Another post, not another picture

So no pics yet because my camera is still in the repair phase. Pushkaren took it to one guy who couldn't fix it and wanted the receipt to send it in to Samsung--well, I have news for ya, buddy. The camera might only be 3 months old, but the receipt is not one of the things that was on my checklist of shit to fit into two suitcases coming out here. So, he's sending it to another guy. Let us hope this douche can fix it. I really can't live without my digital, especially out here. So on other news--and since I don't have a camera, I guess I'll rant. Fucking Ramadan is almost over--the end of this week--and apparently they have this huge celebration that is the equivalent to our Christmas that is a week long. To me, it means I get all of next week off. Kick ass. Except I don't have much money, so it's not like I'm going to be doing anything out of the ordinary except not go to school. Speaking of school, since I'm on a rant, it's been going great. The kids are learning, I'm having fun, and no parents are bitching. I guess it's only inevitable for one of those three to change but right now it's all good. I have parent teacher conferences the beginning week of November--THAT should be fun. We let the kids out at noon, and then at 12:10 I have my first parent-teacher conference. Every 10 minutes it switches parents until 3:30, when I'm finally done. Talk about a few hours of hell. The kids can speak pretty good English, but it's a whole 'nother story when it comes to the parents. Basically, I can tell you what they will all say. "I want Ahmed at the front of the class by you. I want you to give Ahmed undivided attention because Ahmed is special." Basically, fuck all the other kids. So, I'll smile, say "I'll see what I can do. NEXT!" for three hours. What else... oh yeah, Josh talked to the Imam of our neighborhood mosque a few days ago. The Imam is the towel-headed, bearded, Osama bin Laden looking guy who is the head of the mosque whose voice shatters my windows every 4 hours or so with his prayer call being belted out of megaphones. The same dude that wakes me up every morning about 4:10am or so with "ALLLAHALLLLAAAAHALLLLAAMMMMMUUUALLALLA" or something equivalent. Some call that noise beautiful, I call it "shut the hell up because I don't have to be up for another hour and I'm not fucking Muslim." But I guess that's what happens when you live in a Muslim country. Where was I... oh yeah, so Josh strikes up a conversation with this terrorist looking dude and the Imam apparently knows all about the three of us, where we work, where we live, everything. But--and this is the most important part--he's cool with us. In fact, he even was joking around with Josh for a bit. And you know what that means? We are safe in this blag flag ridden neighborhood. Everyone in the neighborhoods leader is this Imam. They do what he says. So if we have his approval, then all is well. As scary as this neighborhood appears, and as cool as I've been trying to pass myself off as being about living here, I've still always been a bit guarded and apprehensive. Not anymore. If the Imam is cool, we're cool. Thank God. Or, thank Allah. What else, what else. Can't wait for paychecks to come (you only get paid once a month here), my cold is almost gone thanks to the arsenal of shit I got from the "chemist," and I'm fairly close to smoothing over the ripples with certain teachers at work about my blog. So all is well. Till next time, shalom.