Finding My Parenting Groove

Yes, it's true that parents of newborn are going to have interrupted sleep for a significant period of time. It's also true that we will become insanely preoccupied with baby's needs. It's the grey areas of when and how nurture that have kept me second-guessing myself from the beginning. All the well-meaning advice and enticing books and blogs on the subject only make it harder to find my way.

The Ameri-centric information I have read and received is strongly supportive of some type of sleep training. Whether it's as strict as "crying-it-out" or as loose as a general routine, it seems that Americans are obsessed with making sense of and gaining some control over the madness. Although I'm not entirely sure where I stand, I don't feel comfortable adhering to a course of action dictated by my needs rather than Bug's (which I feel underlies many of these methods). I didn't sign up to be parent except between the hours of 7pm to 7am. This is a full-time job.

Before Bug was born, the idea of a schedule sounded great. As a teacher, I know that routines and predictability really help with classroom management and productivity. However, now that Bug is here, there is no way I am sticking to feeding and sleep at strict intervals. First, if my baby is crying, I am going to feed him whether it is at a "suitable" time or not. Second, I don't believe my own life has to end just because I had a baby. It seems very American to lock yourself inside and not leave until your baby is two years old, but plenty of other cultures just bring baby along. That doesn't mean I take Bug out partying all night, but if a coffee date falls during his nap time, I just stick him in the pram and head out. I think that keeping myself fulfilled socially helps me be a better mom. There are always exemptions; for example, I skipped a date this morning because Bug had just gone down and I didn't have the heart to wake him.

Especially since I've hired a nanny for Bug and want to make sure she knows my expectations, I've been tracking his feeds and sleeps to see if any patterns are emerging. Only recently have time and length of naps begun to stabilize, but eating patterns have been hard to identify because nursing is a bond we share for both eating and soothing. I was starting to feel like a bad mom for not putting him on a schedule sooner. I tried a few times to follow the "EASY" (eat, activity, sleep, you time) routine but deviated when Bug was hungry at the "wrong" time or I went out to run errands and messed it all up. Admittedly, this routine did help me in the very beginning when I was still learning to identify Bug's hunger and sleepy cues. I wasn't following it really, just using it to help see what he might be needing. Another mom a few months ahead of me helped put things into perspective. Was I feeding him when hungry? Was I putting him down when tired? Was he happy and well-adjusted? Yes to all. So stop worrying.

But I worry so well. If I'm not doing sleep training or a set schedule, what am I doing?

I've always had a bit of a hippy-dippy side, so attachment parenting resonates with me. Essentially, this style of parenting means that the baby is worn in a close-contact carrier for much of the day, where he can breastfeed and snooze as needed. Sounds very African to me, although it is done here out of necessity rather than to make a statement. It makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint, since humans have not changed biologically as fast as they have socially. Infants are meant to be held close and tended to around the clock. It regulates their body temperature and heart rate, and in the wilderness would have kept them safe from harm. Today it allows moms to keep working and bring their infants along (as with many Mozambican service workers or when I need to make breakfast). 

As great as it sounds, attachment parenting isn't realistic for me as I will be going back to work soon and cannot wear Bug all day. I also fear that that much codependence could backfire. I am an American after all; independence is at the core of our culture. Isolating babies in strollers and putting them in their own bedrooms at shockingly young ages is considered good parenting. I've learned that other cultures do not. So I use a stroller but face Bug towards me, and we change his diapers and play in his bedroom so it is familiar when the time does come to move him there. I think it's wonderful to "wear" him for a bit, and the nanny agrees, as it's very Mozambican to "nenecar" (literally to wear the baby in a carrier). We've decided that putting him in the "neneca" (carrier) is best in the afternoons when Bug gets fussy yet resists his nap. However, I don't want her wearing him for the whole day, and I do want him to be able to sleep in the crib. (I've spoken with moms here whose little ones have a hard time falling asleep in the crib because they are used to being carried and sleeping on their nannies all day.) It's important for babies to develop some independence. Bug actually enjoys playing alone in his crib, knowing one of us is supervising nearby. He also needs to learn to self-regulate. What is he feeling? What does he need? If I just jump to feed him every time he fusses, he won't learn to identify and eventually articulate these things.

That being said, I am quite uncomfortable with the various types of crying-it-out I've heard and read about, both because I don't believe it's good for my baby and because I could never endure the torture of of hearing him cry and not tending to him. A counter argument that makes a lot of sense to me is that when babies are left alone to cry-it-out, their cortisol levels shoot up, which makes them highly stressed and susceptible to internal physical and psychological harm. I don't care what the most popular book is calling it or saying about it, I'm not dong it. That doesn't mean I run to his crib at every fuss. I wait and listen. For example, he tends to whimper when he changes positions or loses his pacifier. Sometimes I put the pacifier back in and sometimes I don't. The books all say not to, but I make the decision on a case-by-case basis. Sometimes he fusses between sleep cycles but quickly falls back to sleep. Other times his nappy is wet, he is hungry, or he feels lonely and wants to be picked up. Those times, I go to him. He needs to know that I will be there for him. It isn't always clear when I should sooth or let him work it out. For example, he recently began rolling over and fusses when he startles himself or gets his arm stuck underneath. Do I help him so he settles back to sleep quickly, or do I wait so he can learn how to fix the problem himself? 

As with everything else, it's about balance. And intuition.

There is an underlying anxiety that if I don't do certain things my baby will...I don't know...not grow up healthy and happy? But those certain things are abundant and conflicting. I'm glad to have read so many books and blogs since I initially had no clue what I was doing. Science is always interesting -- and always changing. So it's good to consider but is not the green light for every choice. Sometimes I need to step away from the computer, put down the book, and just be with my kid. When I stop and listen to him, and to my instincts, I know we are doing just fine. 

Fast Forward

Welcome table at our stateside reception

Yoo hoo. It's me again! Two years down the road, Brian and I had a fabulous wedding fiesta in December 2013 and a stateside celebration in July 2014. We've been nesting in Maputo since August 2013. Lots of African adventures under our belt -- to name a few: camping in Kruger, wild animal encounters, daily off-roading in our 4x4, rustic beach getaways, moving out of the burbs and into the city...and HAVING A BABY!

Ellies at Kruger Park.

Yes, Brian and I are officially parents. Our little guy, nicknamed Bug, was born in May 2015. After lots of wishy-washing we decided to deliver him here in Mozambique rather than crossing the border and dealing with passport and visa bureaucracies at embassies in South Africa. Many expats said we were "brave" (polite for "crazy"?), but really I felt safe and any negative aspects of the experience were not surprises. Oh, except for the cesarian after 16 hours of unmedicated natural labor. Or Bug's overnight NICU stay for oxygen and antibiotics. But those things could have happened anywhere, and it's all in the past now. I'm mending. Bug is healthy and happy. Brian is, as always, our calm eye in any storm.

Maputo cityscape

Life is not only good...it's amazing. I'm so happy that I'm actually afraid to admit it. So I've uncovered my Achilles heel -- not feeling worthy of such happiness. Thanks to Brian, I've already tackled the hurdle of not feeling worthy enough for genuine love and am working on uncovering my authentic self. As if having a baby wasn't enough of a growth experience (literally and spiritually!), now I'm signing up for a little more self-love bootcamp. Parenting and self-improvement...this could be an interesting combo!

Moving Forward

In order to get a grasp on my new life, I set some short term goals: setting up my classroom, moving to my new place, finally unpacking my bags, attending yoga classes, and socializing with new friends. 

Well, I accomplished all my goals and then some.

My classroom is organized and decorated.  I also set a schedule and finally began working with students.  Connecting with the kids energizes me, and they are the reason I love my job! If I can love my job, then the rest should fall into place, right?  Although my role as an ESL specialist is still undergoing revision, I am now finding more opportunities to contribute my expertise and feel validated professionally.  School is thankfully on an upswing.

The new flat feels good and meets my needs for now.  I have finally unpacked my suitcases, organized my things, and established daily routines.  Although a bit lacking in windows (I have one), the space is quiet and provides a needed respite from the chaos outside.  I am calling it "cocoon-y."  If I can't control the big things in my life, at least I can create a bit of normalcy and feel safe in my little home.

After a long hiatus, I have come back to yoga.  This is significant on many levels.  Physically, I am rebuilding muscles and flexibility.  Mentally, I am focused on caring for my body inside and out.  Emotionally, I am acknowledging the correlations among poses, feelings they release, and challenges they symbolize in life.  Spiritually, my heart is open and connected to a higher power. And socially, I am spending time with supportive and likeminded people.

The greatest gift of living abroad is the friendships that are built in the absence of family.  Amazingly, I have already found caring, generous and well-grounded people with whom to share my life.  I am slowly filling the empty spaces caused by leaving behind people and places.  However, filling is not replacing, and those people are truly cherished and places deeply missed.  It just means that my heart is a little bigger and the world a little smaller.

The homesickness, the urge to go back to Jordan, and the shock of, “What in the world have I just done with my life?” all come and go in waves. The inverses are moments of amazement that this is truly my life, the thought that I must move forward and never backward, and that my experience in Vietnam is a journey with an end that I cannot anticipate (and will be a better person for regardless of the outcome).

Homebase & Homesick

So I went to bed feeling resolved. When I awoke, I called my real estate agent to confirm that I would take the small serviced apartment I saw in District 1 that was walking distance to school, my good friend, and a nice yoga studio. The clincher was that it only required a one-month deposit and was a three-month lease. I was trading size and my amazing view for proximity and flexibility. The extra bedroom had meant that I’d finally “made it” and eagerly awaited visitors. But in truth, it would only be occupied for 1% of my time in Saigon and I don’t need to prove myself to anyone.  Furthermore, the indoor space I wanted for hosting dinners and house parties is not needed (evidenced by the lack of ovens in all kitchens and abundance of free food delivery).  Restaurants, takeaway, bars and nights on the town prevail.  And the outdoor space that I thought would need to counteract the traffic, noise and crowds of the downtown is still available anytime I want to hop on a xe om (motorbike taxi) and visit my friends in D7.  I need more time to let go of the life I loved in Jordan and reframe my thinking to enjoy how things happen here.
  
That also goes for my partner, colleagues and dear friends in Jordan, all of whom I miss immensely.  Knowing that they have regrouped and are having great fun (as they should) makes me feel as if I’m missing out.  As I go through the challenges of adjusting to a new country, I keep wishing I could call them or curl up on their couches to talk.  Leaving my partner has been especially difficult.  I am intensely homesickness; however, home for me is not the US, home is where I have flourished for the last two years.  I am fighting the fantasy of returning to Jordan.  What would I return to? I was ready to move on from my job.  Many friends have or will soon move away, and those who stay will adjust to my absence.  The barriers in my romantic relationship will still be there.  I always knew that leaving that life behind would be hard, but that realization hasn’t helped much in midst of the emotional aftermath.  The expat life has provided so many blessings that I would not change for the world, but it has also been filled with tough choices and painful farewells.

Decision-Making Anxiety

Thankfully, my colleagues at my new school have all been amazing. We have bonded quickly and I did not hesitate to reach out when I realized my living situation was not the best. I was comforted by encouraging words and opportunities to socialize.  No one had actually seen my beautiful apartment, but when my close friend from Jordan (who coincidentally now lives in Saigon) finally stopped over, she was impressed.  I was bolstered and we decided to venture out into the neighborhood to explore the street food.  She has been in Vietnam for 6 months already and lives in a back alley guesthouse, so not much can get by her.  But she confirmed the presence of a “ripping off the tourist” cloud that I had suspected was hanging over me.  Additionally, I am always up for a culinary adventure, but the street food options were past my tolerance for exotic.  Lack of cleanliness, intense smells and mysterious innards floating in my soup.  Not a comfy café in sight.  After a bit of fun, we made our way back to my apartment, and the tears sprang out again.

I was homesick, lonely (no internet at the apartment yet meant no email or skype), overwhelmed by my last minute job-change, and feeling like I couldn’t make a confident decision about what to eat let alone where to live.  She talked me through the thought that had been sneaking into my brain since the moment I moved in, and we hashed out a plan for backing out of the lease. I sent the text to my real estate agent the next morning and waited for a reply. The biggest question was how much money I would I lose.  His first response after breaking the news to the landlady was that it didn’t go well, so I decided to meet with her myself. Via her extremely responsible teenage daughter, I was able to communicate my need to be closer to my school and other expats.  She did not hesitate to offer me back the full deposit and prorated rent (less the realtor's cut).  She was worried about me being so far from my family and just wanted me to be happy.  There were no hard feelings and we hugged good night when she left.  I'll take motherly love wherever I can find it :-)

The next day, my agent took me around to a range of housing options in several districts, each having pluses and minuses. District 1 was close to nice restaurants, hotels, gyms, yoga studios and school, but it was also crowded, loud and apartments were tiny and expensive. The building on the edge of District 5 where several colleagues resided was much closer to school, but the apartments were lesser quality and equal in price to my current place. I just couldn’t swallow breaking a lease and losing money to move within the same district to a place that I didn’t really like.  District 7 had some quite nice places in a concrete jungle complex for the same price.  Although quieter and closer to the rest of my colleagues, I kept balking at moving so far away from downtown and tacking on another ten minutes to my motorbike commute.  I should mention that all of these places wanted a two-month deposit, plus two months’ rent, plus a year lease.  I had been blessed once by an amazing landlady, but the chance of finding another, were I to repeat my “wrong” choice, was very slim.  After talking it over with my friend, we decided that District 7 was the best fit for me due to proximity to friends, open space, and presence of expat-friendly restaurants and stores.

From Jordan to Vietnam

The last two weeks have been a rollercoaster of contradictions. Excitement and dread. Relief and regret. Sheer ambivalence at every turn. The three foundational needs for re-establishing my life include: my job, where I will live and who I will spend time with. In each of these, I have had extreme highs and lows since I arrived in Vietnam.

Let’s start with my job. Well, this is the driving force that brought me literally to the other side of the world. I have taught in various capacities on and off for several years. After completing my Master’s degree in International Education and teaching elementary school language arts in Jordan for the last two years, I know I have found the best career for myself. I left Amman feeling confident in my abilities and eager to grow as an educator. Arriving in Vietnam, I feel as if I am a first year teacher all over again. And in fact I almost was when my position was changed last minute from ESOL to Grade 3 classroom. Gulp. Be with the kids all day? Plan for all content areas? I’ve always flirted with the idea of making this switch, but when it was thrust at my unexpectedly, I hadn’t had time to mentally prepare and was freaking out internally. As is my way, I jumped right in setting up the classroom, meeting with the other third grade teachers, and planning as much as I could. But I still felt like I was spinning wheels.


This is also when my housing anxiety kicked in. The school financed my stay in a very clean yet windowless hotel room downtown for just one week. The whole lot of new teachers was scrambling to find accommodations at the same time and it seemed I was one step behind. Half of them decided on one building walking distance to the school but further from Western familiarities, and the other half chose a highrise complex in a leafy suburb about 20 minutes by motorbike from school. I wavered on both locations because my mind was still stuck on my charming, spacious apartment in Jordan for half the price. These were box-like with tacky and/or low quality furniture. The bathrooms in most were blah and I couldn’t imagine snuggling up to watch a movie on any of the couches. So I went online and found some listings I liked in a building in the same district as my school. I fell in love with the apartment as soon as I walked in the door. Simple and high quality furniture, neutral tones, two bedrooms and two bathrooms, and high up with an amazing view. After losing out on other apartments, I jumped on this one. No one was going to beat me to it!

I handed over millions of Vietnamese Dong and moved in the next day. As soon as I signed the lease and the landlady and real estate agent left, the tears poured out. What had I just done? I was all alone in middle of District 5. Yes, it was in the same district as my school, but still a ten minute ride on the back of a motorbike. Certainly not walkable. And I learned very quickly that I was the only expat in the twenty block radius of Chinatown. I have absolutely nothing against Chinese people—and actually one of the reasons I felt at ease signing this lease was because the landlady was so unbelievably nice—but the isolation was intense. I had to haggle hard with motorbike taxis and then get jostled around in dense traffic for twenty minutes anytime I wanted to go somewhere expat-friendly, and when I wanted to come back, no one knew where it was. The route quickly became familiar, but I soon began dreading it. Inside the apartment, I loved the peacefulness, amazing view and super-comfortable bed, but as soon as I stepped outside, the chaos swept over me.

At the End of the Rainbow

Adaptation

Acceptance of legitimacy of another reality. Satisfying personal relationships with host nationals. Language competence. Thorough understanding and enjoyment and adoption of some of its ways. Ability to cope with stress.
The insane bureaucracy. The treatment of women. The lack of consideration for others in public spaces. Sleazy teenage boys. Scheming taxi drivers. I have a ways to go before I can fully accept these as a valid reality. Maybe I never will. Coping with stress is a case-by-case situation. I handle it better now than I ever did in the U.S. I hardly drink alcohol anymore and opt for yoga as a coping mechanism instead. Monthly trips to the spa and salon alongside more care in my wardrobe have made me feel better about myself and allowed me to blend in a bit more with the Jordanian women (who never leave the house without a fully accessorized outfit, blown out hair and full make-up). I have positive relationships with my coworkers (expats and locals) and stop to say hi to people on the street. I don't know if it is linguistically possible for me to become fluent in Arabic, but my English is now seasoned with Arabic slang and conversation fillers (yalla, yani, bas, halas, habibti)

Things I enjoy and have adapted in terms of Jordanian/Palestinian culture center primarily around food (no surprise there!). I prefer labneh and falafel for breakfast, I eat my biggest meal in the afternoon, I drink tea at least three times a day (with heaps of sugar), I feel like a sinner if I don't serve tea to anyone who enters my house, and I smoke argileh like it's going out of style. The only non-food custom that I can think of is that I kiss everyone I know hello and good-bye (once on the left, two on the right).Living as an expat is total-body experience. My weight, my emotions and my mindset all fluctuate regularly as I move through these stages of culture shock in jolts and out of order. But as long as I keep sight of the bigger picture and don't get too stuck in the moment, the highs and lows seem to balance each other out. The challenges, life lessons, daily routines, simple joys and amazing relationships I have found along the way make it all worthwhile.

One Day at a Time

Gradual Adjustment

Crisis passes and the visitor begins to understand more of the customs and subtle cultural clues. Language skills increase. Humor returns. The culture seems more familiar and the visitor feels more comfortable and less isolated in it.

There are glimmers of hope. Culture shock absolutely correlates to emotional stress in daily life. On good days, I love Amman. On bad days, I hate it. I don't see myself as a "visitor" anymore. I live here. I don't really have a home to go back to, and I've invested a lot of time and money into my newest (third) flat. I have found supportive female spaces and look to all the strong women (expat AND local) for inspiration. I appreciate all the men in my life that show me how wrong stereotypes can be. My Arabic skills are slowly improving. I walk around my neighborhood and try to imagine how it will look through the wide eyes of my family members who are coming in a week and have never been to the Middle East. I have my grocer, my tailor, my hairdresser, my shuwarma guy, my regular server at my regular restaurant. I have my favorite street cat, my favorite building, my favorite flowers, my favorite city views.

Bring on the Drama…

Culture Shock

Focus shifts to differences that suddenly seem to be everywhere and are blown out of proportion. Sense of humor replaced by irritations, hostility, anxiety, disorientation, and vulnerability. Symptoms of culture shock may include the following: excessive amounts of sleep, compulsive eating and/or drinking, exaggerated cleanliness, physical ailments, marital/familial problems, stereotyping, chauvinism, fits of weeping, homesickness, boredom.


Culture shock bashed me over the head, threw me against a wall and left me for dead the moment I returned from Christmas vacation. After being in the U.S. for ten days, I had missed my friends and life in Amman and was looking forward to returning for a New Year's Eve celebration. Flight complications, lost luggage, arriving to an empty house, a fizzled party and a detached significant other all sent me into a tailspin. A small disagreement between my boyfriend and I escalated into an break-up, I became confrontational at school about the fact that I had yet to receive my residency and work permit, and I felt extremely homesick for everything American.

My friends supported me fantastically through the break-up by listening to my relentless psycho-analysis as I sucked on argileh hoses and stared at my coffee. My jetlag became torture and I barely slept for two weeks. I was never hungry. I got three ear infections in two months. I stayed in my room unless my friends dragged me out to go to a party or a bar. And when I did venture out, I realized how awful the lurid stares from the men on the streets really were. The thought of abandoning ship that had flashed in my mind when I first arrived in Amman was flickering again.

This stage comes and goes and correlates strongly to the emotional effects of other events in my life. The support of my friends during the break-up gave me a strong sense of kinship and belonging that I have treasured ever since. And I realized that my job was fulfilling, despite the bureaucratic nightmares and lack of organization, and that with or without a boyfriend, I wanted to stay. Since hearts know no logic, he and I soon reunited and I am continuously overwhelmed by the support and stability that exist now between us.

Yet despite deep friendships and a wonderful partner, I have become a royal brat in many ways. The hassling, whistles, lewd comments and lack of respect from so many men on a regular basis have pushed me over the edge. I yell back, I refuse to step aside and I gripe about it to anyone who will listen. This is the one place I am just so stuck. Well, actually, two other negativity-traps include the something-for-nothing mentality and the let-me-see-how-much-I-can-screw-the-foreigner game, which also have twisted me into an obstinate, finger-wagging, very angry bitch.

I've always considered myself open-minded and easy-going, and for the first five months I honestly was. But I have developed a very stubborn and angry alter-ego. Sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad. In the U.S. I never used to complain about customer service or demand respect when people were taking advantage of me. Now this is a regular occurrence. Good for me. But I also expect the worse from men I don't know and yell aggressively when I feel someone has wronged me. Shame on me. I am stuck in stereotypes and it's intellectually and personally maddening. That is the antithesis of who I strive to be.

The Highs and Lows of Living Abroad

I've read from several sources, including my graduate school textbooks, about the stages of culture shock that someone living abroad will pass through. Yet no matter how much you read up on something, when you're entirely in the moment, textbooks don't mean diddly. Having lived in Amman for over ten months now (wow!), let me explain what this "culture shock" means in my daily life.

I've listed the stages below and will pace out my commentary since I have a lot to say!

Stages of Culture Shock
Initial Euphoria
Culture Shock
Gradual Adjustment
Adaptation


Initial Euphoria...yippeeee

Excitement, high (perhaps too high) expectations and energy, positive mindset. Everything new is intriguing. Focus is on similarities between home culture and new culture.

Well, my airport debacle upon arrival quickly squashed any initial euphoria and I was pretty cranky and skeptical the first few days. As I began making friends and venturing out into the city on my own, however, I did notice that I was a much friendlier and more outgoing version of myself than I had been in DC. I had a great attitude about my new school and kept thinking how much better it was than teaching in the U.S. Less students, more freedom with the curriculum and tons of planning time. I even thought two hour staff meetings entirely in Arabic were a good way to force me to learn the language.

I moved flats and entered a new social circle in the fall, so I think my euphoria was prolonged. Also, I began a romantic relationship that made each day an exciting adventure and distracted me from the more challenging parts of my life. Heck, Ramadan even seemed romantic at the time!

Whirlwind September

Semptember was a crazy month filled with school commitments, meeting new friends, and getting to know the ins and outs of Amman and beyond.

First, thoughts on previous posts, and then a brief update of what's been going on.

Reflections on Previous Posts
Now that I've gotten used to the sensory overload that is Amman, some things that really stood out in the beginning have become ordinary parts of my day. I want to start by adding/augmenting my post on beauty. I said, "It is incredibly taboo for women to show their hair in public according to Islam." Ok, this is technically true, but many Muslim women do show their hair in public. Hijab is normal and no hijab is normal. Although the vast majority of Muslim women in the traditional neighborhood where I live do cover (e.g., long overcoat, head scarf, sometime even burkas and gloves), once you pass into west Amman, or "the other side of the wadi (valley)" as I like to say, who chooses to cover and how she chooses to do so is much more individual. Additionally, while outsiders cannot see into salons for females, they are everywhere and easily identified by the fashion posters plastered across the windows. I go all the time! This is probably a shock to those of you used to my slacker beauty ways in the U.S., but I've discovered that a little personal pampering can do wonders for self-confidence, the bonding with girl friends is so fun, and I think it's great that many of the Arab women I've met take such good care of themselves (and manage families and jobs simultaneously).

The status of Pacific Islanders in Amman is still something I struggle with. This controversy is quite similar to the one in the U.S. about the status of lower class Latino immigrants. On one hand, these workers make small wages for demanding work and are not always treated well (and sometimes quite terribly). But on the other hand, they have chosen to come here and perform this work because it earns more money than they can make in their home countries. So transnationalism and the global economy prevail--the money these workers earn barely makes ends meet in an expensive city, what little they can save is sent directly to their home countries, their home country economy now depends on this money, and the host country economy now depends on their labor. So the cycle continues. I think creating safeguards for fair wages and human rights should be a huge priority of the 21st century as we attempt to comprehend and regulate the forces of a completely globalized economy. The compromise many people (including myself) make here are to tip service workers well (e.g., the women who do such an awesome job at the salon) and treat those who work in our homes with kindness and respect (e.g., the woman who cleans my house, when I can afford her!).

What's Been Going On
In brief, I love my school. My coworkers are so warm, dedicated and supportive. Our principal maintains an careful balance for meeting the needs of students, parents and teachers. This is not easy to do, but it's so integral to a successful school. And my students are just lovely. For both personal and academic reasons, I am finding a great deal of value in separated schooling for girls and boys. I will expand on this in a later post, because it is certainly a controversial topic.

I have met wonderful locals and expats. The family from whom I rent my flat is incredibly gracious and always helps when I have questions or need assistance. I am becoming a regular at my corner ducan (store)--the owners are so patient with my elementary Arabic! And I've discovered an unspoken expat code of ethics in Amman. We welcome newcomers warmly, extend any assistance we can provide, and maintain open invitations to meet for coffee or a bite to eat. I've also met locals who have studied abroad or work for international companies that travel in our circles and adhere to the same code. Several acquaintances have grown into true friendships and my social life is quite fruitful.

Mid-Spetember marked the end of Ramadan and lengthy Eid vacation. My school generously provided a full week off, so I was able to explore Jordan extensively and have time to relax. I will post pictures shortly!