Blowing bubbles.

The concept of space is an interesting one: Empty. Breathless. Perhaps an inverse of color. Or maybe electrified, crackling energy. Space is a magical thing because it all depends how you decide to fill it.

The adherence to space and the invisible boundaries that we construct is apparent in the development of social norms and cultural customs. How we establish personal space and who we share it with thus reflects not only upon our society, but more discreetly, the way we express our individuality. And in Jordan, individuality is somewhat (surprisingly) an incredibly subtle yet important part of identity.

Generally speaking, the American idea of space is a fairly intimate one. Both men and women engage in a dance of platonic relations that are incredibly physical. We hug! We punch! We wrestle! We cuddle! And it doesn't mean that young people are always sleeping with each other...well, most of the time. We definitely don't have to be married to hold friendship with a member of the opposite sex. We're allowed to hang out without being monitored in most cases. And public opinion can mostly curb the most socially awkward displays of PDA. In regards to establishing our own personal space, we are taught in primary school to respect The Bubble. This bubble cannot and should not be invaded without permission. This Bubble defines our mode of operation over the course of our lives. The Bubble defines personal autonomy. The Bubble means that you can wear whatever you want, act however you like, and people can't feel automatically entitled to a relationship with you if you don't let them in. Even if you like something, you can't necessarily have it. Thus, the dance continues.

In Jordan, the development of space parameters is incredibly different. I was walking to class this morning. Something I saw triggered this whole thought process tonight.

I was watching this woman, dressed in the colorful long trenchcoat-like garments that many women wear in public. The things are pretty shapeless, but less so than the black abayas other women wear on campus. A perfectly matching, colorful hijab was wrapped expertly around her hair in an act of coordination that I doubt I could ever muster.

And, above all else, she was wearing a belt, tightly fitted around her small waist.

Why is this important? Bear with me.

First off, its amazing to me how hyper-aware I've become of wardrobe, what part of me is showing, and analyzing the probability of getting clucked or stared at my random men during my walk across campus. Scarfs are my new safety net. Comparatively, v-neck t-shirts my new foe, pretty much eliminating much of my wardrobe. I have found myself also beginning to judge other people, sometimes complete strangers, for the "scandelous" or questionable nature of their attire, despite the fact that I can find the same things in my own closet.

In addition to this shift of perspective, I've also found myself hyper-sensitive to any physical contact, no matter how insignificant, from anyone. Women in Jordan walk around holding hands or link arms. Men enthusiastically kiss each other on the cheeks, whisper in each other's ears, and lace their fingers together when they walk. And its always same gender-to-gender interactions. Why? It's "haram" (forbidden!) to embrace or touch someone of the opposite gender. Sometimes even casual male-female friendships are only tolerated if there is a serious intent in marriage. Observing this while realizing my own deprivation of physical touch, helps me then understand why the female and male dynamics are so isolated. They're virtually separate spaces within Arab societies.

Defining my own private space has evolved to better fit the customs of the region, although they are by no means up to the standard. But, I realize that I have unintentionally changed my own concept of space to integrate into my surrounding society. This is mind-boggling to me.

I now always take notice of the distance between me and the nearest guy. If anyone moves towards me, it immediately takes my attention. I've noticed the friends I've made here are primarily female, even among the American students. My interactions with guys are relaxed but I have to catch myself from throwing my arms around someone for a hug. A brush of the fingertips into a guys palm when passing the sugar can raise my heart-rate a few beats. I've begun to crave physical contact more than ever before. You know, just rubbing shoulders with someone or getting a good, firm hug.

And that brings me back to the woman with the belt.

Jordanian bubbles are calibrated differently here. People are raised without having any context for physical contact with a member of the opposite gender. The Muslim faith emphasizes modesty in dress so as to not draw undue attention. And yet here was this woman, who with a single accessory, showed off her beautiful hourglass figure, expressing her individuality, and yet remaining distant to the casual observer.

It was a perfect balance.

And so, my bubble continues to shift as I continue to observe everyone around me, and have experiences that are defined incredibly by my gender. I have the feeling its going to keep me guessing for a long time.