Things Anyone Who Has Lived in the U.S. and the Middle East Knows To Be True

I was on my way home this afternoon, dodging cars as I crossed the street when one beaten gas truck made almost a full loop trying to avoid me while it made a left turn across a street I was dashing through. It reminded me of a day nearly a year ago when, while observing all traffic and pedestrian laws, I'd been hit by a driver while walking on a crosswalk on campus. The driver rolled down their window not to inquire after any injury, but to shout a few choice obscenities before speeding away. As the gas truck made its less than elegant u-turn of a left to avoid hitting me, I was struck by the many and colorful differences of the lives I lead: my life in America, and my life in the Middle East. While there are many major and obvious differences, the incident today, and the one a year ago, made me reflect on some of the more trivial and comical differences, so I thought I'd share. Here are a few things I've noticed in my back and forth...if you have some of your own, let me know!

*These are my personal opinions based on experiences here in Jordan, Lebanon, Jerusalem, and Egypt. Obviously, many people have different experiences. This is purely for fun/silly purposes.

**There is a video below. Watch it for the sake of your own enjoyment. (You won't regret it).

1. Dear U.S.: that's not hummus. A few years ago, before any of my travels, I had a language partner from Iraq who came to my house on campus for some English-Arabic conversation. Being the over-eager hostess, prepared to show off my requisite knowledge of all things Middle Eastern, I laid out my favorite snack: some Sabra hummus and fresh vegetables. I even went so far as to toast some pita bread and cut it into triangular wedges. When my guest arrived, he politely asked what our snacks were. When I explained, he less than politely, but quite understandably, laughed in my face. At the time I chalked it up to regional differences, sure that my hummus was very legit, if maybe not along the lines of the Iraqi taste. When, about six months later, I tasted my first real hummus in a cafe in Jordan, I was beyond overwhelmed. Stunned. This was not what I had been eating in America. This was not close to anything I'd ever tasted. This wasn't gritty, dry, or as thick as paste. It was creamy, smooth, drowned in olive oil (or sometimes pomegranate seeds) and irresistible. I hoped that when I returned to America I'd be able to find something suitable, but American hummus was ruined for me. The closest I could find was a Palestinian restaurant called Gyroz (in Lexington, Kentucky, if you haven't been, go. What are you doing with your life?!) America, I get it. You love hummus. But you gotta try the real thing.

*Pro tip: if you're making your hummus at home, the best way to make it the real "actual hummus" creamy is to blend cubes of ice into your final product!

2. Driving in the Middle East is awful. But also not. As my earlier, slightly confusing anecdote attempted to get across, the rules of the road here are vastly different. While some countries have worse traffic (I'm looking at you, Egypt) and some are more aggressive (hello, Jerusalem!), it is a simple fact that Middle Eastern traffic is pure chaos. There's an incredible video made by an American-born Jordanian comic Brett Weer for his show My American Neighbor (please watch, you won't regret) that showcases the unofficial driving rules in Jordan, but I think it's pretty true of the Middle East in general. It's a controlled chaos, and the rules are etiquette, not your U.S. driver's permit booklet standard. While you're more likely to see a kangaroo cross the street in Amman than a turn signal or the proper use of lanes, everyone takes their turn and is generous with letting people in. The road rage in the Middle East is far less serious than in the U.S. While everyone is a speedy, chaotic driver, no one gets too upset on the road. Now close your eyes, and say Allahu akbar, and go!

3. Dear Middle East: please learn what lines are. OK, rant time. My biggest pet peeve here is that no one knows how to make, or respect, a line. I'll be standing at a coffee cart in the morning, just trying to get some tea or a bottle of water, and (usually, but not always) a girl will elbow her way right in front of me, throw her money on the counter, and place her order, before I've had time to so much as blink. This happens everywhere. In line at the bank, at the ATM, at the checkout in Zara, and at any and all government buildings. For some reason, it angers me nearly to blindness. I've taken lately to tapping the line-cutter on the shoulder and saying "jed?" which is uber-slang for SERIOUSLY!? Usually, but not always, the person will apologize and step back. I have to admit that my Christmas visit in America was peppered with some over enthusiastic human shielding in Target and other line palces, as I instinctively tried to protect my place at the till from the unwitting Americans who are much better with queues. Sorry, Jordan, but please fix this. (Love you!) This also ties into my driving point above--drivers in the M.E. don't use lanes! There might be lanes painted on the roads, but they have about as much power in governing traffic as, well I can't think of something funny that doesn't have traffic power. No real power.

4. Inshallah is the best way to live in the M.E. and the worst way to live in the U.S. Another initial pet peeve during my settling-in time when I moved back to Jordan was the "inshallah" mentality that nearly everyone (including expats) here lives by. "Inshallah" means "God willing", and the super technical way to use it is if you want something, or are hoping for something, and you want to say "as long as it's God's plan". For instance, Friend: Did you get the promotion? You: Inshallah, I will. However, "inshallah" is not just a word in the Middle East, it's a lifestyle. Inshallah can mean many things. When you ask someone to meet you later on and they say "Inshallah", it means no. When you're making plans to meet at a specific time, and they say "Inshallah, 6 o'clock", it means add at least one hour. I use inshallah constantly, even when I'm on the phone with my parents, sister, and friends in the U.S. I don't even use "hopefully" or "probably" anymore, and I pepper it into the conversation to show I'm being positive or that things are uncertain. Inshallah is "relax, chill out, what's the rush?" It's "things will happen when and how they're supposed to happen". Inshallah is the only way you'll survive living in the M.E. It's like "hakuna matata", but it means hopefully, no, yes, later, and chill all at the same time. So, in Jordan, relaxing. In the U.S.? Infuriating. While home in January my friends were frequently subject to my newfound tardiness. When one poor soul asked why I was half an hour late to our dinner date I nearly said "I said 7 o'clock, inshallah!" before remembering that, even though I had said inshallah on the phone, it probably excused my tardiness as much as signing "inshallah" over the phone. (That's my way of saying not at all.)

5. No one understands me. Between attempting to explain the myriad of things I might mean when I say "inshallah", "ilhamdulillah", or "mish mushkila" to my American friends and family, and trying to explain my way out of odd English colloquialisms like "my dogs are barkin'", "when it rains it pours", or "you'll catch more flies with honey" (yeah, I didn't know I was so southern either) I feel like no one really knows what I'm trying to say anymore. No, when I said "inshallah" that time I meant I'm definitely not coming tonight. No, that time I meant, yeah, hopefully. Ok, when I say "I'm going to paint your back porch red" I know you don't have a back porch, I'm telling you to watch the sass level.

6. When I went back to the U.S. I spent a good five minutes looking around the produce section in Kroger for the guy to weigh my fruit and veg. Pretty self explanatory. This is a silly one, but this actually happened to me, and when I'm in Jordan I always forget to look for the weighing guy. So, in the M.E., there's a guy with a weight in the produce section and if you take your produce to the checkout without weighing it they get pretty ticked. In the U.S., they weigh it at the register. Bada bing bada boom.

7. People are so nice. (Awwww I'm so mushy and it's soo sweet, awwww). But, really. Though etiquette varies in every country I visit, I'm always struck by how kind the people I meet are. I'm from the south (ish, it's more about culture than geography in Kentucky, but that's a hotly contested point) and being friendly and neighborly is something that we're known for. While the rules changed, and the emphasis in the M.E. is more on hospitality than friendly chit chat and neighborliness to strangers, the core principles are the same. I've never been unable to find a friendly face in any crowd or cabbie in the M.E., and I'd be hard pressed to find anywhere in Kentucky where you couldn't make yourself a friend. Life lesson: people are cool, no matter what they where, what they look like, how they speak, or how they pray.

I have two homes and they're different but perfectly so. I hope you got a little kick out of my silly observations and commentary, I love sharing my loves!

Lesson number two: home is where your heart is, so love every place you're in.

-A