The lady that I work with sent me on an errand this morning. In Arabic, I can't tell you exactly what she said. In English, I can only tell you what I heard:
"Go to the man on the corner who sells yogurt from the goat of the mother. Here are 3 shekels. Get two of them. Go!"
Yogurt from the goat of the mother? This was going to be interesting.
So, I went to the man on the corner, who has a shop that is basically the town grocery store. From the outside, it looks like a small cave with doors. From the inside, the smell of meat and spices is everywhere.
In Arabic, he asked what I was looking for. So, I told him:
"I'm looking for the yogurt of the goat of the mother."
"Oh! Yes!," he said in Arabic. "Of course, the yogurt of the goat of the mother is right here."
Apparently the yogurt of the goat of the mother is a pretty popular thing in these parts. Who knew?
I handed the grocery man my 3 shekels and set back out into the midday sun back towards my office. Along the way, a woman from the countryside stopped me to ask if I would look at all of the vegetables she brought in that day. I looked at the vegetables and smiled and nodded as she told me what they were. Because I'm still learning words for vegetables, it was difficult to understand what she's saying. But I now know the word for eggplant, and this is good.
The woman told me that I needed to eat something with her. She just made some strong Turkish coffee and insisted that I drink a small cup with her. I told her that I was ok because I had the yogurt of the goat of the mother and that I was taking it back to my work, but she persisted. So, as we do in these parts, I sat down in the shade and drank.
Over coffee, woman then asked if I was married. I told her no. She replied that the reason I'm not married is because I am so skinny. Again, who knew? She insisted that come to her when I want to get married and she'll help me get fat. I told her that I would keep this in mind.
Upon my return to the office, the Turkish coffee was starting to feel like a fire in my lower intestinal region. The woman I work with took out the two small cups of the yogurt of the goat of the mother and handed one over to me. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it was actually just 100% whole cows milk, or buttermilk. She said that I had to drink it because it was good for my stomach and my health. Deep inside, I had to wonder if the woman I work with is also trying to get me plumped up for marriage as well, but I digress. Bottoms up.
Twenty minutes later, I sat cursing the yogurt of the goat of the mother. From now on, there is now way in hell I'm mixing it with strong Turkish coffee.