Some Unspoken Thoughts...Finally.

(We interrupt the regularly scheduled, partially-completed blog on spring break for a reality check.)

“I really like your blog, you know,” said a friend one night, “but it’s pretty matter-of-fact; you don’t really have a lot of emotion there.” “True,” was my response, and I went on to enumerate all of the valid reasons for keeping it that way. Then, I started to think about it and realized that if you’re taking the time to read it, you probably want to know how I really am, not just that I took lots of pictures and insert statistic here. Hmmm, but how to go about this somewhat daunting task of literally publishing my emotions—flinging them out into cyberspace for public perusal? Some people don’t have a problem with this, but even back in high school, editing the school newspaper, I cringed at the freelance editorial tradition I was expected to fill on the inside cover—just the facts, please.

Since coming to the Middle East, this tendency to shelter has been exacerbated. Each morning in Cairo (and almost every minute in my Moroccan homestay family), I put on a sort of emotional hijab, corny as it sounds, before entering public space. As a foreigner, consciously or subconsciously, I am constantly in a sort of elevated awareness state—awareness of my language barrier (ceaseless lexical preparation), awareness of my cultural/heritage/physical differences, and awareness of the fact that I am a woman (as the constant stares remind me). “Your best option is to ignore them,” said my Moroccan Academic Director, regarding street harassers. Don’t get angry, and, for Heaven’s sake, don’t crack a smile—that only urges them on, your response. And so, I’ve perfected, for the most part, the appropriate look of disinterest and self-confidence and anger, commonly known as the “bitch look,” for the street. On campus at AUC, however, I change into my rose-tinted hijab, usually optimistic and couching negative statements with “but it’s just a phase,” or “but it’s good, I mean, it’s fine.”

As with all women, I take off the coverings in my home and amongst friends and family, at least, amongst most friends. While I wish to make no political statement against the hijab with this, the suppression of myself in public can lead to rather volatile uncorking of lots of conflicted and powerful emotion, possibly knocking the wind out of the listener (you stand forewarned). Last semester many thoughts escaped onto paper in my journal, where their vitriol (sometimes) and sheer ambiguity lost their edge. Thanks to a steady trickle of homework here, as well as a greater population of friends and activity options, the journal lies collecting dust this semester in…well, somewhere, I haven’t really looked for it. It seems I’ve forgotten what a panacea writing actually is.

So many things about study abroad are inherently extreme—the hurry-up-and-wait of travel itself (running to catch a bus where you will wait/ride for 7 hours), insha’allah vs. yellah!, the smells of jasmine vs. the smells of urine under the bridges, Gucchi-clad vs. galabaya-clad, and the joy of a new experience vs. the ache for the known. Sometimes the conflicts even happen simultaneously: the generous and hospitable stranger giving persistent wrong directions, indignation at the still-cheap Cairo prices because they have been marked up with “foreigner tax,” a ragged-but-laughing street child, and the amazing ability of yourself to desire something and find it repulsive at the same time. True sensory overload and it’s impossible to keep it straight analytically—you are left to feel, feel, feel!

What has prompted this unexpected entry? The end of yet another wild and crazy study abroad odyssey. I leave Egypt on June 4th and will head to Athens, Greece and Cyprus before winding up in Israel for my summer of archaeological sandbox-play. Infectious and unabashed proclamations of flight dates and US-based summer plans resound from the AUC International Student community, and, though I know I’ve made the right decision, I can’t but envy their enthusiasm and rapidly-approaching returns to “normalcy.” Strange right? Longing for Alton, IL over a Cypriot beach—but life’s funny like that.

A disconcerting number of my friends graduated from GW last Sunday. While most of them will be on campus as law or med students, and still others have chosen to stick around our beloved DC, I am looking at next year’s dynamics with trepidation. Where do we pick up? I can barely remember where some of us left off…I didn’t send a single graduation gift home (though I discovered today that it would have been prohibitively outrageous in price had I attempted). How many things will have changed from May ’07 to August ’08? As an ever-stronger believer in fate, my response can only be that things work out the way they’re meant to. Washington is likely to have the extremes of a 4th consecutive study abroad term for the first semester.

Anyway, just thoughts, feelings, things that had been going left unsaid. Sometimes I bitterly hated Morocco, I find myself cursing Egypt under my breath here and there, and, let’s face it, traveling can be so tedious. But, no veiled feelings, what a glorious opportunity it is to feel all of these things. Variety is the spice of life, and like any decent Moroccan tagine, this year is packed with sweet and savory and, sometimes, bitter flavors (ever had a preserved lemon?).

So my final response to the sensory overload? Dish it out.