This I write in dedication to Flavia (pronounced FlaaAhviaA) and Eduardo, two Italians near and dear the hearts of our class. These two, of south and north Italy respectively, represented their homeland so well, wonderfully embodying all the good preconceptions we Americans have. Their lighthearted approach to life in Syria quickened all to smile. Anyone who can make you laugh while learning the intricacies of Arabic grammar is someone you should keep around.
To celebrate the culmination of our class we had what proved to be a hell of a party. Ben the Deutschie, now affectionately known as Benjy by myself and anyone else I can convince, hosted this face melting shin dig. The group swelled to 40 or 50 by 11:00 and then partitioned itself into language specific groups only to reunify as one gloriously drunk mass by 1:00. My prayers to stop listening to electronica were answered in the form of some fellow who played guitar and sang quite well. We sang and danced and danced and drank. By 3:00 the Italian contingent, by far the largest, had come to dominate the crowd and sang to our lovely departing Flavia and Eduardo. Fortunately for everyone else the words were easy enough as we all joined in on the refrain. “Ciao Bella. Ciao! Ciao! Ciao!”
