Welcome to our community of strangers

A space for everyday stories, family history classes, and cross-cultural connections

Dear friends,

How are you? Hope you’re all doing okay, wherever you are in the world these days.

I wanted to take the time to write this letter to celebrate something big. More than 400 of you have joined me at book events in-person and virtually this month, inscribing your names into the “Stranger in the Desert” guestbook along with your family heritage. (If we haven’t met yet, and you live in New York, Miami, Raleigh-Durham, or Washington DC, send me a note — I’ll be in town soon!). Hundreds more have reached out in the five years since I began my journey as a writer, sharing stories of the world — some from places far from home and others from homes very close to my heart. And I wanted to get us all on the same page.

Welcome to our “community of strangers.” Together, we live on six continents, hail from more than 100 countries, and carry dozens of languages in the soles of our shoes. We crave connection and understanding. In that way, we are also a community of seekers — seeking to explore the world through storytelling, and seeking to rediscover the stories of our own lives and families in new ways.

I love writing letters, so consider this my weekly letter to you.

Here’s me:

An American writer of Argentine, Syrian, and Iraqi Jewish descent, I write about our beautiful world and the journeys that define us.

(en inglés, pero a veces en español también)

I’m in my twenties and my interests span cultures and continents. I live in New York and I spend a lot of time based in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I’m the author of two books, Every Day the River Changes (a river journey through Colombia) and Stranger in the Desert (an intergenerational search for my great-grandfather, a traveling salesman in the Andes). In my chronicles for publications like National Geographic, New York Magazine, The New York Times and NPR’s All Things Considered, I’ve taken the train across the United States, camped out on uninhabited city islands within view of the Manhattan skyline, and played folk music with old-time musicians in the Appalachian mountains. I’ve immersed myself in the lives of migrant families from Ecuador selling candy on the NYC subway, and I’ve met Peruvian sheep-herders in the mountains of Idaho. Here’s my full bio.

My plan is to create a space for us all to slow down, and to make new friends. To do that, instead of getting lost in mindless scrolls and endless open tabs, I want to tell you just one story at a time. Sometimes that story will be from halfway around the world and sometimes it will be walking distance from wherever I am. Sometimes my letters will be longer and sometimes they will be very short and fleeting.

Here you will find deeply human stories about extraordinary people and places (aka: human geography). You will learn more about the Earth and its inhabitants in a way that is urgent and productive but also reminds us that all hope is not lost, that we can still fall in love with the world and feel empowered to make it a better place to live.

We will also have the opportunity to connect with one another in this community of curious people who want to learn how to use a journalist’s tools to explore the stories and heritages we hold closest. This will be the space to receive updates about my “family storytelling” classes and other programs, too.

I’m really grateful that you’ve decided to join me on this great big adventure, so I promise I won’t overburden you with letters. And I’ll try to write you on the weekends, when you have more time to breathe (and read), hopefully in a comfy chair or outside in the sun.

Thanks again for being here. Just like the people we will meet together, we are strangers no more. I’d love to hear your family story so that we can get to know each other better. Write me a letter back anytime.

All my best,

Jordan -