This summer I spent six weeks travelling through Jordan and Egypt, aiming to improve my language skills, immerse myself in a different culture, and explore how NGOs operate through an internship at an organisation called ‘Right to Dream’. Though these are seemingly academic goals, my trip, in reality, became a much broader, intimate, experience of beauty, language, faith, and everyday life in two extraordinary countries.
I began in Amman, attending language school for a week, tucked inside a small bookshop on Rainbow Street. For five hours a day, I built upon my background in Quranic Arabic from my theology degree, working to turn knowledge of written, Classical Arabic into conversational Jordanian. After class, I explored Amman – aptly nicknamed “the city of stairs”. The climb to the Citadel in 45-degree heat (during what locals insisted was the worst heatwave in years) felt like unfortunate timing, but the panoramic view of the city’s layered, cascading buildings more than made up for it.
Practicing my Arabic with bus drivers, and avoiding Google Translate as much as possible, I took trips to the surrounding areas: Madaba, famed for its intricate Byzantine mosaics; Mount Nebo, believed to be where Moses viewed the Promised Land before his death; As-Salt, the hometown of a Jordanian friend I made; Umm Qais, where the view stretches across Jordan into Syria and Lake Tiberia/the Sea of Galilee; and the Dead Sea, where floating in the salty water was easy, but standing up again was far from it.
After enjoying the capital, I took a bus south to Aqaba, Jordan’s Red Sea city. The atmosphere here was different: slower and more relaxed. I went scuba diving, spent time on the beach, wandered Aqaba Fort, and visited a museum telling the city’s story in the Great Arab Revolt. I’m not typically a museum lover, but the political history was fascinating, made more engaging by walking through with someone currently serving in the military.
Next, I travelled to Wadi Rum – a vast desert unlike anywhere I’d been, with dunes and valleys that felt completely otherworldly. I experienced the traditional Bedouin way of life as we cooked over an open fire, structured our days by sunrise and sunset, and met the most interesting people. One in particular was a hilarious elderly man living permanently in the desert. He kept up with current events via a small radio, and had named his goats Biden, Trump, and Barak. My guide invited me to stay an extra night, and I visited their family home, sharing lunch and sweet Jordanian tea. They talked about how the current lack of tourists was affecting their family and livelihood. At one point I was trusted to drive the jeep through the sand, much to my excitement and my friends’ mild panic. I learnt more Arabic as my guide taught me to write words in the sand under candlelight, before sleeping on a rock under the Milky Way. Sandboarding down the dunes was a less poetic, more exhilarating experience, ending with a few scars to remember the adventure.
My next stop was Petra, one of the New Seven Wonders of the World. I spent two days in the ancient city, walking past the Treasury, Monastery, and many tombs, reaching breathtaking viewpoints. It’s incredible to think that Petra was once a thriving Nabatean city, carefully carved into the rock to accommodate both its residents and role as a trading hub.
I then set off for southern Egypt. In Aswan, life revolved around the Nile. I spent the evenings watching the beautiful sunset in a hostel which backed onto the river, practicing Egyptian Arabic with locals swimming in the water. I visited a Nubian village, where I was invited into a collector’s house, offered tea, and given a tour of his many artifacts, including the chance to hold a crocodile, on the promise that I would bring him an old Nokia brick if I ever returned to Egypt.
A bus ride brought me to Luxor, with the highlight being the Valley of the Kings, where the tombs’ coloured paintings remain bright and intricate after thousands of years. A sunrise hot air balloon ride over the Nile and Hatshepsut Temple was unforgettable, and later I sailed down the river with someone whose boat was called ‘Anna Boat’, finishing the evening with pizza at their home.
Cairo was my final stop, where I visited the iconic pyramids, the Citadel, and the historic Islamic districts. My main focus, however, was a three-week internship in West Cairo at ‘Right to Dream’, a global NGO dedicated to developing football talent and providing holistic education for young people from all backgrounds. The organisation began in Ghana and has since expanded to Egypt, Denmark, and the US, running academies and professional teams that provide pathways into professional football or higher education. I stayed at the compound, teaching English, assisting with football analysis, shadowing coaches and physios, and contributing to partnership proposals, learning how NGOs use corporate relations to sustain their programmes. Evenings were spent playing padel and basketball with the students, who shared how ‘Right to Dream’ had shaped their lives, before teaching me Egyptian songs over dinner.
Working on what my colleagues designated as “Egyptian time”, much of the internship unfolded بالحب “with love”. The time of a meeting would be followed by this phrase, indicating that it may not occur on schedule. Though at first this flexibility, which was the opposite of my structured life at Cambridge, made me feel out of place, I quickly learnt to welcome it. The approach encouraged me to get involved wherever I could and challenged me to look for ways I could add value to the organisation. This different sense of time characterised the whole trip. I tried to resist the temptation to stick to a rigid plan, embracing the unpredictability of things like waiting at a bus stop with no clear idea when (or if) the bus would arrive. This often led to the best moments: unplanned conversations on the street, being welcomed into people’s homes, or joining a spontaneous five-a-side football match at one in the morning.
During my internship and travels, conversations about faith often came naturally, which fascinated me as a theology student. The students at the academy eagerly shared their beliefs, showing me the Qur’an and their prayer beads, and were curious when they learnt I wasn’t religious myself. These exchanges became moments of mutual understanding – they spoke about how belief influenced their goals, while I shared a different perspective. Elsewhere, people introduced friends by their religion or discussed Muslim-Christian relations in their communities. One woman explained how her relationship with faith shifted between home and university. Through these conversations, I gained a deeper understanding of how religion shapes both personal and community life in Jordan and Egypt.
I am incredibly grateful to LEAP for making this adventure possible, allowing me to develop my confidence speaking Arabic, investigate future career paths, meet fascinating people, challenge my own perspectives, and explore beautiful countries.
