I started my studies of the Middle East in the back of my friend’s Prius as we drove across Alabama. At the time the extent of my knowledge was a vague understanding of the Five Pillars of Islam and what I’d picked up from U.S. media as a post-9/11 adolescent. When my interest in the Middle East extended past our post-graduation road trip and into the written history of Saudi Arabia — then into my first year at UK— my parents were hoping that this enthusiasm wouldn’t mold my career or travel choices; they were to be gravely disappointed.

At 20 years old I had never traveled on a plane, much less out of the U.S., but I decided nonetheless to take a six-week Arabic course in Amman, Jordan the summer after my sophomore year, half expecting to be wracked with homesickness and fear of failing. However, with my return home a month and a half later, I realized I was in need of a new career choice. I set out on a journey of many firsts; one which would affect the direction of my life and future.

Jordan was not my first choice of countries: it was perhaps the country I’d studied and knew the least about. It was at the time, however, the only program outside of Israel that UK offered in the Middle East. My knowledge of Arabic was limited and my practical cultural knowledge of day-to-day life in the Arab world just as much so. As my departure date loomed closer I grew more concerned — how was a blonde American girl supposed to blend in to learn and observe? What if I made a mistake? What if everything the media told us about the Middle East was true? What if they hated me?

There is no accounting for expectations or fear when you are setting out on a journey for which you have no prior experience to guide you. All I can say for myself is that despite my misgivings I got on the plane in Cincinnati and went to Jordan. What I can say about being there could never do it justice.

Not only were we met with kindness, hospitality and without prejudice, I soon learned that studying abroad and living abroad was a lot less about blending in — or not failing — than it was about celebrating the different. Along with the new, the failures and finding the good in the world along the way. Two of my friends and I loved Jordan so much that when we returned to UK last fall we decided we needed to find our way back.

In just a few days the three of us will be flying back to Amman, where we will be living for the next year. It is beyond what I ever could have dreamt for myself — and despite the fear of my friends and family for my safety in such a troubled world. I know Jordan and its people, and I am not afraid. All I can hope for is an opportunity to share my experiences, and encourage others to go to those places they do not understand — but have the greatest chance of falling in love with.

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