Grammar SMACKDOWN!

Last week's workshop was pretty cool - I feel like I've learned so much on Syrian media. I was there helping with logistics, mostly doing everything technology as I was the youngest one present. Every time the power point needed setting up or the instructor wanted to play a clip, it was youngest-person-in-the-room to the rescue! We are at one with technology, those who cannot imagine writing a school paper without the internet, the children of the 90s.

But I was also allowed to participate. And while I can understand college-level lecture, I don't know how I'd fare in any class. In exercises for the instructor they would come back covered with corrections but have "mumtaz!" at the bottom, because I'm foreign and at least I'm trying.

It was quite heartening when the instructor spent a session on grammar mistakes and had us correct a text together. I was all over "it's قال إن" not " قال أن". And on the last day the journalists turned in their group reports on subject related to UNFPA's mandate: reproductive health, AIDS, youth, gender equality. On one groups' report the first sentence began "ما تزال ظاهرة " and I was all, "grammar error smackdown!" Even though when I write in Arabic there are still tons of errors, it's nice to know that even trained Arab journalists, who when to school for this, make grammar mistakes, and that grammar is an issue in many publications.

I related this exciting story to a friend later who said there was nothing wrong with the verb as is. I told him you can't negate a present tense with ما so they either need to say ما زالت or لا تزال . He disagreed and told me the ما was not a negation here, but it really is. Seriously. I then asked him was زال means and he told me still or continue, when it actually means to kinda disappear or go away, thus with a negation it means the equivalent of English "still".

I know it's embarrassing when a non-native speaker corrects YOUR language, but it happens to me in English more than I'd like to admit. This is why I don't want to teach English: I'd be afraid of being called out daily. I mean, I can write or speak grammatically correct English and did take one grammer class in high school, but the various explanations behind "this sounds wrong" or "this sounds right" ellude me, so in the nitty gritty questions I'd just prefer to leave the room. This winter, I spent a few good weeks pondering the English equivalent of من اربعة شهور or the like. If the action is continuing, it's not "four months ago", and "from four months" which I found muself using in English conversation is literal and not actually used. I told a Syrian friend who asked "since four months ago, I think. yeah." I guess we don't have an exact match for that phrase, but make do depending on the preceding question.
"When did you start college?"
"Four months ago."
"How long have you been in college?"
"for four months."

I don't know. My head hurts. I also can't spell in any language. When friends ask me what is this word in English and to write it down for them, it's only on the second or third try that I think the word "looks right", and still tell them to go check me in a dictionary cause I'm not sure. I try to tell them that I all my writing on computers who correct me, but they still look at me trying to figure out I am not joking in that I cannot spell my own language.

Speaking of media, Wednesday evening, Syrian TV news incorrectly identified the Israeli knesset as being in Tel Aviv, not Jerusalem. As a friend said of it: If any one should know where the knesset it, we should. They hadn't actually seen the broadcast, nor had I, but heard of it through the office. No one actually watches Syrian TV except during Ramadan.

Sorry to Brag

I've been attending a workshop this week, and thus have not had the usual idle moments at work in which to jot a few thoughts about life and shit, as it is technically known. The workshop has been awesome, the Ministry of Information and UNFPA are conducting it for Syrian journalists.

It's convinced me that I could understand a college-level lecture in Arabic, which is exciting in itself. There are naturally some words I don't understand, but they are few enough I can jot them in a notebook for later, and do not affect my understanding the lecture.

It reminds me of going to a play within my first few months here, and my friends told me to jot down any words I didn't understand. 20 minutes in there were two words on the paper and the dude next to me asked if I understood the play. "No."
"Why didn't you write down words you didn't understand?"
"I don't understand enough to write down words!"

I can now write down words.

It's also exciting because the trainer isn't speaking Syrian, but what I think is part Palestinian (at least in pronounciation) and part Egyptian (there are quite a bit of Egyptian constructions). Of course, he also is speaking in times in fusha, though at this point I understand Syrian more easily than even fusha.

So yeah, sorry to brag but this is exciting for me. And at the end of the course I will get a certificate! Yes!

So I'm a Dumbass

Ok, so Noor and Abdeen weren't supposed to be in France, but as my friend's mother explained to me, "on the border of France and Turkey." I told her France and Turkey don't share a border, but its not like I can be one to point fingers as I thought they were supposed to be in France. Still, Abdeen was trying to make his getaway via helicopter to Paris, then changed his mind to Morrocco when he found out Mohannad was his trail. Isn't Paris or Morrocco from Turkey rather far for a helicopter?

So I feel like an idiot, but less so as the Syrians watching with me also thought they were supposed to be in France as well.

Noor killed Abdeen, finally taking a little initiative after fainting, falling asleep, and struggling pitifully while in a softer and softer voice protesting "Get away from me. Leave me alone."

Was Noor raped? There's some hints that Abdeen raped Noor, and there's some that he didn't. It's hard to tell because while the Turkish version was apparently chock-full of French kissing and other sexy things, the Arabic version has been cleaned up, like everything else on MBC. So was a scene more suggestive of rape cut out, or is there no such scene and he didn't rape her? Maybe they'll discuss it tonight in coded language I'll have to concentrate intently on and probably have to ask a friend about. I've heard you can go on youtube and see scenes from the original Turkish version with all the sexy (or rapey) left in.

I promise no more Noor-related posts for a while, though the fact I'm this excited about a muselel is an indicator on the heat level here, which prevents me from leaving the indoors and participating in non-TV activities.

Nour Update!

Things are going crazy on Nour, the Turkish muselel dubbed into Syrian Arabic. Nour and the diabolical Abdeen, who is plotting to win Nour's heart from her gorgeous husband Mohannad, go to Paris for business. While Abdeen has been a douche for a while, we were finally able to see the depths of his depravity when Mohannad's family's factory caught on fire - a fire set by Abdeen's henchmen! People died and were injured, but of course not the members of the central family, except for Mohannad's sister who sustained a bandaid on her cheek. Ouch.

Nour finds out in Paris that she is pregnant. Yay fertility treatments! But she wants to wait until she returns to Istanbul to tell Mohannad face to face. But in the meantime - Abdeen kidnaps her! Holy shit! Now she is tied up in a very nicely decorated cave in near "Paris" and has not moved since Abdeen strangled her in anger when she wouldn't profess her love to him or eat breakfast! Is she dead? Mohannad has flown to "Paris" and is running around the streets, showing pictures of his love to passerbys and exploring the mountains (you know, the mountains near "Paris").

Which brings me to a complaint: This is worst Paris ever. Either I'm misunderstanding, or Nour and Abdeen are supposed to be in Paris. In France. A France that is so Turkish it can't be anything but Turkey, and I've never even been. Everybody in "France" speaks Arabic (and I'm assuming Turkish in the orginal), though that can be forgiven because every American show does the same thing. But all of shop names are in Turkish. All of the people look Turkish. The grandmothers are muhajjiba, while if actually trying to be in Paris, a bunch of younger girls would be too. When Mohannad goes to the police station, not only is the sign "Police Station" in Turkish, but behind the officer there is a picture of Ataturk. What?

I keep thinking, maybe I've misunderstood. Maybe they're supposed to be in Turky now, and were planning to go to Paris later. But then Mohannad's mother in Istanbul wonders if perhaps there are just mechanical problems with Noor's plane and she'll be landing soon. And Mohannad's sister calls Paris to ask hotels and things if anyone has seen Nour and has to speak French, the only time anyone actually speaks French throughout the Paris ordeal. But come on, couldn't they have at least included a stock footage shot of the Eiffel Tower, or greenscreen a Parisien street in the background?

I'm guessing the budget for a Turkish muselel might not cover an actual jaunt to France, but all I'm asking for is a little effort. When Mohannad is asking obviously Turkish townspeople if they have seen Nour, couldn't they all be in berets? Or have one guy in the background carry a baguette?

Independence Day in Damascus

July 4th I went to a party of mostly Americans at a shared house in the old city, the first time I've hung out with foreigners my age in a long time. After I finished at the university, there was little chance to see foreigners on a daily basis, and the friends I had made all eventually traveled back home. There were a spattering of non-American foreigners as well, mostly Brits and Dutch, who were more than happy to join in the Ammerican merrymaking. I had no idea there were this many Americans here. I was told in the summer the number jumps big time.

But nothing brings you home like vodka watermelon. The party organizers had tried to get some pork, but found the massive half of a wild boar, shot in Jordan and presented to them in a plastic bag at a liquor store in Damascus, unappetizing. Understandably so. I know there are places to get pork in Damascus, in containers other than plastic bags, but not being a big fan of pig I couldn't offer the hosts any direction.

They grilled chicken instead, and I opted to eat some cake.

Good Luck Mom!

My mom is competing in the U.S. Track and Field Olympic Trials today in Eugene Oregon in the 20km racewalk. She's 48, the oldest track athlete to ever go to the US Olympic trials. What's more amazing is that two years ago she was in a coma for four weeks after being hit by a car while biking. There's a story on her in the Detroit Free Press today. Awesome, awesome woman.

Wish I could be there for you, Mom! Good luck!!

Catching Concerts by Chance

I've been getting out more, whether dragged by friendship obligations last Thursday to Cave de Baal to support my friend Noor's DJing (party every Thursday), or more willingly to a few concerts. In either case it means I'm behind on watching Noor, the dubbed Turkish muselel, and I hear very exciting things are afoot!

Noor's a good DJ, in that he plays more than techno, but his party's at the matinee hour and coming on the heels of highschool exams, the place was packed with teenagers. I love teenagers as much as anyone, but I felt like I should have brought my walker. Whatever, it's always fun to watch muhajibbat grinding on the dance floor.

The concerts I stumbled upon going the International Flower Exhibition in Tishreen Park. There's been signs all over, so I went Sunday. It cost 50 lira to get in, and the exhibition itself was quite underwhelming. "International" apparently meant Jordan, Egypt, Iraq, and Homs. The best design by far was Hama's.

A little disappointed, we started to leave, only to find a stage all set up for a concert near the Sahat Umuwe'en entrance. We asked the techs what was up, and they casually informed us there would be an Itar Shama' concert later. Itar Sham'! They are an awesome husband-and-wife band that plays Arabic rock. I saw them earlier in the year at an Arab Cultural Center outside of Damascus and the place was packed. The kids love 'em. I been keeping up on concerts, even the ones I know there's no way I'm attending (Julio Iglesias in the Bosra Ampitheatre). How had I not heard? No body has heard. The publicity for the exhibition has unfortunately not included the fact that they have all of Syria's most popular bands booked.

The tech gave us a schedule: Itar Shama', LEENA CHAMAMYAN (probably Syria's most popular singer), Anas and Friends, Daraja Aliya - all of Syria's most popular bands. Each night a different band.

I didn't see the concert Sunday night because of a prior commitment to watch Germany get their asses handed to them (ok, so the game wasn't actually that one-sided, but still yay Spain) the same evening, but returned to see Daraja Aliya two nights ago and Anas and Friends last night. Not so impressed with the last one, except the last song, a cover of a 10-year-old Mohammed Monir song (who I saw in concert in Cairo with Nancy Ajram in 2006).

And tonight- Leena Chamamyan (maybe that's how you spell her name, but probably not). It'll be the third time I've seen her and I own her two CDs. She rocks the Arabic jazz-ish music. And my socks.

Hopefully I won't end up on TV. Everytime I go to a cultural event, my friends try to push me to talk to the Syrian TV camera roving around. Yesterday Tariq even went up to the reporter and told her there was a foreigner over there, while I was yelling, "She doesn't care." Some of my friends, who I met back when I was struggling to say things like, "The sheep also meat no meat tummy pain no thank you pain," and are very proud of teaching me to now say things like, "Thank you, I'm sure the meat is delicious but it will cause me stomach pain," and swearing, of course.

They also try to push me to introduce myself to the artist.
"What would I say?"
"Just that you like their music. They'll be flattered that a foreigner likes it."

I believe this is just a plot to have an excuse to shake hands with the musician themselves, as I observed when pushed to congratulate an opera singer at Dar al-Assad. I imagine while I'm saying "I like your voice," in my retarded accent, my friends are behind me, looking at the artist as if to say, "Sorry what can you do? She's foreign and weird. But nice to meet you too."