Today is my last day with my host family. This time tomorrow I’ll be en route to Damascus. A bunch of ARBC 130/140 kids went on some epic hike. But I am poor and dinars are expensive, so I’m chilling in the beit, packing and reminiscing.
I wish I’d made more memories here that weren’t connected to Arabic class (and thus, to woe). I wish I’d gotten to know my host family better. I wish I was better at becoming friends with people, and better at keeping in touch.
Regardless, I will remember the time I spent in this house with these wonderful people very fondly. Especially the time when my host mother saw Aziz for the first time and said he looked unstable. “I can tell him that, if you want.” Thanks for the offer, Muna, but no thanks–I’ve still got another semester left with the man. At least.
This family has hosted a lot of students before, and they still talk about them sometimes. I hope they’ll remember me with the same fondness that I will remember them, my inability to properly socialize regardless.
Tomorrow, onwards to Syria, and then in a few weeks to Lebanon. As soon as I stop being nostalgic, I’ll start getting PUMPED.