So I've been told I need to sex-up my blog. The problem is that I'm not really a blog type person. Even writing in cards gives me tremendous anxiety. There is too much pressure to write something clever, and off-the-cuff and usually someone is waiting for you to finish so you can seal the envelope and leave for the party. It seems when I do write something it's wholly inappropriate, which on second thought, the people may like this.
Also, I need to include tantalising/tantalizing (I'm aware of my dual Brit/American demographic) tales akin to sea-faring ventures and yes, this is the internet after all, people just want to gape at pictures to derive a sense-of-place. I'm sure soon the English language will just be character-based around Google images. In the interim, I will post so many pictures there will be no cure for my JPEG madness and you will regret what you asked for. So this ladies and gentlemen (I think it's just Marcus for the latter) is the beginning to my wholly narcissistic travel blog. But first, a story (and then pictures I swear!):
March 30th -- My first official day at work
Conversation took place partially in my crappy Arabic:
"What did you study? Why are you here?" -- Mr Khalil (a.k.a the workplace jokester)
"I specialised in the politics of the Middle East and I took Arabic in London." -- I said.
"Why?"
"Because it interests me and I like the language."
He responds with something fast, unintelligible/colloquial Arabic-y.
The work kitchen erupts in laughter.
"What? What did he say?" I asked.
An intern answers, "He said, 'Oh you come here study and work, then you go back to your country and make trouble for us."
"No! I don't work for my government!" I plead as the laughter drowns me out which I eventually join.
Well, he is right. In light of the past hundred years, I'm not sure anything I say could salvage the reputation of my part of the world in this part of the world (and I'm not so bold as to try!).
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