Wast Al-balad; what a wondrous place. I strolled through the narrow, overstuffed streets and alleyways, keeping an eye out for pickpockets, and soaking in the sights, smells, and sounds of my new home for the next four months. It was my first week in Jordan. Any confidence I once had in my ability to speak and understand Arabic had already been shattered by the Jordanian who stamped my passport in the airport. Now I just resigned myself to the fact that I had no idea what was going on and attempted to act as if I knew exactly what was going on. “Just be cool and act like you belong” I thought to myself, “just blend in; you got this.” This calm assurance did not really help my nerves, but it seemed like right thing to do was convince myself that I had everything under control.