Graydon, Master of Arts in Political Science, 2nd year
Internship country: Jordan
Canadian NGO: WUSC
Local NGO: WUSC
For those of us who are lucky enough to have the chance to spend time abroad – especially for extended periods of time – the anticipation that precedes our travels is almost as crucial as the journey itself. It is here where we become acquainted, in the faintest of ways, with the staples of the world we are about to step into. Some of these stick out: the language, the norms, the landmarks. But beyond what we see, hear, smell, and feel is what we taste; and in many ways, this is what connects us most strongly to our new homes.
This past January, I found myself in Jordan’s capital; breathing in one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, I began to understand just what I had signed up for. Coming from Canada, even from a diverse and lively city like Toronto, things were different. Amman is a bustling metropolis, to be sure, but the foundations are a world apart. Thankfully, though my experience with a city of this historical significance was limited, I had had the privilege to visit fabled places like Bethlehem, Ramallah, and Jerusalem, all of which had prepared me for this moment as much as they had inspired it. And upon my arrival in Amman, I realized one thing for sure: the cities of the Levant are one of a kind. That deep, sweet aroma of humid air and local spices; the diverse and alluring landscapes; the unique architecture; the generous people. Through it all, though, my first steps down the street I now called home would be characterized by the food.
It was on one of my very first days living in Amman’s North Abdoun that my boss’s husband spotted me at a local market and took it upon himself to hint to the men selling fresh produce there that I was a newcomer who may benefit from local support. I was called over, greeted warmly, and offered some of the bread, cheese, oil, and veggies from a spread they had set up for themselves on the sidewalk. Without fail, every single time I passed their store, they would greet me with that same warmth. And if they were eating, so was I.
Looking back, I think he knew something I had not yet realized – the adjustment to life abroad is tough. You may go days without having a real conversation with someone, owing to language barriers, nervousness around new people, or any number of things. That made the many interactions I would come to have with those men at the store all the more meaningful.
Then there were the more traditional dishes, like maqloubeh: made from rice, chicken, and vegetables like eggplant, cooked upside down and flipped over to serve. This was introduced to me early on by those at WUSC during an office lunch. The cultural weight that this dish held among my colleagues and friends was evident even in such a casual setting. And mansaf: beautifully cooked lamb over spiced rice with a rich yogurt sauce, herbs, and almonds. The national dish, a staple of Jordanian life. Though I enjoyed it via Careem (the Arab world’s answer to Uber) by myself, a privilege it still was. At a time
when I felt perhaps more disconnected from the country than I yet had – towards the end of my time there, sequestered into a hotel far from my apartment, as the region grappled with renewed conflict – yet again I felt comforted by Jordan’s rich tapestry of gastronomy. And here I am, after it all, and these sensory experiences are what have stuck with me.
As people living in the 21st century, just as our ancestors, we may often find ourselves feeling as if we are living from meal to meal. When will we next eat? What will it be? Who will we enjoy it with? In Jordan, it is a kind of subtle luxury to bounce from bite to bite. In fact, it is a crucial strand in the social fabric. There is no need to fret over when, where, what, or who; whether you are alone or with friends, whether it is breakfast, lunch, or dinner, the many amazing foods of Jordan will always bring you warmth and comfort when you need it most. I know they did so for me.