Got to be Moving On

I am moving. While living with the family has been nice these past four months, it's time I had my own apartment and little more freedom. Confining my search to furnished apartments in Jerimana, I found some 2-bedrooms for 10,000 Lira/month ($200) and 12,000 Lira, and some 1 bedrooms for 8,000 Lira, but ultimately settled on an 18,000 ($360) 2 bedroom because it is right on sahat-alsuyuf, rather than a 10 minute walk off the main road, has a balcony overlooking the square, airconditioning, and was the only apartment I saw with a full kitchen rather than an electric burner or two. I'll be living with an American girl Michele I met my 2nd day in Damascus when we moved into Um Zahir's house in the old city. Her condition is that we speak only Arabic, something I'm fine with, and if yesterday's seeing the place and negotiating with the owner and broker are any indication, we should be able to do.

I haven't told the family I'm leaving yet. I love Um Mazen and Abu Mazen, and would gladly stay in the house for several more month, but the problem is Iyad, the son. Iyad, though graduated from law school last May, doesn't work and doesn't study, so an inordinate amount of interest in my life seems to be how he's passing the time. He also seems to think America is a drug and sex orgy of sin, leading to situations where an American movie is on TV, characters are doing coke or something, so he asks me "Have you ever tried cocaine?". I laugh, saying "Are you kidding? It's so expensive!" and the rest of the family and his two friends laugh. He however, very seriously raises his eyebrows and says "Really, that's why? If it wasn't expensive, no problem?"

Or after filming the muselel, I was approached to be in another one, where I and 5 other girls would dance behind a singer in a scene. I was told I would have to wear a belly shirt, low-cut, etc, so I told them no thanks. I told the story to the family and Iyad asked why I refused. "When I'm the secretary of state, I don't want pictures of me out like that," I joked.
"So you really think you're going to be secretary of state? And that's why?"
"C'mon, I really don't need to be on TV like that."
"So the problem is just TV? But in life, in the street, no problem with belly shirts, right?"
Sure, just like the ones I wear everyday? My wardrobe consists of football jerseys and ankle-length skirts (a combination that has had my look called "homeless" on more than one continent).

These may seem like small complaints, but their continuation creates an atmosphere where I feel like I'm constantly under surveillance. Plus, I'm tired of questions like, "I happened to accidently see tampons in the trash. Are you a virigin?"