We spent the earlier part of the day bathing at the hot springs on Mount Nebo, known as the place where God showed Moses the view of the Promised Land, as well as the site where Moses was last seen. Today, it’s just a series of hot pools and waterfalls. I get out of the water a little early to dry off and end up chatting with our tour guide, a 25-year-old Jordanian who’s always loved traveling. His dream from childhood was to be a tour guide, and now he travels between Georgia, Russia, Egypt, Jordan, and Lebanon for his career.

The day before, Pamela, Lara, and I visited the Baptismal Site, reputed to be where Jesus Christ was originally baptized and therefore referred to as the birthplace of Christianity. The area was planted with mines during the 6-day war of 1967, and although cleaning efforts began after the peace treaty of 1994, it’s still designated as a military area. Following a tour guide along a fixed hut-lined path patrolled by Jordanian soldiers, we crossed through The Church of John the Baptist, a lake at the border of Jordan and Israel, and the Baptism site itself. I no longer consider myself religious, but I grew up in the Christian church hearing stories from the Bible. Watching the sun inch across a vast desert landscape marked only by isolated churches, recalling childhood stories of Jesus and John the Baptist, the visit evoked a sense of peaceful austerity.

We left as the sun began to set. Bright orange followed us home. Baby pinks and blues found us at the edge of the Dead Sea.

My decision to apply to a GTL program in the Middle East was largely driven by a desire to understand the Abrahamic religions–where they were born, where they diverged, how they interact with one another and with the people that follow them. In Jordan, Muslims make up over 95% of the population, and through talking to the students, I was able to get a sketch of their religion: Islamic religious texts are a compilation of the Torah, the Gospels, and the Qur’an, each of which were written directly by one of the prophets as direct paraphrases of God’s message. They believe that Prophet Muhammed was the last prophet, who completed the puzzle that was started by Prophet Adam and continued by all subsequent Prophets, including Moses, Abraham, David, Jesus, etc. Moreover, they believe that Muslim prophets were sent to all lands across the world to give everyone equal opportunity to receive the faith. Because Islam believes that all Abrahamic religions were fruits born from the same tree, they are tolerant of Christianity and Judaism, and even allow inter-Abrahamic-religion marriages.

The religious influences on Jordanian society are clear. The large majority of women on the streets wear Hijabs and clothing is far more modest than what is seen in the states. Familial connections and caring for your family are of utmost importance, as are more traditional family and social structures. This lends itself to a very people-based society, and luckily for us, students and co-workers that readily befriended us and showed us their country. Thanks to them, we had the chance to visit Amman Citadel, a famous archaeological collection featuring the Temple of Hercules, the entrance to the Umayyad Palace, and a Byzantine church. Four pillars stand at its entrance documenting Amman through thousands of years of civilization–the birthplace of Neolithic civilizations in 1650 BCE, the capital of the Kingdom of Ammon in 1200 BCE, occupation of various degrees through the Roman, Byzantine, and Umayyad Empires. Amman is known as one of the oldest continuously inhabited places in the world, and the Citadel captures its rich history within lone columns, a reconstructed mosque, the broken fist of Hercules. Situated atop the city, Citadel opens out to the entirety of Amman—a sea of toy buildings, some pointy, some round, some religious, some residential. There are three pieces of graffiti highlighted along the skyline, and the Roman theater sits in the center. A cat sat at the ledge beside us gazing out into the city. Contemplating its cat existence in a human world. Or maybe just taking an afternoon nap.

The communal and people-centered culture was certainly a departure from the cold meritocracy of MIT and the tech industry, and not only that, the more self-centered culture of America as a whole. Among the Jordanians we met, there was a strong sense of personal sacrifice for the wellbeing of the collective, a value largely forgotten in an American society founded upon the principles of freedom and self-determination. In my personal experience, growing up as a second-generation immigrant meant I had fewer ties to a “home” nationality or belief system. Shaped by American liberal influences, my values became inherently biased towards individual expression.

Similarly, while Islam lends itself to fixed conceptions of right and wrong and of an omnisciently ordained natural order, America’s charged identity politics forces me to frame my beliefs in moral and cultural relativism. Compared to Jordan and much of the Arab World, America is a country in its infancy, made up of immigrants, building up a political framework that accommodates the wide diversity of its people.

Our discussions compelled me to grapple with the history-long debates of individual freedoms vs. social harmony, of utilitarianism vs. deontology, of rationalism vs. empiricism. It also reminded me of what it is I value in relationships–the components of shared humanity that we connect on before cultural differences come into play.

But I digress. In fact, a large portion of our time was spent developing curricula and teaching. The first two days were crucial for calibrating the curriculum and understanding where our students were coming from–while some barely had experience using computers, others were students at University majoring in Data Science and AI. We joked (read: truthfully pointed out) that they could have taught the course themselves. I realized quickly that many of us had inherited a kind of ivory tower academia speak, often tossing around words representing complex ideas that abstracted away the fundamental concepts we were meant to teach. Teaching is not a task of technical communication, which I am so used to at school, but of constructing a thorough conceptual understanding–of simplification followed by assembly.

We’re rolling into the hotel now, but I’ll end by saying that I felt happier this past week. Perhaps because the thirteen of us in the program practically live as a commune, a unit that eats and works and explores the city together. Perhaps because everyone we met was so willing to extend their hospitality that I was met with kindness at every corner. Perhaps because the work of teaching was fulfilling in and of itself. Perhaps even because GTL Jordan has spoiled us with a 5-star hotel and enough money to Talabat Shawerma every single day. Speaking of which, the order I placed earlier has arrived and beckons…

If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to dinner!