The times they are a-changin’

Now that Ramadan has ended, the structure of the day has changed once again.

Just when I got use to the old structure, it had to be replaced with a new one.

People have emerged from their homes and now eat and drink at cafés during the day.

A once empty street is now populated with hundreds of people.

People are no longer sleeping during the day.

Including myself.

Now I spend time in cafés drinking lots of coffee.

Bad habit.

Bad!

…

The weather has cooled a bit.

It’s beginning to feel like Fall.

My windows are closed along with the shutters, taking away any light I once had coming into my room.

I have a big wool blanket covering my bed now.

A big wool blanket with a picture of two lions on it.

It has also been raining.

Raining, raining, raining.

As I walk to school I say to Allah, “Please don’t let me slip and drown in the gutters.”

He’s a good listener.

I pass a street sweeper who patiently waits under a tree until the rain stops.

Then the wind picks up.

I continue to wonder if this is what a hurricane feels like.

Yesterday it flooded in downtown Tunis when we got off the TGM.

My shoes got wet and I had soggy feet.

I looked dead.

My sister told me that seventeen people died from the floods in southern Tunisia on Wednesday.

It goes with the saying: when it rains, it pours.

…

This week has been quite sleepy.

Stories become less exciting when you study versus travel abroad.

Days become messy and blend into one clump.

Everything that was once new and exciting is now second nature.

Oh I live in such a beautiful neighborhood.

Yeah, it’s okay now.

Whitewashed walls, blue shutters, pink flowers.

I’m so spoiled.

…….

On Thursday we went to downtown Tunis for the Tunisian national film festival, which began on the 23^rd and lasts until the 26th.

We stood in a crowded street and waited outside the Hotel Afrika.

We were surrounded by the stereotypical French movie buffs.

Cigarette smoke passes between us and finally we’re in.

We went to see Amreeka.

An old man was sitting in front of me, blocking the French subtitles.

It was a good movie though, heart-warming.

A moment later and I was back home in bed by 10pm.

……

On Friday we were dropped off at a mall in La Marsa by our academic director.

The four of us were there to observe the gender roles.

What did professor mean by “gender roles” and how were we going to find it in a shopping mall with so many different types of people around?

I don’t know, but I was about to find out.

Now that school has begun, few young people were shopping.

From the people I did see, I grouped into certain categories:

Slimy men: the men on the streets who have nothing better to do than group together and catcall.

Traditional working women: the women who may or may not wear the hijab while in public places. They go from point A to point B without distraction. They are commonly running errands while on break from work.

Businessmen: the men who wear tailored business suits with gelled back hair and huge sunglasses. They’re always on their cell phone.

The Westerners: the easy-to-spot Europeans with their Italian and French fashion snobbery.

There was nothing major to pick up from the whole experience.

No huge differences in gender roles.

People would go to the mall to shop like they do everywhere in every culture.

-Many people would shop solo.

-Many people would shop in groups of two or more.

-Many people would buy things.

-Many would browse and leave with nothing.

There was nothing major that men did that women didn’t do and vise-versa.

This made me wonder, why would professor want us to examine gender roles when it didn’t seem like there was any major things separating men from women?

Back in the classroom I found the answer.

Professor asks, “You saw men grouped together, right.”

“Right?”

“Sitting around doing nothing, right?”

“Indeed.”

“What about women, do you see them in the mall sitting around doing nothing?”

“Nope.”

I had an epiphany.

This has been an answer to a question I have had for years.

(Sometimes our most basic questions are so simple that we never think to explore them or to even make sense of them. Sometimes we’ve lived with our questions for so long that we don’t even see them as questions until we find the answers unexpectedly.)

Here, and everywhere else in the world (so it seems), public places are filled with men sitting around.

Where are the women?

They’re somewhere, they do exist.

This has to do with ownership and who owns what.

Do I hear tradition?

Women own the house. Men own everything outside the house.

After decades of gender role change, ownership of space is still similar to how it always seems to have been.

Around that same time a pen was placed to a piece of paper.

Public space:

Men feel they own it and that they belong to it. Women feel that public space is theirs to use temporarily.

Women go from point A to point B with things to do and people to see.

In between women commonly feel this public space is hostile and don’t make eye contact with anyone they are surrounded by.

But men continue to catcall and women continue to care less.

Private space:

Women feel that they run the household and do a majority of the chores that tradition has bestowed upon them. Men feel that they use this space temporarily.

Women make household rules and expect others to follow them.

…..

As much as we believe that tradition is a thing of yesterday, we need to think again.

Tunisia is becoming more traditional and is looking for their own form of Islam.

When one culture in the world becomes more liberal, a culture somewhere else in the world is becoming more traditional.

Modernization does not necessarily mean liberalization.

……

As for today, the only thing that happened is that I got my finger stuck in the door.

It hurt and I cursed.

But no understood me.

Later, I saw my grandma when I came home and greeted her by asking how she was.

That’s as far as I got before she kept talking and I had no idea what she was saying.

It was then when I realized that I didn’t know how to say, “I don’t know.”

So I said “Shwaya shwaya.”

We smiled, then I realized I don’t know how to say goodbye.

So I smiled again and hesitantly walked away.

I’m so rude!

Oh the joys of language.

…..

I like making my own things.

Such as my accent.

I speak English with an accent heard nowhere else in the world.

When I talk with my sister I wonder if she wonders where I am from.

My own world, I guess.

Chao….ciao.

No matter where you go there you are

This week marks the end of Ramadan.

Hamdullah!

Which means my family and I are now celebrating Aid El-Fitr.

This celebration lasts for three days (Sunday through Tuesday).

There is a morning prayer (which I slept through) followed by gift giving (in the form of food) to the poor and disadvantaged.

I celebrated by dancing to the radio in the the kitchen.

Families visit one another, distant family telephone one another.

The phone here has been ringing continuously.

Next thing I hear is my mom answer and say “y-ayshek, y-ayshek, y-ayshek”

Aid El-Fitr also marks my third week being here.

I am happy to say that my days now flow by and have a comfortable structure, I have settled in.

…

Language is another thing that has settled into my brain.

My neurons are now programmed to hear and lightly speak Tunisie as my external stimulus has changed and forced me to adjust in this foreign environment.

That’s one way to look at it.

In other words, it is becoming second nature to hear a language I barely understand and day by day, recognize words heard over and over.

As for Arabic:

What I have come to realize is that learning Arabic is like taking a calculus class in kindergarten.

For every new letter we learn, we also learn a word.

We write it over and over in the book.

It all seems like one long algorithm.

Then we write it on our notebooks and show our professor.

She checks it and if we do it well, she praises us.

Satisfaction!

We then say it over and over and over and over.

We animate it with our hands.

Just Max and I.

We look at one another and laugh.

He just yodeled while attempting to pronounce that last word.

It’s just too hard to take this class seriously.

….

Monday marks lecture day and we were given one by Dr. Largueche, who talked to us about minorities throughout Tunisia.

She spoke English with a heavy accent, but as beautiful as it was, it was incredibly difficult to understand and follow.

My notes were messy and scrambled.

What I did manage to read from my notes was who immigrated here back in the 19^th and 20^th century.

Tunis was a desired seaport to immigrate to for people who lived in Sicily/Italy, France, Malta, Greece, Turkey and even Russia (during the Bolshevik Revolution).

There were also the Jewish, who had their own spot in the medina.

The Jewish were grouped by their religion as compared to which country they came from.

Although Tunisia was a French protectorate in the 1920’s, there were more Italians than any other minority group.

Those Italians, how could they?!

But miraculously by 1931, the French exceeded the Italian population.

Only by several hundred more, though.

I can only image how they did that.

Dr. Largueche further discussed how the minorities (excluding the French) were often given lower salaries and only a choice of certain professions.

Inequality.

But now everyone is equal and happy.

That’s about all I can recall before my notes get sloppy.

…

Tuesday marks our field-study seminar day, where we had a reading and discussion with our academic director about the difference between culture and civilization.

Our conclusion as to the difference between culture and civilization was that you could have “less civilized” or “more civilized” civilizations.

But with culture, you either have it or you do not.

Somehow poetry was tied into this.

Professor will always find a way to tie Wordsworth into any conversation.

He discussed the difference between the soul and the spirit and how one can change the spirit but not the soul.

The soul is the innermost center of us that houses everything that defines us, no matter how our life situation changes. It is our nature.

Our spirit is our second nature, one that is learned based off our surrounding.

Professor discussed how a flower is not beautiful but that we bestow beauty on it from our spirits.

That’s why we find it beautiful, because we believe it is based off our surroundings (learning by witnessing people admire a flower).

Somehow that is tied into our initial discussion on civilization and culture.

Somehow.

…

On Wednesday I encountered something worth describing gently.

With my own two eyes I witnessed two circumcisions.

(long and dramatic pause)

I feel like a changed woman.

The procedure took place on the dinner table.

The same table where we eat dinner every single night.

That’s so incredibly appetizing.

The two boys were sons of the woman who cleans the house on the weekends.

It was a family event and relatives came from everywhere.

As I rush to put something on worth labeling “circumcision festivities attire,” I race down the stairs in time to catch the two doctors enter the house.

One man, one woman.

They neatly place sheets over the table, lay out their tools and gracefully put their official white jackets on.

The boys sit like princes in their seats, watching.

My mom wants a picture with the seated boys and I, standing awkwardly behind them.

She gives the camera to my old grandfather who’s slouching over his cane.

He struggles to get the right angle, momentarily pauses, squints a little and poof the flash goes off.

(I NEED to see this photo – just to feel this classic moment in history)

My grandma closes the doors and window shutters.

This was serious business, too much for me.

I walk outside.

Mimi and I sat on the swings with the kids running around.

She says, “Its okay, it’s much better outside.”

There’s plenty of kids here for this event.

Why?

Because someone has to entertain them, duh.

The kids jump up and down. Run left and right. Do some headstands. Play with my hair. They talk to me and I nod with hesitation. They concentrate for five second and are briefly distracted by a slug.

Distraction, distraction, distraction.

The dog barks from behind the house.

The two brave boys get to see the dog right before their special time, in their gold and white royal getup.

I hear my name in the window and peer in.

My grandmother is ushering me inside to partake in this ordeal.

I felt squeamish but a little adventurous.

The same incense I recognized from Catholic mass was fuming outside the window.

Walking inside, there was a gathered apprehension that could be felt with the twenty relatives in the room.

Women wailed and I watched.

Silence.

The door opens and the first boy was up to bat.

As he was six, he had to be brave for his four-year old brother, who impatiently waits outside.

His bravery lasts for less than a minute.

As his screams get louder, so does the music.

There is mere terror in the four-year-old cries from outside.

The boys are communicating from inside, out.

Meanwhile I had the front seat.

Not by choice.

The male doctor is giving me step-by-step instructions on how to properly give a good circumcision.

Now I know everything!

My mother zooms around the room with a Kodax disposable camera taking up-close shots to make the moment last forever.

She’s quite the photographer.

After twenty minutes of injections, snips, stitches and finally bandages, boy number one is done.

Next is the little one.

He clutches to his father.

The female doctor has to tickle him to get him off his father.

Once on the table, his body is spread with his father grabbing his arms and his uncle clutching his legs.

His father buries his face onto the little boy’s to reassure him that everything will be okay.

The same steps are followed and the rest is history.

Well not to the disposable camera, anyway.

…

On Thursday it was Geri’s 21^st birthday.

We celebrated by getting small cakes.

We were eventually disappointed with all them.

Now we know which bakery to avoid

…

Some observations I have made over the past weeks:

Tunisian radio plays club music daily and I find it odd where they play this music.

Such as in the grocery store.

Breezing through the store we come across rows of juice and soda.

We hear remixed songs of MGMT.

I didn’t know that was possible.

But one thing I can say: it really does make food shopping more exciting.

I wish the US would catch on to this.

…

Apparently there is some relation between the term “internet” and “toilet”.

Whenever I say the internet isn’t working, my sister always goes to flush the toilet.

She then comes back into the room to tell me that it is now working.

I’ve given up on the wireless internet and say, “Perfect, thank you.”

…

I should have mentioned this observation earlier, as it is an immediate observation one makes when they enter a country, but there is a lack of US, British and Canadian travelers/tourists here.

I have come across one and I think he was Australian now that I think about it.

Although they play old, bad music from the US, most influence is from Western Europe.

No fast-food globalization, just Coke.

I can live with that.

Shwaya shwaya

You have to love a culture who commonly uses a term that literally translates to “little by little.”

That must mean something right?

I am adapting little by little.

….

I was sick and I have returned back to health.

I am stronger and not easily swayed by food sickness anymore.

But that happens anywhere you travel internationally.

It has to get worse before it gets better.

I am on my way up.

…

Let me attempt to decipher some of the events from this past week:

On Monday my group and I had our first belly dancing class.

It is always a somewhat awkward experience having someone show you how they move their body and how your body has absolutely no idea how to mimic it.

A body has a mind of its own.

It chooses what it wants to do.

Observe then dance.

Dance while observing.

There was a lot of laughter.

It was taught in French, so I was out of the loop once again.

Might I mention that our teacher was a middle-aged man.

…

We also had our first lecture by one of the local professors at the University, Dr. Cherif.

She lectured us on the Tunisian family and how it has changed through the decades.

That’s when we learned about Habib Bourguiba, who was the first president after Tunisia won independence from France in 1956.

(Since independence there have been two presidents: Bourguiba as the first and now Ben Ali, who has been in power since 1987)

As Tunisia was young and fragile post independence, Bourguiba nursed it to strength and power through his 30 years in office.

After hearing many people, especially women, talk about him I find that he is well praised throughout political history.

He was one of many leaders during that time that was pro-Western, as he went to Paris to study politics. Many say he was the most Western of all Arabs.

One reason I think he was so successful at strengthening Tunisia was because he focused on women and their need for empowerment.

You can only understand a country by what they do for women.

They do a lot here, kudos.

He implemented women’s rights, family planning and free education for both genders.

You give a woman free education, they will want control of their bodies.

Abortion is legalized and there are several family planning places that every woman feels no guilt for visiting.

So in a sense women control their bodies and their sexuality.

Which means, families are smaller because more women want education and jobs outside the household.

Less kids (one or two) means that a woman can dedicate more time to her profession of choice.

As a result, Tunisia has kept a relatively low population growth since its independence, staying right around the 10 million mark.

That’s impressive.

As we all know, over population ultimately means an abuse of natural resources.

Less people means that there are more resources.

And more resources means wealth for the entire country.

So on and so forth.

…

Family is important and most Tunisians never leave where they were born.

Dr. Cherif even told us that, out of respect, she visits her parents at least two times a week.

She still does and will continue to.

In many instances, a newly married couple will build on top of their parent’s house to raise children. Their parents help them raise their children.

As mentioned before, the family is changing.

Women want to balance family life with a career.

Many women want the new way to raise a family but often times their husbands get nostalgic of traditional ways where women worked in the house and men outside.

Many times there are disagreements, which all too often lead to divorce.

The divorce rate is high here.

Dr. Cherif said that Tunisia has the highest rate throughout the Middle East and is fourth highest in the world.

I live with a single mom and she’s able to support her two daughters financially.

The evolution of the family.

…

On Tuesday we had our first field-study seminar, which means that the four of us rode the TGM to downtown Tunis to solve our academic director’s instructions.

To help prepare us for our final independent study project, we began researching Ibn Khaldoun, a famous Tunisian theorist from back in the 14th and 15th century.

I have a hard time imagining what life was like then.

Our academic director’s instructions were for us to summarize Khaldoun’s Theory of Culture.

Breezing through several of his essays in the CEMAT library, we came to find his theory on the rise and fall of all great civilizations.

Sweaty and hungry, as we were stuck in a stuffy and unconditioned room, we read on.

He claimed that the Berber lifestyle was more ideal as the basic needs were searched for on a daily basis. Movement and hunting/gathering were ideal living standards and human nature.

Khaldoun wrote on to discuss his opinion on the sedentary lifestyle.

Because basic needs were met easily from day to day in a sedentary setting, an individual spends their time focusing more on themselves and the luxuries they would hope to acquire.

Focusing more and more on luxuries, meanwhile never being personally fulfilled.

We continue on a path in life hoping to be fulfilled by our luxuries, only to find the joy and fulfillment wear away when we finally acquire these luxuries.

That’s why all great civilizations decay with added decadence.

…

On Friday we had another academic lecture, this time given by Ms. Boussedra on women and gender in Tunisia.

What we learned at this lecture was what type of Western transition Tunisia has been experiencing.

She told us that when she would travel to other parts of the Middle East, many people would say, “You think you’re from the Middle East? You’re from Africa.”

Meanwhile, I think people have their own image of Africa and I don’t think this is the image most people have.

So where does Tunisia, or North Africa for that matter, place themselves if they don’t belong to the continent they are on or to the region that brought Islam to them?

They have many influences from the North, West, East and South and from that, new, emerging identities form.

They’ve begun to celebrate Christmas and Valentines Day.

It seems to be it’s own region now.

Ms. Boussedra continued to discuss how women see themselves here.

Many women wear the hijab in the streets.

The common thought that many people have of a woman wearing a hijab is that she is loyal to her religion.

Many women wear them for different reasons, even non-religious wear this head covering.

Women may wear them to escape harassment, show respect or to show that she looking for a husband.

There is a clash between the traditional and modern ways of presenting oneself.

…

On Saturday I walked with Mimi to the American WWII cemetery, which is around four blocks away, lined by olive trees.

Inside the giant iron gates, everything was well manicured.

I didn’t think I was in Tunisia.

There were thousands and thousands of dead US soldiers with white gravestones.

I wonder if most soldiers had their family travel all the way here to see their grave.

…

Later on I went with my mom and sister to go shopping for clothes.

At one in the morning.

I was about to fall asleep as we walked from store to store.

Oh Ramadan, one more week.

…

Everyday I wake up at the break of dawn.

I walk twenty minutes through the narrow streets to get to class in a small, white building.

I use to walk with my head looking at the ground to discourage any communication between the people I pass and myself.

As my confidence in speaking Tunisie rises, so does my head from the ground.

I hate looking down. I would rather see where I am going.

…

At night, I have dinner with my mother and sister along with my grandparents.

We watch something on the TV that should be titled “honoring the sunset because now we can eat.”

There is a sequence of nature-like photos of the Middle East (mostly pictures of deserts and palm trees) as the Muezzin sings Qur’an verses.

Through dinner, we eat and eat and watch the TV from the dinner table.

I hate eggs, forever on.

Olive oil is the base of the food pyramid here.

After eating, Mimi and I walk the dog, Bianco, around the blocks of the neighborhood.

It’s amazing what conversations come up during the walks and how they are so often centered on Bianco and his need to claim territory every few steps.

We pass schools, a mosque and several cafes with men playing cards outside drinking mint tea.

Meanwhile hookah smoke passes by, smelling of apples.

Around every street corner there are cats scattered everywhere.

Last night we counted 40 cats.

She thinks I should bring some back to the US.

I think that’s a good idea.

Shalom.

Some things never change

Well as you guessed, I arrived safely in Tunis and a little sleep deprived.

After a shot of espresso, though, it was quite a different story.

….

I left the US having narrowly escaped the swine flu at Georgia Tech.

I was living out of my car for three weeks, sleeping on beds, couches and hardwood floors.

It was time for me to leave. I could feel it even though I didn’t want to.

I flew out of Atlanta in cold, rainy weather and arrived in Newark two hours later, only to find one of my co-travelers, Max, on his way over.

We didn’t plan this, it just happened.

Viola!

Might I mention, he’s one of three in my whole group.

A small, tight-knit group I imagine we will be.

Relieved, we ventured onto Rome only to bump into another SIT student, Geri, appropriately wearing cowboy boots.

We became the three musketeers and flew off across the Mediterranean to Tunis.

Only to arrive with our luggage elsewhere.

Probably still vacationing in Rome.

This moment reminded me of last summer in Peru, landing in a cold, dry place with a little carryon and no luggage.

We got into Tunis smoothly, several hours before we were to meet the academic director in the café.

From there, the fourth and complete member, Alex, found us. She has been in Tunisia for the past month.

She enlightened us on her experience.

We decided that between us, Max is our husband and Alex, Geri and I are his three wives.

I am wife number one, if you were wondering. We met first.

Tunisia is not polygamist though.

Only a man’s fantasy now.

Although Tunisia is 99% Muslim, I would consider this country more liberal than most of the Arab world.

…

We finally met our academic director several hours later.

After espresso, a major awakening.

He found us and walked us to his car.

To A Mercedes Benz.

Alhamdulillah!

Everything was going to be okay.

…

Our academic director, Dr Khelifa, a native Tunisian, went to Yale on Fulbright in English Literature.

This program though, is far from English literature. We will be learning and studying mass media and emerging identities in the Arab world. We are looking at Tunisians and how they are represented throughout the Arab world.

Up until the beginning of November we will be attending lectures, seminars and language classes, which will help us understand the Tunisian culture from before till present day.

For the month after that, well, we are all on our own, traveling to any place to do our final independent study project.

My independent study project is, insha’Allah, about the job market in Tunisia, looking at gender specifically.

Globalization has provided different jobs that conflict with the traditional Arab culture.

An example is that women are now offered the opportunity to waitress at cafes in Tunisia. Traditionally women are not meant to be servers in restaurants.

How has globalization affected who can get a job with what skills?

After being unemployed for the summer, I am sure to enjoy this research on a different level.

…

I really do enjoy what I have seen so far of Tunis.

It is extremely beautiful in the medina and the northern suburbs of Sidi Bu Said, Carthage and La Marsa.

The suburbs directly out of Tunis, though, look like the streets of any developing country.

But I guess suburbs in any city, even in a developed country could look somewhat impoverished.

There is a common theme in suburbs such as this: they were not planned by the government.

People just came in and built places to live with the gradual rise in population.

Then the government noticed this, found it unpreventable and surrendered by giving these areas electricity.

This seems to happen in a lot of cities around the world.

This is no new phenomenon.

…

As for the language…

I am slowly but surely making progress.

Throughout the months I will be taught Arabic and French.

Oh, and Tunsie.

So three languages really.

My mind is about to explode.

Arabic is their national language but I find it interesting that between Tunisians, French is used to describe anything with emotion, politics, fashion, etc.

So what is Arabic used for?

And Tunsie, don’t even get me started with it’s mixture of languages.

Walking on the streets I could talk in Tunsie, Arabic or French but in the home I will speak in French.

On any day, I can speak according to my mood.

I have options, I guess.

I really wish I knew at least a little of one language.

But again this is how one learns the quickest.

By putting themselves out there, out of comfort.

Also, by not putting any expectations as to how fast one can learn the language.

Never think one can become fluent in a language after being in the new place for a month.

For everyone it takes a different amount of time.

Never be hard on yourself as well.

Period.

…

Since our arrival, Dr Khelifa has taken us all around the city to meet with different people who all have something different to tell us.

On Thursday we were given a tour of ancient Carthage to see what this place once looked like as a ship port.

We were introduced to their old houses, bathing areas and cemeteries.

Fascinating.

Unfortunately everything now seems dusty and dry, unlike the hot and humid weather (110 F degrees on average).

On Friday, we visited two NGO’s, one, TAAMS, that is focused on improving the state of the impoverished suburbs. Their program focuses on empowering the locals through education and other such things as micro-loans.

The other NGO is AMIDEAST, which is more internationally known, as it is an organization geared to create positive relations between the US and the Arab world.

Later, we also visited the US embassy to be lectured about the safety in Tunisia.

By five middle-aged, white men.

They were a bit dry.

I would blame it on the jetlag, but they almost put me to sleep.

My dreams in working for the US government’s secret service dwindled after that visit.

I am bound to be a diplomat or a CIA agent no more.

What I did learn through that session was that Tunisia, at whole, is safer than any US city.

Small crime happens but for every cop one sees dressed, there are three who are not wearing their uniform.

Which means it is highly patrolled.

….

As for my host family, I live with the Dhaou family in the area of Carthage.

This place has some history.

I’m sure if you dig down several feet into the ground, an ancient discovery can be made instantly.

The president is my neighbor.

My mom, always well dressed and incredibly intelligent, is a biologist who studies infectious diseases in downtown Tunis.

I have a 13 year-old-sister, Mimi, who is still has summer to celebrate up until the ending of Ramadan at the end of September.

Conveniently, the weather will be cooler by the ending of Ramadan, which makes it easier for the kids to study in.

You can’t blame the school’s ventilation when it’s several hundreds of years old.

These two lovely ladies are who I live with on top of my grandparent’s blue and white house.

My mom and sister both speak a little English, enough English to get me by as we slowly exchange understanding between languages.

I think we will all be a great fit.

Adoption at its best.

…

For now I am here with my host family.

Sitting on my bed before I fall asleep.

I am living in Mimi’s room.

I have not successfully escaped Hannah Montana no matter where I go in the world.

We live right next to the railway, so trains pass by frequently.

Sunday marks the end of orientation.

Jetlag has settled but I do enjoy naps on occasion.

I still have not changed my watch or computer so I always know what time it is back in the US.

I just add five hours and I get the current Tunisian time.

…

Maybe culture shock is still coming, but I feel like this is the best place for me in this stage of my life right now.

We’ll see, insha’Allah.