Estrella

One of my favorite rooms in my mother’s house is what you would call “the yellow room” or the dining room.   It may seem small or tacky for those who prefer cream wallpapers, but the bright yellow color hits you with a jolt of energy, and my sister’s Pollock-inspired paintings and the unique dish arrangement on the table tell you that this displays an artist’s imagination in interior design.   This room has the most energy in the house, even though it lacks sunlight during some hours of the day.   The fluorescent light at the top, when turned on, initiates a new happiness into the room.   When I go to turn on the light, I can almost hear the laughs from past Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners shared in that room.   It’s a certain intangible vibrancy that leaves an imprint on the person who played party to an occasion there.   The yellow room reminded me of good times and beckoned me to dance.   How can so much color inspire such movement in a being? Well-renowned choreograp

“To weave was to write, and to write was to be understood.”  These are the key words from Holly Payne’s novel The Virgin’s Knot , which revolves around one woman’s gift to weave and inspire others; yet, she struggles with this gift, hoping it could eventually lead her away to freedom.  It is my desire that my words inspire others as well as free me through expression; something that The Virgin’s Knot Turkish protagonist, Nurdane, could not do. I recently returned from the Middle East, specifically Amman, Jordan, and part of my heart now lies in its deserts and open, rolling hills.  Jordan was not my first destination for a study abroad experience, but I am so glad that I did travel there despite previous reservations and preferences for other countries.  Because of a university scholarship tied to my study abroad experience, I was designated to blog for my school’s study abroad website, and that is how I found my voice through words. Writing has been a gift of mine f

Tomorrow, I will leave Jordan and the Middle East, but insha’Allah (God-willing) - not forever.   I have developed so many friendships and bonds with people from my program as well as with my host family.   Life will not be the same without returning home every day to see my two host sisters’ lovely faces or entering my host family's home to find a large hot bowl of ‘maglooba’ (a Jordanian rice dish with chicken) waiting for me. Although I leave Jordan with many souvenirs, I feel that I am lacking one intangible aspect of my trip that I wish I had better cultivated while here: more relationships with Jordanians.   In the Middle East, it is very hard at times to talk to natives, especially if you are female.   It is a cultural taboo to talk to men other than your relatives, and Jordanian women are usually not as open to talking to foreigners, except the few liberal Jordanian women.   When I do return to Jordan, I hope that I can work or intern for an organ

It's dusk in Jordan, and the young boys are out in the street with a football, kicking it around.   You catch one as he the moves the ball in and about his feet effortlessly, taunting his opponents to take it from him.   You go up to his father and ask a very important question: "Which is better: Barcelona or Real Madrid?"   He responds, "Barcelona, of course."   This is the language that all common men speak in this country - in this region - in this world when they can't speak any other common language: the international language of football. I live with a host family in which the father is the goalie coach for the number one football team in Jordan: Al-Wehdat.   Football was his childhood and is his adulthood, and it will be his future.   If there is something that brings all men together in the Middle East, it's football.   My host dad is also the head coach for one of the police department divisions in Jordan, so he gets to