More Steps In Each Process

Nothing is ever simple. I want to be clear about this, and make no mistake: I don't resent the long processes I've had to go through for things I have heretofore taken for granted. I'm just noticing, that's all. I'm noticing the many many steps it takes when you have to do it for the first time in a new place. Cooking vegetables, washing clothes, putting up curtains. Each a strange and separate victory.

I wanted to eat some vegetables, so Stacey and I found the market. I wrongfully accused the vendor of not returning enough change; we bought the vegetables and left. Walked home, chopped vegetables. Got out a pan. The stove didn't work. So we learned how to turn on the gas for the stove, and how to light the pilot light. This was a complicated process, since the pilot light wasn't in its usual place for me, and I don't know anything about stoves to begin with. I was able to accomplish my goal of eating cooked vegetables, it just took all evening, a few tools, and a few risks.

Next, I wanted to wash clothes. I examined the washer, and thought I figured out the settings. But the water still had to be turned on manually. When it did start, it took three hours. I guess I chose the you'll-be-elderly-when-this-is-over setting.

My room has been in desperate need of curtains. One day this week, I found a store with some possibilities, but I realized I had to measure the windows first. Today I went to Ikea with some other teachers, and bought curtains that are somewhat too long, I found. But the real problem was how to put them up. The ceiling is eight feet high, and the rod is at the top. What's more, in order to put curtains directly on the rod, presumably one has to remove the fixture from the wall. Nope. I solved that problem by employing shower curtain rings. 

I solved the height problem by moving the coffee table to my bedroom, placing a chair on the coffee table (all sturdier than it sounds), realizing I didn't have enough shower curtain rings, going to two stores for shower curtain rings, coming home and finishing the job, then eating leftover cooked vegetables. One feat at a time, please.

Market

Stacey and I went out today to explore our neighborhood. It was a multi-dimensional trip, filled with optimism. We wanted to learn the neighborhood, buy an outrageously long list that included a doormat and a particular type of water filter, and to end the trip with smoothies. All of this sounded feasible in our minds.

We found the shops, and entered one with lots of shampoo in the window. Many men were rushing in and out. Inside, to the right were shampoos of all sorts, and to the left, wine of all sorts. Maybe liquor, too? We got caught up in a tide of leaving men, and saw no more. Shampoo is stupid, anyway, and we didn't need it that badly.

Next, a hardware store, in the front of which were stacked plastic containers of all shapes and sizes. Atop one pile snoozed a black and white cat that Stacey told me we could not have.

Then to the market where they sell vegetables, meat, olives, and fresh and dried fruit. Olives have appeared rather often in the last 24 hours, and I'm pleased with that. I admit to feeling rather daunted by the market stands, because they were soon to close, and we had their full attention. I find that annoying in places where I do speak the language. It was here that I realized I didn't even remember French numbers. We left for a supermarket where we could see the numbers, and maybe overpay, but at least avoid the staring.

On our way home, we remembered our desire for smoothies: It's hot, and smoothies are good! And look, there seems to be a place that sells beer... but probably other things, like maybe smoothies?

Here is where we found out that we didn't know the French word for smoothie, and we didn't have our phones with us to translate it. So we got beers, and they served us olives and peanuts, and one Moroccan bought us a second round. I'll leave it to you to Google what "smoothie" is in French. And I'll leave it to you to surmise whether we got a little lost on our way home.

Oh, never mind: it's "smoothie," and yes.

June

It's beautiful: being overcome
by simple exhaustion at the end of a school year.

[Breathe.]

It's beautiful.

First Day of the Semester

I dismissed a class almost ten minutes early today. I was looking at the wrong schedule. They came back puzzled and chatty.

First days of anything ... I'm not a fan. I have to constantly talk myself down and say things like, "you've done a lot of first things, and you've gotten used to them! Remember the obstacle course at boot camp at age eleven? Remember opening McDonald's at 4am in July? You'll get used to this."

The moment I realize what I'm doing here, teaching and advising, I am liable to hit some strange Freak Out button (this button is visible only after 7pm). In essence, it's not so hard: plan some reading and writing, give a vocabulary test occasionally, hang out with teenagers from different countries. Really, it's wonderful in a basic way. But as soon as I begin to think about the philosophy and the agenda and the goals and the essential questions that have to back up every single thing I say... Well, I say, higher education has only complicated things.