One moment Dama is where she expects to be, and the next moment she is where she least expects to be - an unheard-of street under an astronomically bizarre sky, showing close, green-blue moons and two orange suns, one much closer than the other, glowing through the clouds. It is raining hard; people are bustling past her under various contrivances to keep the rain off. Nobody looks twice at her.
It tastes pretty good and that just makes her feel worse, but she's not radiating anger anymore; she probably doesn't look more than mildly upset. Hopefully no one tries to talk to her.
She'll say hi back and try to answer what questions she understands with as uninteresting answers as she can.
She doesn't want to talk to them now but she'll probably ever want to talk to anyone. Learning the local language is the only thing that matters right now.
She doesn't ask any questions that aren't directly related to the language. Those can wait.
"I'll see how I feel about it, then."
"Of course. How do I find somewhere else to stay?"
That sounds doable enough. "What else should I know before I'm conversational enough for people to expect me to know things?"