Ramadhan came and went, as well as the Eid, the big holidays at the end of the month of fasting. Unfortunately my Arabic summer course was extended in order to finish the first level, so I went to college five days a week until the very last day of fasting.
I loved the classes, learned a lot and enjoyed the company of about twenty other students from a variety of countries – Australia, China, Thailand, Nigeria, Columbia, Indonesia, Mexico, Brasil, Kirgistan, Kasahstan – and most of them half my age. Tell me about feeling old sometimes. But they were all so nice and we had a great time. I was no fan of our teacher, a twenty-something guy with bad english (better for learning arabic, maybe) and not much of an idea about sucessful teaching. His behaviour against some of the students made me insist on finishing the first level on any cost, because the idea of having to repeat it with him and spend four months like this made my study diligently for hours at a time. Maybe he felt the same about me, I passed and will be able to attend the second level in October.
None of this was good for my writing and blogging, as you may well see here. Still, we had the best month of fasting that I had until I moved here: we had iftar (the meal after sunset) at home nearly every day, my husbands nieces and nephews enjoyed our small garden so much that they preferred not to invite us but brought their food to eat with us on the terrace. Weather was great: hot in daytime, but never humid, and after sunset getting so cool that sometimes we retired to the salon.
Now, Ramdhan is only a memory, ten days gone, weather changed to really hot and some humid, but now it does not matter so much. I enjoy my time off, but somehow still feel strange and don’t get started with anything decent. Maybe due to the fact that we will have visitors arriving on Friday, to stay with us until october. I try to prepare the house – I know I will enjoy the company, I only have to adjust the plans I had made for the time until classes start again.