Friday morning as I reflected a bit on the week (Friday being the holy day here-- no school) I realized that I really had to be thankful that we had started school on Monday, whether or not I like class or want to continue with it. Without language school I would have spent the week wondering how on earth I was supposed to find my first language helper, I would have been much more in our flat with little to do, I would still have almost no Arabic, I would have less experience in getting around the city... in short, it would have been a rather dull week, in reality much more frustrating than anything has actually been thus far. Because of the necessary amount of time I have spent in getting from place to place this week, my flatmates and teammates are much less nervous about me being out on my own, and as a result of that I have a far greater amount of freedom than I think I would have otherwise. So, oddly enough, I have to be grateful for language school.

This does not, however, mean that I really wish to continue with it in the long term, and yesterday I spoke to my leaders about this. mafeesh mushkela, as we say here-- no problem. There is some question as to how long this first session of school actually runs... I have so far heard four, five, and six weeks.... The problem with asking questions here is that everyone wants both to be helpful and to save face, which means that if the person you ask doesn't know the answer then he'll make something up. (It's rather like talking to my sister Missy.) This is particularly a problem when asking for directions around the city; in general it is best to keep asking different people until you've gotten the same answer at least three times. Otherwise it's quite likely you'll end up going in completely the opposite direction. I have already experienced this a few times.... Anyhow, however much longer this class session lasts, there should be no problem with me moving to CBL (community based learning) afterwards.

This morning on the way home from my language lesson (not to be confused with language school... this is something different, just one teacher and one student) I was watching a man attempt to ride a bicycle down the major street near my flat. This was entertaining to me in many ways... first, because traffic in this city is chaotic and anarchic at best, and I simply cannot see how anyone with any bit of common sense would dare to attempt to bicycle around. To make things even more complicated and dangerous, it would be somewhat of an understatement to say that his wheels were out of alignment, and neither wheel was exactly round. And the tires were very flat. And on top of all these things, he was constantly muttering, whether to himself, the bicycle, or Allah, I don't know. Possibly all three. I stood for a moment and watched him as he weaved along and occasionally rolled over his trailing galibeyah.

It is at odd moments like these when suddenly I catch a glimpse of understanding that I am here. Here. Just as quickly it is gone again, but I am left shaken by the idea, by the realization, by the sense of distance, both geographically and culturally. And after a few moments my head clears and everything appears as it did before. Still this is not very real to me. Perhaps I am expecting too much of "real".