The air conditioners in our villa will never work the same as the central air back home, but they work, so let it be.  The only place to buy pork products is at the liquor store, but I’m learning to like liquor too, so let it be.  The sliced white bread molds quicker than wonder bread, but the naan bread is wonderful, so let it be.  The herbal remedies are unfamiliar, but unfamiliar pharmaceuticals can be purchased over the counter at a fair price, so let it be.  The construction across the street often begins late at night, but I like to work at night too, so let it be.  Everything takes longer to accomplish than when I’m back home, but I’ve always procrastinated longer still, so let it be.  The back yard is small, but so is my dog, so let it be.  The topics of conversation revolve around the world, not home, so let it be.  The Victoria’s Secret carries only fragrance, but Women’s Secret carries fine cotton lounging apparel, so let it be.  The measurements are metric, but calculations by tens instead of twelves comes easier as time passes, so let it be.  Friday and Saturday are the weekend, but if it’s Sunday, it’s Meet the Press!

Eight weeks and beginnings of a different lifestyle later, turns out Mother Mary was right, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.  All of the little things are just little things.  What I don’t know that I don’t know turn out to be the bigger things, for example, even though the Queen’s English is commonly spoken here, learning the native language would be as respectful as it would be helpful.  I was browsing the home store just down the street and noticed an older woman next to me, following along, dressed in traditional black abaya (robe) and shayla (scarf) and escorted by her driver, she was looking at everything that I was looking at, touching everything that I was touching.  I found myself musing the situation as we continued along the aisles both browsing and touching the same things, first me, then she with vigorous persistence, expressionless.  At first I wondered, what’s up with this, especially when she would pull at the items I was touching.  Finally, both of us with our hand on the same rag rug, I helped pull it from the shelf and handed it to her.  She inspected it quite closely as I watched, never looking up.  Then I smiled and asked “Do you like it?”  She looked up and said “Yes, very good”.  “Well that’s good enough for me,” I replied “I think I’ll have one, thank you”.  She gleamed a wry smile, “Afwan” (you’re welcome), then handed the little rag rug to me, turned and walked to the door, leaving with her driver.  I thought to myself that I should learn some of her language too.

I’m not certain, but I believe she was simply curious about this wacky misplaced American and had difficulty approaching the matter, as I find myself having the same difficulty.  While customs and manners differ from culture to culture, smiles and kindnesses seem to translate universally.  Maybe my clumsiness in learning local customs and manners can be forgiven if my intent is kind and my smile quicker than my study of the language.  For now, I have a new little rag rug that I love, complete with a story, a memory, a little wry smile and much to learn, so let it be.  Shukran (thank you)!