Graceland, East

My new apartment is called Graceland.

The name will be official, that is, once my roommates and I get a sign made. We intend for it to be written in both English and Arabic so as to minimize confusion. For now, the title is hinted at by the kitchen decoration scheme: every conceivable surface contains an image of Elvis.

Naturally.

The building is mere blocks from an entrance to the beach which stretches from the wealthy suburb of Gammart through our city, La Marsa. Much of this area is also visible from the balconies and roof of the apartment.

I have rather serendipitously stumbled into the ideal location. I knew about the beach, of course, when we signed the lease. I was aware that the buses headed for downtown stopped just around the counter. I didn’t realize that my future French school was three blocks away, though, and I hadn’t noticed that the brilliantly named California Gym is only two blocks further toward the center of town. Once I finally manage to parse the intricacies of the bureaucracy and register myself as a researcher, I will be completely set. Ask for me in nine months and people will point out that woman in the corner, the one speaking French with aplomb while downing local delicacies.

The road to the beach:

Or perhaps they will tell you that I am Lebanese. That is the most flattering of the recent guesses I’ve received about my nationality. A woman at the local copy shop, after our ten minute conversation, was surprised that I couldn’t completely understand her most recent sentence. “Where are you from?” she asked, “Lebanon?” I took this as a massive compliment since Lebanese women are known for their beauty and I proceeded to repeat the story to everyone I met. The cat was particularly impressed.

Then this very afternoon the man from whom I ordered a “Tunisian-style Tuna” sandwich responded with "Algerian?' This confused me because I wasn’t sure whether he was offering me an Algerian variety of tuna or, in fact, inquiring about my roots.

The living room and view from the roof:

I have yet to convince anyone that I am Tunisian, but a bit more time on the beach and on our roof may be just the ticket. Language lessons might help too.