Adventures in learning Arabic

"WAKE UP AND SMELL THE....!?!"

"HUMMUS!!"
By now as an Arabic class we have learned the appropriate response to whenever my Arabic teacher decides to shout this at us. It's our favorite food and his favorite line from Disney's Aladdin. And he quotes it, frequently. Usually when we look too tired or aren't being enthusiastic enough. So, very frequently.

here we are "fareq al hummus," all dressed up for sports day

We even named ourselves "team hummus" for sports day. 

It's all part of the Startalk program-- language classes funded by a federal grant that gives high school students college credit to take a "critical language" (Chinese, Arabic, Persian or Hindi) through a local university or community college. 

Oh look, here we are on the local news, and look they kind of interviewed me:

DC Breaking Local News Weather Sports FOX 5 WTTG

It's my second year doing the program, last year I took 101, and because they got an extra grant this year they expanded the program to include the 102 I'm taking this summer.

And of course with extra grant funding comes extra ambitious field trips. 

Earlier this month, we went to DC to look at some Arab/Persian Art and point to the Arab/Persian art and say "Arab and Persian Art" in Arabic. And then we clapped for ourselves. In Arabic.

A door! Maybe! But definitely art! 

Closeup of an old plate depicting people killing each other on horses! Art! 

I call this one the "the best picture I have ever taken or has ever been taken with an ipod camera"

My group for the day, plus Alaa, our TA

In addition to learning important vocabulary like the words for dragon and statue (tineen and timthal) we did other museum-appropriate things like scavenger hunts or practicing verb commands by yelling directions in Arabic as a blindfolded student tried to find their way through the gallery.

More recently we went on another field trip to New York City. Although the city doesn't really have a "Little Arabia" or anything comparable to say Chinatown, the street we were on had a bunch of shops with signs in Arabic and people who would stop and talk to our teachers in Arabic when they saw a bunch of teenagers making a big deal over reading "half-priced falafel" off a sign.

Generic-group-shot-where-you-can't-tell-that-we're-in-New-York

Being the social Lebanese man that he is, our teacher would pretty much strike up a conversation with anyone he saw on the street. He'd then have us all talk to his new best friend with our limited Arabic, quizzing them on their names, their father's names, their father's uncle's names, etc. Like I said, limited vocabulary. The funniest part was that everyone we talked to acted like it was the most natural thing in the world to strike up a conversation with a random stranger, I guess it's a cultural thing. 

In addition to accosting random strangers we got to order food in Arabic and attempt to make small talk with some of the shop owners. Then we piled back in the bus for the 4 hour ride back home.

I found this sign funny because "Mashalla" roughly means "Godwilling." I've been told you say it all the time in  Arabic, but I didn't realize that extended to shop sign too!

One more week left of class then camp then vacation then frantic packing and buying of unnecessary things that I will end up not taking with me then OMAN!

In which we are orientificated

From literary references to Edward Said, visits to embassies and monuments, and of course, the hours of cultural preparation via powerpoints, "orient" was the word. 

It was the cause for a buzz in the air, created by new friends that all felt like old friends, as the windowless conference room slowly filled with teenagers whose wildest dreams were unfolding. It was license to speak passionately, inquire incessantly, and note-take wildly (okay, more like occasionally). 

Future Omanis

I spent the past four days in DC, where all the YES students converged for a cultural crash coursee. It was also the first time the entire Oman group came together and we really got to know one another. I feel so blessed to be a part of and travel with such an awesome group of people. 

I think I spent most of the time asking questions, whether it was to Mother Hen Noah (so as not to be confused with Little Noa, who is Morocco-bound) the alumnus and group leader who bribed us with Doritos and attempted to field our often tactless questions with some tact (though we wore him down in the end), or to important-looking public servants behind State Department conference tables, I questioned until couldn't think of anything else to ask and then I asked some more. 

I'm the sort of person that hates and has to break group silences. The kind that emanate after an ominous "Any Questions?" lingers in the air for longer than a few seconds. It's not that I want to say something, it's just that, I don't know if you've noticed, but with every second of awkward that passes, a raging fire of uncomfortable rains down on your brain and it will grow bigger and more painful until someone, please, for the love of shawarma, somebody breaks the silence. I envy those of you who can sit by in silence and ignore the firestorm of pain. 

But even for someone like me, and even for someone desperately eager to learn as much about Oman as humanly possible, there comes a point when you recognize that the answers given to you can only go so far. 

Not that I think I've learned every cultural subtlety, or asked every question possible. I'd be delusional to even come close to thinking that. But, an orientation is only a pointing in the right direction. This week I've been inundated with metaphorical maps, and compasses, flashlights, and maybe even a tent or two. 

Also, a mug

I'm thankful to everyone who's helped orient me, but now it's up to me to move. I want to find my own answers, make my own mistakes, live through my own embarrassing anecdotes. I know it's coming soon but August 25th still seems eons away

Ma'a salama Maryland

That means goodbye-state-where-I-was-born-and-only-place-I've-ever-lived-because-I'm-going-to-Oman-next-year in Arabic. It's a very succint language.

I've become one of those people that gets a crazy scholarship to study abroad in a country no one's ever heard of. I used to think that these characters were more on the unicorn side of the actually-existing spectrum, but here I am, a 2012 finalist for the Kenedy-Lugar Youth Exchange and Study program. And I'm going to live in Muscat, Oman for a WHOLE YEAR.

(Ohhhh, that Oman)

While the last blog I had (way back in 2008) focused primarily on bad zombie poetry, whiny posts about how boring my life was, and other material that will never see the light of day, this blog is for documenting my first experiment in international living. I invite you all to creep on my life like white-coated scientists observing lab rats. Muscat Lab Rat, maybe that should've been the blog title. 

Now I can't garuntee that there won't be bad zombie poetry, but I hope that you all will follow along. In all seriousness, this is the most most amazing opportunity I've ever had and I'm incredibly blessed to be chosen. I wholeheartedly believe in the mission of YES and can't wait to learn about Islam and Arab culture, while hopefully sharing about my own culture along the way. 

This will be quite the adventure