I've been asked by a lot of people, in the course of my four or five months here, what my favorite things about Egypt are. In response to the question Autumn and I decided to come up with an "Egypt: Top 5!" list. It became a pleasant game that we would play while walking to the bus, shopping for groceries, switching classes, etc., and proved to be much more challenging than we had expected. I mean, how do you summarize a country in a few short bullet points? Could we really think of five things that encompassed all the new and exciting experiences we had lived through during our stay in this exotic country?
Turns out we couldn't.
But we thought of three.
So here they are!
Carolyn and Autumn's Top 3
1) Street cats! They're everywhere, and are adorable. Autumn and I like making tsk'ing noises at them, because they think they're far too cool for school and we like to offend their feline pride by cooing over how adorable they are.
2) They deliver alcohol right to your door! And it's super cheap! I mean, you'll go blind if you drink too much of it...but beggar's can't be choosers, right?
Carolyn's #3) The sunsets are beautiful. Granted, it's because of the horrible haze of smog that constantly engulfs the city - but if it's going to be poisoning me, at least it can look like a creamsicle in the process.
Autumn's #3) Our balcony
Listing our top three favorite things made us curious: what did our friends and acquaintances think of this quirky little country? So we did a little surveying and this is what we came up with [NOTE: It's a work in progress - I'll be adding more lists to it as they come in]:
Guthrie's Top 3
(Guthrie is American, and a one-semester study abroad student like us)
"1) Produce stand vendors are awesome. i haven't met a non-awesome one yet.
2) People being uber-dramatic over everything. i can't say its a good thing but it makes me laugh a lot so I'm putting it on the list
3) KITTY CATTTTTSZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ"
Guthrie's roommate Andre's Top 3
(also American, also a one-semester study abroad student):
1) You can throw your trash everywhere, and no one cares
2) Stray cats!
3) You can pee in the street!
Mohammad's Top 3
(Mohammad is ethnically Sudanese but grew up in the UK. He works as a professor in Egypt)
1) Getting his paycheck (because the school waited two months to give it to him)
2) The moment he will fly out of Egypt
3) Sleeping, and dreaming about not being in Egypt
Mathias's Top 3
(Mathias is Autumn's friend from her Hands On trip to Haiti. He's French, but technically from Chile. He came to visit us in Cairo for a week back in September.)
1) Autumn - awwwww
2) Dalida, a really famous singer who grew up in Egypt but is Italian in origin. She has sung in ten different languages! Look her up, I don't actually know anything about her.
3) Deliverable alcohol - though this is a cop out, since he stole the idea from Autumn and I. Lame.
Tim's Top 3
(Tim is in his first semester as an AUC graduate student, studying Refugee Law. He's from Seattle and has red hair!)
1) Carolyn and Autumn - oh wait, not Autumn - she got demoted for having already been on here
2) The friendly people
3) The terrific food
[NOTE: Having listed the last two, Tim proceeded to laugh hysterically for five minutes, after which he lapsed into a dark silence]
More surveys to come insha allah!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice...
Egyptians love a good scam, and this is something that takes a lot of getting used to from a foreigner's perspective. If you let your guard down you'll lose the shirt off your back and yet somehow walk away thinking you've been done a great favor. It's only when you get home and take stock of the encounter that you suddenly slap your hand to your forehead and cry out in shame and consternation, "Well I'll be damned! Duped again!"
This is not an isolated Egyptian phenomenon, of course. Scammers exist in every country. But unlike other places, there are several characteristics that are unique to Egypt scamming.
1. Scamming is an omnipresent fact of life.
No matter where you go and no matter what you do, someone is going to try and rip you off. Taking a taxi? Expect them to ask for too much. Want to buy a pack of cigarettes? Chances are they'll try and tack on a few extra pounds. Ask someone for directions? It is quite likely that, if they offer to show you to where you're going, they will actually take you in an entirely different direction regardless of the urgency of your mission of the actual direction of your destination
[NOTE: I have experienced this personally. I was on my way to a doctor's appointment downtown to be treated for an eye infection, and a nice, friendly man offered to show me the way. I followed him blindly - literally, my eye infection was so bad I could barely see where he was going - only to find that he was leading me to his perfume shop! He managed to keep me there for about three minutes and force me to smell about five different perfumes before I finally stormed out in righteous indignation, yelling about the fact that I was going to see the damn doctor and that I was ashamed that he would try to take advantage of me when I was in pain! I am guessing he did not take my little moral admonishment to heart, but it made me feel better. END NOTE]
The above anecdote leads us to the second unique characteristic of Egyptian scamming, though:
2. The people doing the scamming mean absolutely no harm, and see nothing wrong with what they are doing.
If someone has lots of money, and another person has very little money, then why wouldn't the second person try to take some of it? It only makes sense, and it is certainly not personal. As it is, someone told the entire developing world that Americans are endless founts of wealth, which means, to this developing world, that they can take money from us without actually causing any harm. So if the person being duped does not stand to lose anything, and the person doing the duping stands to gain everything - well, isn't duping the sensible course of action?
This, then, leads to our third characteristic, and the topic that inspired this blog post:
3. Egyptian scamming is, more than anything, an inside joke of sorts - and if you see through that joke the "scammers" are usually more than willing to share the laugh with you.
I think that Egyptians like to see what they can get away with, sort of like when you play a practical joke on your friends and being caught can be half the fun. Underneath it all they're trying not to crack up, and if you catch them in the act, for the most part, they love it (obviously there are numerous exceptions, but we're going with the trend that most Egyptians are friendly and jolly, even if they are not always well-intentioned).
Case in point: tonight. I went to Khan al-Khalili, the big souk in al-Azhar, with two friends to find some Christmas presents for people back home. Khan is a scammer's paradise of course - foreigners with big juicy wallets, limited time, and little knowledge of local quality and prices looking for gifts for everyone they know. What could be better? You have to bargain hard to get things for what they're worth, and even then it can be tough, as vendors know that if you and your friends don't want Article A the little Japanese couple behind you might just snap it up for triple the price.
But avoiding being ripped off in a place like Khan al-Khalili is not such an unheard-of accomplishment, because you are expecting people to rip you off there. I mean, if you live next to a highway you're going to look for cars when you cross the road. It's the other places - the places you don't expect a scam - where you really have to watch out.
After spending several hours in the Khan my friend and I sat down for some dinner at a cafe/restaurant across the street. They had a huge cone of shwarma sizzling out front and we both had a hankering for a lamb sandwich. We walked up to the host's podium and asked for a menu - however, when we looked at the menu (which was written in English), something seemed wrong. The shwarma was 12 pounds! Though this is the equivalent of maybe $2.50, the fact of the matter is, it was way too much for a simple shwarma sandwich. That was when I noticed that the menus were separated into two piles, and the host had grabbed our menu from the pile on the right. I had my first twinge of suspicion. Since my friend was looking at the menu and it would be perfectly reasonable for me to want my own, I went to grab one from the pile on the left
"Oh no no!" cried the host. "Here." He grabbed a right-hand menu and gestured it toward me.
Lightbulb!
I checked the price, and there is was: shwarma sandwich, 12 EP. I raised my eyebrow at the host and said loudly to my friend (who was marveling at the cost), "I see what's going on here - this is the English price."
It is not uncommon for things in Egypt to have two separate prices: Egyptian prices and foreigner prices. It's actually codified in some places, like museums and national monuments, where locals sometimes pay half as much as tourists. It is supposed to make it easier for Egyptians to learn about their own history, but I think it's more a convenient and easily-justifiable way to make a couple extra pounds off rich foreigners.
And if you think about it, they've got every right to do this! I mean, why not, if you can get away with it? But this is my point, and the purpose of this story: now that I've lived here for four months, I think it's about darn time I qualified for Egyptian shwarma prices!
So I grabbed the other menu.
"No no!" said the waiter. "This in Arabic!"
"Ah ha!" I cried triumphantly. "I SPEAK Arabic!"
Flipping open the menu I ran my finger down to the shwarma, and with the self-satisfied voice of victory declared: "Shwarma laham - TISA GINEHAT!" (9 EP)
And with that, the host knew I was on to him.
And he cracked up! "You speak Arabic?" he asked, huge smile on his wide face. "Very good, very good! You speak Arabic!"
"Yes, I speak Arabic" I responded (in Arabic as well). "And I would like a shwarma sandwich, for nine pounds!"
So my friend and I ate our sandwiches and drank our tea (the tea now being two pounds, instead of the five we had originally been told), and the host smiled and laughed with us throughout the entire meal. All it took was a little knowledge of letters and numbers, and we went from being the butt of the joke to the co-conspirators! I know it might not seem like that big a deal - after all, we saved maybe 15 pounds total, which is only about three dollars between the two of us. But don't you see? in reality, it was so much more than that.
Because in the end, the taste of uncompromised dignity is the sweetest meal of all.
This is not an isolated Egyptian phenomenon, of course. Scammers exist in every country. But unlike other places, there are several characteristics that are unique to Egypt scamming.
1. Scamming is an omnipresent fact of life.
No matter where you go and no matter what you do, someone is going to try and rip you off. Taking a taxi? Expect them to ask for too much. Want to buy a pack of cigarettes? Chances are they'll try and tack on a few extra pounds. Ask someone for directions? It is quite likely that, if they offer to show you to where you're going, they will actually take you in an entirely different direction regardless of the urgency of your mission of the actual direction of your destination
[NOTE: I have experienced this personally. I was on my way to a doctor's appointment downtown to be treated for an eye infection, and a nice, friendly man offered to show me the way. I followed him blindly - literally, my eye infection was so bad I could barely see where he was going - only to find that he was leading me to his perfume shop! He managed to keep me there for about three minutes and force me to smell about five different perfumes before I finally stormed out in righteous indignation, yelling about the fact that I was going to see the damn doctor and that I was ashamed that he would try to take advantage of me when I was in pain! I am guessing he did not take my little moral admonishment to heart, but it made me feel better. END NOTE]
The above anecdote leads us to the second unique characteristic of Egyptian scamming, though:
2. The people doing the scamming mean absolutely no harm, and see nothing wrong with what they are doing.
If someone has lots of money, and another person has very little money, then why wouldn't the second person try to take some of it? It only makes sense, and it is certainly not personal. As it is, someone told the entire developing world that Americans are endless founts of wealth, which means, to this developing world, that they can take money from us without actually causing any harm. So if the person being duped does not stand to lose anything, and the person doing the duping stands to gain everything - well, isn't duping the sensible course of action?
This, then, leads to our third characteristic, and the topic that inspired this blog post:
3. Egyptian scamming is, more than anything, an inside joke of sorts - and if you see through that joke the "scammers" are usually more than willing to share the laugh with you.
I think that Egyptians like to see what they can get away with, sort of like when you play a practical joke on your friends and being caught can be half the fun. Underneath it all they're trying not to crack up, and if you catch them in the act, for the most part, they love it (obviously there are numerous exceptions, but we're going with the trend that most Egyptians are friendly and jolly, even if they are not always well-intentioned).
Case in point: tonight. I went to Khan al-Khalili, the big souk in al-Azhar, with two friends to find some Christmas presents for people back home. Khan is a scammer's paradise of course - foreigners with big juicy wallets, limited time, and little knowledge of local quality and prices looking for gifts for everyone they know. What could be better? You have to bargain hard to get things for what they're worth, and even then it can be tough, as vendors know that if you and your friends don't want Article A the little Japanese couple behind you might just snap it up for triple the price.
But avoiding being ripped off in a place like Khan al-Khalili is not such an unheard-of accomplishment, because you are expecting people to rip you off there. I mean, if you live next to a highway you're going to look for cars when you cross the road. It's the other places - the places you don't expect a scam - where you really have to watch out.
After spending several hours in the Khan my friend and I sat down for some dinner at a cafe/restaurant across the street. They had a huge cone of shwarma sizzling out front and we both had a hankering for a lamb sandwich. We walked up to the host's podium and asked for a menu - however, when we looked at the menu (which was written in English), something seemed wrong. The shwarma was 12 pounds! Though this is the equivalent of maybe $2.50, the fact of the matter is, it was way too much for a simple shwarma sandwich. That was when I noticed that the menus were separated into two piles, and the host had grabbed our menu from the pile on the right. I had my first twinge of suspicion. Since my friend was looking at the menu and it would be perfectly reasonable for me to want my own, I went to grab one from the pile on the left
"Oh no no!" cried the host. "Here." He grabbed a right-hand menu and gestured it toward me.
Lightbulb!
I checked the price, and there is was: shwarma sandwich, 12 EP. I raised my eyebrow at the host and said loudly to my friend (who was marveling at the cost), "I see what's going on here - this is the English price."
It is not uncommon for things in Egypt to have two separate prices: Egyptian prices and foreigner prices. It's actually codified in some places, like museums and national monuments, where locals sometimes pay half as much as tourists. It is supposed to make it easier for Egyptians to learn about their own history, but I think it's more a convenient and easily-justifiable way to make a couple extra pounds off rich foreigners.
And if you think about it, they've got every right to do this! I mean, why not, if you can get away with it? But this is my point, and the purpose of this story: now that I've lived here for four months, I think it's about darn time I qualified for Egyptian shwarma prices!
So I grabbed the other menu.
"No no!" said the waiter. "This in Arabic!"
"Ah ha!" I cried triumphantly. "I SPEAK Arabic!"
Flipping open the menu I ran my finger down to the shwarma, and with the self-satisfied voice of victory declared: "Shwarma laham - TISA GINEHAT!" (9 EP)
And with that, the host knew I was on to him.
And he cracked up! "You speak Arabic?" he asked, huge smile on his wide face. "Very good, very good! You speak Arabic!"
"Yes, I speak Arabic" I responded (in Arabic as well). "And I would like a shwarma sandwich, for nine pounds!"
So my friend and I ate our sandwiches and drank our tea (the tea now being two pounds, instead of the five we had originally been told), and the host smiled and laughed with us throughout the entire meal. All it took was a little knowledge of letters and numbers, and we went from being the butt of the joke to the co-conspirators! I know it might not seem like that big a deal - after all, we saved maybe 15 pounds total, which is only about three dollars between the two of us. But don't you see? in reality, it was so much more than that.
Because in the end, the taste of uncompromised dignity is the sweetest meal of all.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Dear Blogosphere,
After a month-long period of neglect I return to my poor little blog, in order to assure you all:
Why YES, I AM still alive!
I apologize to all those far and wide for my disappearance, but Cairo’s gotten tricky in the last few months. I was devoting so much energy to struggling through life that the idea of reliving that struggle in blog form was just too exhausting! But I’m ready to pick up the narrative again and pound out a few paragraphs on what’s been going on.
For now, I will interrupt the already-interrupted tale of First Eid Break, and give an update on more recent matters.
Cairo has cooled down in the past few weeks, which is lovely. I never realized how closely linked my mood is to the weather! I have noticed a direct negative correlation: Temperature goes up, Carolyn’s mood plummets. But (alhumdilallah!) temperature does DOWN…Carolyn’s mood flies up to the sky! So regardless of any other stress in my life, that, at least, is one inarguably positive thing.
Unfortunately, that is just about the only inarguably positive thing…oh, but no need to be a Debbie Downer! I’ll summarize the problems quickly and then move on to pleasanter matters.
First, AUC is not exactly living up to my standards as an international university. The students make me cringe: they come into class late, talk back to the professors (Mama and Papa, thank you for raising me to respect my elders. I could never imagine speaking to a teacher like that!), and complain ceaselessly about the work load – which ironically, leads to my next complaint.
Perhaps I’m just not used to the teaching method here, but the preferred tactic is to assign an overwhelming amount of reading and then regurgitate it in class, because all the professors have long given up hope that the students are actually going to read any of it. For Autumn and I, who do read it, this means that class is generally (not always, but generally) a waste of our time. It also means that the professors, who know by now that we are two of the few who actually do the work, expect us to share notes with those who do not! This is a request that we have learned to politely refuse. Luckily the professors seem to understand our protest.
Cairo itself becomes a little wearing on the nerves as well. I have never been a city girl. Luckily, our neighborhood is one of the more aesthetically pleasing parts of Egypt – we’ve got our fair share of trees, and the buildings and roads are all pretty well maintained. So I count my blessings there. I’ll be happy to get back to my house on White Clay Drive, though. To go from living on the fringe of a national park, to the center of one of the most crowded cities in the world – haha, talk about a shock to the nerves!
And the dust shows no signs of subsiding – meaning I am forced to wear my glasses almost every day. Glasses are great for some people, but for me, they are like a time-traveling-transporter back to my days as a chubby-faced sixth grader, with braces and tortoise-shell spectacles. And a propensity for wearing the most garish and awful shades of orange…WHY didn’t anyone tell me that was a bad idea?? So as you might imagine, I’m looking forward to wearing contacts again when I head home.
Well, I suppose there’s more, but I’m tired of complaining. Egypt is what it is, and I am so grateful that I was able to come here. I am learning so much about the world and even more about myself. Much of it is uncomfortable and unpleasant – who ever said Soul Growth is easy? – but I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish it anywhere else. So alhumdilallah! Kul tamam (it’s all good.)
Plus it’s given me an (almost unhealthy) appreciation of America. At one particularly low point I even had the Youtube link to the song, “Proud to be an American” on my facebook “about me.” Have you heard that song? It is possibly the most obnoxious America-song in the entire history of America-songs. Which is probably why I loved it.
Oh a nice note, though, I am feeling more cheerful today than I have in weeks - because I do believe I finally figured out my spring schedule! I register tomorrow and I don’t want to jinx it, but if all goes well I’ll graduate in time, Honors Degree in hand.
I’m looking forward to graduation. I’m ready for the real world.
We are right on the cusp of another Eid Break, which again might be extended due to swinish reasons. It won’t affect the end of the semester though, and that’s all that matters to me! I’ve got a plane ticket leavin’ Thursday morn’ (of December 17th), and so long as I’m on that plane all will be well in my world. I am sure once I’m gone I will miss Egypt desperately, in my characteristic Carolyn fashion. My ability to cultivate nostalgia even for the most unpleasant of things is fearsome to behold!
As for Eid, I’m not so sure what I’ll be up to yet. I’ve got three 15 – 20 page papers to bang out, so I’ll take advantage of the downtime for that, but I don’t intend on doing anything quite so ambitious as the last break (which I still have to finish documenting. Again, so sorry). A trip down to Dahab might be in order, and there are some sights I’d still like to see around Cairo – Coptic Museum, Citadel (I’ve been there, but I want to see it again), Azhar Mosque, Islamic Cairo, Cairo Tower – haha, now that I’m listing it out there’s more to see than I had realized!
Thanks, Blog! Who’d have known you’d be so handy for vacation planning? Maybe I should write on you more often.
But for now, I’m going to sign off, with the promise that I will try my darndest to write more often (isn’t that always the promise? Ah well, never said I was a woman of my word…in fact, there is large evidence to the contrary.) I hope all you readers out there are well and happy, and appreciating our beautiful country as much as you should be! Unless you are in another country. In which case, I hope it’s nice too. Though don’t pretend it could ever come anywhere near America.
Unless it’s Norway. Damn, I love Norway.
Fondest regards,
Carolyn, the ever-negligent bloggist
After a month-long period of neglect I return to my poor little blog, in order to assure you all:
Why YES, I AM still alive!
I apologize to all those far and wide for my disappearance, but Cairo’s gotten tricky in the last few months. I was devoting so much energy to struggling through life that the idea of reliving that struggle in blog form was just too exhausting! But I’m ready to pick up the narrative again and pound out a few paragraphs on what’s been going on.
For now, I will interrupt the already-interrupted tale of First Eid Break, and give an update on more recent matters.
Cairo has cooled down in the past few weeks, which is lovely. I never realized how closely linked my mood is to the weather! I have noticed a direct negative correlation: Temperature goes up, Carolyn’s mood plummets. But (alhumdilallah!) temperature does DOWN…Carolyn’s mood flies up to the sky! So regardless of any other stress in my life, that, at least, is one inarguably positive thing.
Unfortunately, that is just about the only inarguably positive thing…oh, but no need to be a Debbie Downer! I’ll summarize the problems quickly and then move on to pleasanter matters.
First, AUC is not exactly living up to my standards as an international university. The students make me cringe: they come into class late, talk back to the professors (Mama and Papa, thank you for raising me to respect my elders. I could never imagine speaking to a teacher like that!), and complain ceaselessly about the work load – which ironically, leads to my next complaint.
Perhaps I’m just not used to the teaching method here, but the preferred tactic is to assign an overwhelming amount of reading and then regurgitate it in class, because all the professors have long given up hope that the students are actually going to read any of it. For Autumn and I, who do read it, this means that class is generally (not always, but generally) a waste of our time. It also means that the professors, who know by now that we are two of the few who actually do the work, expect us to share notes with those who do not! This is a request that we have learned to politely refuse. Luckily the professors seem to understand our protest.
Cairo itself becomes a little wearing on the nerves as well. I have never been a city girl. Luckily, our neighborhood is one of the more aesthetically pleasing parts of Egypt – we’ve got our fair share of trees, and the buildings and roads are all pretty well maintained. So I count my blessings there. I’ll be happy to get back to my house on White Clay Drive, though. To go from living on the fringe of a national park, to the center of one of the most crowded cities in the world – haha, talk about a shock to the nerves!
And the dust shows no signs of subsiding – meaning I am forced to wear my glasses almost every day. Glasses are great for some people, but for me, they are like a time-traveling-transporter back to my days as a chubby-faced sixth grader, with braces and tortoise-shell spectacles. And a propensity for wearing the most garish and awful shades of orange…WHY didn’t anyone tell me that was a bad idea?? So as you might imagine, I’m looking forward to wearing contacts again when I head home.
Well, I suppose there’s more, but I’m tired of complaining. Egypt is what it is, and I am so grateful that I was able to come here. I am learning so much about the world and even more about myself. Much of it is uncomfortable and unpleasant – who ever said Soul Growth is easy? – but I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish it anywhere else. So alhumdilallah! Kul tamam (it’s all good.)
Plus it’s given me an (almost unhealthy) appreciation of America. At one particularly low point I even had the Youtube link to the song, “Proud to be an American” on my facebook “about me.” Have you heard that song? It is possibly the most obnoxious America-song in the entire history of America-songs. Which is probably why I loved it.
Oh a nice note, though, I am feeling more cheerful today than I have in weeks - because I do believe I finally figured out my spring schedule! I register tomorrow and I don’t want to jinx it, but if all goes well I’ll graduate in time, Honors Degree in hand.
I’m looking forward to graduation. I’m ready for the real world.
We are right on the cusp of another Eid Break, which again might be extended due to swinish reasons. It won’t affect the end of the semester though, and that’s all that matters to me! I’ve got a plane ticket leavin’ Thursday morn’ (of December 17th), and so long as I’m on that plane all will be well in my world. I am sure once I’m gone I will miss Egypt desperately, in my characteristic Carolyn fashion. My ability to cultivate nostalgia even for the most unpleasant of things is fearsome to behold!
As for Eid, I’m not so sure what I’ll be up to yet. I’ve got three 15 – 20 page papers to bang out, so I’ll take advantage of the downtime for that, but I don’t intend on doing anything quite so ambitious as the last break (which I still have to finish documenting. Again, so sorry). A trip down to Dahab might be in order, and there are some sights I’d still like to see around Cairo – Coptic Museum, Citadel (I’ve been there, but I want to see it again), Azhar Mosque, Islamic Cairo, Cairo Tower – haha, now that I’m listing it out there’s more to see than I had realized!
Thanks, Blog! Who’d have known you’d be so handy for vacation planning? Maybe I should write on you more often.
But for now, I’m going to sign off, with the promise that I will try my darndest to write more often (isn’t that always the promise? Ah well, never said I was a woman of my word…in fact, there is large evidence to the contrary.) I hope all you readers out there are well and happy, and appreciating our beautiful country as much as you should be! Unless you are in another country. In which case, I hope it’s nice too. Though don’t pretend it could ever come anywhere near America.
Unless it’s Norway. Damn, I love Norway.
Fondest regards,
Carolyn, the ever-negligent bloggist
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Part 4: PETRA (enough said)
Oh Petra...how do I describe thee?
Well to start, we got up at 5 am, as planned, and Rami drove us to the bus station. Oh shoot. I just realized I've been spelling his name with an "i" instead of a "y" this whole time. But I've written his name so many times that I can't possibly be bothered to go back and change it now. Just let it be known that it should be spelled "Ramy," not "Rami."
There. All better.
So we hopped on a bus to Wadi Musa, a town right outside of Petra that, we had been warned by lonely planet, was full of grifters and thieves. Oh Lonely Planet! I think you did Wadi Musa a disservice. Granted, the hostel was a little more expensive than one not so close to one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, but they didn't try to rip us off, the room was neat and clean, the bathroom was washed down several times during our stay, and everyone was very friendly and helpful. More than adequate for a single night's stay. So we set our stuff down and took advantage of the free transportation to Petra.
We were dropped off at a strip of stores that, we were assured, was right outside the entrance, and told to be back at 6 pm to be picked up and returned to the hostel. This was fine with us. It was only noon, and we stopped to have some delicious food before we went in - hommas and taboula, some eggplant and tahini dish whose name I can't remember, foul and lentil soup - so good! - and then we were ready for the adventure.
And then we walked right past the entrance and got lost on the winding desert roads beyond. But only for a little while. And we got some good pictures out of it, such as the one located on your right (see? Pretty.)
Luckily a tour guide was on his way to meet up with his group, and offered to give us a ride to where we were actually supposed to be. We thanked him heartily, bought our tickets, and started walking in the proper direction.
I have so many pictures of Petra that it's best to look at my facebook; there's no way I'm going to put them all on here. But I'll include a couple good ones.
To begin with, you enter Petra by walking through a ravine, carved between impossibly tall cliffs in stripes of red and orange and mustard. They seem to narrow the further up you stare, so that the sky is just a tiny slit of blue high up above:
After thirty minutes or so of twisting and turning through these smooth walls, you finally see the exit ahead - and peeping through the narrow slit is the Treasury, the most famous and best preserved of all the carved buildings in Petra.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
Once you enter the city it's a panorama of carved building faces, many of them so eroded that it looks like they're slowly melting off the cliffside - like they were carved from sugar or glass. I guess it makes you realize how old they are, that the rock would have time to be shaped and subsequently effaced like that.
We wandered around Petra for a few hours - befriended a small boy and played catch with rocks (kids, don't try this at home) - took a quick power nap on top of a high cliff - and, oh yeah, climbed a HUGE frickin mountain to see an ancient monastery at the top! It took probably 45 minutes, and I don't even remember if I took a picture, after all that work. But we were there, and probably never will be again, so how could we not?
And besides, my favorite thing happened there, on top of that mountain, by that monastery.
It started to rain.
It was the first rain I had seen in months.
And it was beautiful.
Well to start, we got up at 5 am, as planned, and Rami drove us to the bus station. Oh shoot. I just realized I've been spelling his name with an "i" instead of a "y" this whole time. But I've written his name so many times that I can't possibly be bothered to go back and change it now. Just let it be known that it should be spelled "Ramy," not "Rami."
There. All better.
So we hopped on a bus to Wadi Musa, a town right outside of Petra that, we had been warned by lonely planet, was full of grifters and thieves. Oh Lonely Planet! I think you did Wadi Musa a disservice. Granted, the hostel was a little more expensive than one not so close to one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, but they didn't try to rip us off, the room was neat and clean, the bathroom was washed down several times during our stay, and everyone was very friendly and helpful. More than adequate for a single night's stay. So we set our stuff down and took advantage of the free transportation to Petra.
We were dropped off at a strip of stores that, we were assured, was right outside the entrance, and told to be back at 6 pm to be picked up and returned to the hostel. This was fine with us. It was only noon, and we stopped to have some delicious food before we went in - hommas and taboula, some eggplant and tahini dish whose name I can't remember, foul and lentil soup - so good! - and then we were ready for the adventure.
And then we walked right past the entrance and got lost on the winding desert roads beyond. But only for a little while. And we got some good pictures out of it, such as the one located on your right (see? Pretty.)
Luckily a tour guide was on his way to meet up with his group, and offered to give us a ride to where we were actually supposed to be. We thanked him heartily, bought our tickets, and started walking in the proper direction.
I have so many pictures of Petra that it's best to look at my facebook; there's no way I'm going to put them all on here. But I'll include a couple good ones.
To begin with, you enter Petra by walking through a ravine, carved between impossibly tall cliffs in stripes of red and orange and mustard. They seem to narrow the further up you stare, so that the sky is just a tiny slit of blue high up above:
After thirty minutes or so of twisting and turning through these smooth walls, you finally see the exit ahead - and peeping through the narrow slit is the Treasury, the most famous and best preserved of all the carved buildings in Petra.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
Once you enter the city it's a panorama of carved building faces, many of them so eroded that it looks like they're slowly melting off the cliffside - like they were carved from sugar or glass. I guess it makes you realize how old they are, that the rock would have time to be shaped and subsequently effaced like that.
We wandered around Petra for a few hours - befriended a small boy and played catch with rocks (kids, don't try this at home) - took a quick power nap on top of a high cliff - and, oh yeah, climbed a HUGE frickin mountain to see an ancient monastery at the top! It took probably 45 minutes, and I don't even remember if I took a picture, after all that work. But we were there, and probably never will be again, so how could we not?
And besides, my favorite thing happened there, on top of that mountain, by that monastery.
It started to rain.
It was the first rain I had seen in months.
And it was beautiful.
Part 3: Couch Surfing in Amman
Salty and satisfied, Autumn, Cory and I hopped on a microbus back to Amman. It was the last day of Ramadan, which meant we had to head back earlier than we would have liked - Iftar would be an especially big deal tonight, and if we didn't make the bus by 5 we would be stranded on the shores. Luckily we made it ok, and we each snuck a Snickers ice cream bar before we left, taking clandestine bites from the depths of a white plastic bag that we kept crumpled around them.
We had been so careful to avoid obvious eating and drinking in public all through that long, hot, weary month. We couldn't bear the thought of taunting them poor Muslim population so soon before the end!
But Snickers ice cream bars are soooo goooood.
We had left our things at the Sheraton in Amman, not wanting to drag our bags to the beach with us. So we returned, reclaimed them, and tried to use their public phone to call Rami, who would be hosting us tonight.
The way we found Rami was through a magical creation called Couch Surfing. Couch Surfing is an international website phenomenon meant to help out travelers around the world. If you're going somewhere but don't want to pay for a hostel or hotel, you can check out people registered on Couch Surfers and see if they're willing to host you. The website is very good about guarding against creepers, too - if you stay with someone and have a good experience, you write them a reference so that other travelers can know that they're good people. Which is nice, and makes your mother feel better about the whole thing.
[Note: I did not tell my mother about any of these things. I figured it would be nicer for her to hear them when I returned home, safe and sound and fully satisfied with all my adventures and experiences. Love you, Mom!]
We had contacted several people in Amman about the three of us crashing on their floors / couches, and ended up getting in touch with a great guy named Rami. He said we could absolutely stay, and told us to contact him when we were ready to come over.
However, we couldn't get a hold of him for a while, and after calling three times or so we decided to find something to do in the interim. So we bid farewell to the Sheraton lobby and headed back out, into the later Jordanian afternoon.
After looking through several tourist maps, and again consulting Google, we decided to check out Amman's Citadel (seems like everyone's got one!). It was reputed to have an amazing view of the city, as well as, obviously, interesting ruins and architecture. Lonely planet had told us that the Citadel was beautiful at sunset, and it was almost sunset, so we thought, why not!
Turns out the Citadel is closed at sunset.
Really, Lonely Planet?
We were just about to take our taxi all the way back down the various twisty and turny hills that we had taken to get there (Amman is somewhat redolent of San Francisco), when the men at the gate had pity on us and said we could go in after all. "Just ten minutes!" they made us promise, and we ran.
And it was beautiful at sunset! We forgave Lonely PLanet their mistake (besides, we figured, maybe it was an Iftar thing - it being sunset and all) and took pictures to our hearts' content. Like this one:
And this one, of the columns:
And this one, of the view of the city
By this point we got in touch with Rami and made plans to come to his apartment, drop off our stuff, and go out for a tour of the city from one of its native residents.
Rami was absolutely wonderful - bursting at the seams with energy, fun facts about Jordan, and turkey sandwiches to feed our hungry traveling selves. We hung around his apartment and refueled for an hour or so, then set off on a tour of the town.
Amman was not so different from other Middle Eastern cities I've seen - crowded, lots of little tables on the sidewalk and shops set into the buildings behind. However, I must say, it was much cleaner, and smelled much nicer, than Cairo. It was also a good deal greener, we had noticed. Being starved for trees we appreciated this fact.
Rami took us all over the downtown area.
We bought scarves from a little booth (the man
taught Autumn how to tie them on her head like a traditional Jordanian: see right), had sheesha and drinks at the coolest cafe (it was all dark wood and smoke, with a man playing 'oud inside), and tried an...interesting...desert that Rami swears Jordan is famous for: fried cheese covered in, I think, caramelized honey. At this point we were stuffed from all the chickpeas and foul and pita we had eaten at the cafe - and also not so tempted by the desert offered - but Rami was adamant! So we tried it, and to be honest, it wasn't so bad! Not something I would want to eat every day (I respect my arteries), but all in all it was pretty good.
By this point we were more than ready for bed. So we headed back to Rami's place, decided to get up at 5 am the next day and head to Petra, and with that, crashed thankfully on to the floor.
We had been so careful to avoid obvious eating and drinking in public all through that long, hot, weary month. We couldn't bear the thought of taunting them poor Muslim population so soon before the end!
But Snickers ice cream bars are soooo goooood.
We had left our things at the Sheraton in Amman, not wanting to drag our bags to the beach with us. So we returned, reclaimed them, and tried to use their public phone to call Rami, who would be hosting us tonight.
The way we found Rami was through a magical creation called Couch Surfing. Couch Surfing is an international website phenomenon meant to help out travelers around the world. If you're going somewhere but don't want to pay for a hostel or hotel, you can check out people registered on Couch Surfers and see if they're willing to host you. The website is very good about guarding against creepers, too - if you stay with someone and have a good experience, you write them a reference so that other travelers can know that they're good people. Which is nice, and makes your mother feel better about the whole thing.
[Note: I did not tell my mother about any of these things. I figured it would be nicer for her to hear them when I returned home, safe and sound and fully satisfied with all my adventures and experiences. Love you, Mom!]
We had contacted several people in Amman about the three of us crashing on their floors / couches, and ended up getting in touch with a great guy named Rami. He said we could absolutely stay, and told us to contact him when we were ready to come over.
However, we couldn't get a hold of him for a while, and after calling three times or so we decided to find something to do in the interim. So we bid farewell to the Sheraton lobby and headed back out, into the later Jordanian afternoon.
After looking through several tourist maps, and again consulting Google, we decided to check out Amman's Citadel (seems like everyone's got one!). It was reputed to have an amazing view of the city, as well as, obviously, interesting ruins and architecture. Lonely planet had told us that the Citadel was beautiful at sunset, and it was almost sunset, so we thought, why not!
Turns out the Citadel is closed at sunset.
Really, Lonely Planet?
We were just about to take our taxi all the way back down the various twisty and turny hills that we had taken to get there (Amman is somewhat redolent of San Francisco), when the men at the gate had pity on us and said we could go in after all. "Just ten minutes!" they made us promise, and we ran.
And it was beautiful at sunset! We forgave Lonely PLanet their mistake (besides, we figured, maybe it was an Iftar thing - it being sunset and all) and took pictures to our hearts' content. Like this one:
And this one, of the columns:
And this one, of the view of the city
By this point we got in touch with Rami and made plans to come to his apartment, drop off our stuff, and go out for a tour of the city from one of its native residents.Rami was absolutely wonderful - bursting at the seams with energy, fun facts about Jordan, and turkey sandwiches to feed our hungry traveling selves. We hung around his apartment and refueled for an hour or so, then set off on a tour of the town.
Amman was not so different from other Middle Eastern cities I've seen - crowded, lots of little tables on the sidewalk and shops set into the buildings behind. However, I must say, it was much cleaner, and smelled much nicer, than Cairo. It was also a good deal greener, we had noticed. Being starved for trees we appreciated this fact.
Rami took us all over the downtown area.
We bought scarves from a little booth (the man
taught Autumn how to tie them on her head like a traditional Jordanian: see right), had sheesha and drinks at the coolest cafe (it was all dark wood and smoke, with a man playing 'oud inside), and tried an...interesting...desert that Rami swears Jordan is famous for: fried cheese covered in, I think, caramelized honey. At this point we were stuffed from all the chickpeas and foul and pita we had eaten at the cafe - and also not so tempted by the desert offered - but Rami was adamant! So we tried it, and to be honest, it wasn't so bad! Not something I would want to eat every day (I respect my arteries), but all in all it was pretty good.By this point we were more than ready for bed. So we headed back to Rami's place, decided to get up at 5 am the next day and head to Petra, and with that, crashed thankfully on to the floor.
Part 2: Watermelon Juice and a Salty, Salty Sea
I honestly think my favorite thing about the Amman Sheraton was the breakfast buffet. Omelets made to order, dozens of flaky pastries, yogurt, cereal, jam and honey and - fresh watermelon juice! Did you even know that existed? We had to taste to believe.
After a huge breakfast we packed our bags, did a last comb-over of the room, and suddenly remembered that we had made no plans whatsoever for when we actually arrived in Jordan.
Hmm, we thought, sitting back down on to our outrageously comfortable beds and letting our bags fall to the floor. Well that is a pickle.
But it wasn't! Because that is part of the JOY of traveling! Itineraries are overrated. We decided to take advantage of what few hours of free internet use remained (we would be cut off at noon) and pick the brains of the hotel staff for ideas.
After a few minutes of google-ing and a couple moments of deliberation, we decided that our best bet was to try and visit the Dead Sea. We were to stay in Amman that night with a friend we had found through Couch Surfers, but he wasn't expecting us til later and we didn't want to show up on his doorstep at 11 am. So the Dead Sea it was! Now the question was, how to get there.
In Jordan, as in Egypt, there are two ways to get anywhere: the clearly-marked, air-conditioned tourist way; and the local way. As poor college students in good health, we tend to prefer the local way, and generally, if you ask and if you know a little but of Arabic, people are more than willing to help you find out how to use it. However, we forgot that we were staying in a 5-star hotel.
We learned all about how Sheraton would love to take us to the Dead Sea on a fancy pants shuttle that would cost us about $15 each. It would leave in two hours and we were more than welcome to sign up for it and wait patiently til then.
What?? Did they know us? We were world travelers - certainly not willing to sit idly in a hotel lobby, wasting precious swine flu vacation time. And $15 was far above our budget.
We politely thanked the Avis desk, walked over to the receptionist, and whispered that we wanted the real way to get to the Dead Sea; there had to be a microbus of some kind.
A microbus? he asked. Are you sure?
Yes! We're from Cairo and Syria! We know our microbuses!
After finally convincing him that we were fully capable of taking a microbus, he was more than willing to help us locate an appropriate one. "Just one moment," he assured us, so we stood and smiled as he made several phone calls to several people about where the illusive microbus station would be located this particular week (they change all the time, because the "station" can be any unmarked stretche of road that the microbuses feel like grouping around). I swear, he was wonderful! At one point he mentioned that a question we had would better be addressed to the Concierge, whose desk was about twenty feet behind us. We expected that he would just have us walk over there, but instead, he picked up the phone. Confused, we stopped and waited; looked across the room - looked back - and suddenly heard "ring ring! ring ring!" right behind us.
"We can just walk over there..." Autumn assured him. "I mean...it's right there..."
But the man just smiled at us and said, "Oh no, really; I do not want to inconvenience."
Finally, after all the hard work of what seemed like all the downstairs employees (they like to get lots of people involved in everything), we were given an address, an expected price of less than a dinar, and were sent cheerfully out the door.
And we were on our way! We took a taxi to the proper spot, immediately saw a tiny bus with the words "Dead Sea" scrawled on the side, and hopped on board. In just a few minutes we were jostling along to one of the most famous sites in the world.
The Dead Sea! to be honest, is rather unimpressive to look at. The sand is more like compressed clay; the sun is piercing; the wind is high. Here's a picture:
See? Kinda bleak.
But you don't go to the Dead Sea for the view! You go for the outrageously salty water!
And let me tell you, it was outrageously salty. You can't even swim on your stomach; the water is so dense it lifts your legs (which are lighter than your torso) up so high that your head pitches forward and you find yourself paddling wildly to try and keep your body level. The best bet is to swim calmly on your back, no funny business. Most of us heeded this advice. Cory, on the other hand, tried to dive under - failed - and got a face full of burning water as punishment.
Turns out the sign says "No Diving" for a reason.
After a few minutes of swimming my poor tender skin had had enough, and I got off and ran frantically to one of the many outdoor showers. Autumn and Cory, with their nice healthy thick skins, stayed in, and by the time I got back they had big handfuls of Dead Sea clay and were painting themselves like mud monsters.
Like this:
So scary.
So that was the Dead Sea! Also worth mentioning is, most of the people there were foreigners come for a tourist visit (although there weren't that many people in general). However, isn't it just my luck: I left to jump under the shower, with Autumn and Cory still in the water - and when I came back to sit by our stuff, who happened to have sat down directly next to it but a sweet little, fully-covered, very traditional Islamic family.
"Hello," says the bikini-clad girl, to the mother in her naqab, the father in his galabaya, and their wide-eyed child who will never look at the world with such innocence again. "Sorry to corrupt you with my sinful Western ways.
"Would it help if I covered myself in mud?"
After a huge breakfast we packed our bags, did a last comb-over of the room, and suddenly remembered that we had made no plans whatsoever for when we actually arrived in Jordan.
Hmm, we thought, sitting back down on to our outrageously comfortable beds and letting our bags fall to the floor. Well that is a pickle.
But it wasn't! Because that is part of the JOY of traveling! Itineraries are overrated. We decided to take advantage of what few hours of free internet use remained (we would be cut off at noon) and pick the brains of the hotel staff for ideas.
After a few minutes of google-ing and a couple moments of deliberation, we decided that our best bet was to try and visit the Dead Sea. We were to stay in Amman that night with a friend we had found through Couch Surfers, but he wasn't expecting us til later and we didn't want to show up on his doorstep at 11 am. So the Dead Sea it was! Now the question was, how to get there.
In Jordan, as in Egypt, there are two ways to get anywhere: the clearly-marked, air-conditioned tourist way; and the local way. As poor college students in good health, we tend to prefer the local way, and generally, if you ask and if you know a little but of Arabic, people are more than willing to help you find out how to use it. However, we forgot that we were staying in a 5-star hotel.
We learned all about how Sheraton would love to take us to the Dead Sea on a fancy pants shuttle that would cost us about $15 each. It would leave in two hours and we were more than welcome to sign up for it and wait patiently til then.
What?? Did they know us? We were world travelers - certainly not willing to sit idly in a hotel lobby, wasting precious swine flu vacation time. And $15 was far above our budget.
We politely thanked the Avis desk, walked over to the receptionist, and whispered that we wanted the real way to get to the Dead Sea; there had to be a microbus of some kind.
A microbus? he asked. Are you sure?
Yes! We're from Cairo and Syria! We know our microbuses!
After finally convincing him that we were fully capable of taking a microbus, he was more than willing to help us locate an appropriate one. "Just one moment," he assured us, so we stood and smiled as he made several phone calls to several people about where the illusive microbus station would be located this particular week (they change all the time, because the "station" can be any unmarked stretche of road that the microbuses feel like grouping around). I swear, he was wonderful! At one point he mentioned that a question we had would better be addressed to the Concierge, whose desk was about twenty feet behind us. We expected that he would just have us walk over there, but instead, he picked up the phone. Confused, we stopped and waited; looked across the room - looked back - and suddenly heard "ring ring! ring ring!" right behind us.
"We can just walk over there..." Autumn assured him. "I mean...it's right there..."
But the man just smiled at us and said, "Oh no, really; I do not want to inconvenience."
Finally, after all the hard work of what seemed like all the downstairs employees (they like to get lots of people involved in everything), we were given an address, an expected price of less than a dinar, and were sent cheerfully out the door.
And we were on our way! We took a taxi to the proper spot, immediately saw a tiny bus with the words "Dead Sea" scrawled on the side, and hopped on board. In just a few minutes we were jostling along to one of the most famous sites in the world.
The Dead Sea! to be honest, is rather unimpressive to look at. The sand is more like compressed clay; the sun is piercing; the wind is high. Here's a picture:
See? Kinda bleak.
But you don't go to the Dead Sea for the view! You go for the outrageously salty water!
And let me tell you, it was outrageously salty. You can't even swim on your stomach; the water is so dense it lifts your legs (which are lighter than your torso) up so high that your head pitches forward and you find yourself paddling wildly to try and keep your body level. The best bet is to swim calmly on your back, no funny business. Most of us heeded this advice. Cory, on the other hand, tried to dive under - failed - and got a face full of burning water as punishment.
Turns out the sign says "No Diving" for a reason.
After a few minutes of swimming my poor tender skin had had enough, and I got off and ran frantically to one of the many outdoor showers. Autumn and Cory, with their nice healthy thick skins, stayed in, and by the time I got back they had big handfuls of Dead Sea clay and were painting themselves like mud monsters.
Like this:
So scary.
So that was the Dead Sea! Also worth mentioning is, most of the people there were foreigners come for a tourist visit (although there weren't that many people in general). However, isn't it just my luck: I left to jump under the shower, with Autumn and Cory still in the water - and when I came back to sit by our stuff, who happened to have sat down directly next to it but a sweet little, fully-covered, very traditional Islamic family.
"Hello," says the bikini-clad girl, to the mother in her naqab, the father in his galabaya, and their wide-eyed child who will never look at the world with such innocence again. "Sorry to corrupt you with my sinful Western ways.
"Would it help if I covered myself in mud?"
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Part 1: Even Swine Flu has a Silver Lining: Carolyn's Jordanian Adventure Begins
There are many idiosyncratic little quirks that I have noticed about this country since I arrived, but by far my favorite little Egyptian eccentricity is their overwhelming terror of the Swine Flu. It permeates every level of society, sends shivers down the back of the lowliest beggar and the loftiest AUC'er, makes people slam their shutters, kill every pig in the country, and - - AND - - makes the government cancel University for two and a half weeks.
We went into class last Wednesday, and by the end of the day had learned that we would not be coming back tomorrow; we would not, in fact, be coming back til October 3rd!
But why? we asked. How could this possibly be prudent? Our schedules have already been all wacky because of Ramadan, and we've only had a week and a half of class so far! Why would you do this, AUC?
Swine Flu, they answered solemnly. Government orders. Go home, stay put, and for God's sake wash your hands.
So go home we did. But stay put we did not. When faced with such a wonderful opportunity for adventure, how can one NOT act upon it? And so, here it is: our Grand Jordanian Adventure.
God bless you, Swine Flu!
- - - - - - -
Our adventure started at 4 am on Thursday. 4 am is an ungodly time to get up. But you know what: I always feel like Grand Adventures need to start disgustingly early. There's something about getting out in the pre-dawn gloom that really reinforces the fact that you're GOING somewhere. I mean, why else would you EVER agree to get up so early? There must be something really good waiting on the other side.
Autumn and I would be traveling by bus to Nuweiba, a port town toward the south of the
The best part about this plan is, we put it together about six hours before we left. This is why I love traveling with Autumn. We had known for a while that we wanted to go to
I won't bore you with the details of the trip, but suffice it to say we set out expecting at least something to go wrong - and were shocked when the journey went as smooth as one could possibly imagine! We got on the bus, got off the bus, got on the ferry, got off the ferry, with a minimal amount of fuss or inconvenience. We even stopped and had a soda on the way. And then we were in
So we found a nearby taxi driver, only to discover:
No no, this was not part of the plan! By now it was getting on to 6:30, and what's more, the driver wanted 60 dinar (about $70) for the trip! But after trying unsuccessfully to find a public bus to take us there, and wasting another half hour to an hour, and worrying about poor Cory, who had arrived at the Sheraton around 6 and would undoubtedly start to worry soon, we finally agreed. We managed to talk to driver down to 50 dinar total, and we were on our way.
Thus ensued one of the most uncomfortable rides imaginable. We had been traveling for 14 hours already, were dead tired, were in a rush, were not feeling particularly sociable - and the driver was being ridiculous! He spent half an hour driving around Aqaba trying to convince one of this friends to keep him company on the ride; we finally told him, firmly, that we were in a bit of a rush and he needed to start driving now, at which point he tried to convince one of us to sit up front with him to keep him company! Autumn and I have heard a few too many horror stories to agree to that, especially considering he had told me I was beautiful not fifteen minutes before, so we - again, firmly - declined the invitation, and - again, firmly - asked him to start the damn trip. Then we promptly feigned sleep to avoid having to speak to him for the next four hours. He kept trying to wake us up - by stopping and buying us sodas, by flicking on the inside cab light - but we were determined! And, as I said, dead tired.
But finally we arrived! And it was beautiful! And that bed was the most heavenly bed I have ever slept on. And we awoke in the morning and had a huge, delicious breakfast, and were ready to start our adventure.
The Past Two Weeks
Dear Blogosphere,
I have disappeared off the web for the past two weeks, but with good reason! Due to forces beyond our control, AUC canceled classes for two and a half weeks. And, rather than sit at home and mourn the missed educational opportunity, some friends and I decided to seek education in a more experience-based manner.
By which I mean: TRAVELING ADVENTURE! YEAH YEAH!
We spent our first week in Jordan: visiting Aqaba, on the coast; Amman, the capital; Petra, the beautiful rose-colored city; and the Dead Sea, among other things. Then we returned to Cairo for two days before heading out yet again, to Sharm el-Sheik, in the south of the Sinai. It's a lot to document so I'm doing it in increments, with pictures to go along. It's more manageable for reading and a lot less intimidating for writing.
So then: here we go!
I have disappeared off the web for the past two weeks, but with good reason! Due to forces beyond our control, AUC canceled classes for two and a half weeks. And, rather than sit at home and mourn the missed educational opportunity, some friends and I decided to seek education in a more experience-based manner.
By which I mean: TRAVELING ADVENTURE! YEAH YEAH!
We spent our first week in Jordan: visiting Aqaba, on the coast; Amman, the capital; Petra, the beautiful rose-colored city; and the Dead Sea, among other things. Then we returned to Cairo for two days before heading out yet again, to Sharm el-Sheik, in the south of the Sinai. It's a lot to document so I'm doing it in increments, with pictures to go along. It's more manageable for reading and a lot less intimidating for writing.
So then: here we go!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Hello, Blogosphere old friend!
I got a lovely email from my father today, in which he gently reminded me that I have been neglecting my poor blog for some time now. Too true, padre. So here I am, to update the world on all the going’s-on of the past week.
For the most part there hasn’t been too much to report. After much running around and groaning and planning and replanning my schedule finally ended up exactly how I wanted it, which is a miracle and a half. The final line-up (drumroll, please): that Islamist Movements class that I had been so excited about, in addition to Economics of Developing Nations, International Organizations, Comparative Politics, and a 3-credit Arabic class, as opposed to the 6-credit beast I had originally planned on taking. I sighed a little sigh to let it go, but it means that I can now take all the classes I need to take, and will even graduate on time when I return home.
And that was just a little too sweet to pass up.
My classes contain mostly Egyptians, which lends a very interesting perspective to the discussions. I’m always a little self-conscious about being from Big Bad America (we pretty much screwed the entire world with our irresponsible financial scheming), but everyone has been very nice about it so far. There was one girl who was convinced we live in a Communist-China-esque state of isolationism and censorship (“They just feed them information!” she proclaimed passionately in our International Organizations class), but we explained to her that we do actually have internet access, and that not everyone subscribes blindly to Fox News, so hopefully this rather unflattering idea has been duly corrected.
Everyone on campus has been very friendly and I’ve had a great time meeting new friends. I had hoped to make lots of Egyptian friends and expected to make many American ones, but a large number of my recent acquaintances are coming from somewhere entirely unexpected:
Norway!
There are a small number of Norwegians on campus – nine, I believe? or 11? something around there – and at this point I’ve met just about all of them. How did I get adopted into the Norwegian camp, you ask? Well it’s all because of my Islamist Movements class, really. The first day, I left class with this nice blond girl who had been sitting in the same row as me. I had noticed her because – actually – I thought that she might be Norwegian, and I love Norwegians! When I was in Tunisia one of my sisters was an exchange student from Norway, and this girl in class had that certain Norwegian look to her, just like Stine (my sister) had. So imagine my delight when I found out she actually WAS from Norway!
Anyway, her name is Trude (pronounced Trrrrruda) and she’s absolutely lovely, and really very fascinating. She worked in Lebanon for a time as a Red Cross aid worker and is studying at AUC for (I believe) two and a half years, insha allah. She’s taught me all sorts of things about Norway – about the government, the economy, the history, the geography – and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s just about the best little country in the whole wide world. I’ve fallen in love! I think I’ll be applying for my citizenship before the year’s up.
I’m terribly nervous now though, because tonight is the election for the new Prime Minister and parliament. We’re rooting for the incumbents, the Red party, which is the Socialist party and the current majority. Their opponents, the Blue party, have been putting up a fierce fight though. But we don’t like them. The Blue party wants to cut off immigration, do away with the government agency that distributed loans to college students, and – worse of all! – they want to take money from the National Fund!
[The National Fund is an account where the Norwegian government has deposited billions in profit from their oil sales. This way, when the oil runs out and Norway loses its main source of income, the economy won’t collapse. Future Norwegians will have this money saved up so that they can still survive even without oil. Ridiculously progressive, eh? I wish MY country thought a little more like that…]
The Blue Party also has a reputation for being homophobic, racist, and prejudice in general, so we REALLY don’t like them. Election results are supposed to come out at 1 am, and I can’t wait to see who wins! I’ve instructed Trude to call me or text me so I know what happens.
So yeah. That’s me becoming Norwegian.
Now, I unfortunately have something unpleasant to document. I don’t like to dwell on negatives but I feel like it needs to be included. Basically, the unpleasant thing is this: I had my first experience with sexual harassment today.
Like every other woman who ever travels to the Middle East, I of course heard all the horror stories and received all the warnings before I came. However, up until now I really haven’t had much of a problem. The fact of the matter is, though, that Cory arrived on his visit just a few days after I moved in, and stayed for over a week, and I think it’s truer than I realized that men won’t touch a woman if she’s with another man. Now that I’m by myself I guess I’m fair game.
Either way, I was walking to the bus, probably a ten minute walk along fairly busy roads. I do this walk every day, no big deal. It was around 9:30 in the morning. I was walking behind this kid who looked to be about 15 years old – tall and gangly and scrawny, a pretty unfortunate looking child. So I’m walking pretty fast, and as I’m getting closer to him I see him turn around and look at me and then sort of slow down and drop behind me as I pass him. And I’m walking by, when all of a sudden I feel his hand between my legs.
I’m not talking a friendly swat on the bum. I mean, between.
And when I look back, absolutely horrified, he’s already walking away – and he blows me a kiss.
I could have killed him. I swear to God, I could have. If I hadn’t been so shocked I honestly think I would have punched him then and there, in the middle of the road in Maadi. How dare some punk ass little 15-year-old do that to any woman?! And in the middle of the street, in broad daylight! It was absolutely disgusting.
The most frustrating part of this whole experience, though, is that there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it. The gender relations in this country are sickening. This is what you get when young men and women aren’t allowed to interact naturally with each other. The two sexes don’t understand each other at all, and thus the men behave like 10-year-olds.
Autumn and I were on the train the other night, and these two boys, probably around 16 or 17, were standing two feet away from us, openly staring and giggling like schoolgirls behind their hands. They would stare – whisper whisper – and giggle madly. It wasn’t funny though, is the thing – it’s not like it had some endearing, innocent quality to it. Their behavior and attitudes were blatantly inappropriate and sexually-charged. But it’s because of all the sexual repression that they behave like that!
It’s never good to generalize though. The majority of the young men I’ve met here have been wonderful, and in my three weeks this is the first problem I’ve had.
It’s just too bad there had to be a problem in the first place.
So that was undeniably unfortunate. Other than that everything has been going well though. It’s far too hot, which is another reason that I think I’ll have to move to Norway when I’m done with my stint here. I need to not sweat for a while.
An exciting thing: only three more days til our Eid break! We’ve got some five or six days off, and we’re determined to use them well, though we’re not quite sure of our plans yet. But it’ll be grand!
And insha allah, will not involve any groping.
I got a lovely email from my father today, in which he gently reminded me that I have been neglecting my poor blog for some time now. Too true, padre. So here I am, to update the world on all the going’s-on of the past week.
For the most part there hasn’t been too much to report. After much running around and groaning and planning and replanning my schedule finally ended up exactly how I wanted it, which is a miracle and a half. The final line-up (drumroll, please): that Islamist Movements class that I had been so excited about, in addition to Economics of Developing Nations, International Organizations, Comparative Politics, and a 3-credit Arabic class, as opposed to the 6-credit beast I had originally planned on taking. I sighed a little sigh to let it go, but it means that I can now take all the classes I need to take, and will even graduate on time when I return home.
And that was just a little too sweet to pass up.
My classes contain mostly Egyptians, which lends a very interesting perspective to the discussions. I’m always a little self-conscious about being from Big Bad America (we pretty much screwed the entire world with our irresponsible financial scheming), but everyone has been very nice about it so far. There was one girl who was convinced we live in a Communist-China-esque state of isolationism and censorship (“They just feed them information!” she proclaimed passionately in our International Organizations class), but we explained to her that we do actually have internet access, and that not everyone subscribes blindly to Fox News, so hopefully this rather unflattering idea has been duly corrected.
Everyone on campus has been very friendly and I’ve had a great time meeting new friends. I had hoped to make lots of Egyptian friends and expected to make many American ones, but a large number of my recent acquaintances are coming from somewhere entirely unexpected:
Norway!
There are a small number of Norwegians on campus – nine, I believe? or 11? something around there – and at this point I’ve met just about all of them. How did I get adopted into the Norwegian camp, you ask? Well it’s all because of my Islamist Movements class, really. The first day, I left class with this nice blond girl who had been sitting in the same row as me. I had noticed her because – actually – I thought that she might be Norwegian, and I love Norwegians! When I was in Tunisia one of my sisters was an exchange student from Norway, and this girl in class had that certain Norwegian look to her, just like Stine (my sister) had. So imagine my delight when I found out she actually WAS from Norway!
Anyway, her name is Trude (pronounced Trrrrruda) and she’s absolutely lovely, and really very fascinating. She worked in Lebanon for a time as a Red Cross aid worker and is studying at AUC for (I believe) two and a half years, insha allah. She’s taught me all sorts of things about Norway – about the government, the economy, the history, the geography – and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s just about the best little country in the whole wide world. I’ve fallen in love! I think I’ll be applying for my citizenship before the year’s up.
I’m terribly nervous now though, because tonight is the election for the new Prime Minister and parliament. We’re rooting for the incumbents, the Red party, which is the Socialist party and the current majority. Their opponents, the Blue party, have been putting up a fierce fight though. But we don’t like them. The Blue party wants to cut off immigration, do away with the government agency that distributed loans to college students, and – worse of all! – they want to take money from the National Fund!
[The National Fund is an account where the Norwegian government has deposited billions in profit from their oil sales. This way, when the oil runs out and Norway loses its main source of income, the economy won’t collapse. Future Norwegians will have this money saved up so that they can still survive even without oil. Ridiculously progressive, eh? I wish MY country thought a little more like that…]
The Blue Party also has a reputation for being homophobic, racist, and prejudice in general, so we REALLY don’t like them. Election results are supposed to come out at 1 am, and I can’t wait to see who wins! I’ve instructed Trude to call me or text me so I know what happens.
So yeah. That’s me becoming Norwegian.
Now, I unfortunately have something unpleasant to document. I don’t like to dwell on negatives but I feel like it needs to be included. Basically, the unpleasant thing is this: I had my first experience with sexual harassment today.
Like every other woman who ever travels to the Middle East, I of course heard all the horror stories and received all the warnings before I came. However, up until now I really haven’t had much of a problem. The fact of the matter is, though, that Cory arrived on his visit just a few days after I moved in, and stayed for over a week, and I think it’s truer than I realized that men won’t touch a woman if she’s with another man. Now that I’m by myself I guess I’m fair game.
Either way, I was walking to the bus, probably a ten minute walk along fairly busy roads. I do this walk every day, no big deal. It was around 9:30 in the morning. I was walking behind this kid who looked to be about 15 years old – tall and gangly and scrawny, a pretty unfortunate looking child. So I’m walking pretty fast, and as I’m getting closer to him I see him turn around and look at me and then sort of slow down and drop behind me as I pass him. And I’m walking by, when all of a sudden I feel his hand between my legs.
I’m not talking a friendly swat on the bum. I mean, between.
And when I look back, absolutely horrified, he’s already walking away – and he blows me a kiss.
I could have killed him. I swear to God, I could have. If I hadn’t been so shocked I honestly think I would have punched him then and there, in the middle of the road in Maadi. How dare some punk ass little 15-year-old do that to any woman?! And in the middle of the street, in broad daylight! It was absolutely disgusting.
The most frustrating part of this whole experience, though, is that there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do about it. The gender relations in this country are sickening. This is what you get when young men and women aren’t allowed to interact naturally with each other. The two sexes don’t understand each other at all, and thus the men behave like 10-year-olds.
Autumn and I were on the train the other night, and these two boys, probably around 16 or 17, were standing two feet away from us, openly staring and giggling like schoolgirls behind their hands. They would stare – whisper whisper – and giggle madly. It wasn’t funny though, is the thing – it’s not like it had some endearing, innocent quality to it. Their behavior and attitudes were blatantly inappropriate and sexually-charged. But it’s because of all the sexual repression that they behave like that!
It’s never good to generalize though. The majority of the young men I’ve met here have been wonderful, and in my three weeks this is the first problem I’ve had.
It’s just too bad there had to be a problem in the first place.
So that was undeniably unfortunate. Other than that everything has been going well though. It’s far too hot, which is another reason that I think I’ll have to move to Norway when I’m done with my stint here. I need to not sweat for a while.
An exciting thing: only three more days til our Eid break! We’ve got some five or six days off, and we’re determined to use them well, though we’re not quite sure of our plans yet. But it’ll be grand!
And insha allah, will not involve any groping.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Alexandria, as promised
Wracked with guilt about the fact that poor Cory had been in Egypt for five days and seen little more than the apartment and the grocery store, we decided we could use a good field trip.
Our first field trip ended in semi-disaster. Going on the advice of friends, fellow travelers, and a very emphatic Lonely Planet Guide, we decided that we just HAD to see the Egyptian Museum. The Egyptian Museum is apparently one of the best museums in the world, though it comes by the reputation dishonestly: you can't help but be one of the best museums in the world when you're located in one of the most richly historical places in the world. The museum wins by default.
I say this because the museum itself is apparently awful, speaking from a conservation point of view. It's packed to the brim with all kinds of artifacts, and yet it can't even hold everything that it should. It's notorious for having countless priceless pieces jammed into storage or in the basement, and the running joke is that the artifacts need to be excavated AGAIN, because they've been in the basement for so long that they've sunk into the soft floor and have practically been reburied.
[NOTE: I call this the running joke, but it's actually literally true.]
Plans have been made for a big new museum, with climate control (something the present museum lacks - which I'm sure is also pretty terrible for the museum pieces) and all kinds of fancy-pants museum designs - but they are sorely underfunded and only tenuously commited to a 2012 finish date.
[Funny story: The present museum didn't even have a security system until a few years/decades ago. When they closed for the night, the last employee would lock the door and go home. However, one night a clever crook decided to hide out after close, and made off with loads of priceless artifacts. This gave them the impetus they needed to finally install an alarm system.]
But enough ragging on the museum. It may not be perfect, but it is still incredible, and better than having NONE of these artifacts on display. So Autumn, Tim, Cory, Andrew and I decided that we should pay it a much-deserved visit.
We didn't necessarily go about it in the best way possible though. Committed to our Cairo schedule, we got up at noon, per usual, and planned to leave the apartment around 1 o'clock.
A note for anyone who might ever be in Cairo during the summer: NEVER GO ANYWHERE AT ONE O'CLOCK. Don't do it. It is bad news. When we told people this story later all they could do was look at us disdainfully and ask, "One o'clock? Really guys?" See, from one to four o'clock is the hottest part of the Caireen day, and this day in particlar was even hotter than it had been. In addition to that, it's Ramadan, and although none of us are Muslim (and thus do not personally observe the fast) it's pretty much a dick thing to drink water in public, no matter how hot or thirsty you are. No one is going to fault you for it, but would you want to eat or drink in front of someone when you know they haven't had anything all day? I know I can't bring myself to do it. And all teh restaurants are closed so it's really hard to find food during the daylight hours.
Autumn, Cory and I, in our light, breezy apartment, had been sleeping through the hottest part of the day and only going out during the cool, comfortable night. We were blissfully unaware of the joys of Cairo midday. Thus we set out at 1 o'clock to head downtown and meet up with Tim and Andrew. We successfully, though sweatily, walked the 10 minutes to the train station; got on a stuffy, breathless train packed to the eaves with sweaty, smelly men; and suddenly realized that maybe this wasn't the best idea we had ever had.
We made it five stops before I realized I was going to faint.
I grabbed Autumn and Cory's hands and stumbled out of the car, and sat on the ground for a few minutes until my vision cleared and my ears stopped ringing. I was so embarrassed; I had been so excited about the museum and there I was ruining the trip. And I refused to let Autumn buy me water because it was Ramadan and I felt too guilty.
I would not give up! We would not go home! We had promised poor Cory that we would show him the sights, and yet we hadn't done anything worth mentioning in the four days or so he had been there. And I LOVE museums. I was so excited! And we only had three more stops to go! I took a deep breath and made them get back on the train with me.
It took one more sweaty, stifling stop before I called it quits.
Even if I got to the museum, I don't know that I would be able to enjoy it if I was unconscious.
At least I tried, right?
We decided to catch a taxi home, rather than try to get back the way we came, and the silver lining of this sad sad tale is that we bought a big juicy watermelon while wandering the streets searching for a ride. I was too miserable to necessarily appreciate it right away, but after I got back, drank a gallon of water, and lay down for two hours I was much more receptive.
In order to make up for this failed first outing, we decided to come up with a grander scheme, involving earlier hours and cooler temperatures.
Alexandria would be perfect.
Alexandria, or Scandria as it's called in Arabic, is a little city right on the edge of the Mediterranean, about a two and a half hour journey from the capital. It has an amazing history, far too complicated to recount here, but do yourselves a favor and Wiki it. Its recent history is similarly interesting: it was a den of sin in the 40's and 50's, filled with foreigners and brothels and drugs and French pleasure gardens, til Nasser kicked them all out and it slowly filled up with conservative Egyptians migrating in from the South. The result is a city that is far more conservative that Cairo, with a deliciously salacious past that it seems quite keen to forget.
History notwithstanding, the beaches are lovely and the air much cleaner than it is back home in Maadi.
Autumn has a friend whose boyfriend, Michael, is living in Alexandria, and she had been told that if she ever wanted to see the city she should call him and ask for a tour. So Wednesday night she called him, told him we wanted to come Friday morning, and he generously invited us to spend the night in his flat and head back to Cairo on Saturday.
Smart little Caireens that we now are, we got up at 8, left the house at 9, headed downtown and found a microbus headed for Scandria. It was surpsinigly easy - we popped around from driver to driver til we found the right van, and it only cost 22 pounds - about 4 dollars. Can you imagine taking a two and a half hour ride with Greyhound for that price? I think not!
Leaving the city was wonderful. We drove through some wonderful landscapes; rocky beige tracks of land that extended out and out to the sky, with every now and then a pinkish concrete building sprouting out like a dusty spacepod. Everything looks out of place in a world so flat. My favorite, though, was driving along an unassuming highway, nonchalantly observing the skyline, and suddenly realizing that you are seeing the pyramids shimmering in the distance through the dust.
You know. Just sittin there.
[We never got to the pyramids during this visit. Wandering Cairo in the summer heat was bad enough. Wandering out to the desert in August was just asking for it.]
Alexandria was beautiful and full of breezes. We attracted a lot more attention there than in Cairo; we got off the microbus a ways before our destination, and spent some time just wandering the streets. I think the people aren't so used to seeing foreigners off of the beach, just looking around. There was a lot to look at, though! The streets were decorated with lanterns and streamers in honor of Ramadan, and the buildings were beautiful; old and towering, a lot of them painted in pinks and creams, with bright peeling blue, yellow, green shutters. Check it out:
The streets were lined with the usual venders selling food and wares, and at one point we passed by a table literally teeming with bunnies.
"Bunnies!" Autumn exclaimed, and took a picture delightedly. "Let's buy a bunny! We should get a pet for the apartment!"
"Of course, Autumn," I said warily. "Pets..." Realizing she hadn't noticed the steaming grill set into the alcove behind said adorable bunnies, Cory and I, who didn't have the heart to crush her little vegetarian dreams, hurried her on. Unfortunately she figured it out later. Ah, loss of innocence.
We met up with Michael about an hour later, and found in him a kindred spirit and a remarkable tour guide. He knows the city of Alexandria like the back of his hand, and after making us a delicious Egyptian lunch in his beautiful flat he took us out to see the town.
Our first stop was at the catacombs, which were discovered in, I believe, the 1920's. An unfortunate donkey fell through the street, five stories to his unexpected and understandably unpleasant death - too bad for him, but how great for us history lovers! The twisting system of carved tunnels is filled with artwork that shows both Greek and ancient Egyptian influences, creating an interesting fusion of cultures. The stone panels depicting the gods are the best: they've got the bodies of Greek gods with Egyptian animal heads smushed on top.
After the catacombs we walked for a half hour or so, maybe more, til we came to the Corniche, on the Mediterranean. We got a good feel for the city on the way - saw some of the architecture, a lot of the people, some ancient Roman ruins, some imposing buildings left over from the hayday of colonialism. We even stopped at the intersection under which Alexander the Great is supposedly buried. Michael really was an incredible tour guide; I'm still amazed at his knowledge of Alexandria, and we soaked it up like appreciative sponges.
For dinner we stopped at one of his favorite fish places, down a dark little street lit primarily by strings of electric ramadan lights. They had the most amazing hommus I have ever had, along with baba ganouj and cucumber salad, and for our main course they sliced open a big old fish and cooked him with garlic and onion and pepper. It was SO good.
The fish actually reminds me of something. My radical weight-loss plan - i.e. Carolyn gets terrible traveler's sickness and cannot eat for weeks at a time - still has yet to come into play. I avoided questionable food for my first week or so, but I've been much more daring lately and I still feel just fine. I'm not complaining, I'm just amazed, because I got so sick in Tunisia I was sure it would happen here too! And of course, there's a chance that the sickness is still looming in the distance...but Egyptian food has treated me well so far, and for that I am thankful.
Except that I tried to bulk up a little before I left so that I would have some weight to lose, and it turns out it was all in vain. I guess I can't afford to gorge myself afterall. And I brought at least 10 boxes of pepto bismol with me, and I've only taken 4 tablets so far. What a waste!
So the fish was delicious, and did NOT make me sick, and we had some really good conversation over dinner. I decided that at some point before I leave I want to go out dressed in hijab, and see if people treat me differently. I told Michael about my plan to see what he thought, since he has lived in Egypt for two years and has a lot of knowledge about the culture here, and he thought it was an excellent idea. There are light-skinned Egyptians, and we both think that it would be an incredibly interesting social experiment. Being a foreigner unavoidably brings about different treatment, and carries with it certain streotypes, and makes people treat you a certain way. But what would it be like being Egyptian, and blending in with the crowds? How would men treat me, once the idea of Pamela Anderson and Paris Hilton was out of their heads? Especially if I was wearing the head scarf, I am sure it would be an entirely different experience. I think I would like to try it in Alexandria more than Cairo too, since Alexandria is more conservative. So I'm planning on giving it a try sometime in the next few weeks, and of course I will blog about it if I do.
After the fish place we went on a fun run of bars and cafes - to a hole-in-the-wall expat pub called the Spitfire run by three Egyptian Brothers who love to joke around with customers - to a fancy cafe right on the water that serves great sheesha while playing Whitney Houston and Celine Dion from speakers attached to palm trees - and finally back to Michael's flat, where we went to bed happy and exhausted.
We had to leave very early the next morning, to get Cory on his flight back to Syria. But we were proud that we had finally gone on an adventure, and it had been a wonderful one! Autumn and I are determined to go back to Alexandria as soon as we can, and to hopefully swim in that big beautiful ocean when we do.
Our first field trip ended in semi-disaster. Going on the advice of friends, fellow travelers, and a very emphatic Lonely Planet Guide, we decided that we just HAD to see the Egyptian Museum. The Egyptian Museum is apparently one of the best museums in the world, though it comes by the reputation dishonestly: you can't help but be one of the best museums in the world when you're located in one of the most richly historical places in the world. The museum wins by default.
I say this because the museum itself is apparently awful, speaking from a conservation point of view. It's packed to the brim with all kinds of artifacts, and yet it can't even hold everything that it should. It's notorious for having countless priceless pieces jammed into storage or in the basement, and the running joke is that the artifacts need to be excavated AGAIN, because they've been in the basement for so long that they've sunk into the soft floor and have practically been reburied.
[NOTE: I call this the running joke, but it's actually literally true.]
Plans have been made for a big new museum, with climate control (something the present museum lacks - which I'm sure is also pretty terrible for the museum pieces) and all kinds of fancy-pants museum designs - but they are sorely underfunded and only tenuously commited to a 2012 finish date.
[Funny story: The present museum didn't even have a security system until a few years/decades ago. When they closed for the night, the last employee would lock the door and go home. However, one night a clever crook decided to hide out after close, and made off with loads of priceless artifacts. This gave them the impetus they needed to finally install an alarm system.]
But enough ragging on the museum. It may not be perfect, but it is still incredible, and better than having NONE of these artifacts on display. So Autumn, Tim, Cory, Andrew and I decided that we should pay it a much-deserved visit.
We didn't necessarily go about it in the best way possible though. Committed to our Cairo schedule, we got up at noon, per usual, and planned to leave the apartment around 1 o'clock.
A note for anyone who might ever be in Cairo during the summer: NEVER GO ANYWHERE AT ONE O'CLOCK. Don't do it. It is bad news. When we told people this story later all they could do was look at us disdainfully and ask, "One o'clock? Really guys?" See, from one to four o'clock is the hottest part of the Caireen day, and this day in particlar was even hotter than it had been. In addition to that, it's Ramadan, and although none of us are Muslim (and thus do not personally observe the fast) it's pretty much a dick thing to drink water in public, no matter how hot or thirsty you are. No one is going to fault you for it, but would you want to eat or drink in front of someone when you know they haven't had anything all day? I know I can't bring myself to do it. And all teh restaurants are closed so it's really hard to find food during the daylight hours.
Autumn, Cory and I, in our light, breezy apartment, had been sleeping through the hottest part of the day and only going out during the cool, comfortable night. We were blissfully unaware of the joys of Cairo midday. Thus we set out at 1 o'clock to head downtown and meet up with Tim and Andrew. We successfully, though sweatily, walked the 10 minutes to the train station; got on a stuffy, breathless train packed to the eaves with sweaty, smelly men; and suddenly realized that maybe this wasn't the best idea we had ever had.
We made it five stops before I realized I was going to faint.
I grabbed Autumn and Cory's hands and stumbled out of the car, and sat on the ground for a few minutes until my vision cleared and my ears stopped ringing. I was so embarrassed; I had been so excited about the museum and there I was ruining the trip. And I refused to let Autumn buy me water because it was Ramadan and I felt too guilty.
I would not give up! We would not go home! We had promised poor Cory that we would show him the sights, and yet we hadn't done anything worth mentioning in the four days or so he had been there. And I LOVE museums. I was so excited! And we only had three more stops to go! I took a deep breath and made them get back on the train with me.
It took one more sweaty, stifling stop before I called it quits.
Even if I got to the museum, I don't know that I would be able to enjoy it if I was unconscious.
At least I tried, right?
We decided to catch a taxi home, rather than try to get back the way we came, and the silver lining of this sad sad tale is that we bought a big juicy watermelon while wandering the streets searching for a ride. I was too miserable to necessarily appreciate it right away, but after I got back, drank a gallon of water, and lay down for two hours I was much more receptive.
In order to make up for this failed first outing, we decided to come up with a grander scheme, involving earlier hours and cooler temperatures.
Alexandria would be perfect.
Alexandria, or Scandria as it's called in Arabic, is a little city right on the edge of the Mediterranean, about a two and a half hour journey from the capital. It has an amazing history, far too complicated to recount here, but do yourselves a favor and Wiki it. Its recent history is similarly interesting: it was a den of sin in the 40's and 50's, filled with foreigners and brothels and drugs and French pleasure gardens, til Nasser kicked them all out and it slowly filled up with conservative Egyptians migrating in from the South. The result is a city that is far more conservative that Cairo, with a deliciously salacious past that it seems quite keen to forget.
History notwithstanding, the beaches are lovely and the air much cleaner than it is back home in Maadi.
Autumn has a friend whose boyfriend, Michael, is living in Alexandria, and she had been told that if she ever wanted to see the city she should call him and ask for a tour. So Wednesday night she called him, told him we wanted to come Friday morning, and he generously invited us to spend the night in his flat and head back to Cairo on Saturday.
Smart little Caireens that we now are, we got up at 8, left the house at 9, headed downtown and found a microbus headed for Scandria. It was surpsinigly easy - we popped around from driver to driver til we found the right van, and it only cost 22 pounds - about 4 dollars. Can you imagine taking a two and a half hour ride with Greyhound for that price? I think not!
Leaving the city was wonderful. We drove through some wonderful landscapes; rocky beige tracks of land that extended out and out to the sky, with every now and then a pinkish concrete building sprouting out like a dusty spacepod. Everything looks out of place in a world so flat. My favorite, though, was driving along an unassuming highway, nonchalantly observing the skyline, and suddenly realizing that you are seeing the pyramids shimmering in the distance through the dust.
You know. Just sittin there.
[We never got to the pyramids during this visit. Wandering Cairo in the summer heat was bad enough. Wandering out to the desert in August was just asking for it.]
Alexandria was beautiful and full of breezes. We attracted a lot more attention there than in Cairo; we got off the microbus a ways before our destination, and spent some time just wandering the streets. I think the people aren't so used to seeing foreigners off of the beach, just looking around. There was a lot to look at, though! The streets were decorated with lanterns and streamers in honor of Ramadan, and the buildings were beautiful; old and towering, a lot of them painted in pinks and creams, with bright peeling blue, yellow, green shutters. Check it out:
The streets were lined with the usual venders selling food and wares, and at one point we passed by a table literally teeming with bunnies.
"Bunnies!" Autumn exclaimed, and took a picture delightedly. "Let's buy a bunny! We should get a pet for the apartment!"
"Of course, Autumn," I said warily. "Pets..." Realizing she hadn't noticed the steaming grill set into the alcove behind said adorable bunnies, Cory and I, who didn't have the heart to crush her little vegetarian dreams, hurried her on. Unfortunately she figured it out later. Ah, loss of innocence.
We met up with Michael about an hour later, and found in him a kindred spirit and a remarkable tour guide. He knows the city of Alexandria like the back of his hand, and after making us a delicious Egyptian lunch in his beautiful flat he took us out to see the town.
Our first stop was at the catacombs, which were discovered in, I believe, the 1920's. An unfortunate donkey fell through the street, five stories to his unexpected and understandably unpleasant death - too bad for him, but how great for us history lovers! The twisting system of carved tunnels is filled with artwork that shows both Greek and ancient Egyptian influences, creating an interesting fusion of cultures. The stone panels depicting the gods are the best: they've got the bodies of Greek gods with Egyptian animal heads smushed on top.After the catacombs we walked for a half hour or so, maybe more, til we came to the Corniche, on the Mediterranean. We got a good feel for the city on the way - saw some of the architecture, a lot of the people, some ancient Roman ruins, some imposing buildings left over from the hayday of colonialism. We even stopped at the intersection under which Alexander the Great is supposedly buried. Michael really was an incredible tour guide; I'm still amazed at his knowledge of Alexandria, and we soaked it up like appreciative sponges.
For dinner we stopped at one of his favorite fish places, down a dark little street lit primarily by strings of electric ramadan lights. They had the most amazing hommus I have ever had, along with baba ganouj and cucumber salad, and for our main course they sliced open a big old fish and cooked him with garlic and onion and pepper. It was SO good.
The fish actually reminds me of something. My radical weight-loss plan - i.e. Carolyn gets terrible traveler's sickness and cannot eat for weeks at a time - still has yet to come into play. I avoided questionable food for my first week or so, but I've been much more daring lately and I still feel just fine. I'm not complaining, I'm just amazed, because I got so sick in Tunisia I was sure it would happen here too! And of course, there's a chance that the sickness is still looming in the distance...but Egyptian food has treated me well so far, and for that I am thankful.
Except that I tried to bulk up a little before I left so that I would have some weight to lose, and it turns out it was all in vain. I guess I can't afford to gorge myself afterall. And I brought at least 10 boxes of pepto bismol with me, and I've only taken 4 tablets so far. What a waste!
So the fish was delicious, and did NOT make me sick, and we had some really good conversation over dinner. I decided that at some point before I leave I want to go out dressed in hijab, and see if people treat me differently. I told Michael about my plan to see what he thought, since he has lived in Egypt for two years and has a lot of knowledge about the culture here, and he thought it was an excellent idea. There are light-skinned Egyptians, and we both think that it would be an incredibly interesting social experiment. Being a foreigner unavoidably brings about different treatment, and carries with it certain streotypes, and makes people treat you a certain way. But what would it be like being Egyptian, and blending in with the crowds? How would men treat me, once the idea of Pamela Anderson and Paris Hilton was out of their heads? Especially if I was wearing the head scarf, I am sure it would be an entirely different experience. I think I would like to try it in Alexandria more than Cairo too, since Alexandria is more conservative. So I'm planning on giving it a try sometime in the next few weeks, and of course I will blog about it if I do.
After the fish place we went on a fun run of bars and cafes - to a hole-in-the-wall expat pub called the Spitfire run by three Egyptian Brothers who love to joke around with customers - to a fancy cafe right on the water that serves great sheesha while playing Whitney Houston and Celine Dion from speakers attached to palm trees - and finally back to Michael's flat, where we went to bed happy and exhausted.
We had to leave very early the next morning, to get Cory on his flight back to Syria. But we were proud that we had finally gone on an adventure, and it had been a wonderful one! Autumn and I are determined to go back to Alexandria as soon as we can, and to hopefully swim in that big beautiful ocean when we do.
So that was Alexandria.
An American (University) Girl
Well well. Here I am, sitting in the library of AUC, with a 6-hour break between my second class (Arabic 201) which ended at 2 pm, and my third class (Islamist Movements from Militancy to Power Sharing), which starts at 8 pm. Faced with such a daunting gap, but unwilling to make the 30 - 40 minute commute back to the apartment, only to return later, I visited some departments to see about drop/add issues, tried to momorize the layout of this very large and very confusing campus, and have now holed myself up in the library, to document the events of the very busy past few days.
To begin with, though, a word about AUC.
American University in Cairo recently finished the construction of its new campus.
It is not in Cairo.
It is in the middle of the desert.
In order to get to this new location - in the middle of the desert - the University runs several buses at theoretically convenient hours from a multitude of theoretically convenient locations. I say theoretically because it is convenient assuming that the bus shows up on time and shows up at the right place.
For example. Last night I checked the new Ramadan schedule for the buses, and saw that there would be a bus leaving from Sakinaat al Maadi, the local train station, at 9:10 am. I had a class at 11, so I thought this would be perfect - get to campus by quarter to ten, have some time to walk around, check out the buildings, visit the bookstore, etc. However, from experience I already knew that the bus would not be coming to Sakinaat al Maadi at all. The bus would be stopping at a round-about some two minutes down the road from Sakinaat al-Maadi. The only way I knew this was because last week I waited for an hour and a half for the bus to arrive at Sakinaat al-Maadi, only to give up in despair and take a taxi with four other confused and desperate students who also just wanted to get to orientation. We later learned that the bus was just a few yards down the road - though, of course, around the corner and thus out of sight.
Having gotten over this speed bump I felt fairly confident about catching the bus this morning. Of course I was late - I tend to always run 10 to 15 minutes behind - but Egyptians usually run 15 - 60 minutes behind so I figured I would be fine as long as I walked briskly. I arrived slightly out of breath and knocked on the door of a big coach bus parked by the side of the clearing, and found that it was indeed the AUC bus. So I climbed on, and told the driver about how worried I had been that I would miss the bus - at which point he looked at me confusedly and said, "But why? The bus does not leave until 9:55."
That's when I realized I was only the second person aboard.
It could have been worse though! Turns out that other passenger was one of the students I had split the taxi with after the disastrous bus attempt last week! And unlike me, he had arrived at the stop a full hour and a half early. We were both glad for the company and spent the waiting period and subsequent ride in pleasant conversation.
New Campus may be in the middle of nowhere, but it is absolutely gorgeous. And imposing. The buildings are all in stripes of pink and tan and beige sandstone, and there are more fountains than you could shake a stick at. Lots of palm trees, too. Egypt also has this interesting way of making everything in it look ancient - there's so much dust that even this brand spankin new campus looks like it's been snuggled among the dunes for centuries. The layout is not so conducive to hot weather, though. A walk across campus involves crossing multiple large, open, stone places while the Egyptian sun beats mercilessly upon your poor skin. And although campus is scattered with little sitting areas - inviting little spots with palm trees and stone benches and more fountains and symetrical streams babbling by them - it's too beastly hot to enjoy them just yet.
Give it a month or two though, and this place will be heaven.
The best part, though: My sexy, sexy classes. My schedule is bursting with all sorts of juicy polisci courses - Islamist Movements from Militancy to Power Sharing, Economic Development, Modern Human Rights in Egypt - oh god, it's so good! My brain is drooling already (Wow, what a gross image...) But seriously, I don't even mind being here until 10:30, because the Islamist Movements class is going to be incredible insha allah.
Only four more hours to goooo...
Haha, but for now, I'll post this entry and then start a new one for my trip to Alexandria, which we returned from last night. At least this break means my blog will be getting the attention it deserves!
Prepare yourselves, dear readers.
To begin with, though, a word about AUC.
American University in Cairo recently finished the construction of its new campus.
It is not in Cairo.
It is in the middle of the desert.
In order to get to this new location - in the middle of the desert - the University runs several buses at theoretically convenient hours from a multitude of theoretically convenient locations. I say theoretically because it is convenient assuming that the bus shows up on time and shows up at the right place.
For example. Last night I checked the new Ramadan schedule for the buses, and saw that there would be a bus leaving from Sakinaat al Maadi, the local train station, at 9:10 am. I had a class at 11, so I thought this would be perfect - get to campus by quarter to ten, have some time to walk around, check out the buildings, visit the bookstore, etc. However, from experience I already knew that the bus would not be coming to Sakinaat al Maadi at all. The bus would be stopping at a round-about some two minutes down the road from Sakinaat al-Maadi. The only way I knew this was because last week I waited for an hour and a half for the bus to arrive at Sakinaat al-Maadi, only to give up in despair and take a taxi with four other confused and desperate students who also just wanted to get to orientation. We later learned that the bus was just a few yards down the road - though, of course, around the corner and thus out of sight.
Having gotten over this speed bump I felt fairly confident about catching the bus this morning. Of course I was late - I tend to always run 10 to 15 minutes behind - but Egyptians usually run 15 - 60 minutes behind so I figured I would be fine as long as I walked briskly. I arrived slightly out of breath and knocked on the door of a big coach bus parked by the side of the clearing, and found that it was indeed the AUC bus. So I climbed on, and told the driver about how worried I had been that I would miss the bus - at which point he looked at me confusedly and said, "But why? The bus does not leave until 9:55."
That's when I realized I was only the second person aboard.
It could have been worse though! Turns out that other passenger was one of the students I had split the taxi with after the disastrous bus attempt last week! And unlike me, he had arrived at the stop a full hour and a half early. We were both glad for the company and spent the waiting period and subsequent ride in pleasant conversation.
New Campus may be in the middle of nowhere, but it is absolutely gorgeous. And imposing. The buildings are all in stripes of pink and tan and beige sandstone, and there are more fountains than you could shake a stick at. Lots of palm trees, too. Egypt also has this interesting way of making everything in it look ancient - there's so much dust that even this brand spankin new campus looks like it's been snuggled among the dunes for centuries. The layout is not so conducive to hot weather, though. A walk across campus involves crossing multiple large, open, stone places while the Egyptian sun beats mercilessly upon your poor skin. And although campus is scattered with little sitting areas - inviting little spots with palm trees and stone benches and more fountains and symetrical streams babbling by them - it's too beastly hot to enjoy them just yet.
Give it a month or two though, and this place will be heaven.
The best part, though: My sexy, sexy classes. My schedule is bursting with all sorts of juicy polisci courses - Islamist Movements from Militancy to Power Sharing, Economic Development, Modern Human Rights in Egypt - oh god, it's so good! My brain is drooling already (Wow, what a gross image...) But seriously, I don't even mind being here until 10:30, because the Islamist Movements class is going to be incredible insha allah.
Only four more hours to goooo...
Haha, but for now, I'll post this entry and then start a new one for my trip to Alexandria, which we returned from last night. At least this break means my blog will be getting the attention it deserves!
Prepare yourselves, dear readers.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
from September 1st
I do believe there are cats in my hallway.
And angry cats at that! I had been warned not to leave trash bags containing food outside the door, because the cats get into them. Which means, I guess, that the cats are free to roam the building as they see fit.
Just as the rats are free to roam our kitchen as they see fit. I woke up at 3:30 this morning and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. And when I turned on the light, what do I see but I HUMONGOUS rat scampering from one corner of the kitchen to another! Who knew there were ROUS’s in Egypt? Now, I don’t generally mind things that are that much smaller and furrier than myself, but city rats are MEAN, and I’m sure Cairo rats have attained a murderous bravado that would put even New York rodents to shame. It’s a tough life here. So I figure my best bet is this: name the rat, accept that this is now his flat, too, and try not to put my toes too far under the counter when cooking.
Or have the doormen kill him. That might be better.
Either way, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and laugh a little. It’s a crazy life but I’m growing to love it.
Besides, I was getting too prissy back home. Early morning cat fights and rats the size of corgis might be just what I need to shake me out of my complacency.
p.s. It’s September 1st! Can you even believe it?
And angry cats at that! I had been warned not to leave trash bags containing food outside the door, because the cats get into them. Which means, I guess, that the cats are free to roam the building as they see fit.
Just as the rats are free to roam our kitchen as they see fit. I woke up at 3:30 this morning and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. And when I turned on the light, what do I see but I HUMONGOUS rat scampering from one corner of the kitchen to another! Who knew there were ROUS’s in Egypt? Now, I don’t generally mind things that are that much smaller and furrier than myself, but city rats are MEAN, and I’m sure Cairo rats have attained a murderous bravado that would put even New York rodents to shame. It’s a tough life here. So I figure my best bet is this: name the rat, accept that this is now his flat, too, and try not to put my toes too far under the counter when cooking.
Or have the doormen kill him. That might be better.
Either way, all I can do is shrug my shoulders and laugh a little. It’s a crazy life but I’m growing to love it.
Besides, I was getting too prissy back home. Early morning cat fights and rats the size of corgis might be just what I need to shake me out of my complacency.
p.s. It’s September 1st! Can you even believe it?
from August 30th
“I think I’m adjusting to this
Ah, it’s true! I can’t stop saying it: the
Yesterday we stayed in bed til 5 pm.
The thing is, the city is most alive after Iftar, so you don’t really miss much sleeping til the late afternoon. All of the stores are open til morning; if restaurants are open for Ramadan they’re only going to be busy after evening; same for cafes and such. So we’re all turning into night owls, and the girl who used to be an old woman who loved to go to bed at 10 pm has suddenly become nocturnal.
To celebrate Cory’s arrival we went with Nicole and our friend Rami to an outdoor café called Harawi, in the Al-Azhar neighborhood. It’s a really interesting part of town. The Al-Azhar mosque is just a few streets away, and although we haven’t had a chance to see it up close yet it’s something I’ll have to experience soon. Al-Azhar is the oldest mosque in
Harawi was unbelievably crowded because of Ramadan, but the sheesha was good and the ahwa (coffee) was decent. We spent the time fighting for the waiter’s attention and swapping Arabic phrases; making comparisons between fas-ha (academic Arabic), Egyptian 3miya, and Syrian 3miya, which Cory has been learning a lot of in the past few months. We went home fairly early – 1 or 2, if I remember correctly – ordered a pizza, and went to sleep around 6 am.
As I said, the next day started around 5:30 pm. Which I realize it a little excessive. I’ve started setting an alarm now. Granted, it’s for 12:30 pm…but hey, it’s better than nothing.
When we finally got up we were told by Nicole that Rami had a surprise for us; he would be arriving around 8 or 9 and we would jet off to our mystery destination. In the interim we did some grocery shopping – which has become one of my favorite hobbies / social activities. Because there are so many shops conveniently close to our apartment, we generally do our shopping on a day-to-day or every-other-day basis; so we see the same employees a lot. It’s gotten to the point where the owner of the grocery store now recognizes us, and whenever we come in he greets us and treats us just like old friends! For such a huge city, it’s easy for
Now, as for the surprise. Rami showed up around 8:30, when we were still puttering around and putting away our groceries, and informed us that we were late. We didn’t know the surprise had a deadline! So we got ourselves together and piled into a taxi, and sped off for the unknown.
We drove for maybe 15 minutes, flying down dark dusty highway, with Nicole guessing all the while what was up Rami’s sleeve. His determination not to spill was impressive; he withstood all attempts at tricking it out of him and just smiled when we asked what he was planning.
Finally the taxi pulled over to the side of the highway, and we realized where we were: The Citadel. The Citadel is an ancient fortress, located high on a spur of limestone overlooking
History notwithstanding, the Citadel was incredible. Not only is it rife with history and incredible architecture, it was decorated to the teeth for Ramadan. There were lights and lanterns and music and shows; even when we pulled up we were greeted by a troup of whirling folkloric dancers, spinning great circular swathes of fabric above their heads.
We wandered the twisting streets within the citadel for a while, Rami hurrying us on the whole time and trying to figure out where we were supposed to be, til finally we reached the hige interior space. It was filled with people, and vendors, and various performances going on all over; we stopped for a moment to gape at a puppet show and watch puppies and princesses dancing to what sounded to me like Egyptian techno.
That part was strange.
But finally we found where we were meant to be, and with a victorious sigh Rami led us to some seats to the left of a raised stage; and finally informed us of the reason for our visit.
“Wust el-Balad is playing,” he said triumphantly. “For free.”
Wust el-Balad, translated as “Downtown,” is one of the most popular bands in
Turns out we actually arrived a little early; there traditional music from Upper Egypt (which is actually Southern Egypt; they call it Upper because the Nile flows North, so it’s on the upper part of the
And it was great! Wust el-Balad is now one of my favorite bands as well. They had that distinctive Egyptian feel, but they mixed it with all kinds of different musical styles; most unexpected, and most enjoyable, Spanish Calipso music. At times they reminded me of one of my favorite Brazilian bands, Little Joy. And the excitement of the crowd was contagious; people were dancing and swaying to the music, calling out requests for favorite songs and singing along word for word.
For the trip home, we decided to indulge in one of the quintessential Egyptian experiences: the microbus. Microbuses are these teeny tiny utility vans (all the vehicles in
Of course, it’s still a mystery to me HOW to know where they’re going. We took a taxi to some seemingly random, entirely unmarked highway underpass and waited by this seemingly random, entirely unmarked concrete wall which Rami assured us was the waiting line for Maadi. And sure enough, a little microbus arrived and we piled on. I had Nicole in my lap and my elbow out the window as we careened down the road at breakneak speeds, and when the driver asked we all handed him 5 pounds (a little less than a dollar) and when we asked he pulled over to the side of the highway and slowed to a roll as Cory, Nicole and I scrambled out. Rami stayed on so he could head home, and we waved a hasty goodbye and called a hasty thank you, and hailed a taxi to take us the rest of the way home.
I’ve been humming Wust el-Balad ever since.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Oh dear!
It hasn't even been a week, and I'm already slacking on my posting. I have a slew of half-finished entries that I just need to paste into here, so I'm going to try and do it this morning, before we head out for the Egyptian Museum; which, according to Lonely Planet and everyone and their mother, is incredible. More on that later.
For now, I'll just post what I've been meaning to post, and put the appropriate date in the title heading.
Also, by popular demand I feel I should clear something up: when you see a "3" in a word, such as "3miya," it stands for this weird, throaty "a" that exists in the Arabic language. It's sort of a gargly, throat-constricting noise, very strange when you first hear it, very beautiful once you become accustomed to it, and unbelievably satisfying once you learn how to pronounce it yourself. One of the proudest moments of my life was a year and a half ago in Tunisia, when I was talking with my Arabic professor, Khalil, and said some word with an "3" in it. He looked at me admiringly, and exclaimed, "ya Carolyn...you have a beautiful 3!"
It was one of the proudest moments of my Arabic life.
For the sake of convenience, "3miya" can be pronounced "amiya." But for the sake of accuracy, and out of my deep-abiding love for the "3," I figured I would write it properly :)
For now, I'll just post what I've been meaning to post, and put the appropriate date in the title heading.
Also, by popular demand I feel I should clear something up: when you see a "3" in a word, such as "3miya," it stands for this weird, throaty "a" that exists in the Arabic language. It's sort of a gargly, throat-constricting noise, very strange when you first hear it, very beautiful once you become accustomed to it, and unbelievably satisfying once you learn how to pronounce it yourself. One of the proudest moments of my life was a year and a half ago in Tunisia, when I was talking with my Arabic professor, Khalil, and said some word with an "3" in it. He looked at me admiringly, and exclaimed, "ya Carolyn...you have a beautiful 3!"
It was one of the proudest moments of my Arabic life.
For the sake of convenience, "3miya" can be pronounced "amiya." But for the sake of accuracy, and out of my deep-abiding love for the "3," I figured I would write it properly :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
