My New House

It have not yet been a week in my new house, so it's still growing on me. It's $10 more a month than my old place in the old city, but meals are provided. This has actually turned out to be a double-edged sword, as Um Mazen, the matriarch, has decided her goal is to fatten me. She saw me taking vitamin pills, questioned their purpose. I said, oh, it's just cause I have anemia (yes! I totally know that word!). She shook her head and said I just need to eat more. Now, every mealtime, she watches me eat, always pushing more onto me. I know this is part of Syrian culture to stuff the guest, but I think she takes it to the extreme. And the look of concern on her face also makes me think there is something more than simple hospitality.

The residents of the house are currently myself, Um Mazen, Abu Mazen, and their son Iyad. They have other sons and daughters, but they all live either in Lattakia or Britain. One of their kids got Irish nationality. I said, oh, that's funny, I do too. Not too long after they were talking about their other son, the one who's room I'm in, and how he'll be finished studying soon but wants to stay in Britain.
"Is he going to get a working visa?"
"It would be easier just to marry."
"Is he engaged to a British girl?"
"It's all the same now with the EU. Any European."
"Uh-huh."
"It wouldn't have to be a real marriage. Just on paper."
"Well, maybe he'll find a British girl."

The family's nice, except Abu Mazen has an annoying habit of talking to me like I don't know anything. There were neighbors over, and they were asking me about American politics, so I was explaining how Bush "won" in 2000, why he won in 2004, and we talked about the future election (everyone here loves Hilary). Then the conversation changed to the merits of different types of exercise. I think swimming is the best, the neighbors thought walking. At this point Abu mazen breaks in to say, "Walk-ing" and mimes walking with his hands, and says the English word. "Swim-ming" miming that action as well, though he doesn't know the English word. Everyone just kind of looks at him, because it's obvious that I knew those two words, since I had been using them in normal conversation for a good several minutes. I'm not fluent, but shit, I can get around fine in Arabic. In the morning sometimes he'll point at the various foods on the table and slowly say their names for me. Dude, you hear me speaking to you right? I know the words for cheese and bread!

The house has a hole-in-the-ground toilet, which I don't have a problem with, but I am beginning to appreciate the luxury of a western toilet. It also has no hot shower, which requires me to heat tubs of water with gas and dump them over myself. They promise they'll hook up the gas a water heater and the shower soon.