I moved from New Zealand to the Middle East: The strange dichotomy of feeling safe in a war zone

Saturday, 6 June 2026

Hiking along the perimeter of the Dead Sea, the deepest hypersaline lake in the world.

Moving to Jordan to study Arabic, Kiwi journalist Madeline Croad discovers a version of the Middle East rarely seen from afar.

OPINION: When I first told my friends and family that I was moving to the Middle East, you would have thought from their reactions that I was going to war.

As a journalist, the Middle East and Northern Africa (MENA) had always been the dream to report from. So after two years as a journalist in Christchurch, I left my job, packed up my life, and moved to Amman, Jordan in hopes of learning the Arabic language and building a career.

The writer and friends visiting the historical site of Um Qais in the north of Jordan.

The culture shock was instantaneous. Road rules seemed as though they did not exist, footpaths were not meant for walking, and prayers rang out across the city several times a day.

But almost two months into life in the city, on February 28, the first siren went off. And it suddenly made everything else feel normal.

Helicopters fly over Amman with Jordanian flags for the official national occasion of ‘Flag Day’.

Hearing a siren for the first time is confusing, and at first I had no idea what it meant, especially when booms of missiles being intercepted followed shortly after.

Al Jazeera quickly replaced my social media, friends returned to their home countries, and the ominous noises quickly became part of Amman’s daily soundtrack. Being so close to what was happening brought on a distinctly different feeling than watching war on the news - everyone knew someone who had been affected.

But as the weeks went on, life went on as well. With everything that people had already experienced with the war in Palestine and in the wider region, conflict like this was not an unknown phenomenon.

As sirens continued to go off, children played in the streets, families went for their evening walks, and businesses remained open late into the night. If anything, people came together more.

A friend takes photos while driving near the border between Palestine and Jordan.

Amman is one of the first places outside of New Zealand that for me, has felt like a home. There are more opportunities, food and transport is affordable, and for the first time in years, going out to eat incredible food does not require me dipping deep into the budget.

In mere hours you can have your ankles in the sea, be standing in a desert surrounded by towering dunes and historical runs, or be hiking through a forest that feels like a New Zealand backcountry track.

Shop owners insist upon an ‘I owe you’ if you forget your money, strangers invite you into their homes for food or tea, and walking through dimly lit streets late at night feels safe.

In New Zealand, and other countries in the West, a lot of what we see of the Middle East is war. We see the bombs, the missiles, and the death and destruction - which all must be reported.

But the one thing that isn’t conveyed is the feeling you have when you are here - of safety, and being cared about by people who don’t even know your name.

It doesn’t matter that I am a foreigner, or that my Arabic is terribly broken, people treat you like you are a part of their family. They make you feel like Jordan is as much your home as it is theirs.

And that is a feeling I have not found anywhere else.