I’m not exactly writing this entry in front of a computer. Okay, I’m nowhere near a computer actually. Rather, I’m sitting on a comfy sofa in the lobby of the plush World Bank in downtown Washington D.C. and reconsidering the meaning of “Je suis en train de marcher…j’arrive.”*** About 20 minutes ago I took this to mean that my language instructor- who barely ever qualified as simply a ‘language instructor’- was on her way to the front desk from the basement level to collect me. The longer I sit here, passively and without concern, the more apparent it becomes that she was likely doing the “marcher” from the Metro stop and isn’t even at the Bank yet. I’m not worried about this fact, and more just take in the experience for what it might mean in a broader context. I can’t say for sure, but I have a feeling that Marie is unwittingly getting me accustomed to “African time”.

Vagaries and the sacrifice of American Certainty all considered, I quite like the schedule afforded to me with my teacher. When I first learned that I would be paired up with one person and doing four hours of one-on-one language training, I was a little concerned. It can be hard for me to coalesce with others, and in this case the chances were quite good that arbitrarily throwing me to a singular audience (and another female, no less!) was going to have disastrous consequences. I hate speaking for any length of time in English, forget devoting four hours to me making an ass out of myself with non-stop French conversational grammar. I had to remind myself that I was still in the Navy, and furthermore not many sailors score such a sweet scam like the Defense Language Institute for duty. I could easily be out suffering another deployment from Hell in Southeast Asia, so four hours of speaking French daily and receiving a paycheck could never come close to the definition of painful.

My teacher, as it turns out, has a personality that is every bit as strong and têtue (stubborn) as my own. Our professional relationship has exceeded all of my expectations, and our relatively compatible and non-conformist mindsets have nurtured a desire to take learning outside of the classroom. We still achieve the requisite 20 weekly hours of quality language training, but it’s done with about as much flux as one can manage. Today is no exception, and the joys associated with escaping the doldrums of classroom learning also necessitate a willingness to let go of the concept of strict appointment keeping. That’s why I’m sitting here, and my teacher is running late once again. I refuse to give in to my American demand for promptness because I remember that only through Marie will I once again gain access to the magnificently diverse atmosphere of the World Bank. Only at the expense of being kept waiting just a little bit longer will I gain so much more by being patient. There’s also really, really good food served in the World Bank cafeteria.

Alhamdoulilah indeed, as Marie has taught me so many times over.

***I’m walking right now…I’m on my way.”