Dear all-
I'm once again having a hard time thinking of what to write, because there seems to be so much that I should talk about, and yet that doesn't come to my mind when I think of writing to friends and family. For that reason, I’m just going to write a simple update on the events that have happened since I’ve written last, and will leave the creative inspiration for later.
So I'll begin with my 9 day break that I had between my first month of intensive Arabic classes, during which my three friends and I (Allison, Lizz, and Owais) went to Istanbul, Turkey. It was an amazing trip. The first night we were there we broke fast (it was still Ramadan then) with one of our teachers from Middlebury at his house. He, his family, and his house, were probably the cutest thing we had seen in forever, so we loved spending the evening with them, dining on some amazing home cooked Turkish food (which actually ended up being the highlight of the food in Turkey because we essentially didn't eat any other good food for the rest of the trip), and playing with their two young boys. Our teacher had also given us a small tour of the University that he teaches at before we broke fast, in which we met a famous Calligrapher who had actually given an exhibition in America...and guess what a small world moment could have happened when it so turns out that the exhibition was at Duke my freshmen year, and i saw it when i was there. crazy.
But yes, for the next 5-6 days, we explored practically every corner of Istanbul, rain or shine, tired or not. I think it's safe for me to say that we all fell in love with the city, and i definitely believe it's the most beautiful city i've ever been two. It was quite funny because as soon as we arrived we were asking ourselves why we were studying Arabic instead of Turkish, and on the day we were leaving i sincerely didn't want to go back to Damascus. I'm not sure if it was because of the feeling of being closer to a "developed country" or "western culture," or perhaps just a break from the stresses of Damascus, but I was taken away. we also got to celebrate the 3 days of Eid Al-Fitr there (i.e. the end of Ramadan= eating during the day) so that was also a nice touch.
So when we returned to Damascus I think we still have a few days before classes started up again at the University, in which I’m sure i slept more than necessary. And then began a much more intense month, that has finally come to an end just a few days ago. So with Ramadan over, and moving up to the "Advanced" level of the program here, my schedule got changed around a bit. I now meet with my Tutor (not with the university) every morning at 7:10 until 8:40) where we focus on reading or talking. And despite the early hour (she's a half hour trip from my house) i do tend to enjoy getting the day started early (unless of course i end up getting only a few hours of sleep because of it...which happened often this month). My favorite part though is that we sit and drink a hot cup of coffee together before starting the work, which always warms me back up from the chilly walk from the bus stop to her house.
Afterwards i walk to school (20 minutes), which starts at 9. Being in a new class we had two new teachers this time: one woman, very sweet but liked to talk too much, who taught us Literature, Newspapers, and Speaking, and then a Man, who i turned out to not like that much at all, who taught us "politics", which turned out to be more like "let's discuss everything that's wrong in terms of politics and use America as the best example of all these problems, despite the fact that i "believe" that America's not the only problem." He also happened to be the fasted speaking Arab i've ever met, refused to slow down, and also refused to let others speak, and if we didn't understand something that he considered simple, would simple repeat the phrase "you all are in the Advanced class now, you are supposed to know this." At this, I of course became upset by the end of the month, which i think he began to sense by my constant outbursts to try and prove him wrong...which eventually lead to him nicknaming me "qunbula" which means "bomb" in Arabic (not translated into the American slang "the bomb" but rather the actual machine that explodes and kills people). This class lasted for 4 hours three days of the week, and for 5 hours two days of the week.
after class we would usually go get some grub, or take care of business in terms of travel agencies, copying papers, and everyday needs. More than often i would return home pretty late, only then to be too tired to start my hwk, which often led to me sleeping and then waking up at odd hours in the morning like 3 or 4 to start my hwk before i headed off to my tutor. On the weekends, of course we were off and running though because of our new found "energy" after Ramadan. the first weekend we spent Friday going to a small village close to the Lebanon Border with some of our friends from the company that we are using to arrange our housing (Arabesk). We spent the whole day just eating and talking from a house that had a wonderful view of the mountains and village below. And even though we arrived home late, in celebration of Lizz's 21st birthday that had pasted in Istanbul, we took up our friend Lena's offer to head out to a British party in Bab Touma (one of the parts of the old city, almost completely Christian, and where nearly every foreigner lives). It was quite odd as we entered, because of the first time I was surrounded by only Brits or American's and despite the Traditional Arabic house, I felt as if I was back in the culture of American drinking parties (except of course upper class British style). We didn't stay long. When I finally got home I was utterly exhausted, having gotten up early on the day I have claimed as "catch-up sleep day", so I decided to skip the trip on Saturday to "Chac De Chevalier" (spelling) so to rest and do hwk.
The next weekend we went to Palmyra on Saturday I believe, which was extremely beautiful. I road my first camel, and won my first race in a game of "don't touch the ground by jumping from historic ruin to fake new historic ruin". It was nice to get some fresh air from the middle of the desert.
The next weekend we went to Aleppo, which was too short a trip, and I was too sick to enjoy it. Essentially Aleppo is a nicer version of Damascus, with nicer people (especially the women), more souq's (cheaper also), and more old city to explore. we headed up on Friday morning, stayed in a nice little hotel, ate in the restaurant that allegedly made the largest Fatoush salad ever (the picture of this was quite funny) as well as houses the largest kebab skewer (about 6 feet long I think), and explored the old castle that rests on a huge hill in the center of the city. I definitely would like to return to do some more cite seeing as well as get into the souq's to get some good bargains.
We finished up this last month of classes on Thanksgiving with the final exam. But no worries, we thoroughly enjoyed our own version of Thanksgiving here. After the test we managed to scramble up as much Thanksgiving food as possible which ended up being mashed potatoes: reg and sweet...although sweet potatoes here are different from ours... some sautéed veggies, 3 roasted chickens, apple sauce, and some friend apple cobblers like thing that was amazingly scrumptious. Perhaps best of all is that in the end as we sat down to eat, it truly felt a bit like a real Thanksgiving, as we all shared something we were thankful for and explained to our French and Chadanian friends what the holiday was all about.
Then I returned home, and as any good way to inaugurate the break we now have between our last month of studies and our final one coming up, I slept from midnight to sunset the next day. The past few days I’ve been exploring the old city and the markets, looking for bargains on gifts and such. Yesterday I went on a little tour with David (the French roommate of owais's) looking at some old traditional arabic houses in the old city. It's really quite amazing how you can walk down these streets so easily and completely miss the hidden treasures that lie hidden in the walls.
So that's about it for update...nothing exciting I’m sorry. Lizz and I had also tried to start teaching English at one of the Palestinian camps a few weeks ago, but the library that was setting it up never called us back, and we were simply too busy to remember or to set up another appointment. Who knows.
I hope all are well, and that the Thanksgiving holiday was one to remember. I miss all. and to my friends at Duke, why the hell have we already lost a basketball game... it's not even December yet. I’m glad I’m missing out on this season i guess.
lots of love,
Zoë
oh, and highlight of the past few days: seeing a bus that had "Happy Gurney!" written on the two sides in huge green letters with a nice little 80's flair of yellow squiggle in every letter. The mistake is easily explained by the tendency of some Arabic dialects (mainly the Egyptian one) to switch the "jah" sound with a "gah" sound... because most of these busses have "happy journey/jurny/jerny/jorny/jorney" written on them. But i think this one took the cake. my gurney is quite fine thank you.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
after ramadan
so although i very much wanted to add this email/post as just another thing to the after Ramadan list, i've found myself at my house empty and with no homework, so i figure i should take advantage of the opportunity while i can. Once again, i don't have any direction to this as of yet, so most likely it will be a random stream of thought... enjoy.
So essentially ramadan is a lot harder than i thought it would be. In the beginning the fasting is harder, for sure, but you have the patience in the beginning because you feel like you're just embarking on a new journey, and no matter how hard, it's still exciting. For me that excitement started faded pretty strongly in the past week, and especially the past few days. But it wasn't the fasting that was bothering me, because as of now i almost feel completely normal while fasting up until right before maghreb, when my eye-lids start drooping no matter how hard i try to keep them alert. What i think was wearing on me was the feeling of being completely out of control and incapable of fixing my situation (i understand this is a vague thought, but i'll explain). Essentially for the past 3-4 days i've been on a quest to find a place where i can get a certain vaccine for the SIT in Jordan program next semester (if you're interested in the details, it's the pre-exposure rabies vaccine because i'll be living with a bedouin family far from a hospital for 2 weeks). But the shot is actually a series over time, so since i've changed my plans to travel to Pakistan over X-mas and New Years with my friends here, i've be on the hunt to get it here so i won't have to end my journeys earlier. So although your initial thought might be "Zoe, just go to the biggest hospital and even if they don't have it they'll know exactly where it is,"... nice guess, but don't think so. Although i don't want to go into the full detail of the wrong directions i got, the number of wrong buildings i went to, the money i had taken from me, the weird people trying to help me but who only freaked me out, the drivers i had yell at me, the times i almost and did break down crying, or the full day of classes i missed, i will say that i have a new found respect for foreigners in America, especially one's who can't speak english very well. For, as myself, when i set out on this journey I was certain with my innate sense of direction and ability to get things done efficiently it wouldn't take more than an afternoon. What i found out instead is that my Arabic is pretty damn weak, especially in colloquial (which was needed to get this job done), and that there are times that no matter how insistent i might be, my 5'5'' slim frame in a womans body just doesn't get the job done like a 6'2'' well built Arab man (who is essentially the only reason i think i'm remotely close to getting the vaccine now). Of course, i wouldn't go as far as to say that this relies on the male part, for i'm sure my house mother, Hala, with her well over 250 pound build could part the red sea like moses if she wanted to. Really what i think it is, is a different attitude to getting what you need done. For instance, here there is no concept of "the line" really. I have people cut me on a regular bases: women, children, men, old geezers: to the bus, to food, to a door, for a question. They don't give a second thought. And nudges and a little shove is all fair game. The instance that i reference with this 6'2'' character took place in the center for testing AIDS (another wrong address i had been given) where there is always a line of about 40 people creeping out the door and into the street. The doctor who does the tests inside is probably the scariest person (let alone doctor) i've ever seen in my life (he took my blood the first week i was here for the mandatory AIDS test from the University... not only did he go at my arm like a kid trying to pop a balloon with a needle, but was screaming at me the whole time about what i should be doing ..." WHAT ARE YOU DOING? OPEN YOUR HAND!!!!" I don't think he stops yelling ever. So me being me, of course i would have waited in the long line, and if i had ever reached him by sunset probably not get my question across in time for him to care, as i fumbled over my broken Arabic. In fact, the first time i had gone to the center about 15 minutes earlier, the guy standing at the door simply told me to go away, and that i wasn't in the right place. But what did superman do? get this, it was amazing. He simply walked passed everyone (he was essentially taller and bigger than everyone there), everyone moved aside for him, walked straight up to the doctor who was yelling at someone in the hallway with probably 15 men surrounding him waiting to talk to him, interrupted him with the usual greeting "salam aleykum. Keefak", and asked about the vaccination. After he briefed the doctor, he pushed me forward so i could explain the details (doctor still yelling) and after a brief conversation where of course the doc directed me to another location that in the end wasn't right (but was the final location before the actual correct one!) i was amazed that i had faced the monster again, and gotten more than an answer of "NO! NOT HERE!" So thank you super arab man, i've learned the necessities to getting what i need... just need to gain a few pounds and learn some arabic and disregard my normal instinct of 'politeness' (unfortunately i think i'm succeeding at the former more than the ladder two... but at least its at the hand of some damn good food and sweets).
as for the title of this post "after ramadan" which i kind of hinted to in the beginning, i was trying to point to the general difficulty of getting anything done during this holy month. after school is the tiring time, so it's usually filled with a nap, and after iftar is also a tiring time (the itus to full effect) and it's also dark, so doing things in some way must be pre-planned as a group, because it's just better to walk around at night with peeps. But alas, the night is usually filled with hwk and rubbing of the belly. Thus everything has been pushed back a month, better class after ramadan, start volunteering after Ramadan (this was actually what was asked of me, not my lacking of interest in starting earlier), eat in a healthy manner after Ramadan, exercise after Ramadan (including weekly soccer matches, which i've extremely pumped about and simultaneously scared of), find better places to shop in Damascus after Ramadan, weekends that aren't just filled with sleeping after Ramadan (let's hope), more exploring after Ramadan. Of course the things i'm going to miss might be more important than what i think will be better, for there's truly nothing like coming together for Iftar with people you barely know, eating some pretty darn good home cooking, and then simply resting the night away talking about nothing and watching the TV as one more day of effort has been passed together. It's funny that the more i've gotten fed up with Ramadan, the more i seem to really understand the meaning of it, for only now can i even vaguely imagine what it would be like to be forced into fasting days on end without choice, and how quickly the world view changes when you're in that position. I know i haven't taken advantage of this month as well as i could have, for i've spent more time being ill-tempered than i thought was even possible for me. Thus i only hope that it's a beginning of rethinking the way i live my life, and what i do with the choices i can make from day to day. But of course, all that thinking is gonna have to wait... at least until after Ramadan.Wow, that wrapped up well. So to all family and friends, I hope you are well. I love hearing from you, because even though i thought it was impossible, i do have moments of being home/friend/america/ and even *gasp* Duke-sick (please remember that "Duke" in this context does not refer to what the masses might think of as "Duke," but rather the small few and far between aspects such as good friends and teachers).Forward on to whomever you wish.
Lots of love-Zoe
.P.S. the rain came yesterday, and turned right from hot summer into chilly winter. No such thing as subtlety in these parts, right to the point.
So essentially ramadan is a lot harder than i thought it would be. In the beginning the fasting is harder, for sure, but you have the patience in the beginning because you feel like you're just embarking on a new journey, and no matter how hard, it's still exciting. For me that excitement started faded pretty strongly in the past week, and especially the past few days. But it wasn't the fasting that was bothering me, because as of now i almost feel completely normal while fasting up until right before maghreb, when my eye-lids start drooping no matter how hard i try to keep them alert. What i think was wearing on me was the feeling of being completely out of control and incapable of fixing my situation (i understand this is a vague thought, but i'll explain). Essentially for the past 3-4 days i've been on a quest to find a place where i can get a certain vaccine for the SIT in Jordan program next semester (if you're interested in the details, it's the pre-exposure rabies vaccine because i'll be living with a bedouin family far from a hospital for 2 weeks). But the shot is actually a series over time, so since i've changed my plans to travel to Pakistan over X-mas and New Years with my friends here, i've be on the hunt to get it here so i won't have to end my journeys earlier. So although your initial thought might be "Zoe, just go to the biggest hospital and even if they don't have it they'll know exactly where it is,"... nice guess, but don't think so. Although i don't want to go into the full detail of the wrong directions i got, the number of wrong buildings i went to, the money i had taken from me, the weird people trying to help me but who only freaked me out, the drivers i had yell at me, the times i almost and did break down crying, or the full day of classes i missed, i will say that i have a new found respect for foreigners in America, especially one's who can't speak english very well. For, as myself, when i set out on this journey I was certain with my innate sense of direction and ability to get things done efficiently it wouldn't take more than an afternoon. What i found out instead is that my Arabic is pretty damn weak, especially in colloquial (which was needed to get this job done), and that there are times that no matter how insistent i might be, my 5'5'' slim frame in a womans body just doesn't get the job done like a 6'2'' well built Arab man (who is essentially the only reason i think i'm remotely close to getting the vaccine now). Of course, i wouldn't go as far as to say that this relies on the male part, for i'm sure my house mother, Hala, with her well over 250 pound build could part the red sea like moses if she wanted to. Really what i think it is, is a different attitude to getting what you need done. For instance, here there is no concept of "the line" really. I have people cut me on a regular bases: women, children, men, old geezers: to the bus, to food, to a door, for a question. They don't give a second thought. And nudges and a little shove is all fair game. The instance that i reference with this 6'2'' character took place in the center for testing AIDS (another wrong address i had been given) where there is always a line of about 40 people creeping out the door and into the street. The doctor who does the tests inside is probably the scariest person (let alone doctor) i've ever seen in my life (he took my blood the first week i was here for the mandatory AIDS test from the University... not only did he go at my arm like a kid trying to pop a balloon with a needle, but was screaming at me the whole time about what i should be doing ..." WHAT ARE YOU DOING? OPEN YOUR HAND!!!!" I don't think he stops yelling ever. So me being me, of course i would have waited in the long line, and if i had ever reached him by sunset probably not get my question across in time for him to care, as i fumbled over my broken Arabic. In fact, the first time i had gone to the center about 15 minutes earlier, the guy standing at the door simply told me to go away, and that i wasn't in the right place. But what did superman do? get this, it was amazing. He simply walked passed everyone (he was essentially taller and bigger than everyone there), everyone moved aside for him, walked straight up to the doctor who was yelling at someone in the hallway with probably 15 men surrounding him waiting to talk to him, interrupted him with the usual greeting "salam aleykum. Keefak", and asked about the vaccination. After he briefed the doctor, he pushed me forward so i could explain the details (doctor still yelling) and after a brief conversation where of course the doc directed me to another location that in the end wasn't right (but was the final location before the actual correct one!) i was amazed that i had faced the monster again, and gotten more than an answer of "NO! NOT HERE!" So thank you super arab man, i've learned the necessities to getting what i need... just need to gain a few pounds and learn some arabic and disregard my normal instinct of 'politeness' (unfortunately i think i'm succeeding at the former more than the ladder two... but at least its at the hand of some damn good food and sweets).
as for the title of this post "after ramadan" which i kind of hinted to in the beginning, i was trying to point to the general difficulty of getting anything done during this holy month. after school is the tiring time, so it's usually filled with a nap, and after iftar is also a tiring time (the itus to full effect) and it's also dark, so doing things in some way must be pre-planned as a group, because it's just better to walk around at night with peeps. But alas, the night is usually filled with hwk and rubbing of the belly. Thus everything has been pushed back a month, better class after ramadan, start volunteering after Ramadan (this was actually what was asked of me, not my lacking of interest in starting earlier), eat in a healthy manner after Ramadan, exercise after Ramadan (including weekly soccer matches, which i've extremely pumped about and simultaneously scared of), find better places to shop in Damascus after Ramadan, weekends that aren't just filled with sleeping after Ramadan (let's hope), more exploring after Ramadan. Of course the things i'm going to miss might be more important than what i think will be better, for there's truly nothing like coming together for Iftar with people you barely know, eating some pretty darn good home cooking, and then simply resting the night away talking about nothing and watching the TV as one more day of effort has been passed together. It's funny that the more i've gotten fed up with Ramadan, the more i seem to really understand the meaning of it, for only now can i even vaguely imagine what it would be like to be forced into fasting days on end without choice, and how quickly the world view changes when you're in that position. I know i haven't taken advantage of this month as well as i could have, for i've spent more time being ill-tempered than i thought was even possible for me. Thus i only hope that it's a beginning of rethinking the way i live my life, and what i do with the choices i can make from day to day. But of course, all that thinking is gonna have to wait... at least until after Ramadan.Wow, that wrapped up well. So to all family and friends, I hope you are well. I love hearing from you, because even though i thought it was impossible, i do have moments of being home/friend/america/ and even *gasp* Duke-sick (please remember that "Duke" in this context does not refer to what the masses might think of as "Duke," but rather the small few and far between aspects such as good friends and teachers).Forward on to whomever you wish.
Lots of love-Zoe
.P.S. the rain came yesterday, and turned right from hot summer into chilly winter. No such thing as subtlety in these parts, right to the point.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
I’m sorry to have taken such a long time to write. Although it's very likelythat I can blame my horrible contact abilities for this coincidence, I thinkit's also because I don't quite know what to make of my experience so far. Soinstead of summing it up into some words that I’m sure give it no justice,I’ll just shed some light on a few stories me and my friends have experiencedthus far in the sunny city of Damascus.Today for instance:
I woke up at 3 this morning to take Sahhoor (the meal you eat before the sunrises during the fasting of Ramadan), but found myself too tired and nothungry, so I simply brushed my teeth and went back to bed. Hala, my housemother, was up eating in the kitchen when I arose, we said our good morningsin our groggy voices, and then I returned to sleep. You'd be amazed at howalive the city sounds at this time in the morning. I can hear the neighborsrousing and fussing around. I can hear some children that wake as well, andtheir discussions with their parents. I hear two azzan's from my room (azzan:call to prayer from the mosques). But I’ve quickly accustomed to the sounds,and on a regular basis, they don't wake me up. But yes, back to bed, only to wake up again at 7 in order to finish (or attemptto finish) the hwk that I had for class that started at 9. Did my hwk as best Icould, and then by 8 I started packing my bags to make the 9 minute walk toAllison's house just down the street. Lately I’ve been walking to her houseevery morning, as she's been fairly sick for the past week. We then walk downto the main street in our part of town, where we pick up a micro-bus, seatingup to 15 people, that takes us to the University. My favorite part about the"meecro" or the "serveece" as it's called in Ash-sham (Damascus) is the systemof payment. A ride, how-ever long, is only 5 leera (about 10 cents) and yousimply pay by sitting down and passing your money up through the bus up to thedriver. If you need change, the driver will pass it back, in perfect change,without fail, and the money is never dropped. I don't know why I was sosurprised by this system at first; perhaps, it's the trust that scared me.Firstly, the trust that someone would even pay in the first place, as it seemedeasy to slip into a micro and get away without paying, and secondly the trustinghands that carry the coins (the 5, 10, and 25 leeras are in coin form only). Ithought for sure that dropped money would be a constant problem, only leadingto awkward moments of bending down towards the grubby floor in a stuffed van ofmen and women actively avoiding eye-contact and yet involved intensely instaring at anyone they please. But I’m yet to see such a moment. No one'sdropped the ball on that one. But alas, Allison and I arrive at the gate to the university after a quick ridefilled with bumps, swerves, slams of brakes, and an ongoing musicalaccompaniment of car horns that I think even beats New York City. We cross thebusy highway via and underground tunnel, enter the university and meet lizz,owais, and his roomate eric (also American) at the steps of the building ourclasses are in about 10 minutes before the fun begins. Having not eaten muchthe day before because I was sick, and not slept very well, I’m exhausted,and it seems that we all our. We blame the food we had for Iftar for this, butit's probably really derived from a compilation of reasons: the last day ofclasses for the week, not sleeping well, being sick (thus too much sleep timespent in the WC), and of course, fasting. We head to class, which is brokeninto 4 50 minute sessions. I have to make a presentation/guide a classdiscussion for the last hour period and by the middle period break I’m indesperate need of a nap in order to even begin to think in Arabic in the least. I fall into a deep sleep for the 20 minute break, and awake revitalizedsomehow, and that pushes me through the last two periods. For my presentationI decided to bring up the topic of war and it's ethics... (I chose this topicbecause I knew it would spurn up debates between certain people in class, andthus lead away from the amount of time that I actually had to spend speaking ona subject that I wasn't interested in.... it worked, and all went well). Afterwards owais and I headed over to the Arabesk office, while lizz andAllison headed to lizz's. There was some paperwork that arabesk needed helpwith, so I accompanied owais to use the free internet at the office. Gettingto the office entailed once again getting on a 10 cent micro and getting offjust a short walk away from the office. On the way there we stopped at a bookshop we had spotted before. The stores that line the streets (like this bookshop) are always crowded little rooms, stuffed to the brim with whatever theysell, whether it be food, clothes, books, electronics, office supplies, sweets,etc. This stop I bought two books for $2 each. one was an English and Arabicversion of Emma in one, and the other was a Nageeb Mahfooz book "Morning of theRose". We'll see how those go. The Arabesk office was unusually packed. it's actually the second floor of atravel agency office, decorated very nicely with the Damascene artwork aroundthe ceiling in greens, reds, and golds. I sat down in the crowded room andwaited for the computer to get free, and wondered if the artwork in this officewas done by the same man I saw doing the same type of work in the handcraftsmarket just down the street a week ago. We make jokes with the people that wereresponsible for getting us settled in the beginning, their names Fadee andTasseer. Two nice guys about our age who work for arabesk, and alwaysjokesters. But time passes and the work gets done and I check my email. By thetime I finally get to my house after a short bus ride, it's already 4 o'clock,but I’m in desperate need of another nap. Hala is asleep in her room aswell, so I decide to lay down for a half-hour before I head out to Lizz's housewhere her house mother has invited us for Iftar (the meal for breaking thefast). After the nap I hop out to go catch the same bus I take to get to University,ride it a little further and get off in front of a hospital in the Mezzedistrict (Lizz's district). Although I could take a bus to get down to Lizz'shouse, it's only a 15 minute walk, and the traffic seems pretty bad, as well asthe busses crowded, so I decide to make the walk and see if there are any goodstores I should come back to where I can buy some sweets for Hala. I passplenty of stores, mostly for food and then nicer clothes. The Mezze districtis considered the more western and touristy district, where you'll find shopsthat are just as expensive as they are in America, as opposed to cheaper storesyou can find in my neighborhood. Nonetheless, it's a nice place to walk, andthe check out the different shops. I arrive at lizz's apt complex, where shelives on the top floor (8th) give her a ring and she opens the door for me. Itake the little 3 person elevator up to her house/apt. Lizz has definitely gotthe nicest place out of us all, and with an amazing view of damascus. Her housemother is in her 60's we think and a bit senile, but still fun to listen too.During ramadan, about all she's occupied herself with is praying, sleeping,cleaning the house, cooking, and then feeding raw chicken from her balcony allthe way to the stray cats that feast below. She demonstrated for me afterIftar last night, and it was quite a sight, about 1 second after hearing themeat flop of the ground about 10 cats pounce on the spot, running from alldifferent directions. It's a habit we all get a kick out of. (there are straycats everywhere). For dinner Madame Medany (Lizz's house mother) cooked an amazing meal offatoush, chicken, this thing called yateen, which is like a pepper stuffed withrice and meets, then the stable rice with peas and ground beef, and also meetstuffed eggplants (another staple), which were all amazing. Oh and there wasalso mushroom soup, dates, apricots, and of course, yogurt for the rice andbread (pita style). afterwards we had tea and a damascus ramadan treat that Iforget the name of, but which is fried bread with grape syrup stuff on it.delicious. it's so hard to not over stuff yourself at Iftar, not only becausethe food is so good, but because your stomach is so sensitive after fasting allday. It's even harder because they always cook more food than you eat, and putmore food on your plate than you could ever handle. Needless to say, I enjoyedthe Iftar. Afterwards we walked to a local "mall" in Mezze, called city mall, where youcan only find the upper class of Damascus shopping. we went because it's theonly place you can find a store anywhere near a supermarket by Americanstandards, and had more than three types of shampoo offered. We also boughtsome chocolates to test out the Syrian candies and sat in a little cafemunching on them and enjoying the taste of a sweet that is highly under-used inthe Middle East (chocolate).ok, and I’m just going to finish up quickly because I’ve taken too much timeof this and I’m losing focus. But all in all, Damascus is great. Everyday Itry to keep track of the new words I learn, or phrases, and speaking is comingeasier slowly but surely. I'm glad that I’m spending the whole year abroadthough because I’m finding more and more that this language, and it's manydifferent ways of expression are a bit overwhelming to think of capturing inany 3 month period. I don't feel like talking about 'cultural" differencesthat I’ve noticed since I’ve been here too much, because I feel like I’mstill just getting a sense of my own culture in this space, rather than reallyunderstanding the one that I’m faced with. hopefully I can write later aboutthat.I hope that you all are well. I know this email was bad, but it was all I cando. It's hard for me to focus on things here, perhaps it's the way of the citythat gets me all flustered.here's also a website with pcitures from my friend owais:http://community.middlebury.edu/~ogilani/i'll send more pictures when i get a better internet connection.love you all and miss you. send this to whoever you feel it would be appropriate.
zoe
I woke up at 3 this morning to take Sahhoor (the meal you eat before the sunrises during the fasting of Ramadan), but found myself too tired and nothungry, so I simply brushed my teeth and went back to bed. Hala, my housemother, was up eating in the kitchen when I arose, we said our good morningsin our groggy voices, and then I returned to sleep. You'd be amazed at howalive the city sounds at this time in the morning. I can hear the neighborsrousing and fussing around. I can hear some children that wake as well, andtheir discussions with their parents. I hear two azzan's from my room (azzan:call to prayer from the mosques). But I’ve quickly accustomed to the sounds,and on a regular basis, they don't wake me up. But yes, back to bed, only to wake up again at 7 in order to finish (or attemptto finish) the hwk that I had for class that started at 9. Did my hwk as best Icould, and then by 8 I started packing my bags to make the 9 minute walk toAllison's house just down the street. Lately I’ve been walking to her houseevery morning, as she's been fairly sick for the past week. We then walk downto the main street in our part of town, where we pick up a micro-bus, seatingup to 15 people, that takes us to the University. My favorite part about the"meecro" or the "serveece" as it's called in Ash-sham (Damascus) is the systemof payment. A ride, how-ever long, is only 5 leera (about 10 cents) and yousimply pay by sitting down and passing your money up through the bus up to thedriver. If you need change, the driver will pass it back, in perfect change,without fail, and the money is never dropped. I don't know why I was sosurprised by this system at first; perhaps, it's the trust that scared me.Firstly, the trust that someone would even pay in the first place, as it seemedeasy to slip into a micro and get away without paying, and secondly the trustinghands that carry the coins (the 5, 10, and 25 leeras are in coin form only). Ithought for sure that dropped money would be a constant problem, only leadingto awkward moments of bending down towards the grubby floor in a stuffed van ofmen and women actively avoiding eye-contact and yet involved intensely instaring at anyone they please. But I’m yet to see such a moment. No one'sdropped the ball on that one. But alas, Allison and I arrive at the gate to the university after a quick ridefilled with bumps, swerves, slams of brakes, and an ongoing musicalaccompaniment of car horns that I think even beats New York City. We cross thebusy highway via and underground tunnel, enter the university and meet lizz,owais, and his roomate eric (also American) at the steps of the building ourclasses are in about 10 minutes before the fun begins. Having not eaten muchthe day before because I was sick, and not slept very well, I’m exhausted,and it seems that we all our. We blame the food we had for Iftar for this, butit's probably really derived from a compilation of reasons: the last day ofclasses for the week, not sleeping well, being sick (thus too much sleep timespent in the WC), and of course, fasting. We head to class, which is brokeninto 4 50 minute sessions. I have to make a presentation/guide a classdiscussion for the last hour period and by the middle period break I’m indesperate need of a nap in order to even begin to think in Arabic in the least. I fall into a deep sleep for the 20 minute break, and awake revitalizedsomehow, and that pushes me through the last two periods. For my presentationI decided to bring up the topic of war and it's ethics... (I chose this topicbecause I knew it would spurn up debates between certain people in class, andthus lead away from the amount of time that I actually had to spend speaking ona subject that I wasn't interested in.... it worked, and all went well). Afterwards owais and I headed over to the Arabesk office, while lizz andAllison headed to lizz's. There was some paperwork that arabesk needed helpwith, so I accompanied owais to use the free internet at the office. Gettingto the office entailed once again getting on a 10 cent micro and getting offjust a short walk away from the office. On the way there we stopped at a bookshop we had spotted before. The stores that line the streets (like this bookshop) are always crowded little rooms, stuffed to the brim with whatever theysell, whether it be food, clothes, books, electronics, office supplies, sweets,etc. This stop I bought two books for $2 each. one was an English and Arabicversion of Emma in one, and the other was a Nageeb Mahfooz book "Morning of theRose". We'll see how those go. The Arabesk office was unusually packed. it's actually the second floor of atravel agency office, decorated very nicely with the Damascene artwork aroundthe ceiling in greens, reds, and golds. I sat down in the crowded room andwaited for the computer to get free, and wondered if the artwork in this officewas done by the same man I saw doing the same type of work in the handcraftsmarket just down the street a week ago. We make jokes with the people that wereresponsible for getting us settled in the beginning, their names Fadee andTasseer. Two nice guys about our age who work for arabesk, and alwaysjokesters. But time passes and the work gets done and I check my email. By thetime I finally get to my house after a short bus ride, it's already 4 o'clock,but I’m in desperate need of another nap. Hala is asleep in her room aswell, so I decide to lay down for a half-hour before I head out to Lizz's housewhere her house mother has invited us for Iftar (the meal for breaking thefast). After the nap I hop out to go catch the same bus I take to get to University,ride it a little further and get off in front of a hospital in the Mezzedistrict (Lizz's district). Although I could take a bus to get down to Lizz'shouse, it's only a 15 minute walk, and the traffic seems pretty bad, as well asthe busses crowded, so I decide to make the walk and see if there are any goodstores I should come back to where I can buy some sweets for Hala. I passplenty of stores, mostly for food and then nicer clothes. The Mezze districtis considered the more western and touristy district, where you'll find shopsthat are just as expensive as they are in America, as opposed to cheaper storesyou can find in my neighborhood. Nonetheless, it's a nice place to walk, andthe check out the different shops. I arrive at lizz's apt complex, where shelives on the top floor (8th) give her a ring and she opens the door for me. Itake the little 3 person elevator up to her house/apt. Lizz has definitely gotthe nicest place out of us all, and with an amazing view of damascus. Her housemother is in her 60's we think and a bit senile, but still fun to listen too.During ramadan, about all she's occupied herself with is praying, sleeping,cleaning the house, cooking, and then feeding raw chicken from her balcony allthe way to the stray cats that feast below. She demonstrated for me afterIftar last night, and it was quite a sight, about 1 second after hearing themeat flop of the ground about 10 cats pounce on the spot, running from alldifferent directions. It's a habit we all get a kick out of. (there are straycats everywhere). For dinner Madame Medany (Lizz's house mother) cooked an amazing meal offatoush, chicken, this thing called yateen, which is like a pepper stuffed withrice and meets, then the stable rice with peas and ground beef, and also meetstuffed eggplants (another staple), which were all amazing. Oh and there wasalso mushroom soup, dates, apricots, and of course, yogurt for the rice andbread (pita style). afterwards we had tea and a damascus ramadan treat that Iforget the name of, but which is fried bread with grape syrup stuff on it.delicious. it's so hard to not over stuff yourself at Iftar, not only becausethe food is so good, but because your stomach is so sensitive after fasting allday. It's even harder because they always cook more food than you eat, and putmore food on your plate than you could ever handle. Needless to say, I enjoyedthe Iftar. Afterwards we walked to a local "mall" in Mezze, called city mall, where youcan only find the upper class of Damascus shopping. we went because it's theonly place you can find a store anywhere near a supermarket by Americanstandards, and had more than three types of shampoo offered. We also boughtsome chocolates to test out the Syrian candies and sat in a little cafemunching on them and enjoying the taste of a sweet that is highly under-used inthe Middle East (chocolate).ok, and I’m just going to finish up quickly because I’ve taken too much timeof this and I’m losing focus. But all in all, Damascus is great. Everyday Itry to keep track of the new words I learn, or phrases, and speaking is comingeasier slowly but surely. I'm glad that I’m spending the whole year abroadthough because I’m finding more and more that this language, and it's manydifferent ways of expression are a bit overwhelming to think of capturing inany 3 month period. I don't feel like talking about 'cultural" differencesthat I’ve noticed since I’ve been here too much, because I feel like I’mstill just getting a sense of my own culture in this space, rather than reallyunderstanding the one that I’m faced with. hopefully I can write later aboutthat.I hope that you all are well. I know this email was bad, but it was all I cando. It's hard for me to focus on things here, perhaps it's the way of the citythat gets me all flustered.here's also a website with pcitures from my friend owais:http://community.middlebury.edu/~ogilani/i'll send more pictures when i get a better internet connection.love you all and miss you. send this to whoever you feel it would be appropriate.
zoe
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