Just Life

With knowledge of the language and the city comes independence and participation. Now I go running by myself. It's quite safe here, even at night. On foot, I've begun to explore my neighborhood; there are lots of hills. (I knew this already, but they mean more when I can feel them the next day in my legs.) I run by children playing in streets and families sitting on porches and they say hi. I follow narrow roads to their ends an the face of grassy hills. (I refrain from climbing the hills as I would back home.)

I've gained permission to help wash the dishes; I'm sent on errands to the store across the street (with very careful instructions as to how what to say in order to come back with bread or a phone card); I'm pretty sure that I could find my way to and from work on my own.

Daily life mostly follows the routine of daily life. I go to work, eat lunch go home. Sometimes, we go to a cafe. Last night, Majd's friend painted my nails with ornate flowers. I'm speaking and understanding more and more Palestinian Arabic—the other day, Majd challenged me to not speak when we went out the other day, and I pretty much held it up. Granted, I didn't say much, but I don't talk that much anyway, and I did follow the gist of the conversation most of the time.