A place of my own

Bright and airy, my apartment offers the comforts of home with a traditional Levantine flair. (Levantine is an adjective used to describe anything from this geographical area, loosely including Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel, and Jordan.) In order to reach my apartment, I have to tramp up three rather steep flights of stairs before reaching a "security door" that my landlady Aida had installed for the security of her tenants. (I'm sure that many of my family members will be relieved to know this!) After I open the security door, I go up another flight of stairs before encountering the marble flooring and broad wooden door that mark the entrance to my apartment. As my apartment is the only one that is occupied on my floor (the others are owned by people who reside elsewhere in the region) and the roof is directly above my apartment, I am always pleased by the relative silence that greets me each evening.

When entering the apartment, I find my salon, or living room, that is decorated in a typical Arabic fashion. It is a long room outfitted with a gold and red Persian carpet and rich gold curtains. The ceiling is high and the edifices are embossed with rectangular designs. Perched on the carpet are a sofa and matching chairs built from thick wood and covered in a tan and gold fabric and squat end tables. To the left of the salon is a small dinette with a four-top table and chairs. The dinette gives way to the kitchen on the right, which is small but modern. I have a stove, microwave, and refrigerator as well as a washing machine, which is nestled in the place where the dishwasher would normally be in the States. This is a feature of all the Syrian kitchens I have seen so far. To my knowledge, most Syrians do not own dryers; instead, they hang their laundry out on the balconies to dry. My bathroom is off the kitchen and is clean and in working order. Hot water is always available if I remember to switch on the water heater at least a half hour before showering. My bedroom is to the left of the dinette and is sprawling and comfortable. I have an enormous armoire that could easily hold a small rhinocerus in addition to my clothes and cosmetics, as well as a dresser, dressing table, double bed, and two nightstands all made from rich wood carved in elaborate designs. The best part about my room is the sliding door that leads to the small balcony from which I can oversee the local barber drying out his towels or the shoe shine man squatting in an open doorway, calling for any customers with scuffed boots.

My landlady Aida is efficient and kind and speaks very good English. From what I understand, she regularly tutors students in English. From the beginning, she has responded to all my needs and is available without being intrusive. She claimed that she and I are similiar in that "we both want things to be perfect." She also remarked that people like us can struggle in life because we are always worrying that things won't be done to our standards, and we can become tired and overwhelmed by this. Perhaps she knows me too well already...