Two Weeks of Treaching

I have a new found respect for Elementary School teachers. Not that I didn't respect them as much as a High School teacher, I just thought teaching was teaching.

WRONG!

After my first two full weeks I have learned teaching to this age well takes the devotion of a Labrador, the patience of a Saint, the planning of a NASA Apollo mision, the oration of a Toastmaster, the endurance of an Iron Man runner and the proper sleeping of a narcoleptic. I am napping for the first time in about twenty-five years!

Not only have I gone from one country to another, I have gone from teaching one extreme to another. The families that can afford this school are significantly different than the ones whose children attend the inner-city day care center that was Manual High School. On one hand the majority of the parents don't show up for conferences, and on the other hand the parents show up out of nowhere to speak with you. On one hand the kids take public transportation or walk through gang areas to get to school, and on the other hand the families "driver" drops them off in the morning. What is it with me and extremes. Not only can I not sort them out of my personal life, now I am dealing with them in my professional life as well. Ahh the ol' yen and yang. There is a balance to the world.

This weekend I am off to a famous Crusader castle (not going to even try and spell it) and next weekend we are off to Lebannon for some international banking and drinking. In that order of course. Hope all is well in the States and I will leave you with this nice international joke:

The UN sent an urgent memo to all countries asking if they would please share thier opinion on how to end starvation in the rest of the world. They replied as follows:
China didn't know what opinion meant.
South America didn't know what please meant.
Western Europe didn't know what starvation meant.
The Middle East didn't know what share meant.
The US din't know what the rest of the world meant.

The Hand of God

It is interesting how different cultures maneuver through traffic as pedestrians. In the US drivers generally follow rules and, depending on the state and city, the pedestrians usually follow a few of thier own. For instance, in Denver, CO I could drive between people just entering a crosswalk from both sides and they would expect me to do so. In fact, I have become angry at people that slowed down as I was timing traffic to cross - crossing traffic is an art form. In Portland, OR I was given the finger many times for this maneuver since the pedestrians have the right-of-way. Actually, in Oregon if someone is STEPPING into the crosswalk as you are approaching it you legally must yield to the walker.

All things considered I am truly in awe of how big the balls are in Syria when it comes to crossing traffic. One word...FROGGER. Everyone remembers this wonderfull retro game that involved hoping a small frog across a busy, multi-laned street all-the-while dogding amazingly diferent traffic. Little did I know that so many hours of my youth had been training me to survive where I now reside.

Last night walking back from the Souk, Chris and I witnessed a move that was both impressive, couragious, and downright idiotic. Imagine, if you can, a small woman in full black coverings, gloves, and Hijab crossing against raging traffic and just stepping in front of a speeding taxi like a cop with a nine and a badge. Except the only thing she had was what we have dubbed "the hand of God." It is so named because we discerned either it was God's will for the taxi not to smush her like a little green frog, or she was prepared to meet her maker and just going for it. Either way, God was involved, and she just put up the universal sign for halt. As you already know she lived (I wouldn't tell this story the same way had she been smushed) and Chris and I gained a new 'technique' for crossing traffic. If all else fails just put up the "Hand of God."

On a different note, I will either die a miserable death from some random little bug floating around here, or my immune system will by so strong the should be able to cure diseases with my blood! Yes I am sick again. I have recently met up with my long lost friend "solid poo" and am in good spirits. I have also met a new friend "snotty nose" and we aren't getting along so well right now. I guess everyone gets sick in a new country and, oh, lucky me, I also get to have a new school as well. How many things CAN I throw at my imune system? To the Bat Cave!

The kids are settled down a little this week but still amazingly wired. A nice combination of poor planning (on my and the schools part), being spoiled and rich (not on my part), and also it is the fourth full day of school. I am going to give them the hand of God and see what happens.

On a political note, Kofi Anan's opening speech to the UN tonight was dead on. We don't have any satellite hookups yet so at least we get BBC World. I miss watching football, but some of the political stuff on tv here you just don't get anywhere in the world. Think of everything that you see on our tv, now imagine you are watching the other side. It is wierd to watch the arab prospective on the war, Palestine, and American politics. I wish everyone I know could have the conversations I have had. I find myself truly representing the middle when I have to explain to people the politics in our country. Lucky for me we are pretty split on issues, it makes the conversations so much easier "so half of the people agree with this and the other half don't.." I have had to explain the Electoral College (I still don't know why we still have this), the popular vote, states rights, how much our federal government spends on things, commonly held Republican, Democrat, and Independant views. Good thing I know history and politics or I would be screwed.

Another amazing experience is living with a Brit, and working with Canadians. Now I understand each country better, and we talk all the time about politics, religion and culture. Our cultures are so close but so different at the same time. They don't understand how we don't have health care and have to pay for our education, and I don't understand the use of a Constitutional Monarchy, and how Canada can still be relating to the Queen of England. It's fun...we play poker.

I can honestly say that when I get paid again next week I am going in for another Hammam. And Marc, I am not coming back fat and hairy so you can get a free rub-down - I am coming back trim and hairy so I can get the free rub-down ;)

Jenny Juniper and The Full Fourth Grade

My first week of teaching is finished and I need another massage. All tension lost via "the big guy in a towel" is now setting up residence in my neck and back. When teachers tell their children they are a pain in the neck, they really mean it!

My kids are energetic, intelligent, well funded, well equiped, highly trained, higly motivated annoyance machines. I spent my first week disciplining a raging nightmare of Scooby-Doo and Spider Man. Flashes of color and flying pencils are all that I truly remember. The headlines in the local paper read "American Man Run Over By Children in First Mob Related Fatality in Years." They mugged me!

That put aside, my classroom is crap, I have no materials, no A/C, no heater, no teacher's desk, not enough desks for the kids, my assistant didn't show up yesterday, and I got last months paycheck today. Never in a million years will you hear me speak or write "National School of Aleppo" and "organized" in the same sentence after this one.

On a brighter note I saw an amzing performance art piece sponsered by the French embassy last night. I guess the embassy brings in troupes and artists to spread some French culture around here. It was a silent piece that went on for almost an hour with a guy in a room emoting to the audience silently. The amazing part was it was choreographed with music and A/V projection, so that much of it was a "second projection" of his image on one of the walls. He was the strongest guy I have seen in a long time - I wonder if he is a climber. He would handstand on the floor by the wall, or one-handed press himself up with his feet on the wall, so that on the A/V screen it looked like a different view of a guy standing. All things like this with good athletics, acting, and music.

Some university friends of ours took us unsuspectingly. At one point my friend put his arm around me in the theater and said to us "look I have an American hostage!" It is pretty funny how far from reality this is here and how much of a joke it is that the US is so against Syria. I wish everyone could see and experience what I experience, then everyone wouldn't be so afraid. People are so amazing here, and it really is more safe than home even for me.

I guess if something else happens that is interesting I will write it up, otherwise it is off to the "Cat Bar" for some coffee and arabic lessons, and then later on...poker with the Westerners. Wish me luck.

Deep thoughts by Ahmed Hamdy

Sitting around my nice new flat, watching satellite TV, I realized that I really like rap from foreign languages. I have NO clue what they are saying! They can be rapping about cars, girls, hard times, gangs, love, milking a cow; who the heck knows? NOT ME, and I like it that way. Knowing what is being said is distracting if you just want to bob your head to a beat. There you are, on the stoop, drinkin' a forty, listening to some phat beats and SCREEEEECH; "what did he just say about the gentrification of the social classes in suburban Romania?" It ruins the whole experience of just being in the moment. Not with World Rap!!!!

Thats right for 3 installments of 19.99 you can have the best compilation of rap you DON'T understand! Jamaican, Polish, Libyan, Korean; it's all here! Tired of that same old party where everyone knows the words? With World Rap you can equalize the language barrier! No longer do you have to talk to that hot Swedish girl through your Spanish, a friends Portugese, and her cousins German! You can speak the language of World Rap, and later, the language of love!

So I finally have an apartment, and today we put food in the cupboards. PS, when making Arabic coffee don't leave the boiling carrafe unattended lest you want to clean-up scolding coffee goo. One cool thing about our apartment is satellite TV. Now I know many of you have digital cable or DirecTv, and Tivo, but with the old fasion satellite you can get illegal cards with nifty little codes that decode everything (sorry capitalists). Oh and did I mention it was a dollar!

Having no copyright laws is great! Music...free. Programs...free. Knock-offs...not free but pretty damn good. We have been watching BBC World and German TV. Once we get a card I will let you know what else. Hope all is well back in the first world. My love.

The 'Chris' Crib is Cinched!

Yee Haw, we finally got a place to live. That was the most painful month of existence. It would take being thrown in jail to have a more miserable experience in Syria! Perseverence is the word of the day. Oh, and Location, Location, Location. I am so glad to be out of the soulless suburb we were living in. There is only two places to eat (both expensive), and one corner store that will truly be missed. On to bigger and better things.

The new "Lad Pad" as Chris so eloquently named it is located right in downtown Aleppo. We have a local Shawarma place, Espresso shop, found our shady coffee hangout, a Chess/Coffee club, and many millions of other shops just a walk away. We still need a Pharmacy, Grocer, Snack shop, Bakery, and other favorites to be determined. Maslow was right with the heirarchy of needs - now that I have a sense of security with the apartment I feel beter, and can elevate my life to the next level. Agh...security...AND FREEDOM!

School is inching along, and I MEAN inching. We are doing the best with what we have and that is about the only good thing I can say; I am trying to stay positive. When I get my paycheck in US dollars and my reimbursements, THEN I will BE positive. Slowly...slowly.

With school starting I will soon be able to find a computer to download my pictures to. I will shoot some of the new crib and post them with the rest.

On the next episode of Chris In Syria, Chris has his first day of school...

Scrub me down and call me majnoon (take 2)

I have to edit this because the experience wasn't fully embellished the first time around. Yesterday Chris and I experienced a wonderful tradition called the Hammam. This is a Turkish style bath house where for a measly eight dollars you get to wash yourself down, soak in a sauna, get "exfoliated" by some big old guy in a towel, get lathered AND massaged AND chiropractically adjusted by some other big old guy in a towel, them back to the sauna, then a head massage with double washing (beard included), and finally a nice hot rinse (it's a run-on sentence I know).

When you first enter this place you have to walk for about five minutes through the hustle and bustle of the souk (covered market). There are people selling everything, and this time we walked through a part where they were selling fabrics (I will take pictures for you girls to choose from). We found the tattered old sign hanging high in the mist and smoke of the khan and entered down into a long narrow stairwell. This passage opened up into the grand room that was wood planked from it's high vaulted ceiling, all the way down to the relaxation beds and marble floor. From what we were told we went to an older "locals" Hammam.

After pidgeon Arabic and English we stripped down, put on a table cloth like sheet, took our fresh bar of soap (this stuff is awesome) and wandered back through a maze until we found the Sauna. Oh the Sauna.........still daydreaming............relaxing more now.......yes the sauna was ancient, fed by steam pipes, amazingly tiled (Raz you and your dad would love this place) and sweaty. After sitting in here for thirty or forty minutes we were directed out to a bathing area where the man slipped on a brillo glove and gestured for Chris to sit down next to him. I must admit I am glad Chris went first because I had the benefit of knowing which way to sit, flip, and flop at each slap of the glove. After the man took off a good VISIBLE layer of skin, he sent you over to another man for a "soapin". This guy lathered they hell out of you and massaged you at the same time. It was so nice, and then a nice little suprise. No not the "happy ending" you pervs, the adjustment! He folded your arms over one another and popped your back - TWICE. Then flipped you over, massaged and worked the back and neck. Then finished with another neck rub and CRACK! I hdan't had my neck popped like that for years. A Chiropractor couldn't even do it - this guy was good!

So after all of this we went back to the sauna (oh the agony). After another ten minutes or so we were beckoned back to the "soapy" room for a nice head wash. I have been needing a proper shower since I have been here and this guy put the 'rinse, repeat' into the label. He got my head, my face; he even scrubbed the hell out of my beard - it was awesome. I felt like a ceaser. After a nice warm dousing we were wrapped up in many towels and escorted back to our little day bed area. We had fresh cheese bread and a soda, some water, and just kicked it for a while. All warm and cozy, relaxed, fed - damn I was happy. The best part...EIGHT BUCKS - this would have cost two hundred dollars in the US.

After being scrubbed, and with a new glow about us, we walked the souk until we found our way out of the maze. We approached some little kids who were so excited to meet us that I truly believe it gave them Rock Star status just to say that they met us. I have two pictures to post when I can: one of us sitting in towels in the Hammam, and the other a pile of children bum-rushing the camera as I took their photo. Many of the kids were Palestinian and (sorry Republicans) likened the small kids that nobody wanted to Bush, Blair, and Sharon. Lots of the Palestinian kids think Hitler was pretty cool cause he got to kill Jews like they kill Palestinians. I guess if you've seen what they've seen you might too. Scarey what goes on with the Palestinians. What a mess.

On a lighter note I am as clean as I have ever felt in my life, well fed, and I think I might have an apartment. Things really do take forever. We have pinned the bossman down to give us our living money but alas it didn't work. He said he would take care of it, so God willing (Inchala) we will have our flat in a day or two. Everything around here is either Inchala, or Buchara (tomorrow). Not bad when I want to be lazy, but damn it if everyone else wants to be lazy:)