The Hanging Church & resting spot of Joseph & Mary

Friday, after our weekly visit to the commissary (for Morningstar fake-meat crumbles (can we say, jump for joy, do a little gig, happy dance?), veggies, soy milk, cereal, etc.), Ron and I decided to explore a section of Cairo called “Old Cairo” or “Coptic Cairo.” Despite his whinings to my constant urgings for us to “do something,” his typical response being, “We’re here for three years. There’s no reason to cram it all in the first two months,” he does placate me often. We decided to explore this section because it was easily accessible by metro, and was something we could see parts of in just a few hours, instead of all day.

In my continuing attempts to use some Arabic, Ron sent me ahead to buy our four subway tickets. I know that everyone here speaks English, but they all seem to get a kick out of my Arabic murmles and I appreciate their smiles of encouragement. I bought the tickets and we were off. This was one of the first days that I really noticed the heat. And from what I’ve heard, this is nothing compared to July and August, when all the “smart” people leave the country. But this was a 90-degree-type day, where you feel the sweat slowly trickle down your back when you stand still and you seek out the shady side of the street to walk on.

If you haven’t gleamed by now, I find Cairo to be an amazing mix of contrariness. A perfect example is getting off the subway at Mar Giris, where there were high-rise apartment buildings on one side, buffeted by piles of rubble and trash, and the other side held “El Muallaqa,” or the Hanging Church, dating from the 7th century (though it’s suspected that it was built on a previous church from the 3rd or 4th century). According to www.sacred-destinations.com:

"Known in Arabic as al-Muallaqah ("The Suspended"), the Hanging Church is the most famous Coptic church in Cairo. The church is dedicated to the Virgin Mary and is thus also known as Sitt Mariam or St. Mary's Church. The Hanging Church was built in the 7th century…. By the 11th century, the Hanging Church became the official residence of the Coptic patriarchs of Alexandria…. The main furnishings - the pulpit and screens - date from the 13th century….The 11th-century white marble pulpit surmounts 13 graceful pillars, representing Jesus and the 12 disciples. As customary in Coptic churches, one of the pillars is black (basalt), representing Judas, and another is grey, for doubting Thomas…. [The church] derives its name from its location on top of the southern tower gate of the old Babylon fortress with its nave suspended above the passage…. However, though there are many objects from the church in the Coptic Museum, inside the church are collections of over one hundred icons of which the oldest dates from the 8th century." They have constructed some glass-covered openings in the floor so visitors can see far below to how the church appears to be suspended over air (it seems to have been built on the remains of old Roman walls).

The word “Coptic” is currently used to describe Egyptian Christians. Statistics vary depending on the source, but somewhere between 6-15% of Egypt’s population are Copts. Wikipedia succinctly states: “According to ancient tradition, Christianity was introduced to the Egyptians by Saint Mark in Alexandria, shortly after the ascension of Christ and during the reign of the Roman emperor Nero. The legacy that Saint Mark left in Egypt was a considerable Christian community in Alexandria. From Alexandria, Christianity spread throughout Egypt within half a century of Saint Mark's arrival in Alexandria, as is clear from a fragment of the Gospel of John, written in Coptic, which was found in Upper Egypt and can be dated to the first half of the second century…. In the second century, Christianity began to spread to the rural areas, and scriptures were translated into the local language, today known as the Coptic language (which was called the Egyptian language at the time). By the beginning of the 3rd century A.D., Christians constituted the majority of Egypt’s population, and the Church of Alexandria was recognized as one of Christendom's four Apostolic Sees, second in honor only to the Church of Rome. The Church of Alexandria is therefore the oldest church in Africa.”

After the church, we ventured into the Coptic Museum located next door (though I had to leave my camera outside). Founded in 1910, they positioned it within the walls of the Babylon Fort from the Roman times, like the Hanging Church. Some of these original Roman walls can still be seen today. The Coptic Museum was the complete opposite of the Egyptian Museum downtown, as it was clean, and well-labeled, and well-displayed, in the most beautiful building. The architecture of the museum alone was worth studying, with intricate wooden-carved ceilings, detailed mashrabiya window shutters (carved wood latticework), and an inner open courtyard filled with flowers and plants. The museum displayed artifacts dating back to the 3rd and 4th centuries. They had wonderful exhibits of clothing and fabrics, books and manuscripts, pottery, ivory and even original fresco paintings from Egyptian monasteries from the 6th and 7th centuries.

I found myself staring at a piece of cloth that had delicate embroidered flowers and vines, knowing that 1,400 years ago someone had sat and sewn that, having no idea, or probably intention, that it would survive for over 15 centuries for me to be examining it under glass on a hot Friday afternoon in Cairo in 2008. I felt the same way looking at the books and writings. Some were evidence of receipts for traded goods, even written on old pieces of broken pottery (10 bales of wheat for 4 camels, 5 goats and a fig tree for one slightly-gimpy daughter, etc.), but the religious texts were hand-written in florid script, with painted details and gilded letters. As self-admitted biblio-geeks, Ron and I thoroughly enjoyed the manuscript exhibits. (As further evidence of our biblio-geeked-ness, in the seven weeks we’ve been in Cairo, we have located and visited more than six new bookstores. It’s in my blood; I’ve learned to not fight it. Much like the naturally curly hair. Just accept your fate, live with the curls, relinquish the dream of Marsha-Brady-straight-hair, walk calmly into every bookstore you can find, and save your energy for other battles.)

The museum closed at 4:30pm (as most things do when their posted hours are 5:00pm). Ron took me down the street to an alleyway of shops selling everything from rugs to jewelry to pottery to papyrus to books to … well, everything. In addition, the Church of Saints Sergius and Bacchus (4th century) is located along here and considered to be the oldest of Cairo's Christian churches. It is said to have been built on the spot where Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus rested at the end of their journey into Egypt (though I don’t think they perused the same wooden pig carving I was eyeing).

We were getting the Cairo-dust-mouth feeling by this point so we hopped back on the metro and took it down to Sadat Station. Playing a bit of Frogger, we managed to cross over the traffic torrent and ate dinner at Felfela, a wonderful little restaurant with stone floors and walls, wooden-beamed ceilings covered in (fake) vines and grapes, and tables made out of thick slabs of petrified wood. We had fresh mango juice, hummus, tahini, and wonderful falafel! The only negative for me was the caged birds on display, but Ron requested a table far from them and allowed me to sit with my back to them.

[The issue of trying to avoid or ignore the animal abuse around Cairo is something I’m going to have to figure out how to deal with. It is constant, with emaciated stray dogs and cats rummaging through garbage, tired old donkey carts, horse carriages in the sun, camel rides, terrified cows and sheep being transported in pick-ups through the city – I can’t really avoid it. The suffering isn’t specific to animals, either. Children beg for money, rummage through garbage with the strays, and poverty is pervasive. Ron and I saw two little girls climbing the stairs at the subway together, covered in dried dirt, with matted hair and filthy dresses, and they couldn’t have been older than three and five. Their mother followed after them carrying two babies like sacks of potatoes. I don’t have an answer. It’s something I think about a lot and when I come up with a solution to diminish the world’s suffering, I will be sure to share it.]

So as to not end on a down note, I’ll close with our decision to ride the metro home instead of taking a taxi. I believe I’ve mentioned before that it was a hot day, and the subway cars do not have air-conditioning, though they do use small fans to gently distribute the steam and odors. Combine all these factors and I found myself in a crowded car, wedged up against Ron (my choice), and several others (not my choice), quite possibly being the only female in the car (though I may have spotted another at the far end), with armpits as far as the eye could see. I think the air started to take on a semi-solid state. By the time we peeled ourselves out of the car at our stop, my head was feeling a wee bit faint and my eyes had started to tear.

So far, Ron and I have come up with two things NOT to do in Cairo: 1) ride the subway at rush-hour during a hot summer day (without a respirator), and 2) have the taxi drop you off BEFORE the bridge in Maadi, do it after the bridge, or you will have an extremely harrowing walk up and over the bridge, balancing on the curb, grasping the filthy guardrail to prevent you from leaning into the traffic whizzing by all the while trying not to get your hip clipped by a side mirror (this was a lesson that we only had to be taught once).

A (blue) birthday bucket

In celebration of my birthday, I decided to knock off two more mini-accomplishments on my comfort-zone-expansion list. Now, when I say mini, I mean, truly miniscule, but they say that it’s the small things that truly matter – and in essence, it’s the small things that make the big things happen. So, I gathered my wits, money and sunglasses and headed out to Road 9 on my quest for a birthday bucket. I first stopped off at Radio Shack (yes, we have “Radio Shack”) to see if the shipment of compressed air had come in. I need some to clean my camera lens and when we stopped in last week we were told a shipment was coming “tomorrow.” So I popped in and was told, again, that the shipment was coming “tomorrow.” I explained that we had been told this last week and asked if this was a popular item. They said yes, but said there was one can in the Dokki store and would I like to have them hold it for me. I declined and said I’d stop in here again. Now, I’m no retail whiz, but if you have an item such as the Nintendo Wii, or say compressed air, that you just cannot keep on the shelves, wouldn’t you try to get maybe TWO cans in a shipment? The other issue, which becomes the flip-side of a good thing, is that Egyptians are very friendly and accommodating, to a degree in which they almost never say no, even when the answer is, No. So you will rarely, if never, find anyone who cannot give you directions, even if they’re wrong; and apparently the missing item you want is always coming in the shipment “tomorrow.” I will continue in my dogged pursuit of a can of compressed air.

Shaking off my failed purchase, I wandered over to a store I had seen before but had not yet entered. Outside there was an assortment of plastic-goods, such as bins, baskets, and buckets. We needed a bucket. We had been “assigned” a bucket in our welcome kit; a nice, big, sturdy, black bucket that I had used in my first attempt at mopping our apartment – and in true Egyptian-irony, I filled it up and promptly noticed the small hole in the side; essentially reducing said bucket to a trash can. (I never really appreciated the potential complexities in mopping until this attempt. Despite my education and length-of-tooth it took me a ridiculous amount of time to figure out how to use the mop; however, never let it be said that I retreat from a challenge, so eventually I figured out how to wring the mop without touching the moppy bits.) I picked through the stack of buckets and chose a blue one and took my purchase inside, which was made of up two rooms, one filled with toys, and one with miscellaneous kitchen gadgets. So this must be the “Toys, plastics & kitchen ware” store – good to know.

Now, these outings of mine are not just a means to explore and spend money (our bucket cost $3), but also an attempt at using my slowly growing vocabulary. However, whenever I attempt to use it, I tend to get English back. It seems we all want to practice. But I will keep trying (see “challenge” comment above).

I took my birthday bucket home, rinsed off the dust, and proceeded to get ready to meet Ron downtown for our birthday dinner out. He had chosen a restaurant others had recommended called, Sequoia. It’s located at the very tip of Zamalek (island in the Nile, which actually comes to a point). My second mini-accomplishment was going to be taking a taxi by myself. I had chosen to wear a new dress and strappy sandals, however I suddenly realized that I had paid for my birthday bucket with the one 20 LE note and only had 50s and 1s left. The issue here is that the taxi to downtown is about 25-30 LE (a little more at night), and taxi drivers NEVER have change (odd, isn’t it?). So, I knew I had to walk to the store, buy something and get change, before grabbing a cab. The secondary issue was that I didn’t want to walk to the store in my dress and strappy sandals (too many stares, too many craggy sidewalks, too dusty). So I changed outfits, chose less-cute but more-practical shoes, walked to the store and got change and grabbed a taxi. In my continued attempt at Arabic, when he said to me, “Where are you going?” I answered, “West ilbalad. Fondo Shebard.” He replied, “Hotel Shebard?” Slightly defeated, I said, “Yes.” (Note: It’s actually the Hotel Shepheard, but Arabic doesn’t have p’s, so they become b’s – Pepsi is Bibsi.) The ride in was uneventful, aside from his being a “weaver” who continually swayed back and forth across the lanes. I just swayed along with him and enjoyed the view, pleased in my mini-accomplishments for the day.

Ron met me at the Hotel and we grabbed another cab to Sequoia. The dinner was fabulous! We sat outside, watching the sun set over the buildings across the Nile, sitting on white-linen covered cushioned chairs, with a breeze and people smoking shisha all around (the water pipes are very popular, with men and women both, and they smell quite nice – with the tobacco often being fruity or flowery – it has been discouraged for us, as expats, though, due to the high rate of tuberculosis – discouragement achieved). We had some of the best mezza we’ve had in Egypt so far – hummus, tahini, tomato salad, fettoush – and in hind-sight we agreed that next time we’ll just make a meal of those and drinks. As the sun set, lamps and lanterns were lit, making it a wonderfully romantic setting. This will definitely be a favorite of ours. All in all, a very successful “Egyptian” birthday.

Napoleon stood here, a while ago (as did Cleopatra)

For my birthday this year I told Ron that I’d like to do something “Egyptian.” Apparently he first considered a few games of Frogger, followed by some watermelon truck races around the propane donkeys, but luckily he opted instead for a night out in the desert, just us, two friends, a guy named Sphinx-y and the last remaining wonder of the ancient world – the pyramids of Giza.

Ron arranged a shuttle and we met two friends in downtown for dinner first, then headed out of Cairo to Giza, which is only about 40 minutes away, to the nightly “Sound & Light” show. It was a little campy at times, replete with a Pharonic marching band playing the bagpipes (not a sentence I ever imagined writing), but you couldn’t deny the amazing setting.

The town of Giza nudges right up next to the pyramids’ boundary. But if you faced the pyramids, you could ignore the KFC and Pizza Hut signs, neon offers of “genuine” pyramid souvenirs, cafes, restaurants, and shops, shops, shops. We weren’t able to wander up to and through the pyramids, as you can only do that in the daytime, so we will return to do that another time. But watching the sun set behind the pyramids as the desert breeze blew, we drank our hibiscus juice and I had my perfect Egyptian birthday (with bagpipes).

I have been remiss in posting photos, so here are several from the show.

Basic stats: They were constructed ~2560 B.C.; “pyramid of Khufu” is the oldest and largest of the three, can be seen from the moon and was the tallest man-made structure for over 3,800 years; it’s estimated that construction took 2,300,000 blocks of stone, weighing an average of 2.5 tons each; the dimensions of the sides of the pyramids are exactly the same length to an accuracy of 0.1 +/- inch; the sides are oriented to the four cardinal points of the compass; the length of each side at the base is 755’; the height was originally 481’, currently 451’.

Bookstores and mummy toes

I embarked on another adventure yesterday – continuing in my quest to stretch my comfort zone. I took the shuttle in to the embassy around noon, unfortunately hitting horrendous traffic and the typical 20-25 minute ride took over an hour. I took the opportunity to practice my Arabic by trying to read signs we passed (though I have to add that Arabic is difficult enough for me, without compounding matters with the issue of graphic font choices, so some letters remained a mystery). I indicated one store and asked the driver if I was correct in assuming that they sold only nuts, as I saw large containers piled high with what looked like cashews, almonds, peanuts, etc. He confirmed it was a nut store. How delightful! In one block I can get a bag of nuts, then a fresh lemon juice, then a wicker basket and finally a wheelchair at the “canes and wheelchairs” store. It may mean for more walking, but there’s something kind of fun about the specialty stores, versus a mega-mall.

We made it to the embassy and I met my dear husband for a quick lunch at the cafeteria where I tried a new Egyptian dish, Molokheia. It’s a spinach dish, tasty and savory and kind of soupy. Apparently it should be served over rice, but we asked for “just a taste” and were handed a full soup bowl. I’d try it again, but this time with rice as the only negative thing was it was a tad slimy and I think the rice might counteract that (who knew I wasn’t a fan of “slimy” food?).

Ron tottered off back to work and I made my way through the labyrinth of the basement and found the US Post Office, where I mailed our birthday gift to Max in Tokyo, and then over to the Community Liaison Office (CLO). I needed a little help finding the CLO, but luckily two men behind me kept telling me which turn to make and I eventually just followed them (once in a while I rely on my “blondeness,” just to hone the skill).

I had examined the city map that morning and had decided to wander a bit, with possible intentions of seeing the American University in Cairo (AUC) and the Egyptian Museum. These were all purely dependent on my ability to not get too lost. Luck was on my side and after a few turns, and lots of ups and downs on the buns-of-steel curbs, I found AUC. I wandered around the tall iron fence until I saw an entrance into a building. Figuring it would have an exit to the inner campus somewhere, I approached the guard and metal detector (these are very common throughout Cairo in many buildings (museums, hotels, etc.)). However, after waiting futilely for the guard to finish his conversation, plus I wanted to ask where the bookstore was, I finally just walked through, set off the beep, and kept going. I’m not entirely sure the concept of the metal detectors has been fully explained here.

I wandered the campus, perused a craft fair put on by Sudanese exiles, and finally found the bookstore. Great find! I spent a while checking everything out, found a great book on Egyptian and Middle Eastern birds, got two books on Arabic for me, and found lots of others I would have loved. But I held back, knowing we’d be coming here frequently. One thing I noticed, further breaking me out of my American-centric haze, was the range of new authors. Yes, they had the typical American top-sellers, but there were piles of new ones, too. So exciting!!

I left AUC and headed over to Tahrir Square, where the metro’s Sadat Station exits and the Egyptian Museum is just across the street. As I turned the corner onto Tahrir, the wind picked up and I saw all the merchants with their wares displayed on low tables or sheets on the ground, scurry to make sure the plastic combs, beautiful scarves, books and bags of vegetables didn’t get carried off. I did half consider buying some vegetables, but figured I didn’t want to carry them around, along with the books.

When I used to visit my father in NYC in my pre-teens, he taught me to always walk with a purpose, regardless of whether you know where you’re going or not. Makes you less of a target for unscrupulous folk. (He also told me to turn my rings around on my hand to a) not show any gems or jewels, and b) to better scratch someone’s face with. Keep in mind this was in the 80’s when NYC had yet to go through its clean-up phase.) I have utilized these lessons throughout my life to date, though mostly the walk-with-a-purpose one, and found myself doing this as I walked through Tahrir Square staring at the insane traffic that stood between me and the Egyptian Museum. Crud, I’m going to have to play Frogger. But then I caught sight of a sign (in English, thank goodness) that indicated I could get to the Museum by going down through Sadat Station, which I did – never breaking stride, because I intended to do that all along, of course.

There are many benefits to being a “Dip,” not the least of which is getting discount rates on in-country travel and hotels, and getting into museums for free. So I flashed my “Wife-of-a-Diplomat” card, and breezed right through. Now, I’ve been in museums all over the U.S., in the U.K. and throughout Europe, and Ron had forewarned me that there would be people coming up and offering to “guide” you through the museum for a small backshish. He suggested I skip this and instead use an illustrated guide we had (which I had been carrying with me all day, despite it’s weight of approximately 4 lbs). I scuttled through the crowds, past the groups who were being “guided” and found myself in a large open room filled with enormous stone statues.

Upon first glance I will admit that the museum is, well, grubby, and not up to the pristine standards westerners are used to. There’s no air-conditioning, so windows are open, and it’s advised to not visit in the height of summer (I can only imagine that the smell might induce fainting). Exhibits are overcrowded with jumbles of pieces (though it’s been said that the ancient Egyptians lived this way, with their temples and houses filled, no space left unwanting – having read this, Ron tried to claim that this fact validated his penchant for living amongst piles, I disagreed and pointed out that no matter how he tried to spin it, Pig Pen was no Pharaoh). Due to the over-crowding, an amazing amount of the objects could be readily touched by any visitor wanting to touch something 3,000 years old! Several of the displays were just simple wooden frames and the majority of items had very few signs (hence the need for a guide or guidebook). Having said all my criticisms, the museum does have an astonishing collection.

It was opened in 1902, and exhibits over 150,000 artifacts, with apparently 30,000 more in storage. According to the guidebook, “The treasures of the museum represent one of the world’s oldest known civilizations, dating back as early as four thousands years B.C.” (My brain is still processing that fact.)

A few of the impressive exhibits include Tutankhamen’s funerary mask and sarcophaguses (sarcophagi?), from ~1300’s B.C., limestone statues of Amenhotep II and Queen Tiy (known as “Colossi of Memnon”) measuring over 22’ tall from ~1350 B.C., amazing jewelry and hieroglyphs depicting such detail as the legs on a bee or the glare of a falcon and of course the mummies.

There are two separate mummy exhibits. Both displaying mummies found in the late 1800’s in the Valley of the Kings and Deir al-Bahari, in Egypt. It’s known that these were not the initial burial sites, but were sites used by Theban priests who moved and hid the bodies from a rash of tomb raiders in order to preserve them. There’s a separate fee to enter the mummy exhibits and Ron wasn’t sure if my Dip card would allow me access, but I figured I’d try. There are many inequalities in life as a woman, however once in a while being female is a benefit, such as getting headlight blubs replaced for free, or getting access to the mummy exhibit (though I’d still opt for equal-work-equal-pay). The guard examined my Dip card thoroughly, then chatted on his radio and finally allowed me entrance. He then continued to walk with me, commenting on “bee-yoo-tiful Americans” with “bee-yoo-tiful eyes.” I kept thanking him as I continued walking along, but when he asked how old I was, I responded with a smile, “I’m married” and quickly entered the air-conditioned room with the mummies.

The mummies ranged from 1500 B.C. to 1200 B.C. and were displayed in plexiglass cases, so you could see them clearly. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I learned that mummy toes creep me out. I was amazed to see that some mummies had bits of hair, most had their teeth, some had fingernails, none had eyes but some had been replaced with painted stones. Considering their age, their condition was really mind-boggling. There’s no question that the ancient Egyptians knew what they were doing in the mummification process.

By this point, after a few hours in the museum, my mouth was feeling a little mummified and I headed back towards the embassy. I settled in the SemiRamis hotel café, ordered a Perrier and a fresh lemon juice and read a little while I waited for Ron to join me. I can see now why people recommend doing the museum in little chunks. There’s so much to absorb, locate, and learn about. I learn one thing and it leads to more questions, which requires more learning. I fear it may be a never-ending cycle.

Ron finally joined me and we walked over the bridge to Zamalek, then over another bridge to Dokki, where we ate dinner and browsed a bookshop (not unlike our date-nights back in Baltimore).

TAXI TALE: The ride home from Dokki was relatively uneventful. Though Ron did find that his seat in front was not functioning perfectly and he spent the ride leaning back halfway into my lap. I spent the ride trying to figure out how the driver got the box of tissues stuck to the ceiling, but ascertained that there was a wire contraption aiding it. I also determined this was one of the oldest taxis we’d seen, so I spent some time figuring out where the door handle was so I could exit, quickly if needed. I found the rusty metal lever and was delighted when it actually worked. See, completely uneventful.

Who packed cupcake wrappers?

Joy of joys!!! We got the word last week that our “UAB” shipment had arrived! This was the smaller “unaccompanied baggage” shipment that was restricted to a mere 400 pounds. The rest of our stuff is still slated to arrive in July, around the time that we move to our permanent housing.

We patiently waited for the okay from the shipping division that our UAB had cleared customs – or rather, I pestered Ron daily to check, knowing it would happen when it happened. He got the word and arranged with the delivery team to come when I would be home – so we were set for Wednesday, at 9:00am. So exciting!

At 5:15am on Wednesday we were awoken by a ringing telephone. It was Mr. Gamal, the guard at the front gate saying that we had a delivery. Ron got dressed and stumbled downstairs. After some sleep-affected discussions, and group musings whether the boxes should be x-rayed for security, Ron cleared the 5am fog and realized it was our “9am” UAB delivery so he accepted the packages and they were brought up. (This is a perfect example of how Egypt works – and I say that with complete love and resigned acceptance – though I did fully expect them to be hours late, not early.) I corralled the felines in their sunroom so we could open the door without any feline-door-darting games and the deliverymen slid two huge boxes into our house. One was marked “180 pounds.” Yikes!

Ron showered and stumbled off to work early, since he was up, and I dug in to the task at hand. It isn’t specifically a “Dip Wife” duty, but I figured I really had no excuse not to do it (my bon-bon order wasn’t slated to arrive until after my massage at 2 o’clock anyway).

The boxes were full of more boxes or items wrapped in heavy brown paper. The boxes were so big that in order to get the last box out of the bottom, I had to lay the large box on its side and literally climb in to grab this last box and drag it out with me backwards. Nice picture (“Dip wife in action”).

Everything was labeled, but I still found myself completely clueless as to what we had selected for this delivery. We were hoping our entire DVD collection was here, as we couldn’t really remember where we’d put it (it was neatly packed in this delivery – yeah). There were some clothes, another set of sheets (no towels, but I swear I put them in), a tool box, our video camera and my still camera accessories and lenses, ipod speakers, the Wii, a box of blank disks (with my “UAB” label on them – why??), a container of miscellaneous wires and plugs (again, labeled and why??), and a very eclectic range of kitchen items. These included the obvious, kettle, coffeemaker, espresso maker, some glasses and mugs, spices, some bowls, silverware, and three small plates (no dinner plates though, no idea where my brain was at that moment). In the not-so-obvious category, I chose to send cupcake wrappers, frilled toothpicks, a nutcracker, red and green colored sugar (for decorating said wrapped cupcakes), and a half-empty container of tiny silver balls made out of sugar.

Okay, so it’s fairly obvious that I did not understand the concept of a “UAB” shipment. In hindsight, that oh-so-clear visionary tool, the “UAB” shipment should include items needed for basic everyday usage. We are technically required to return our “welcome kit” items now that our “UAB” shipment has arrived, however that would leave us without pillows, blankets, a flashlight (we do get blackouts), a can opener, trashcans, a shower curtain and bathmat for Ron’s bathroom, and extra towels. Luckily though, Ron asked whether we could keep our welcome kit items and return them once our larger, “HHE” shipment arrives. Yeah! I’m still going to use my pots and pans, though.

We learned after-the-fact (good ole hindsight) that deliveries involving large trucks in and around Cairo can only be made between midnight and 8am, as they restrict the trucks from being on the road at other times. Now, wouldn’t you think someone at the Embassy would know this… ??? Well, no need now, we know it.

TAXI TALE: Ron shared a great taxi tale from the other morning when he took a taxi to work. He got in a typically-old taxi, being driven by a typically-old driver and they puttered off up the Corniche to downtown “Garden City” where the embassy is located. He said the issue started when the driver suddenly stopped the cab and started slowly backing up… which is like backing up on the autobahn, bad idea. I’m sure this induced a fair amount of honking from other drivers (note understatement). Then he went forward a little, then back again, and forward. He did this a few more times before Ron realized that he was trying to get his little white cap that had apparently blown off and was flitting about the center of the Corniche. At one point he even opened his door and got out and began chasing the little cap around. He finally grabbed it, got back in the cab, plunked it back on his head irregardless of the tire tracks all over it, and continued on.

The fun continued when Ron noticed that the driver was slowing down again (despite cap remaining on head, and all other clothing apparently in place as well). This time he got out, jacked the car up and changed his tire, which had apparently gone flat (or had been flat since 1976, either way, it was flat). I asked Ron if at this point he got out, paid him for the half-trip, and got another cab. He said no, he felt sorry for the guy and wanted to give him his full fare and was admittedly intrigued by what could possibly happen next. Well the rest of the ride was uneventful and Ron paid him his full fare and a little extra to get a new cap if he so chose.