From Surviving the Heat to Donations

It's September and it's still hot. The nights are thankfully cooler but the sun still feels really close to me when I walk outside in the middle of the day. (An occurrence I have learned to avoid whenever possible.) However, I think I can now say that I have survived my first desert summer. For someone who absolutely loves water & trees, and whose idea of a perfect temperature is anywhere between 20-25 degrees Celsius -- I consider this a bit of an accomplishment. (Yep, I'm starting to think of the weather in Celsius now. The weird thing is that I still think in Fahrenheit for baking...)

I think dealing with the heat was one of the things I was most nervous about upon moving here. And to be honest, that first week in June when the temperatures rose close to 40 degrees Celsius, I flopped on my bed content to be a listless lump of human with only enough energy to drink out of a water bottle. Yet practicality set in, or perhaps my sense of adaptability, and I decided that with a few adjustments the summer could be dealt with:

Rule #1 - Try not to walk outside anytime between noon and 4pm.
Rule #2 - Make sure your water bottle is always filled.
Rule #3 - Acquire a fan, but try to make sure it doesn't fall when turned on because then the blades crack and it eventually explodes.
Rule #4 - Buy clothing that is appropriate to wear outside but also appropriate for the heat: i.e. light material that covers everything up to the ankles, wrists, and neck.

It's with this last rule that I had some difficulties. I don't particularly care for shopping unless it is for food, art supplies, downloads, or gifts. Perhaps this is because I still eye all of my belongings as to how easy it will be to move them. However, I dutifully entered the shops and set about the trial & error process of finding clothing that could work for the summer.

I failed on my first attempt. The two skirts I bought were thin enough but when the wind caught them they revealed my ankles and almost up to my knees... scandalous.

Well, I eventually discovered the right combinations for my survival and after living through both summer & winter here, I have a pretty good idea of which of the things I own I need and which I don't. Looking at these belongings, I am also fairly certain that someone else could use them better. Which brings me to donations.

How do you donate in this country??

I think my ignorance is a byproduct of my upbringing in the States where I am used to looking up the nearest donation site on the internet. This country operates more on word of mouth. Well, let the search begin...

Street Commentary

As I've mentioned in previous posts, it's quite hard to remain invisible on the streets. When I was here three years ago I used to call days that I didn't receive comments "ghost days" because I would feel like a ghost walking the sidewalks. I also gave designations for the different guys loitering on the streets. There were the "mannikins" - I would be walking down the street past a shop and then after I passed, would realize that the figure I had mistaken for a mannikin was actually a person. There were also the "parrots", those who were persistently repeating their "hello, how are you?" mantra.

Now that I've learned some of the language, a whole new window of amusement has opened for me. It's one thing to hear people trying to practice their English on you (i.e. my new favorite: the guy who passed by me today just saying "walking, walking"... 

...I really don't know what that was supposed to mean but somehow he managed to make it sound smarmy. I tried very hard not to laugh.) 

However, now I also get to hear the things that they don't expect me to understand. It can range from a group of little boys telling me in Arabic to give them money, a simple greeting that they laugh about afterwards thinking I don't understand, and once when my friend was walking down the street with me, simply: Banaat. Girls. Why yes, I do believe that we are, thank you for noticing. I once overheard a conversation about my friend and I, where a girl was saying in a conciliatory tone, "Well, the second one is pretty," implying of course that the first was not. Fairly certain I was the first one as my friend was looking quite adorable. It made me grin.

Ah yes, and I have two more to add to my List of Nationalities:

11. "Hello, señorita!" - I was so tempted to pull out my high school Spanish for this one but I was a good girl and held my tongue.
12. Enti alemaniyye?  - I suppose there is a German university not that far away from my city but that's the first time I've been mistaken for German.