Sitting on the Chinese bus

Introducing yourself here is one of the hardest things I do on a regular basis. Here's a snippet of conversation from yesterday:

Me: "Hi, what's your name?"

Chinese girl: "Lipaoxuanling." (or something similar)

Me: "What?"

Her: "Just call me Ling. What's your name?"

Me: "Beth."

Her: "What?"

Me: "Just call me Bess."

Lonesome women

Earth flows away from the shore where I stand,

her trees and grasses, more and more distant, shine.

Buds of chestnuts, lights of frail birches,

I won't see you anymore...

I am afraid to stay here alone

--Czeslaw Milosz

It seems like a thousand years since we lived in a world where everything is green. I already miss the mountains, the smell of pine, wildflowers growing next to my path. In this country, everything is monochromatic: the landscape the color of dust, the people specks of black and white. 

A couple of days ago, we went to the doctor's office. Apparently, they needed more blood samples and yet another chest x-ray before we got our residential visas. We sat in the waiting room watching TV in Arabic; I lamented the fact that I didn't bring a book. M. was called in before me, and when he left, I spotted a woman sitting in the back row, alone, completely covered. Something in me wanted to go meet her, completely spontaneously, which isn't like me too much. I have to confess here that for an American woman, meeting a super-conservative Arab woman can be slightly intimidating. When you can't see someone's face, you can't tell how they are reacting to you. Do they want to meet you? Do they just want you to go away and leave them alone? But I have decided to take a new tack: I smile at every covered woman I see. And in doing so, I've learned that sometimes, you can see them smiling back with their eyes only. 

In any case, I got up and took a seat next to her.

"Hi," I said, "I'm B."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't speak English."

"Oh. Um, salaam-aleikum. Ana B., schu ismaak?" (Hello, I'm B. What's your name?)

"Ana Ahlaam." (I'm Ahlaam)

With my extremely, horrible, tragically bad Arabic, I asked her if she would be interested in learning English. Her eyes absolutely lit up. I told her I wanted to learn Arabic, and maybe we could help each other. (Actually, I think I said something like, 'you want speak English?... I want speak Arabic. Maybe come to my house. I speak English, you speak Arabic. And I speak Arabic and you speak English.) Then the dr. called me in, and I left the room.

When I came back out, I didn't see her. Problem: How do you recognize the woman you met? I never thought about this before. Without seeing her face, I cannot tell her from the next woman. But alhamdulillah (thanks to God), M. saw her husband. The next day, he happened to see him on a guys' trip, and they both called their wives to see if they wanted to meet. I ended up spending the afternoon with Ahlaam, whose English is actually a lot better than she initially let on. We spent about 2 hours with actual language lessons; then we spent the next 3 hours talking, laughing, and laughing some more. I haven't immediately clicked with someone so well in years. 

She and I both feel really happy to have met. Ahlaam spends most of her time in her hotel room, either alone or with her husband. (When I asked her to come have dinner with me in the hotel restaurant, she said she couldn't because she promised her husband.) She hadn't been out to meet anyone, and so I suspect she was pretty lonely. After our short discussion in the dr.'s office, she told her husband, "I'm so happy! I have a friend!"

Since we are meeting so many people so quickly, it's been interesting to try to decide where we will spend our time and who we will pursue as friends. More and more, my heart has wanted to reach out to the wives of students, who may really be suffering from loneliness.

It's amazing that I was even able to meet Ahlaam. I am looking forward to a good friendship with her.