate and largest economy (pending China’s rise) would substantiate such claims. Facts regarding America’s status as a first-class university-education provider challenges at the very least any claim that Americans are stupid. There are positive stereotypes that are just as well known. Americans are known for being industrious, inventive, independent, and loud (sometimes helpful for being heard). Of these, the factual record similarly gives credence to some of these claims. I think that stereotypes hold little weight, but when travelling, I am sure to be cautious that I am not being taken advantage of. This entails checking receipts, confirming instructions, etc. I think it would be difficult to tell that I was an American by looking at me, but it becomes clear immediately that I am a foreigner of one breed or another. I was asked by this same Moldovan native why I don’t brazenly advertise my nationality, and I simply responded, “some people don’t like Americans.” I have found it best to divulge my personal details only after a baseline of trust has been established. It seems obvious when writing it down, but it is trickier in the moment. I would of course dread being the cause of an all new American stereotype.

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No More Excuses

June 7, 2023

I have finally reached the point where I don’t have the excuse of “something in the way” to avoid engaging with the idea of spending over two months in Jordan. Really since I received the email that I received funding from SLA, I’ve felt that I would grapple with my trip once I made it through the other big things I’ve had to do over the past several months. First, it was my first year conference paper for the History department, then it was finals, then the first year conference paper presentation, then the finals that I finished with time from incompletes, and then a ginormous complicated move from one house to another (the fact that it was only five minutes did not change the amount of work of the move). Once the move was finally survived, I had to make it through the road trip to Boston to get my dog to his dog sitter. 

But now, I’m in a week of decompression before I leave for Jordan late on Saturday night, and I don’t have any excuses anymore. 

I traveled a lot in my early 20s. I have spent multiple months in Ghana and Rwanda. I traveled significantly in sub-Saharan Africa for a job in my early 20s, and I did my Master’s degree in Amsterdam, which of course came with significant travel across Jordan and even a conference in Amman. I’m no stranger to the anticipation of international travel, but I haven’t traveled at all since the start of Covid-19 in 2020, and my life became very small in the process. In fact, despite living in the world’s largest cities for my whole life (Amsterdam, Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, DC, Chicago, and New York), the move to South Bend hasn’t felt that difficult. After two years of social distancing during Covid, it ultimately felt like I could just as easily stare at four walls in South Bend as anywhere else in the world. While I’m grateful that the threat of Covid-19 has largely decreased over time, it also means that my life must begin to expand again. Of course, my first year in a PhD program went a long way in forcing that expansion – in some really wonderful ways and in some overwhelming ways – there are still many more activities that were largely the norm in my life before Covid that I haven’t yet engaged with in a world where we are living with Covid. 

So, I come to this trip to Jordan with a bit of apprehension, despite having extensive experience with international travel. This apprehension means that it’s difficult for me to imagine what my life will look like in Jordan. I’ve traveled to Jordan briefly and have extensive exposure to Middle Eastern culture through previous work with Syrian, Palestinian, and Iraqi students. Even so, it’s still hard to imagine exactly what the day-to-day will look like, what aspects of Jordanian culture feel familiar and which feel difficult, and how my own mix of cultures will interact with local cultures. 

No matter what it might look like, I hope to be changed by my summer in Jordan. Of course, I plan to have a much deeper knowledge of Arabic by the end of the summer, and I hope to have developed new strategies to continue learning Arabic after my summer in Amman. I hope to gain additional insights into the direction of my dissertation project. But I also hope to be changed in more abstract ways. I hope to learn from and be influenced by the communities I encounter in Jordan and to have my own Western views challenged and nuanced. I don’t know what this will look like – and honestly knowing what this might look like somewhat misses the point. I can’t wait to see what comes next. 

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Fourth Post

The expression “time flies” has never felt more true to me. Has it really been a month already? When I hear “fly” I think of one of the little birds sailing by my window, but I think time passes by more like a rocket launching into space.

Even though I’ve gotten over all my unrealistic expectations by now, I still tend to take this experience for granted. It’s easy to get discouraged when I make mistakes or see the language coming more easily to others. Also, I’m just craving a purely effortless conversation, without having to sift through a hundred verb tenses and vocabulary words just to form a single sentence. Ironically, the other American students have been helping me keep an open perspective and positive mindset.

Last Friday, I struck up a conversation with one of my classmates and found that we have the same taste in books (which usually means that I share many other interests with the person as well). After school, I happened to run into him on my street and discovered that we live just 10 doors apart. The next day we sat together on the bus to and from Mont Saint Michel, talking for hours about things I never thought I would be discussing in the middle of France, especially with someone I had essentially met just the day before. He shared that his professor said it takes a minimum of two years to learn a new language. It helped a lot just to be reminded that there’s only so much progress you can make in 6 weeks when you’re trying to navigate so much. Funnily enough, he also didn’t regard high school French as worth much, so maybe my proficiency is right where it should be.

 Today I ran into another fellow classmate at the Musee des Beaux Arts in Tours. While we’ve never really spoken before, we must have spent half an hour having one of the best conversations I have had yet, on the stairway between an exposition of Flemish artists and contemporary works. Her family actually came from France, so her low level of French is more embarrassing for her than most. Learning the language is also for more than just pleasure; after Tours she is going to Paris to attempt to get connected with a dance company in Europe and dance ballet professionally. At that moment, I think we both needed someone we could vent our frustrations with and exchange our stories and dreams. It’s so important to realize you’re not the only one who has struggles and to step back and look at the larger picture from time to time.

 If you let yourself get caught up in perfection, all the little important things will go by faster than you can blink. I’m learning that I need to take a moment when I’m worried, to step back and realize that everyone else has their own difficulties and recognize the limits of myself and my circumstances. Only then will I be able to make the most of the time that I’ve been given.