After Amy's classes we went to her old neighbor's (Mamasu and Moha and family) for diner (this is the family that sort of adapted her when she first got here). For propriety reasons I was her uncle. Diner was delicious and not at all painful - despite Amy having to translate everything. We ate Morocan style - everyone one from one plate and sans utinsils (small pieces of bread substitute for fork and spoon, and fingers substute for knife). Amy only had to remind me not to use my left hand once...