It's a Small World, Part CCLXXVI

I occasionally go to a local Arab cafe to do my Arabic homework, when I actually have time for the hour walk round trip, and when the weather and my budget allow. (It's more expensive than Starbucks!) The first time I was in there, the waiter stared at me with an odd look on his face and asked if I had ever been to Jordan. I thought that perhaps he was trying to make conversation, and I was about to tell him that I thought it was a lovely country.

Waiter: Have you ever been to Jordan?
Me: Yes, it was nice...
Waiter: Did you study at the University of Jordan?
Me: Yes, that's a good guess.
Waiter: Were you in the program for American students, about three or four years ago?
Me: What?!! How...how did you know? Who ARE you? I know you weren't one of my teachers.
Waiter: You were in Level Four, right?
Me: Yes...this is too weird...
Waiter: Oh, I taught in Level Two, and I remembered your face from the photograph on your application attached to the proficiency test at the start of the program.

Next thing you know I'll start running into people I've previously met all over the place. The whole world certainly seems to converge in Washington, DC.