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.

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.

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?"

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 Sinai peninsula. It would take about 6 - 8 hours, if all went well and it did not break down (buses here have a habit of breaking down), meaning, if we left at 6 am as planned, we should arrive around 1 or 2 pm. From Nuweiba we would take a 3:30 ferry to Aqaba, and provided we got our visas within an hour or two we should be headed toward Amman, the Jordanian capital, by 7 or 8 we figured. We had no idea how long it took to get from Aqaba to Amman. We hadn't really thought about it but we assumed no more than an hour or so. Once in Amman, we would meet up with our friend Cory, who would be waiting for us in the Amman Sheraton - Cory used to work at the Sheraton in Wilmington and thus gets sweet discounts, and we figured that, after four hours of travel (from Syria to Amman) on his part and 15+ hours of travel on our part, a little luxury would be well worth the extra cost.

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 Jordan, because we were supposed to have a 5-day break anyway, to celebrate Eid, the holiday that comes at the end of Ramadan (which reminds me - RAMADAN IS FINALLY OVER!!! Thanks be to heaven! I do believe the entire Muslim world breathed a sigh of relief at that. You can't imagine how wonderful it was that first day, to see people drinking tea and eating snacks in the broad daylight. Magic.) But true to our laid-back go-with-the-flow attitudes, we assumed it would all come together and thus saw no reason to rush it. So the night before we left we finally looked up bus schedules, ferrry schedules, prices and locations, skype'd Cory, and voila! Six hours prior to leaving we had a perfectly functional escape plan, from dusty Cairo to beautiful, green, mountainous Jordan. Granted, we had no idea what we wanted to do once we got there, but we figured we would figure that out once we arrived. Again, no need to rush.

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 Jordan - happy day! - at around 6 pm, and all we had to do was get to Amman.

So we found a nearby taxi driver, only to discover: Amman was 4 hours away.

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!

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.

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.

So that was Alexandria.