I moved this weekend, into a new place. $500/month. This is the place, taken from the closet. 180 sq. feet. In Morocco I shared a 2-bedroom for $220/month. I've been thinking lately of class and consciousness. There is another piece of dying here. In Morocco, it's not like I lived upper-class- more like middle-class, by Moroccan standards. Nor is it like I was always treated with great deference, like a Brit in Victorian India. We had to wait in the same long lines as everyone else, and at times perhaps were made to wait longer because we were American. But somehow there was an attitude that, as an expat American, you were special. There was something like the average person on the street gave you a bit more respect; that you were at a higher level. It's a very caste-based society. That's not good. But I did get used to it.
Now I come to America, and I'm suddenly lower-class again. Trying to make ends meet, uncertified so I can't teach, living in a very small place. I'm just a normal person, no longer at a higher level in the eyes of society. I'm told this often happens when expats return home. It's not bad. It's how Jesus lived, despised and rejected among people and all that. But it's taking some getting used to.