Sunday, September 12, 2010

sounds and time

Castle-like, we hear pigeons flapping around the walls of our room. Every day bells sound from churches perched around this round valley. The Basilica of the Annunciation sits like the spoke of the wheel just over a few roofs from the Fauzi's middle eastern windows. Every day the sun shines. Every day water and trash drip down the middle of narrow streets with narrower gutters running down the middle. Every day there is pita, falafal, tomatoes, chocolate spread and Arabic coffee to eat and drink.

Yesterday we learned how to make Arabic coffee from one of our favorite fellow volunteers, Guy - a Jew from Tel Aviv. Philip could talk to and learn from Guy for hours every day. A kindred spirit of some kind.

So, the water boils in a small pot; add heaping spoonfuls of the finely ground coffee and half of that in sugar; stir into boiling water; boil again and again until the foam "turns," disappears, but watch carefully that it does not boil over. Cardamom floats to the top, grounds to the bottom. Serve in small shots with cake that someone mysteriously makes every day.

Our time has been consumed by the Fauzi Azar Inn recently. Someone told us yesterday that in this culture we "have to know what we want" because if we don't just tell them they will assume we are completely flexible. So we sat down to talk about what we really want.

In the meantime, we work at the Fauzi because we live so close and because it is a holiday weekend. We work 5-6 hours a day each. Sometimes we sit and read a book in the gigantic ceilinged foyer while we wait for someone to have a question or check in or check out. We wash a few dishes in the kitchen (free tea, coffee, milk and water for the quests and staff and others who wander in), chat about procedure with someone who has been here at least a few days longer than we have, we sit for hours on the balcony and talk about politics and morality and religion with other volunteers, we help the staff strip the maroon sheets and towels from dorm beds and remake them, we practice the numbers and how to say "how much is it?" and "good morning" in Arabic.

For now it is enough. "No problem."

1 comment:

Rebecca said...

I have tasted that mysteriously made cake at the Fauzi also! What a great memory that this post brought back. Thank you both for sharing your blog with me.