Two days after letting the store manager send the shoes off to the factory, he called us. Yes, the factory had found a flaw so the Dutchman could get a new pair or his money back. He opted for the cash. To celebrate the improbable victory we went to Vitality, a bar in Jeramana that has to be one of the coolest in Damascus, if it had more business. We played Syrians vs. Ajanab pool, in which I shamed my people.
Afterwards I stopped my Im Tareq's house, where I had left my purse earlier.
"I was just watching the news," she said, "and they were interviewing ajanab in America about the shoes. All of them were laughing!"
I had told her before that a majority of the American people weren't too fond of their leader.
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Rent Smack Down
My roommate is in awe of me since last night, an appreciation so great I might be able to avoid washing dishes or sweeping our eternally dirty balcony for a week. I have saved the house.
Two days ago, our Homsi landlord Abu Yallis called to let us know rent was due. Our apartment, beautifully situated in Jerimana on the main street, is paid for tri-monthly out of a curtesy to Abu Yallis and his not wanting to come down to Damascus every month. This is our first payment since the initial. I told him we would need a few days to get the money together, due to the daily limits my bank places on ATM withdrawal.
He said we need to talk about "ziyadeh" (extra) for the summer. No I told him, there is no extra. We agreed to meet last evening to pay.
The night before last the simsar (real estate guy) who had hooked us up with the apartment showed up on our doorstep, ringing the bell at 11:00pm. Who shows up at 11:00pm at a strangers house without at least calling ahead? Furthermore, who goes to a house where they know two women live alone at 11:00pm? To talk business? Dude's Syrian, he knows the rules and he would have never done that to two Syrian girls living alone (while rare, they exist. I met two medical students from Deraa sharing an apartment in Mezzeh). He asks if Abu Yallis has been by about the rent yet, I say no, he asks about renewing the rent contract. No I say. I'm going to sleep.
Abu Yallis comes over yesterday, checks the electricity, remarks that we are very good with not wasting power, since our bill is half of what the previous tenants were paying. Before he came I had been powwowing with my roommate, determined not to pay a cent over the agreed amount. "Let's practice again," I cojole her, "ma byseer! mustaheel!" (no way, imposssible!)
Abu Yallis and I go around for a good 20 minutes cause he says we need to renew the contract, and we have to pay a simsar (a different one) 1000 lira for this. I question him what the money's for, and apparently its because we're foreign. I mention how we're only paying rent, not renewing the contract, but am told they need a record that we're still in the apartment. I cave. The simsar comes over, draws up the contract, and Abu Yallis asks for the money.
54,000 lira right, 18 a month? I say. No, no, no, he shakes his head. There's ziyadeh because of the summer. How is summer more, I ask, since we pay electricity seperate?
"Because its summer. There's a summer rate and a winter rate." 3 months ago, there was no mention of this when we got the place. "I could rent this place out today to a guy ready to pay 25,000 a month 6 months in advance." He doesn't name what he expects this ziadeh to be. he also tells us the Iraqis before us were paying 30,000 a month.
I tell him prices have gone down since a lot of Iraqis are leaving. I seriously doubt he has a man ready to move in today. I tell him that I will pay what we agreed upon three months ago. He tells me its summer: "I could get 25,000. I'm not asking for that, but I have to benefit." He says he told the simsar office that naturally prices would go up in the summer.
"You didn't tell me that."
"That's not my fault. When you go the place I asked if you could pay 6 months in advance, and you said you could. But I only took three. If the price was going to stay the same, why wouldn't I have taken all 6?"
"This place was already a lot more expensive than any other place I saw. I only took it for the balcony. But I can live without one. I would not have taken it if I knew about a 'summer price'".
I finally ask him how much ziyadeh we're talking about here. He repeats about how he could get 25,000, and he's not asking for that, but he's looking to benefit. The simsar, quiet during our debate, has stopped filling out the contract renewal forma and steps in to mediate. "So there's 18 and 25. Let's meet in the middle?"
"What like 22?"
"ok, 22." Simsar says.
"MA BYSEER! I prefer to move!"
The simsar and Abu Yallis tell us we don't really want to move, its tiring and hard, and we're girls, and we'll have to pay 5,000 at least to a new simsar. He tells me to go try to find a cheaper apartment.
"Of course! I'll just get off the main street. We'll save more money paying the simsar 5 once and having a cheaper apartment than paying 22 every month!"
At one point I stormed off to my room next to the salon and started throwing clothes into an open suitcase. Then I remembered that grown-ups do not solve problems by making scenes. I returned and sat next to my silent roommate, smoothing my skirt with propriety.
We went around. The price got lowered to 20. "Mustaheel! No," I said. "We agreed on a price. We'll pay the price, or we'll move. And what does girls have to do with it?"
"You're going to fight over 2000 lira?"
"This apartment is already more expensive than I could get. 18 was expensive. And what will happen after three months?"
"You can leave then if you want, or you can stay."
"So why not leave now and save money? How much is the price going to be next time?"
"It'll stay the summer price."
"MA BYSEER ABADAN! Summer will be over. ma byseer."
There was a long silence. I broke it. "Alright. By when do we have our stuff cleared out?"
There was no answer, and I thought to myself I had called Abu Yallis' bluff. He finally agreed to take the 18, citing pity and the fact that we were girls. Call it what you will Abu Yallis, but we met in the staring contest of life and you blinked.
In the post-game analysis over a game of trex with friends, who were all very proud of me, I was told that he had a right to try to get more money. "If he can get more, why shouldn't he? It's a game." A game that I won.
Two days ago, our Homsi landlord Abu Yallis called to let us know rent was due. Our apartment, beautifully situated in Jerimana on the main street, is paid for tri-monthly out of a curtesy to Abu Yallis and his not wanting to come down to Damascus every month. This is our first payment since the initial. I told him we would need a few days to get the money together, due to the daily limits my bank places on ATM withdrawal.
He said we need to talk about "ziyadeh" (extra) for the summer. No I told him, there is no extra. We agreed to meet last evening to pay.
The night before last the simsar (real estate guy) who had hooked us up with the apartment showed up on our doorstep, ringing the bell at 11:00pm. Who shows up at 11:00pm at a strangers house without at least calling ahead? Furthermore, who goes to a house where they know two women live alone at 11:00pm? To talk business? Dude's Syrian, he knows the rules and he would have never done that to two Syrian girls living alone (while rare, they exist. I met two medical students from Deraa sharing an apartment in Mezzeh). He asks if Abu Yallis has been by about the rent yet, I say no, he asks about renewing the rent contract. No I say. I'm going to sleep.
Abu Yallis comes over yesterday, checks the electricity, remarks that we are very good with not wasting power, since our bill is half of what the previous tenants were paying. Before he came I had been powwowing with my roommate, determined not to pay a cent over the agreed amount. "Let's practice again," I cojole her, "ma byseer! mustaheel!" (no way, imposssible!)
Abu Yallis and I go around for a good 20 minutes cause he says we need to renew the contract, and we have to pay a simsar (a different one) 1000 lira for this. I question him what the money's for, and apparently its because we're foreign. I mention how we're only paying rent, not renewing the contract, but am told they need a record that we're still in the apartment. I cave. The simsar comes over, draws up the contract, and Abu Yallis asks for the money.
54,000 lira right, 18 a month? I say. No, no, no, he shakes his head. There's ziyadeh because of the summer. How is summer more, I ask, since we pay electricity seperate?
"Because its summer. There's a summer rate and a winter rate." 3 months ago, there was no mention of this when we got the place. "I could rent this place out today to a guy ready to pay 25,000 a month 6 months in advance." He doesn't name what he expects this ziadeh to be. he also tells us the Iraqis before us were paying 30,000 a month.
I tell him prices have gone down since a lot of Iraqis are leaving. I seriously doubt he has a man ready to move in today. I tell him that I will pay what we agreed upon three months ago. He tells me its summer: "I could get 25,000. I'm not asking for that, but I have to benefit." He says he told the simsar office that naturally prices would go up in the summer.
"You didn't tell me that."
"That's not my fault. When you go the place I asked if you could pay 6 months in advance, and you said you could. But I only took three. If the price was going to stay the same, why wouldn't I have taken all 6?"
"This place was already a lot more expensive than any other place I saw. I only took it for the balcony. But I can live without one. I would not have taken it if I knew about a 'summer price'".
I finally ask him how much ziyadeh we're talking about here. He repeats about how he could get 25,000, and he's not asking for that, but he's looking to benefit. The simsar, quiet during our debate, has stopped filling out the contract renewal forma and steps in to mediate. "So there's 18 and 25. Let's meet in the middle?"
"What like 22?"
"ok, 22." Simsar says.
"MA BYSEER! I prefer to move!"
The simsar and Abu Yallis tell us we don't really want to move, its tiring and hard, and we're girls, and we'll have to pay 5,000 at least to a new simsar. He tells me to go try to find a cheaper apartment.
"Of course! I'll just get off the main street. We'll save more money paying the simsar 5 once and having a cheaper apartment than paying 22 every month!"
At one point I stormed off to my room next to the salon and started throwing clothes into an open suitcase. Then I remembered that grown-ups do not solve problems by making scenes. I returned and sat next to my silent roommate, smoothing my skirt with propriety.
We went around. The price got lowered to 20. "Mustaheel! No," I said. "We agreed on a price. We'll pay the price, or we'll move. And what does girls have to do with it?"
"You're going to fight over 2000 lira?"
"This apartment is already more expensive than I could get. 18 was expensive. And what will happen after three months?"
"You can leave then if you want, or you can stay."
"So why not leave now and save money? How much is the price going to be next time?"
"It'll stay the summer price."
"MA BYSEER ABADAN! Summer will be over. ma byseer."
There was a long silence. I broke it. "Alright. By when do we have our stuff cleared out?"
There was no answer, and I thought to myself I had called Abu Yallis' bluff. He finally agreed to take the 18, citing pity and the fact that we were girls. Call it what you will Abu Yallis, but we met in the staring contest of life and you blinked.
In the post-game analysis over a game of trex with friends, who were all very proud of me, I was told that he had a right to try to get more money. "If he can get more, why shouldn't he? It's a game." A game that I won.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Insane Prices!
The first thing I was told when Tariq and his friend Tariq picked me up from the airport was, "Oh my god! The PRICES! THE PRICES!"
Mazout and Gas went through the roof. Now everything is expensive. My friend the micro is now 10 lira, from 5 before I left (from 10cents to 20 cents). Double! Most other things have gone up at least 5 lira.
At least government bread is the same, so no riots! But now the regular stores can't sell the gov bread and when you buy at the furn there is a limit of 2. And the lines are insane.
Mazout and Gas went through the roof. Now everything is expensive. My friend the micro is now 10 lira, from 5 before I left (from 10cents to 20 cents). Double! Most other things have gone up at least 5 lira.
At least government bread is the same, so no riots! But now the regular stores can't sell the gov bread and when you buy at the furn there is a limit of 2. And the lines are insane.
Monday, March 24, 2008
I am a Star
I am now in three different Syrian muselels (serial dramas). In one of them, I even have a role opposite Basil Khayat, one of the hunks of Syrian television. It's a small role, but still. I don't really know how this happened. A month ago I jokingly told a friend that my dream is to be in a Syrian muselel - perhaps an an extra, perferrably as a foreign journalist or tourist or somthing else foreign (there's no getting around my accent. yet). This led to a role as an extra in a disco scene.
Then, as I was finishing up negotiations with my apartment broker (quite heated). I got a call from my friend Sali7. He was at some filming, and I should hurry over quick because they wanted me to have a role in a second muselel. A role in which Basil Khayat has a crush on me. So I came over, production did my hair and makeup, and Basil and I flirted on camera. Seated across from one another at the bar, I was instructed by the director to look at him flirtingly, so instead I grinned like a big idiot as I can't act and this is what I do when trying to flirt in real life.
Then I got a call about filming a scene at a restaurant in Bab Touma, and thinking it was for the Basil Khayat muselel, I went with my friends and found myself in a third muselel, where one of the actresses asked if I was a professional dancer.
Finally, I got called back to finish filming with Basil, which happened yesterday. We're hanging out in his apartment drinking wine (actually grape juice), and he asks me how long I've been in Syria. The first take I didn't answer, since no one told me what I was supposed to say, I thought there are you know, scripts for things like this. I gaped, the director cut the shot, and told me just to say something like "not yet four weeks, and I'll be coming home soon" and to add in a few English words so that it's clear to the audience that I am foreign. So I did. I've earned 5,000 Syrian lira ($100) from my "acting".
I've also turned down two other TV projects because I don't actually like it all that much. It's boring. I don't need money. But my friends are loving it and begging me to go with them to film a fourth muselel Thursday and a music video next month, and a little jealous I'm the only one who has gotten a speaking role. Bla. Having an actual role is a little more fun in that you get to walk around the rest of the day with a professionaly done hair and layers of stage makeup, which makes me look more Syrian (the natural look isn't very popular here).
Then, as I was finishing up negotiations with my apartment broker (quite heated). I got a call from my friend Sali7. He was at some filming, and I should hurry over quick because they wanted me to have a role in a second muselel. A role in which Basil Khayat has a crush on me. So I came over, production did my hair and makeup, and Basil and I flirted on camera. Seated across from one another at the bar, I was instructed by the director to look at him flirtingly, so instead I grinned like a big idiot as I can't act and this is what I do when trying to flirt in real life.
Then I got a call about filming a scene at a restaurant in Bab Touma, and thinking it was for the Basil Khayat muselel, I went with my friends and found myself in a third muselel, where one of the actresses asked if I was a professional dancer.
Finally, I got called back to finish filming with Basil, which happened yesterday. We're hanging out in his apartment drinking wine (actually grape juice), and he asks me how long I've been in Syria. The first take I didn't answer, since no one told me what I was supposed to say, I thought there are you know, scripts for things like this. I gaped, the director cut the shot, and told me just to say something like "not yet four weeks, and I'll be coming home soon" and to add in a few English words so that it's clear to the audience that I am foreign. So I did. I've earned 5,000 Syrian lira ($100) from my "acting".
I've also turned down two other TV projects because I don't actually like it all that much. It's boring. I don't need money. But my friends are loving it and begging me to go with them to film a fourth muselel Thursday and a music video next month, and a little jealous I'm the only one who has gotten a speaking role. Bla. Having an actual role is a little more fun in that you get to walk around the rest of the day with a professionaly done hair and layers of stage makeup, which makes me look more Syrian (the natural look isn't very popular here).
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I Cut my Hair
Everytime my hair grows long, I begin to think that I chould cut this shit off. I imagine myself with short hair - it is a glamorous, sexy image, and not me, but a French girl in the 1960s. Then I cut it and I remember - too late - that I look more like a dickonsonian street urchin boy with short hair.
But I had been saying I need to cut my hair for two months now, and finally yesterday I asked Ruba to take me to where she gets her hair cut - her hair is quite nice. I wanted it a bit shorter, and with "sidesweep bangs". Ruba introduced me to the stylist as her Irish friend (why?) and though I know "bangs" I tried to mime "sidesweep". I don't believe I effectively communicated the message.
So now I have heavy blunt bangs like I haven't had since 8th grade. The rest of it awkwardly frames my face with poof. I look 17. I need to step away from the scissors, because everytime I try something they end up raping me.
BUT, the cut was only 100 lira ($2)! I'm thinking maybe the only solution is to cut it shorter, as at that price I'm willing to have my hair maimed every week!
But I had been saying I need to cut my hair for two months now, and finally yesterday I asked Ruba to take me to where she gets her hair cut - her hair is quite nice. I wanted it a bit shorter, and with "sidesweep bangs". Ruba introduced me to the stylist as her Irish friend (why?) and though I know "bangs" I tried to mime "sidesweep". I don't believe I effectively communicated the message.
So now I have heavy blunt bangs like I haven't had since 8th grade. The rest of it awkwardly frames my face with poof. I look 17. I need to step away from the scissors, because everytime I try something they end up raping me.
BUT, the cut was only 100 lira ($2)! I'm thinking maybe the only solution is to cut it shorter, as at that price I'm willing to have my hair maimed every week!
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Bitchy Government
Since I got the Fulbright and declined the Boren scholarship (the original scholarship I was planning to go to Syria on) the government is making me pay $162 back for the cost of the hotel in DC. I could have stayed with people in DC, but no, the government assured me, we'll pay for the hotel. Now that I've declined the Boren - I told them that the Fulbright was a distant possibility from the beginning - they're making me pay for a hotel they fucking made me stay in. They also never have to give me the thousands of dollars from the Boren. Whatever, $162 is worth it for the Fulbright, I'm sure. But it does seem a little petulant, doesn't it?
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