Before Pakistan

Getting to Pakistan was a bit of a hassle, and the reason I didn't write anything about my planned trip beforehand was that I didn't want to jinx it.

I had to find a flight, and there are very few Damascus-Karachi flights. There are none direct, in fact. Luckily Syria Air has a twice a week flight that stops in Dammam in Saudi Arabia with a less-than-an-hour layover, versus the 8 hour layovers in Doha or Abu Dhabi I was looking at if I flew another airline. I bought a ticket to leave on a Tuesday and come back on a Saturday, only missing two days of class. Yes.

Then, visa. The Pakistani embassy in Damascus requires a letter from your embassy stating that you are indeed the person your passport says you are, that you are an American citizen, and that you are allowed to travel. The American embassy refuses to do this letter since possession of a passport means all of these things. So I had to go to the American Embassy and get a copy of a letter that says they don't do letters, and give that to the Pakistani Embassy, who refused it. "We need the letter."
"Look, it says they don't do letters."

So to ease the situation along I squeezed out a few tears and wailed that it was my sister's wedding and I have to go to Pakistan. The man led me inside to talk to his boss, who asked if I was Syrian, then if my parents were Syrian, then why I spoke Arabic. But he decided to go ahead and give me a visa, as I knew they would, since Lindsey (my friend who got married) had gone through the same letter ordeal two weeks previous, and emerged with a visa.

Then I was almost all set, when Lindsey told me the wedding date changed because of all the trouble she had with the Pakistani embassy in Kuwait, and then DC. I took my ticket with "non-refundable, non-exchangable" stamped on it to the office and got it changed, without a penalty or fee or trouble.

Then I just had to convince everyone around me that I would be ok. When I told people I was going to Pakistani, they reacted, well, much the same way people in the States reacted when I told them I was going to Syria.
"Oh my god!"
"Are you going to be safe?"
"Why?"
"But its so backwards!"
"Will you have to wear hijab?" - the last question was especially ironic.

True, Pakistan has been dominating the news lately, what with the Emergency Laws and suspencion of the constitution following on the heels of Benazir Bhutto's return and two suicide bombs that killed around 150 people. But most of the protests happen in Islamabad or Lahore, it seemed, and I was going to Karachi (oh wait, the bombs were there). I actually did call Lindsey, told her I was a little nervous, but she told me it was all good. Plus, I got to stay with Hadi's (her now-husband) aunt.

But I figured it would be fine as long as I stayed away from any political rallies. And it was.

So I've Been in Pakistan...

I just got back this morning from Karachi, where I went to Lindsey and Hadi's wedding. I had left Friday. Much, much more on this later, but today I have to study for my test tomorrow.

Going Private!

I'm going private with the blog in a couple of days. If you would like to continue reading the my adventures in Syria and struggles with Arabic, email me at filledepaille@gmail.com or facebook me and I'll add you!

Moving, moving

I found a place. It's on Shariah Baghdad, close to everything. It's a family of a mother and a father and a 26-year-old son, who just graduated from law school, and is a midget. The father is a professor of law. I met the son and the father yesterday. I get the bedroom of their son who is away in Manchester.

Right now, where I am, I have pretty much complete freedom. Because there are (now) 8 girls, the family can't possibly keep track of our movements and I am able to come home whenever I want - 3am, 7am, whenever. But living with the new family, though I asked them about staying out late and they said, you know, not all the time, but sometimes, ok. As the only foreigner, I can't come and go as I please. Well, I expected that when I first came to Syria, but then I set up with my current situation. Am I ready to give up staying in Jerimana until daybreak? Old Maid marathons and movies until the sun comes up? Clubs until the wee hours? (okay, as I've done the latter twice in two months, I can safely say that will not be missed much).

But the benefit to my Arabic! All Arabic, all the time will be my new home. I'll miss the family I'm with now, but looks like I have to go ahead with it. Even if it is a whole 500 Syrian lira more a month ($10)!!!

Loves the Music

Unlike previous weekends, in which I was a loser and stayed home or came home early(I'll blame the sniffles) I actually got out. Thursday night I went out clubbing with a few friends, Tariq, Salih, and the kickboxing champion of Syria, Abud. I failed to bring my foreign girl friends along (sniffles). Three guys and a girl is not good math for getting into clubs. I asked why this was all on me, don't they know any girls?
"Yeah, but you know Syrian girls. They have to be home by 10 or 11."

We did manage to get in free at a club in one of the fancy hotels near Cham Palace (not Jetset). I have yet to pay to dance. The club was on the fourth floor, dance floor outside overlooking Qasloum Mountain. The music - occaisonally there was a respite from incessant techno, but most (not all- no one fucked with Shakira) rap or latin or Arab song was mixed with a techno beat, rendering it undanceable to me. Not to every one else there, though. What is it with Americans? The world loves techno. The Europeans students love it. Elizabeth from Zimbabwe loves it. Syrians love it. But every American, before heading out to the club goes, "Wait, is it techno?" Football and techno, two things the world loves that America just doesn't. Mindy hypothesises that, as the birthplace of rock, soul, jazz, etc., Americans just can't get down without that soul. Even the white ones.

I did get to hear some music with soul the next day at the Layna Shamyan concert. A Syrian-Armenian (when I said, really? She's Armenian? I was told: with a name like Shamyan? Are you kidding, of course!) singer with an incredible voice. It was in a theatre off Sharia Sawra not far from Souq Hammidiya. Packed to standing room. Afterwards, I bought her two CD's over Tariq's protests that I should just burn his. I like to support an artist every once in a while, especially when four cds (2 Layna, 2 promos of other artists from the label) cost the equivalent of 8 bucks. I got to sit right up in front - it was pretty amazing.

Exercise!

I recently extended my visa, which is always fun. Some people complain about the bureaucracy here, but as a graduate of NYU I don't find it all that bad.

I went to the farther Office of Immigration and Passports so I could extend it for a whole two months. I woke up super early (7 on Saturday!). First, I had to get extra passport pictures, which took ages as the only shop in sight did not have a camera. Instead, they scanned my passport and printed copies of that picture. Whatever, it worked.

Then to the office. On the third floor I got four copies of the same form to fill out, then went back downstairs to buy a stamp that needs to be on each of the forms, then filled them out on the hood of a car. Then back to the third floor, a short wait, to a different office on the third floor, up to the fourth floor, back down to the third floor, back up to the fourth floor, and back down to the third floor.

See, that wasn't so hard.

I Get Off My Lazy طيز

So I've decided to stop being a leech on society. A fellow Fulbrighter put me in touch with a woman who runs a weekend school for Iraqi children, so now I volunteer teaching English there. Friday was my first day.

The school is in the woman's one-room apartment in Saida Zayneb, an area outside of Damascus which is very poor, has quite a lot of Iraqi refugees, and is famous for the Saida Zayneb mosque, the main attraction for Iranian pilgrims to Syria. It takes less than an hour to get there. Saturday I went back and taught the same group of girls from before, plus two more classes. 6 hours after I had arrived, the woman who runs it was thanking me profusely as I left and I felt, well, good. "Skukran jazeelan" (thank you very much) said the woman, to which I replied "Skukran lilforsa" (thanks for the opportunity).

The students were divided among the teachers haphazardly, and I had no idea of their levels prior to beginning class so everthing was completely off-the-cuff. Their English was also so poor that I had to speak almost entirely in Arabic, following up every English sentence or word with the meaning in Arabic. The students are harder to understand than most people I interact with since I'm so unfamiliar with the Iraqi dialect and accent, but I expect this will improve. Both days, there were some French journalists buzzing about taking pictures and talking to the main woman.

Most of the girls are from Baghdad. One of the lessons on Saturday I worked one-on-one with a 14-year-old girl, who is very behind in English. Most of the students are, as Syrian schools start English a full two or three years before Iraqi schools, plus many missed a lot of school because of the war. The girl asked me if I spoke "logha ajnabia" (foreign language - English) well, and how I knew it, so I told her I was from America. Really? She asked. Is America nice? Do your parents live there? Is America pretty?

I'm never embarrassed or reticent about telling people I am from the US, except in this situation. I know they know that I am not the US government, and are obviously not going to turn on me because of my blue passport, but still I feel somewhat responsible. My friends, my neighbors, some of my family supported Bush or the war, and I don't think I can absolve myself of all responsibility just by the fact I didn't vote for Bush.

The last class on Saturday was for older girls more advanced in English. The way English is taught in school here drills the grammer but skips over conversation and listening, so I was trying to get them talking. They told me about their families. The girl who is the best in English informed me, "My family from Baghdad, and I have four brother- no, three brother now, one died, and a sister." I didn't ask how.