Saturdays are quickly turning into my least favorite days of the month. Since my weekend begins Friday, my Saturday has transformed into a stay-at-home day where I must do all the homework I procrastinated doing all weekend. Along with homework, other thoughts meander in and out of my consciousness throughout the day.

Today it was thoughts of things I missed. For weeks my list has been growing – the smallest things from home I now envision as treasures and long to see again. And its only been a month! Woah, yes indeed it has been a month! Imagine that, I have lived in the Middle East for a month! But I miss The States (do I actually feel homesick?), I feel alone sometimes, and I feel awfully overwhelmed and confused most of the time.

I have been watching television and checking Facebook a lot since establishing a reliable internet (as reliable as Jordanianly possible) here. I don’t know if that correlates to my above mentioned feelings, but I get such joy nowadays from reading my unchecked notification and watching that new episode of Glee. But sometimes I feel awful about indulging like that: shouldn’t I be out exploring or watching Arabic dramas instead? Doing those things here gives me 100x more pleasure than it did it the States, but I wonder why. Is it that it reminds me of literal places back home, or does it remind me of American culture (the good AND the bad). Why do I feel so attached still despite living thousands of miles away?

I miss good ‘ol American food. It really hit me yesterday when I went to an Open Mic fundraiser at this art gallery in jebel al-webdeh (the more scene part of Amman I’ve noticed) where I and some friends ordered a pizza for dinner. Ya ‘Allah (= OMG), I almost cried when I bit into the thin crust and cheddery deliciousness. And to top it off, we ordered a bottle of  Jordanian made wine (for the first and last time we declared, it was so expensive!). I love the food here don’t get me wrong (hummus and zatay are my new favorite things), but damn, I really loved that pizza.

I miss trees and grass. Today my host family told me stories and showed me pictures of their vacations to Lebanon, a small country north of Israel. They speak a dialect of Arabic as well, but have a completely different climate then here. The country is mostly along the Mediterranean which translates to beaches and greenery. I listened in amazement about this supposedly beautiful Arab country and decided that my new travel goal is Lebanon. Inshallah. Its natural beauty is supposedly unrivaled and I love me some natural beauty. Amman has some trees, but not the vibrant green and browns I am accustom to.

I miss the rain. Today was the hottest day these past couple of weeks and being trapped in the house made it feel as though I was one of Mama’s dishes being cooked in her tiny countertop oven (her real oven is full of pans… which I still haven’t figured out). As the evening darkness set in, I decided to take a break and go to the back patio to pet Mika, their pet husky (which randomly enough has a UW leash given as a gift from a previous student years before!). I try to avoid thinking about Mika cause she makes me very sad. She is not allowed in the house and she is trapped in the cement back patio all day and night and rarely goes for walks (I have never seen someone walk a dog here). But tonight I was deluged with feelings and needed a companion. She plopped right down next to me after excitedly running around the patio because I came outside for her and looked at me with her big blue eyes. She feels trapped, I can tell. And I feel for her because I feel the same way. I miss my home and the comforts I have grown to enjoy for granted. How am I going to survive these next three-ish months?

And, I kid you not, a freaking sign appeared to me in the most literal way possible. As I sat petting Mika, I felt a single drop of rain fall on my hand. And then another. And more fell as I stood up and tried to take in every drop that graced my skin. This was the first time I had felt rain since arriving in Amman and it was something I thought would not happen for another month at least. But as suddenly the rain appeared, it stopped. It lasted only a few minutes but that was all I needed. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take you for a walk” I told Mika. We’ll get through this. I might miss home in so many ways but I must simply embrace the little things that keep me connected when I can – whether thats watching “my show”, keeping up to date with Whitman activities, eating a pizza, or dreaming of new travel destinations. When I am in the (metaphorical) state where I understand where I come from, I think that is when I wil be able to take in this unique culture and learn more about it, and more about who I am. I will likely have similar metaphysical moments in my future while being here, but I believe today has been a step in the right direction for how I should balance my past and understand my future here.

Till then, salaam wa tusbaah al-khayr.