My landlady called me a little earlier today and asked me where I was. Usually when she calls to ask me where I am it means her husband has lost the building key again, and she needs me to let her in. I was close to the building, so I told her I could come right over. She said not to bother, but to call her as soon as I got home. I was out with some friends, so I came home a couple hours later and gave her a call.
Just for the record, I still find it strange to have a landlady here instead of a landlord. In a culture that has such strong divisions between men and women, I find myself wondering how appropriate it is to talk to her. Anyway . . .
When I called, she told me to stay in the flat for a little while. About five minutes later, there was a knock on my door. She'd sent down one of her daughters with a tray full of food for me for dinner. It was chicken, rice, salad, some boiled potatoes, and molokhiya (leafy, green soup). It was amazing. After I finished, I took the tray back upstairs and said thanks. A few minutes later there was another knock at my door. This time it was another daughter bringing a glass of fresh strawberry juice, also delicious. When I took the glass back upstairs, a different daughter came out to take it from me.
I don't know if this is my landlady being incredibly hospitable, or part of some devious plot to marry one of her daughters off to the foreigner. Hey, if they can all cook like their mother, I just might think about it! :)