My friends and I have (mis)spent countless hours blissfully thinking of the things we'll do upon our arrival back on U.S. soil. But I'm honestly at a loss. Of course, I will hug and kiss the family and friends I have missed with an intensity I couldn't have anticipated. For sure, I will irresponsibly gorge on foods loaded with processed sugar, high-fructose corn syrup, and pasteurized milk that my American taste buds have long since craved. But aside from those savory embraces and that loving gluttony, I'm not sure what else I'll do.
When I reflect on this uncertainty, I realize it's not a consequence of my youthful apathy or a nullifying zeal, but instead it comes from an appreciation for living that I've learned here. Of course, I've always appreciated life, growing up in a region of the country where most people are self-proclaimed "pro-life(rs)" and then going to school in a region of the country where most people are anti-war and anti-death penalty, it would have been impossible for some sense of that love of life not to rub off on me. Yet, the main difference between the U.S.'s reactionary pro-lifers and rabid peace-lovers and the Jordanians I've met can be summed up in the following scheme: process/means driven vs. results/end driven; appreciating living vs. appreciating life.
These various activists in the U.S., purportedly concerned with life, think of it as some sort of lofty ideal, an intellectual concept that must be safe-guarded against the treacherously debilitating forces of radical, baby-eating abortionists or unscrupulous, profit-driven war hawks. All the while they forget the fun in living. The joy in the ride.
Take for example a debateably insightful illustration of this Jordanian living vs. American life paradigm--road rules.
A few days ago, my friends and I went on a road trip from Jordan's most populated city, Amman, to Jordan's southern most tip, Aqaba. While I had accompanied many a taxi driver on the seemingly unregulated Jordanian roads, this was my first time driving on them, and experience was my only teacher. So we pack our luggage, food, and eager bodies into the car and shove off. My friend takes the wheel first, driving us to our first and most important destination--Kalha, House of All Things Deliciously Falafel. We get the essentials--hummus, fool (a bean-based dish), and 20 savory falafel balls, all to accompany the bread we bought the day before. Now, we are officially ready.
At some point, I start driving. And it was then that I came to a striking realization. Soon after I had assumed the wheel, my friend who was visiting from France, unused to Jordanian driving customs, anxiously chuckled, "Tony, are you gonna drive inside the lines."
Somewhat surprised, I reply, "No. We don't really do that here." And it's true. All manner of drivers--taxi, truck, bus, everyday average citizen, pay no attention to lines and make scarce use of car signals.
It seemed like a trivial cultural note at first but then, driving on the way back, I began to reflect. I noticed a car in front of me who was driving in the middle of two lanes, drifting left and right as it made its way down the road along with the rest of the busy parade. I tried to imagine myself, strolling down the lazy streets of Memphis with similarly unconcerned leisure, drifting left and right as the humidity floods into my open car windows, splashing against my sweaty face, and I soon realized that in such a scenario, I would almost immediately be pulled over by a lurking police car and subsequently forced to wait for a minimum of 30 minutes as the officer and the back-up he or she had defaultly called collect my information and check my record. And why? Because driving in the middle of the street is unsafe of course. Always stay inside the lines and push forward expeditiously. It's vital for our well-being. That is unless you live in Jordan apparently.
So in closing, I think the first thing I'll do when I get back to the states is talk to friends, read some books, and maybe, in the words of the flower-children who came decades before me, go discover America. But don't worry, I'll drive inside the lines.
