The Photocopy Oven

I am super-motivated to write this right now at this moment because what I really should be doing is heading over to a Ramadan iftar meal where I will end up spending the night. I really don't want to go, but I have to. So instead of going right now, I will wait longer and longer and waste time doing nothing until there is nothing left for me to do but go. I know the food will be good though... So here is a day in the life of Scott, Emily, and me.

Yesterday Scott, Emily and I went to get our permission to enter the camps renewed. We were told that if we called the guy on the phone and gave him Anne's name, that we should be able to renew over the phone. This was not the case and the guy had no idea who Anne was. I think it was a new guy who has decided to implement new permission policies especially in the case of annoying foreigners like us. So we had to get up relatively early and drive to Saida where the army base is. On the way down Emily tried to convince me that I needed to have my appendix taken out because I had a stomachache that she thought sounded like the one she'd had when she'd had her appendix taken out. Anyway, I managed to survive my ruptured appendix, and we arrived at the gate, after finding a convenient parking place. The guard saw our foreign faces, and assumed the purpose of our visit. He informed us that we needed to get photocopies of our passports for this. I ask him to explain the importance of this as they already have photocopies of our passports as well as passport photos on file in the office, but I guess these things get lost easily. He insists that we need photocopies, and even though Scott wanted to stay and argue, we decided not to antagonize the guy with the machine gun. He told us that if we went down to the "furn" (oven-place where they make pizza-like things) we could get copies there. I thought he'd meant go down to where the "furn" is and there will be a photocopy place nearby, but when we arrived at the "furn" and asked the guy putting freshly rolled out dough covered in olive oil and thyme into the hot stone oven, he informed us that he would photo copy our stuff for us. Apparently it's kind of a 2 for 1 thing-get your manaqeesh while you wait for your photocopies. We might have gotten manaqeesh except that it was the second day of Ramadan and it would have been awkward to eat on the street even though there were several obviously Christian Arabs flaunting their ability to eat during the daylight hours. We finally got our photocopies after making sure that the pushy old lady who came after us didn't cut in line! Yeah! Don't mess with us, old lady!

Back to the army base where it appears to be casual Tuesday for all employees. The guard at the gate was wearing comfy khaki pants and a little polo shirt which went really well with the AK-47 slung across his shoulder. We registered our names and assured the dude at the front that we had no cameras or phones with us, and he trusted that we were telling the truth. Of course, they'd already frisked Scott when we went in (he thought the guy was trying to give him a hug at first and it was a bit awkward), so I guess they knew we were safe. Either that or the extreme care that Emily and I took with our clothing, hair, and makeup paid off. An incident at one of the camp checkpoints a week earlier when we'd known our permission was up but we'd gotten in anyway, reminded us of the importance of using our charms to get what we need.

Once we got into the big man's office (and this guy was a big man!), we didn't have any further problems. Big Man looked kind of cranky. He had some cuts and bruises on his face so we think he's been having some relationship problems, and that might explain the crankiness. He managed to not crack a smile until the end, when I decided that we wanted him to like us, so I used the hair flip and all the excessive Arabic pleasantries that I know, and we parted on good terms, although we are still not allowed to renew over the phone...and I really thought the hair flip would have gotten us phone privileges. It did get me my first visa to Syria...

Reading this, I hope you have a taste of our life here. It is not as exciting as it may seem from this riveting story, but we make it through somehow. Now I should probably go off to iftar with my friends unless I can find a way to actually rupture my appendix...