American Girl

One thing I always forget about living abroad is how American you feel. Zeba made me feel most welcome in the apartment. I think she thought it was strange that I would come here alone, however. Within the first 10 minutes of meeting me, she told me that her 15-year-old daughter would sleep with me, if I would like. This was a sticky moment because I didn’t want to sound rude by blankly refusing the offer, but I also didn’t really want the company. As I thanked her profusely and refused, I tried to explain that in America it’s normal to sleep alone. She seemed to understand, but made sure that I had company right up until I went to bed. Not wanting to offend, I kept the door to my apartment open and the daughter, mother and maid went in and out all evening.

In addition to desiring some space, I also could not help but find the apartment filthy. I longed for some bleach. It wasn’t disgusting, but it was just not clean. Later that week I went with the daughter and maid to the store and tried to buy cleaning fluids. I asked for some advice, and they looked at me like I was crazy. "We don’t clean the floors." So I looked at all the bottles and bought three that said disinfectant on them. The daughter came in a few times while I was at work and commented, "You are STILL cleaning?!" It is my American Heritage, I told her.

This week I’ve gotten into the habit of taking long "naps" after school. This gives me time to do some e-mailing and correct some notebooks before getting overcome with company. The landlady is starting a Beauty Parlor on the roof, so the two employees also like to come and see me. They don’t speak much English, so we look at each other and smile. And then laugh. And then drink tea.