Peace and grace,
Tom
P.S. For some reason I can't get some of the spacing to work properly below. Please excuse the odd layout at times.
METS 07
Tom Arthur
The wakeup call came at 1:30 AM to begin what would be an early morning trek up
The actual experience of riding a camel is one I hope never to relive again in my life. Imagine doing the splits for an hour while bouncing up and down. My guide would not let me cross my legs around the front peg of the saddle, and so I was required to ride up
In my real life I spend significant amounts of time and energy backpacking and climbing up mountain summits all in an effort to get away from the crowds. And here we were on a summit in
And the people were the
On the flight into
The next evening after a full day of sight-seeing, we had a further chance to experience the complexities of Syrians. A brother and sister came to speak with our group. They were Syrian Christians. The beginning of the discussion was more like a monologue, but eventually the sister invited us to ask frank questions about American impressions of
This was not the first time I had heard an Arab speak like this. Bishop Elias Chacour came to Duke Divinity School a couple of months before I left for METS and made the same assertion: he was an Arab Palestinian first (who was also an Israeli citizen) and then a Christian. He spoke in temporal terms. His physical birth came before his spiritual birth. But the temporal nature of his Arab-ness coming first had ramifications for his spiritual birth. These manifested themselves in an intense complexity of loyalties to
The family we spoke with did not have the nuanced theological language that Bishop Chacour spoke with, but they did have a similar understanding of the temporal nature of Christianity in relation to Arab culture. They reminded us that the Arab civilization and culture in all its diverse expressions existed long before Jesus ever walked the earth. In contrast,
This question of being an American Christian or a Christian American dogged me for the rest of the trip. I have come to a number of reflections upon this question. First, there is no such thing as a Christian or a Christianity that exists outside of culture. A relationship with Christ always must be one within a specific culture. In this way, the culture precedes Christianity. And yet the culture is not entirely equivalent with Christianity. Jesus is a real person and a relationship with Jesus is a real relationship. One engages Jesus from a particular culture, but it is Jesus who critiques the culture, not the other way around. But while the culture does not critique the relationship with Jesus, there is no way to engage the relationship with Jesus except through culture.
This reminds me of the tension expressed in the United Methodist Book of Disciple (BOD) between the relationship of Scripture to tradition, reason, and experience. The BOD says, “While we acknowledge the primacy of Scripture in theological reflection, our attempts to grasp its meaning always involve tradition, experience, and reason” (¶104, pg. 79). It could be said, “While I acknowledge the primacy of a relationship with Jesus in reflection about the cultures of the world, my attempt to grasp its significance always involves the cultures within which I find myself.” This brings me to my next reflection.
Second, the unfortunate reality in
Third, there exists for the Western Christian in general and the American Christian in particular a danger in being an American first and a Christian second that does not exist for Christians of some other cultures. It is the danger of confusing power with Christianity. As we sailed upon the
During this conversation I asked Peter whether he was a Palestinian Christian or a Christian Palestinian. After pondering the distinction for a while he responded, “I am a Christian citizen.” He went on to explain that what he meant by this was that he saw himself as a citizen of the world before any one particular nationality. I wonder whether he was not falling into the same trap that I had been falling into thinking that my Christianity could exist outside of the cultures within which I find myself.
Fourth, it is essential for Christians to build relationships with Christians of other cultures. Living in one particular culture means wearing blinders. These blinders can never fully be taken off (there is no supra-objective perspective that does not include some sort of perspective or bias), but one can become more aware that they exist and humble about one’s own perspective. By getting to know people who are not like me, I begin to become aware of the blind spots in my vision, particularly the ways that I have confused my own culture with following Jesus. Relationships with Christians of other cultures helps keep me from idolatry. In this respect then, Christians of other cultures are a locus of my own salvation (and possibly I am of theirs). This is not to suggest that it is because of them that I am saved, but rather that through them God’s grace works to disentangle my own notions of salvation from God’s notions of salvation. I am not using the word “salvation” here in its usual American evangelical sense of meaning only “justification” but rather in its fullest Wesleyan sense to include the entire work of God’s grace from the beginning dawn of it in the soul to its final consummation in sanctification and glorification. In this sense our salvation is dependent upon getting to know people and especially Christians who see things different that we do. (This statement is certain to be misunderstood by any who are not familiar with a Wesleyan conception of salvation as including both justification and sanctification. I do not mean that we “work” our own justification, but rather that there are works consistent with repentance [Acts 26:20] and those works are as much a part of our salvation/sanctification as justification is part of our salvation.) Christians from other cultures certainly provide such a means of grace, which leads me to my last reflection.
Fifth, Jesus was God incarnate, incarnated in this culture of the
Am I an American Christian or a Christian American? Or should I aspire as Peter does to be a Christian citizen of the world? I do not have clear answers to these questions, but the Middle East Travel Seminar has helped me to come in contact with Christians who see this world in different ways than my own. I pray that through them God might remove the blinders from my own eyes so that I might see more fully the idols which I serve in my own culture so as to repent of them and be saved to worship the one true God who is the Father of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ.
5 comments:
we were thinking about you... although you are probably home now (check posting date!)... we are slackers in the blogging department. great pictures, i am drooling over them... you rock tom! tell sarah hello for me :o)
Kori (and Greg too) Coddington
oh! and happy birthday... we are losers there too...
Kori (and Greg too)
i love this blogging stuff... can't get enough of it! what else could i type in here... hmmm...
(kori, again)
I didnt even read it, it was too boring. read mine it is so much cooler The wake up call for me was at eight thirty, and after a long flight and heavy luggage it only seemed as if I had gotten three hours of sleep, mostly because I only had. I awoke for the hard mattress which was said to be my bed a slowly slouched down the staircase in the townhouse of my exchange family. To my surprise, they all seemed to be full of such energy and they didn’t seem to be the nearest to tired. So I decided to assume that it was the changes in time zones that had my mind boggled. I realized it was only eight in the morning and decided to go outside and catch a breeze of fresh air, but to revelation the air was actually hot and there was not even the casual morning breeze I used to receive all the time as I awoke in the Untied States. From that point on I knew, as a Denver Colorado chick I would not be able to withstand this harsh heat wave excuse for weather. I sprawled back through the front door and approached the kitchen table. I thought to myself, “Great. Yet another thing for me to have to adjust to.” I really don’t eat dinner, lunch, nor breakfast with my family, we all just take our food go to our room sit on our beds watch television and eat alone. If we ever want to talk to each other we approach whomever and begin to speak, that is the way it has always been for me and that is why I think my family and I bond so well. We are never to close for comfort or always looking at each other, distance makes the heart grow fond. So I put my casualties aside and stared at the breakfast that was prepared. In my opinion it looked like vomit! But to be polite I tasted a small proportion, swallowed it then asked to be excused. Needless to say five minuets later I regurgitated it. I sat in my room all day as my exchange family prayed. I couldn’t even watch television, so I sat looking at a book trying to lie to myself and say I was reading it, but both my conscious and I know I really wasn’t. Finally at one point in time my family said they were going to the store. I thought that this may actually be something I was good at, and if I didn’t like the stores they were going into I could just run off the Hot Topic or the wrestling department. To my wretchedness we went to a fish mart. I didn’t go in though because my fear of antihelixes. So I just meandered meaninglessly across the street looking at all the people in strange clothing walk by. Thinking to myself, that these people are crazy it is probably a hundred degrees out here and they are wearing long sleeve shirts. I waited probably all of five minuets, but as an impatient American girl it felt like an hour. I might of actually played with a Barbie, I sat this because as a punk it is my job to despise Barbie. I eased dropped on the few English conversations as people walked passed me. I was picking on the fleece of my plaid black and white skull shirt as a man walked passed me with what I think to be was his wife and whispered “Americans!” I, being the polite person I am said nothing, I chose to take the high rode and just murder him in my “american mind”. Once we finally went home I noticed there was no traffic, it seemed a little odd to me. But then I noticed that there were hardly any cars roaming the streets at all. All I saw were busses, cabs and trains. So I pressed my head against the hot window and prepared myself for a long ride home. I just hoped I didn’t get motion sickness like I usually do. So I sang quietly to myself, trying to think of a new song for my band once I got back to America. I guess I fell asleep because once we finally stopped the daughter of my exchange parents had to awake me, by of course shaking me. When I got inside the house I noticed it smelled like cake. I was secretly excited, thinking that something would actually go well that day, I was wrong. The cake ended up being something really strange. It was like cake with vegetables in it, and the only cake I eat with vegetables in it is carrot cake. So I skipped desert and vomited dinner. With myself knowing that throughout this whole trip I would lose at least ten pounds. While sitting on my bed waiting to fall asleep I though of how much Syria did not have. It didn’t have good food, good people (well people that didn’t like Americans) good technology, it really didn’t have anything good, at least to me. After thinking for hours on end I finally dozed off, but only to be awoken at six o’clock in the morning. I thought are they crazy, I can wake up until seven thirty at the earliest. So I lazily got out of bed and ran bath water, I hate showers. I had the hot water running before I realized that this would be another hot day so I turned on the cod water and turned off the hot. Once I actually got into the water I was freezing, so I added just a little hot water to the combination. After getting out of the bath tub I assembled my out fit for the day. I was wearing another plaid skirt this time it had both black chains and white skulls with black backgrounds. The skirt in its entirety was black and white; I was also wearing one pair of black fishnet hobo gloves and a pair of white fish nets over the black one of the right hand and under the black one on the left hand. I had a pair of striped black and white knee highs, a black shirt that said, ‘Athletic Department” on it and a pair of converse that looked like they had graffiti all over them, they were pink black and white. I topped the outfit with a white head band and pink hoop earrings. Today the breakfast actually smelled good, so I scurried down the stairs to see what was cooking. As the mother seen me, she said, “I though I’d try something a little more American today.” in a friendly Arabian accent. She had merely cooked waffles, but they were blueberry so I ate them, with out syrup. Afterwards I decided to go take a walk. While I was walking I noticed that I passed at least three things labeled “Public Shower”. I also noticed that there was actually not much to any trash on the ground. The air was hot, extremely hot, but it did have this strange purity to it, and not even the hobos smelled like hobos. I thought quickly to my self, “This is some kind of hypocrisy, controlled by rabid mind eating zombies!” So I just walked home. On my hot, slow, tiring walk home I noticed that there was no one like me, by that I mean there were no punks, actually everyone looked the same. It was totally scary so I ran home. Once I entered the front door, out of breath I peered through the front window, I noticed that even my exchange family looked like everyone else, the only way to tell them apart, were the colors they were wearing and their faces. I had never seen such a case. I needed to hide, and quick! Now maybe I was sort of blowing the whole situation out of proportion, but my heart was raging and I felt a shortness of breath. I can not live in a world where everyone dresses the same, my mind felt as if it were going to explode. I stuck out like a sore thumb, whatever that is. Mobs of brown, black and white scarves surrounded me, walking all around me, then I felt like I was floating on air. The world began to spin around and if I am not mistaking I believe I had a revelation. But before I could grasp any concept I had already fallen to the ground. I awoke in a bed. So I got up and ran. My head was numb and hurt hurting. My joints all felt stiff. I ran endlessly, only to figure out two minuets later I had just ran in a complete circle around my room. What a sped thing to do. Then I sat down and started reflecting on my paroxysm attack. I rubbed my silly insecure head and slowly crept down the stairs trying to make my way unnoticed. But of course, as everything else, it did not work; I ended up tripping over my own foot and tumbling down all of the rest of the stairs. After finally landing everyone was too busy praying to even notice me, I wondered if they had even heard me fall down all of the stairs. I whispered the word “Freaks” under my breath and proceeded to the kitchen. After rumishing through the fridge I found some soda. I opened it up and left out of the back door. I sat on the hot concrete step and drank the soda slowly, trying to preserve the serene moment. The birds sand so elegantly and the winds blew at just the right tempo, they were actually pretty cool. I finished the soda and went back inside. I walked up the entire stair case and turned on the fan. With a short gasp I mellowed my way into a long, peaceful slumber. I awoke in the morning to a hungry stomach and the fresh smell of squeezed oranges. I looked at the clock and it read nine o two. O was surprised no one had woke me up. So I walked downstairs, only to be greeted by three cheerful faces asking me how I was. I sat at the table and replied to every question they asked with short answers. Then the mother placed a bowl of fresh, ripe raspberries in front of me. Then she added milk and handed me a spoon. I graciously accepted, and she placed a glass of sweet smelling orange juice, pulp and all beside the bowl. I thanked her and finished eating. They began to talk to me about how today was the Sabbath so all they would do all day is pray, and that they would really appreciate it if I used as little electricity as possible. So with respect I said okay and just went back upstairs to sleep. I slept the whole day away. I woke up the next morning, still half asleep with one eye open I had time to brush my teeth. I looked in the closet and thought, “What should I wear? Should I check the weather before I do my hair?” and the next thing I knew, from downstairs I hear them telling me how to dress, my hair looks bad and I think they’ll never understand me. But then I really woke up. I then realized that I was starting to feel a little homesick, and I missed my real family. So I got out of bed, took a bath, changed my clothes, ate, brushed my teeth and then headed off. My exchange family politely asked me where I was heading off to, and I told them I was just going for a little walk. I started walking and thinking about home much I missed home and how I missed technology and all of it’s sudden surprises. Then I finally came past a library. I ran inside with the small hope in my heart that they would have computers. They did. I started thinking, maybe things were on my side, maybe this day may work out right. I pulled the headphones off of my iPod and stuck them into the computer. I realized that my iPod was dead a few days ago, but dumb I left the charger at home. I started listening to videos on YouTube, and even got on MySpace to talk to my friends. After an hour or so, I logged out and walked home with a grin cheek to cheek, I had finally had something work out well, and I knew from that point on I would spend my days at the library. On my walk home, all of the people wearing the same thing didn’t bother me the slightest, I was too busy thinking about all of the news, and what was going on with my friends in America. Then I thought, before I went home, maybe I could cause a little mischief. So I ran into one of the public showers and closed the door. I turned on the cold water and was just laughing so hard. It was really cold in there but the fact that I knew I was doing something I was knew I wasn’t supposed to be doing thrilled me. I was getting soaked from head to toe, thinking of what I would say if my exchange family asked me why I was soaking wet. I finally hopped out of the shower, and headed home. I was still laughing because now I knew that if I hadn’t of stuck out before I definitely did now. But I felt hungry. So before going home I took a turn on a random street. I proceeded to walk and looking at all of the businesses. People stared at me from every direction, but I didn’t mind it anyway, I am proud to be a crazy American. I finally came past a place that sold pizza and fries. He was getting no business for whatever reason so I searched through my pockets only to find a few wet dollars and pulled them out. I spent only one American dollar and bought three large slices of pizza, one side of fries and a milkshake. After eating I felt pleased. Finally a place to eat good American food, for cheap prices. I received about twenty Syrian pounds back. I decided that I would continue to walk and look at some of the other stores there. Then I finally passed this store that was selling these really cool looking scarves and they were only ten Syrian pounds so I pulled out ten from the twenty I had and the nineteen dollars and bought one. It was covered with lace and beads and other cool looking things. I wrapped it around my neck and started walking the opposite way of home hoping to find some other cool places. As I was walking this lady stopped me to put the scarf on me, to what is thought to be the proper method of wearing it. She wrapped it around my wet hair and sent me on my way. It was of a kind gesture, but to me it was kind of annoying, so after I passed the corner I unwrapped it and put it around my neck. Once I got onto the other corner I saw what to me looking like a mini America town. So I ran up to some of he stores. One was selling candy so I bought ten Syrian Pounds worth of candy, which you can believe is a lot of candy, then went on my way. Once I entered the house, I realized they were praying so I crept up the stairs. After plopping on my bed I realized in the heat my clothes had dried and I was no longer wet. I was so full from the pizza and things that I shoved one piece of candy in my mouth and fell asleep. I realized that most of my time is Syria may be spent sleeping, but I think it was mostly because of the unbearable heat.
i didnt even read it it was too boring read mine it is so much cooler The wake up call for me was at eight thirty, and after a long flight and heavy luggage it only seemed as if I had gotten three hours of sleep, mostly because I only had. I awoke for the hard mattress which was said to be my bed a slowly slouched down the staircase in the townhouse of my exchange family. To my surprise, they all seemed to be full of such energy and they didn’t seem to be the nearest to tired. So I decided to assume that it was the changes in time zones that had my mind boggled. I realized it was only eight in the morning and decided to go outside and catch a breeze of fresh air, but to revelation the air was actually hot and there was not even the casual morning breeze I used to receive all the time as I awoke in the Untied States. From that point on I knew, as a Denver Colorado chick I would not be able to withstand this harsh heat wave excuse for weather. I sprawled back through the front door and approached the kitchen table. I thought to myself, “Great. Yet another thing for me to have to adjust to.” I really don’t eat dinner, lunch, nor breakfast with my family, we all just take our food go to our room sit on our beds watch television and eat alone. If we ever want to talk to each other we approach whomever and begin to speak, that is the way it has always been for me and that is why I think my family and I bond so well. We are never to close for comfort or always looking at each other, distance makes the heart grow fond. So I put my casualties aside and stared at the breakfast that was prepared. In my opinion it looked like vomit! But to be polite I tasted a small proportion, swallowed it then asked to be excused. Needless to say five minuets later I regurgitated it. I sat in my room all day as my exchange family prayed. I couldn’t even watch television, so I sat looking at a book trying to lie to myself and say I was reading it, but both my conscious and I know I really wasn’t. Finally at one point in time my family said they were going to the store. I thought that this may actually be something I was good at, and if I didn’t like the stores they were going into I could just run off the Hot Topic or the wrestling department. To my wretchedness we went to a fish mart. I didn’t go in though because my fear of antihelixes. So I just meandered meaninglessly across the street looking at all the people in strange clothing walk by. Thinking to myself, that these people are crazy it is probably a hundred degrees out here and they are wearing long sleeve shirts. I waited probably all of five minuets, but as an impatient American girl it felt like an hour. I might of actually played with a Barbie, I sat this because as a punk it is my job to despise Barbie. I eased dropped on the few English conversations as people walked passed me. I was picking on the fleece of my plaid black and white skull shirt as a man walked passed me with what I think to be was his wife and whispered “Americans!” I, being the polite person I am said nothing, I chose to take the high rode and just murder him in my “american mind”. Once we finally went home I noticed there was no traffic, it seemed a little odd to me. But then I noticed that there were hardly any cars roaming the streets at all. All I saw were busses, cabs and trains. So I pressed my head against the hot window and prepared myself for a long ride home. I just hoped I didn’t get motion sickness like I usually do. So I sang quietly to myself, trying to think of a new song for my band once I got back to America. I guess I fell asleep because once we finally stopped the daughter of my exchange parents had to awake me, by of course shaking me. When I got inside the house I noticed it smelled like cake. I was secretly excited, thinking that something would actually go well that day, I was wrong. The cake ended up being something really strange. It was like cake with vegetables in it, and the only cake I eat with vegetables in it is carrot cake. So I skipped desert and vomited dinner. With myself knowing that throughout this whole trip I would lose at least ten pounds. While sitting on my bed waiting to fall asleep I though of how much Syria did not have. It didn’t have good food, good people (well people that didn’t like Americans) good technology, it really didn’t have anything good, at least to me. After thinking for hours on end I finally dozed off, but only to be awoken at six o’clock in the morning. I thought are they crazy, I can wake up until seven thirty at the earliest. So I lazily got out of bed and ran bath water, I hate showers. I had the hot water running before I realized that this would be another hot day so I turned on the cod water and turned off the hot. Once I actually got into the water I was freezing, so I added just a little hot water to the combination. After getting out of the bath tub I assembled my out fit for the day. I was wearing another plaid skirt this time it had both black chains and white skulls with black backgrounds. The skirt in its entirety was black and white; I was also wearing one pair of black fishnet hobo gloves and a pair of white fish nets over the black one of the right hand and under the black one on the left hand. I had a pair of striped black and white knee highs, a black shirt that said, ‘Athletic Department” on it and a pair of converse that looked like they had graffiti all over them, they were pink black and white. I topped the outfit with a white head band and pink hoop earrings. Today the breakfast actually smelled good, so I scurried down the stairs to see what was cooking. As the mother seen me, she said, “I though I’d try something a little more American today.” in a friendly Arabian accent. She had merely cooked waffles, but they were blueberry so I ate them, with out syrup. Afterwards I decided to go take a walk. While I was walking I noticed that I passed at least three things labeled “Public Shower”. I also noticed that there was actually not much to any trash on the ground. The air was hot, extremely hot, but it did have this strange purity to it, and not even the hobos smelled like hobos. I thought quickly to my self, “This is some kind of hypocrisy, controlled by rabid mind eating zombies!” So I just walked home. On my hot, slow, tiring walk home I noticed that there was no one like me, by that I mean there were no punks, actually everyone looked the same. It was totally scary so I ran home. Once I entered the front door, out of breath I peered through the front window, I noticed that even my exchange family looked like everyone else, the only way to tell them apart, were the colors they were wearing and their faces. I had never seen such a case. I needed to hide, and quick! Now maybe I was sort of blowing the whole situation out of proportion, but my heart was raging and I felt a shortness of breath. I can not live in a world where everyone dresses the same, my mind felt as if it were going to explode. I stuck out like a sore thumb, whatever that is. Mobs of brown, black and white scarves surrounded me, walking all around me, then I felt like I was floating on air. The world began to spin around and if I am not mistaking I believe I had a revelation. But before I could grasp any concept I had already fallen to the ground. I awoke in a bed. So I got up and ran. My head was numb and hurt hurting. My joints all felt stiff. I ran endlessly, only to figure out two minuets later I had just ran in a complete circle around my room. What a sped thing to do. Then I sat down and started reflecting on my paroxysm attack. I rubbed my silly insecure head and slowly crept down the stairs trying to make my way unnoticed. But of course, as everything else, it did not work; I ended up tripping over my own foot and tumbling down all of the rest of the stairs. After finally landing everyone was too busy praying to even notice me, I wondered if they had even heard me fall down all of the stairs. I whispered the word “Freaks” under my breath and proceeded to the kitchen. After rumishing through the fridge I found some soda. I opened it up and left out of the back door. I sat on the hot concrete step and drank the soda slowly, trying to preserve the serene moment. The birds sand so elegantly and the winds blew at just the right tempo, they were actually pretty cool. I finished the soda and went back inside. I walked up the entire stair case and turned on the fan. With a short gasp I mellowed my way into a long, peaceful slumber. I awoke in the morning to a hungry stomach and the fresh smell of squeezed oranges. I looked at the clock and it read nine o two. O was surprised no one had woke me up. So I walked downstairs, only to be greeted by three cheerful faces asking me how I was. I sat at the table and replied to every question they asked with short answers. Then the mother placed a bowl of fresh, ripe raspberries in front of me. Then she added milk and handed me a spoon. I graciously accepted, and she placed a glass of sweet smelling orange juice, pulp and all beside the bowl. I thanked her and finished eating. They began to talk to me about how today was the Sabbath so all they would do all day is pray, and that they would really appreciate it if I used as little electricity as possible. So with respect I said okay and just went back upstairs to sleep. I slept the whole day away. I woke up the next morning, still half asleep with one eye open I had time to brush my teeth. I looked in the closet and thought, “What should I wear? Should I check the weather before I do my hair?” and the next thing I knew, from downstairs I hear them telling me how to dress, my hair looks bad and I think they’ll never understand me. But then I really woke up. I then realized that I was starting to feel a little homesick, and I missed my real family. So I got out of bed, took a bath, changed my clothes, ate, brushed my teeth and then headed off. My exchange family politely asked me where I was heading off to, and I told them I was just going for a little walk. I started walking and thinking about home much I missed home and how I missed technology and all of it’s sudden surprises. Then I finally came past a library. I ran inside with the small hope in my heart that they would have computers. They did. I started thinking, maybe things were on my side, maybe this day may work out right. I pulled the headphones off of my iPod and stuck them into the computer. I realized that my iPod was dead a few days ago, but dumb I left the charger at home. I started listening to videos on YouTube, and even got on MySpace to talk to my friends. After an hour or so, I logged out and walked home with a grin cheek to cheek, I had finally had something work out well, and I knew from that point on I would spend my days at the library. On my walk home, all of the people wearing the same thing didn’t bother me the slightest, I was too busy thinking about all of the news, and what was going on with my friends in America. Then I thought, before I went home, maybe I could cause a little mischief. So I ran into one of the public showers and closed the door. I turned on the cold water and was just laughing so hard. It was really cold in there but the fact that I knew I was doing something I was knew I wasn’t supposed to be doing thrilled me. I was getting soaked from head to toe, thinking of what I would say if my exchange family asked me why I was soaking wet. I finally hopped out of the shower, and headed home. I was still laughing because now I knew that if I hadn’t of stuck out before I definitely did now. But I felt hungry. So before going home I took a turn on a random street. I proceeded to walk and looking at all of the businesses. People stared at me from every direction, but I didn’t mind it anyway, I am proud to be a crazy American. I finally came past a place that sold pizza and fries. He was getting no business for whatever reason so I searched through my pockets only to find a few wet dollars and pulled them out. I spent only one American dollar and bought three large slices of pizza, one side of fries and a milkshake. After eating I felt pleased. Finally a place to eat good American food, for cheap prices. I received about twenty Syrian pounds back. I decided that I would continue to walk and look at some of the other stores there. Then I finally passed this store that was selling these really cool looking scarves and they were only ten Syrian pounds so I pulled out ten from the twenty I had and the nineteen dollars and bought one. It was covered with lace and beads and other cool looking things. I wrapped it around my neck and started walking the opposite way of home hoping to find some other cool places. As I was walking this lady stopped me to put the scarf on me, to what is thought to be the proper method of wearing it. She wrapped it around my wet hair and sent me on my way. It was of a kind gesture, but to me it was kind of annoying, so after I passed the corner I unwrapped it and put it around my neck. Once I got onto the other corner I saw what to me looking like a mini America town. So I ran up to some of he stores. One was selling candy so I bought ten Syrian Pounds worth of candy, which you can believe is a lot of candy, then went on my way. Once I entered the house, I realized they were praying so I crept up the stairs. After plopping on my bed I realized in the heat my clothes had dried and I was no longer wet. I was so full from the pizza and things that I shoved one piece of candy in my mouth and fell asleep. I realized that most of my time is Syria may be spent sleeping, but I think it was mostly because of the unbearable heat.
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