On Language

My French has definitely gotten better in the month and a half I've been here. I thought about translating this blog into French, then decided I didn't need a permanent reminder of my language mistakes (because the Internet is forever, folks!).

But it's lovely to finally get to the point where I can understand conversations if I concentrate hard enough, if my conversation partners are very patient, and if nobody uses any big words. This comprehension came in stages: first I was able to isolate the individual words, then I could understand each word (or at least, many of the words), then I could understand them together.

I still miss a good amount of conversations. But it's a really nice feeling to stand at church and be able to follow every word as the congregation around me recites the Nicene Creed ("I believe in God, the Father Almighty...") even if I can't say it myself yet. A truly universal church.

Speaking of mass...last week I was asked to do one of the readings last minute, and while there are few things more terrifying than public speaking, one of them is public speaking in a language you don't quite understand. I don't think the lady who asked me realized I'm not a fluent French speaker. I don't know how many words I butchered, but I'm sure it was a lot. Especially since most readings are a couple of paragraphs long...but this one ran into three pages (imagine my horror after I turned the first page and found two more!). Oh well. I gave it my best, anyway.

Living in a new country feels a lot like having your skin stripped off and slowly replaced, layer by layer. Particularly so with a language barrier, or two. I hope my new skin is stronger. But I'll definitely be different, a new combination of experiences and habits gained from living in a new country and culture.

Trip to Hammamet

Last weekend, since everything was closed for Eid, I took a trip to the beach town of Hammamet. Hammamet is popular for Europeans, but I was the first American for most of the Hammamet residents I met. It’s a weird sensation, and I felt like any quirks I had might be generalized as a thing Americans do. I ended up trying to strike a balance between friendly and sincere, since insincere enthusiasm is one of the main complaints I’ve heard about Americans while abroad.

I enjoyed the gentle waves and clear turquoise water, surrounded by families and young people excited to celebrate the end of Ramadan. Lying on the beach in the brilliant sunshine, it didn’t seem possible that a year ago, 54 miles to the south in the resort town of Sousse, a young man took the lives of 38 people.

But there’s no atmosphere of fear here in this very similar beachfront town, no lingering anxiety preventing Tunisians from going to the beach. Life goes on. Kids build sand castles, and Egyptian pop music plays obnoxiously from nearby speakers. 

I don’t know, statistically, how safe I am. I’ve only been here a month. But before I came, I consulted with security experts who told me Tunisia could be safe if I was cautious. There is some mild street harassment (“bonjour,” “ça va” “hey baby”), but it’s not explicit, unlike some catcalling in New York, for example. I feel safe: on the beach, walking downtown, taking the bus to the office.

For the past few days, the shootings of young black men and of police have been the most common thing people have spoken to me about regarding America, frowning and shaking their heads. They’re concerned about race relations in America. They are watching, as they are watching the elections, to see what happens next. And I wonder, am I safer as a young white female in Tunisia than a young black man in the US?
 

Musician in the Hammamet medina

Housing / Logement

Housing sorted! Initially, I thought I'd have to go through a housing agent to find a place, which would have meant losing the amount of a month's rent for the fee, and living alone- no housemates to speak French with or pester with questions about Tunisia. Fortunately, several expat colleagues tipped me off to the following flatsharing websites first.

Tunis Colocation
Colocation Tunis
Tayara.tn
Tunisie Annonce

My main objective was to move out of my hotel as soon as possible, so I met with two potential flatmates one day, and moved in the next. This apartment was only available for two weeks, but this was the perfect amount of time to find a place for July and August. Like a true Hufflepuff, my room in both apartments has been the closest to the kitchens.

I've settled in the neighborhood of Lafayette, sometimes called Centre-Ville, unless you're talking about another part of town with another Centre-Ville. Cab drivers know it as "proche de (close to) Parc Habib Thameur" or, more successfully, "proche de Passage metro" which is confusing enough because the metro is chiefly, if not totally, a tram.

Just south of Lafayette is Avenue Habib Bourguiba. This leafy promenade is the Maidan Nezalezhnosti of Tunis, significant enough to be reduced to "the Avenue" in casual conversation; like how New York is "the city" to anyone living in a 50-mile radius, and Manhattan becomes "the city" once you breach the outer boroughs. The Avenue was one of the main protest sites of the 2011 revolution which deposed the Ben Ali government. It remains the home of the once-feared, barbed wire-encased Ministry of the Interior, as well as the comparatively innocuous, barbed wire- and tank-adjacent French Embassy.

The Avenue has been peaceful since I've gotten here, though. It's lined with glossy shops and cafes with tables spilling out into the street, and frequently hosts small concerts like this Dad-apalooza:

Bon voyage!

Bags packed and ready to go! My trip starts with three train transfers (Long Island Railroad to New Jersey Transit to Newark Airtrain) because I have the good fortune to be flying out of our beloved EWR. Garden State, here I come.

First travel lesson: unlock your phone before you go. Unless, as the helpful gentleman at the Verizon store told me, your phone model cannot be unlocked (as with the elderly Android I was trying to use) or is already unlocked (as with my current, miraculous IPhone 5). Lo and behold (C'mon autocorrect, I said Lo not lol. Give me some credit.), and contrary to conventional wisdom, my IPhone also has a pop-out SIM card. The miracles never cease.

I'm glad I can take an elevated train into the city. New York looks more peaceful and green from this height. Soon, I'll be surrounded by sand and sea, in a country stretching from the vast Sahara in the  south to the storied Mediterranean in the north.