A Recap of the Last Ten Months

I guess the best way to sum up my experience is to say what it was from the beginning. The first month here was the most challenging, but I also had a LOT of energy. I would do four hours a day at the university and then two hours each day private lessons. Sometimes I would skip school and do four hours of private lessons so I could speed my way to the third level. I also remember when I came back from China and would skip school and read my Syrian Colloquial book all day, and some English poetry – and it was nice to be productive and it was also nice not to go to school…

Jude, George and Iyad were my first friends here, and after the others left Jude became my best friend. I guess there was some attraction too, but mostly it was just fun to hang out together, and the truth is we're very similar and read each other pretty well. Jude thought I became arrogant and it was true. Towards the end he disappeared because he was dating a Druze girl. I remember sitting with my mom and stepfather in the lobby of the Four Seasons trying to persuade them that he had been kidnapped and that we needed to call the police (and my mom, believing the story, but not wanting me to be involved!).

I think I've come as far as I wanted to in Arabic. I can read selective parts of the Quran, I score about 80% reading comprehension on the newspaper, and I can speak with people. I'm ready to go, and I no longer have the energy to learn.

Leo was my second closest friend and she left for Paris yesterday. She's the one I could laugh with the most. We could also say mean things and laugh, unlike with the Americans.

I guess the people I was closest to were foreigners, like me, and that was good or bad. From Syrians it's just my host family and Lina (whom I take a half hour trip from Damascus every other day to see). She spends a lot of her day cleaning, and seems a little aged for 29 years. I told her I like her because she's ambitious, like me. It's true, although sometimes I feel like she'll exploit anyone or thing on her way. They have an Arabic house (middle is a courtyard, no hallways, no furniture, just pillows) which feels a bit like a summerhouse when I go there. And they always want me to sleep over! Usually when we study Lina and I sit outside with mette and practice either English or Arabic. Also I tell her everything about my sexual life because she wants to know – everything.

I'm seeing someone now and his name is David. Maybe he's the best thing that's happened in the last couple months, and he's really good to me. But lives seem to intersect only briefly here, so it's hard to know what relationships mean.

And then there's my host family. I tell my host mom she's Greek, and she thinks I mean that her grandfather is Greek, which is true, but really what I mean is I feel like she's my grandmother. Our relationships only get awkward around money, and recently, when it's become clear, to me, that the son knows I lie about how I spend my time (…can I keep it up?). Other than that, it really feels like home. And even that I've grown up here in a way.

Some news, some degradation

I haven't really written in a while; some things I suppose have changed in my life, although the negative feelings I expressed in my last post are still with me. I guess I've started lying more. It started to get tiring always crafting tactful ways to say no to things I didn't like, and maybe I got tired of wanting to respect the other person. Some of my lies make me feel like a child; whom I'm meeting, how I spend my time, what the gender and the nationality of my friends are... I turned my dad's two days here into an imaginary two-week visit. Childish, no? But then, my parents are on my side this time: "You need to learn how to lie more. You've had too much of a soft and pampered upbringing."

Yesterday I got a call from Di's Lebanese friend, whom she met in the car service on her way from Jordan. He said "I'm free and would like to see you. Are you free?" He was a nice guy so I said "Sure, maybe later today?" He said, "I'm free now and my friend has a car, can I come now?" I didn't realize he intended for me to get in the car. His nonfriend was a sketchy Saudi who had offered to give him a discount on a visa service in return for being able to see and meet me. He wanted to see me again and I explained that it wasn't likely. I suppose it wasn't the most militant feminist response. But, if there was one nice thing it was finally knowing there was a limit to what I would do for other people.

What else? I finally cleaned and mopped my floor today and took out the carpet. And last night I laughed a lot, got drunk on two alcoholic drinks, and later held someone's hand. Tomorrow Mom and Petro come. And, finally, I know where I'm spending the next six years of my life.

Also, I'm leaving the university.

Bah, Toefl

Today I started the new term at the university, and also got an extension on my residence permit. The immigration office was much calmer this time than the last (less noise, less people, less violence) and everyone says it’s because the Iraqis are gone. And last night there was this terrible noise which at first I thought were more government fireworks but it turns out a Hezbollah member was car-bombed by suspected “Israeli terrorists.”

I guess I have nothing in particular to say but I’ve been feeling a little stressed lately, and it doesn’t help that our university vacations have been cut by half (5 days instead of 10). But it’s more than that; I feel like the various people that are part of my life here have started attaching expectations to me in a way that’s made me feel a little less “free” than I did in the beginning. The truth is Syrians love foreigners, in a way that’s even totally unjustified sometimes – e.g. someone is good-looking if they “look foreign,” and so on and so forth. Or rather, it’s more complicated than that because they think Westerners have gone wrong in their ways, yet they still view them with a certain amount of awe and excitement.

But (I feel like) they try to soak what they can out of it too. Do you have any American friends who could marry my son? Do you have a friend who has a friend? Do you know someone at your embassy here who can hire me, and can you ask? I like helping people out when I can, so I’ve gladly written cover letters, researched online info, helped people study for their English exams, and translated documents. But some of these have started seeming like thrice-weekly appointments, and it’s not so much the amount of time but more the sense of ongoing responsibilities towards other people that’s begun to feel like a burden. I’ve also been lending money to my host family to help them out, which I don’t mind, but it sets a weird power situation. Anyway, I feel bad writing this on something as “public” as My blog, but there it is anyway.

Some things I’m feeling good about: a) my future, b) the US primaries, c) my colloquial (definitely improving!), d) doing exercise, and e) my friendships, here and elsewhere.

I got a call from Yale Admissions today regarding a “mix-up” that had occurred regarding my admission letter, and for a second I freaked but luckily it was unrelated.

When all words are equal...

Today one of my tutor's daughter's showed me her finger nail and I thought there was blood on it but actually it was a sticker.

"Is that a trick?" I said.
"What's a trick?" asked the other one.
"It's when you try to make someone think something that isn't true. Kind of like a lie."
"Oh, like to prevaricate?"
"Yeah, kind of like prevaricating."

Rough Updates

1. Climbed up Mount Cassion. It was pretty awesome, and apparently where young Syrian couples go to hang out by their cars? The caves were pretty alright too.

2. Developed a passionate need to read poetry, brought on by the film Pandemonium, and now it's the new thing I want to do. I'm trying to soak everything I can out of Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Donne.

3. I prayed three days in a row. It was a little insane, and not in line with anything I think, but I felt compelled to in spite of that. I also went to the Ommayyad Mosque and read the Fatiha and followed the women's motions (my host-mother calls it "a sport"). But when I got out I found out that my shoes had been stolen and all the shops were closed because it was a Friday. A man who had some extra pairs (that was a little suspicious by the way) lent me one, so I walked with him and his friends all the way out of the Old City until I found a open shop. And of course I had no bargaining power so when I asked for a better price he was like "No." And by then I had developed an elaborate identity for my Greek-Syrian fiance who wasn't able to come with me that day to the Mosque.

4. Ate with my tutor's family and have started tutoring the children in English. Will also translate her son's application for the Youth Nobel Prize in physics. We'll see how much Google can help me out with that.

5. Since our last coffee cup reading my host-mother has determined that she is psychic and so we're doing it again today.

I am a Rock, I am an...

I'm a machine when it comes to learning Arabic. It's all I want to do, and although I'm happy about how far I've come, I have this incredible feeling of inadequacy all the time as well. I'm afraid I'll leave before I'm able to understand the news on t.v., or that I'll be forced to improve at a snail's pace in it if I go back to Greece or the U.S. I feel like I need to double my vocabulary in the next month, and that I have to able to fully understand every page of the Qur'an that I've completed so far with my private tutor. I also want to speak colloquial, and I've printed out three hundred pages about it (forcing everyone in the British council to stay half an hour past closing time) and have been reading that on the side. I don't think about myself that much, just my goals; all I've become is a will.

I MISS NEW YORK PEOPLE and MY FAMILY although I'm also very happy about the people I know and like here: my host mother and her family, my friend Jude, my private tutor, and also the shopkeepers who were happy that I came back and had been wondering where I was. The downside is the shops aren't open 24 hrs (and, like Greece, close during the day); the upside is you know exactly who your shopkeepers are.

I told my host family last night that I wanted to buy coffee with cardammon for some people and Umnahid decided to make some and the three of us drank. And then she read our coffee cup fortunes, and it started out as a joke, except that everything she said ended up sounding either true or really likely. But when she got to hers it was all black on the bottom, and she said that was because her life had been so difficult. And, which I already knew, she said, "My husband was sick for fifteen years and couldn't move; and everyone was telling me to leave him to his family, but I didn't; and I was so happy to serve him while he was sick; and I am proud of the children that I brought up, and of the students that I taught; I am happy now, that I showed patience when God tested me..." And then afterwards we watched Coming to America with Eddie Murphy and ate sandwiches with something like salami except made from calf.

I Can Read Cinderella In Arabic

It feels like Christmas; the air is cold, the shops are closed (for Ayd Ad-hah), our term at the university has come to an end, and my homework for the holidays is to read fairytales in Arabic. I read Cinderella a couple nights ago, and I still have Hansel and Gretel and Little Red Riding Hood ahead of me; actually, I kind of like having an excuse to go back to them, too. And against all odds, I will actually travel – tomorrow – to China. I asked my host family what they wanted from there, and they suggested artificial flowers. But I want to get them something nice.

I was pretty happy today because only a couple days ago it had seemed like all of my holiday plans were about to fall apart. I hadn’t managed to get my visa for China (partly out of stupidity, but also because I couldn’t take another day off school without flunking my course...!) and when I went to the embassy yesterday during my exam intermission, to make a final attempt, they told me I needed a residence card, which my agency (that set me up here, etc.) had told me it was impossible for me to get having only lived here for two and a half months. I broke down crying and a shady man out of nowhere came and told me he could provide a residence card to me for a small price. I said okay (the guard endorsed him as well, whatever that meant), but I still would have had to wait another week before travelling. Anyway, then a whole sequence of things happened, and I came up with this crazy plan to go to China through Hong Kong (getting my visa in the Hong Kong airport), which may actually come into effect.

I’ve been having more than a few high-stress days of that sort these weeks. Today I woke up at 9am and realized I had fallen asleep accidentally thirteen hours earlier. Actually, I’ve begun to designate areas of my room and bed that I can collapse on in my outdoor clothes, to accommodate spontaneous exhaustion (there are even gradations involved in my room scheme, depending on how dirty and how sleepy I am…) I take it as a good sign, though, right? Stretching myself to the limit? I told my host family today that my name meant “clean” and they seemed skeptical.

Still, my life here keeps me energized and motivated. I’m really enjoying learning Arabic, and I’m currently reading a book about the prophets with my private tutor, while also reading up on Middle Eastern history in my free time. Everything I’m doing has a kind of togetherness to it, and each part helps me understand the other parts. There are some pretty good restaurants in my area also, and there are places I really like visiting, even on my own sometimes (including especially the Ommayyad Mosque, if for no other reason than that it is extremely beautiful). I’ve been eating pretty healthily, too, including salad – which I never bothered making while I lived in New York. And my hurried walks to the university in the morning must count as some form of exercise – although perhaps I’ve aged twenty years just by saying that.

Syrian students have picked up on the fact that lots of foreigners come here to study Arabic, and so they often come and seek you out to do language exchange with them, which works out pretty well both ways. Twice I asked Syrian students who their favorite Western author was and both said Shakespeare, which I thought was pretty funny since so few Westerners would say that themselves. My English-speaking friends and I joked that we could speak Shakespearean English to them in our language exchanges. And teenagers still wear No Fear shirts here, and young girls still have crushes on Leonardo Di Caprio.

I was mistaken for a boy the other day by our cleaning lady. She saw me and told my host-mother she had a “good-looking boy”. “My grandson from Kuwait,” my host-mother explained. Apparently the cleaning lady saw me again after that and said “It’s not a boy – it’s a girl!”, and Umnahid said, “Yeah, it’s my granddaughter.”

Anyway, the short of it is that all is well, and I’m liking it here, and things feel worthwhile. I feel pretty good about spending the next three months (or more?) here. But, I’m also ready for the holiday.