I’ve welcomed chaos into my life whole-heartedly over the past few years. Car breaks down, casual. Lose a couple hundred bucks, casual. Miss my flight to Cairo because I think we’re leaving the next day, CASUAL.

Now, now, don’t worry – I’m typing this in our apartment in Garden City (which will most likely be nicer than any apartment I will live in the US), so I only almost royally shattered my summer. But looking back on the last 24 hours, I must say, missing my flight was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to a linguistically-challenged person such as myself.

People assume I can speak Arabic. Well. This is one of the more funnier things I have heard because not only do I struggle with my household language, Tigrinya (spoken in Eritrea – I’ll give you time to look it up), I sometimes find it difficult to coherently speak English. I can read and write in Arabic, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about letting myself sound like a ferrel child raised by wolves that really just turns me off from speaking in public.

I’ve always thought Fate works in strange and great ways, and she started to do her thang by seating me next to an elderly woman on my flight from Washington, DC to New York.  The woman spoke zero english. She mobilized only through a wheel chair and was travelling alone. Her clothing and appearance told me one thing – this woman is Eritrean. And if you know anything about Eritreans, it’s that we all know each other and every person is either your cousin/aunt/grandma. Within seconds, I became her translator. Yohana, who has failed to say a word in Tigrinya for the last 5 years, is suddenly fluent. Yeah, I had to use numerous hand gestures and she giggled at my noun choice a couple times, but the point was that I was communicating with another individual in another language. The fear and embarrassment that usually strangled my vocal chords decided to let go. And guess what, she was going to Cairo too! It was only a connection, but I stayed with her and guided her throughout the airport, translating her needs and relaying vital information. She says it was her lucky day to be sitting next to me, but I think it was mine.

This new found ability to conquer my fear of speaking foreign languages comes at the most opportune time. If I want some shawrma, I’m gonna need to be able to say I want some shawrma in Arabic. I’ve realized in the very short time that I’ve been here that without Arabic, I will be the 2 legged version of Bambi. I may not be able to hold a conversation with the water delivery boy, but at least I can ask, ما اسمك؟ – what’s your name? “Aman.”

Hello Aman, you are my new friend.

As I sat in my beach chair watching hordes of non-local people infest the beaches of my hometown, the Jersey Shore, for Memorial Day weekend, I could only think about the holidays ahead of me that would deviate far from what is usual.

Imagining my plans for the 4^th of July, it didn’t register until yesterday that I would be in a country that doesn’t celebrate this holiday. And why would it? It’s American Independence Day.

Last year, I spent my 4^th of July on a beach watching fireworks with friends and family, and the year before that watching fireworks burst over the National Mall in Washington D.C. while sitting literally across the street from the Pentagon.

As for what I imagine myself doing in Cairo on the 4^th of July? Probably desperately scouring the streets for some semblance of a cheeseburger and fries (probably looking like this) after being deprived of “American” food and forced to live on hummus and pita. I don’t think I will be shooting off Roman Candles and firecrackers, considering that would most likely land me in an Egyptian prison where I am certainly not getting the luxury of hummus. However, despite the extreme cultural differences, experiencing American Independence Day in Cairo, Egypt might be the most “American” thing one could do. I will literally live in the middle of the most modern example of the ideals that defined the American Revolution: democracy, freedom, and the right to abolish and overthrow any government that does not serve the needs of its people. I will witness the first free elections in the history of the country, the first time that the will of the people determines the path of their homeland.

I can’t help but recognize that even though I have no idea what to expect when I arrive in Cairo in 24 hours, there are already similarities between us. The revolutionaries and those who support a new, free government have shed blood to fight for their beliefs, beliefs that are the foundation of the United States. In identifying these similarities, I find a small pocket of comfort that no matter who or what I come in contact with, even if they speak way too rapidly for my elementary Arabic skills or eat different foods or dress differently than I, there always exists a bright opportunity for connecting and sharing.

Attached to my fridge by a pyramid-shaped magnet, my DukeEngage travel itinerary has become an obsession of mine. Despite the fact that it’s been up for almost a month now, I’m always stunned each time I reread it. Newark, Frankfurt, and then finally Cairo- an adventure that seems straight out of an action movie or a best-selling novel. Peering over what in reality is a boring, standard email printout, my stomach twists and turns as if on queue. My body is gripped by an interesting concoction of excitement, fear, and most importantly, uncertainty. Meanwhile, my mind flashes over what seems like hundreds of scenarios, simultaneously envisioning countless predictions of what I think my experience will be like(where was this awesome brainpower during Finals week?). Sometimes, I even find myself making excuses to go the kitchen just to get one more look at my 8 ½ x 11 inch obsession.

But today was different. Today, I asked myself: why am I so fixated on this simple piece of paper? What’s so important about it? Aren’t there better ways to prepare for the trip? Just then, it hit me. Like an inventor spontaneously struck by an idea, my answer came to me from nowhere: I wasn’t crazy. There was a reason to my madness, a legitimate excuse.  This travel itinerary was more than just a piece of paper. It was symbol of the task before me, a reflection of the incredible opportunity I will soon face head-on.

As I reread the itinerary, I noticed that the instructions seemed pretty standard. Depart from this airport. Arrive at that airport. What I needed to do appeared in clear, simple directions. Everything would be ok if I just followed the directions. Continuing along this train of thought, I began to think of my service goals in a similar manner. Skimming through the DE website, the objectives of the program appear pretty similar to an itinerary or schedule: clear-cut, efficient, and easy-to-digest. As I am encouraged to “think creatively” in solving world problems, my “itinerary of service” will include teaching literacy skills, supporting youth, and offering assistance with community development. Sounds easy enough to understand, right? Like its counterpart hanging on my fridge, my “service itinerary” could be viewed as a clear list of instructions: I just needed to follow these steps, accomplish these goals, and I would succeed.

Yet unfortunately, this sudden burst of mental clarity seemed to come up short. If what lay before was so easy to understand and prepare for, why did I still feel like I had no idea of what to do? If anything, the more I thought about it, the less certain I felt about the entire experience. Glancing towards the fridge once agin, I was struck by another observation. Despite its clear instructions, the itinerary was full of white space, wide vacancies of information that seemed to leave out part of the picture. While I knew exactly where to be down to the minute, I didn’t know what it would feel like to fly alone or how to find my gate in a foreign airport. Just as disappointing was the lack of tips for calming my nerves or finding entertainment as I zoomed over the Atlantic.

Through this lens, I soon realized my DukeEngage experience may prove to be the same way. While the project’s objectives were right there before my eyes, it was the stuff not being said that drew my attention. How will I teach literary skills? Will I be an effective tool in facilitating community development? Will the children of Ana al-Masry even like me? In between the website’s lines and paragraphs were white spaces of the unknown; information, experiences, and questions that couldn’t be explained in words. What wasn’t there was just as important and exhilarating as what was.

While these new mental breakthroughs didn’t exactly answer all of my questions or quell my nerves, I began to feel more comfortable with what was to come. In the end, I believe my DukeEngage experience will be a mix of these two viewpoints, a combination of expectations, objectives, uncertainties, and surprises. With the help of my DukeEngage staff and pre-trip preparation, I have a clear vision of what to accomplish during my time in Cairo. Yet in between the guides, handbooks, and emails, spans the great unknown of my day-to-day life in Egypt and just exactly how I will do what needs to be done. Removing the itinerary from its kitchen altar and placing it in my bag, I finally felt content and at ease with the certainties and uncertainties that lay ahead.