Middle-East Realities

Ron and I discussed how, and if, to discuss the recent bombings in the Gaza Strip and Israel, since Egypt is definitely involved. And while I would like to pretend that life in Cairo is always roses and kittens, well kittens at least, I did want to at least address the situation and hopefully assuage any concerns (or inflate them, depending on the reader’s news-exposure).

When the latest bombings into and out of Gaza began three days ago we were avidly watching the news, from CNN International, to Arab news channels (you’d be surprised at the difference in coverage… leading one to realize that it’s always best to get your news from multiple, non-affiliated sources, so as to maybe get to the truth somewhere in between). However, of course, the truth in this matter is that bombs are flying back and forth and people are hurting. When something like this happens I always find myself thinking, “Who started it?” But in this case, with a war-torn history dating back thousands of years, that’s part of the problem, and at this point, it’s irrelevant to a solution, as no one will ever agree who started it.

Egypt is involved due to it’s border-sharing of the Gaza Strip with Israel. Plus we are living in an Islamic country, so when Islamic leaders call for protests and demonstrations, Egyptians participate as much as any other country (but luckily it’s almost always peaceful, or intended as such). So, to be careful and cautious and extra-vigilant expats, we watch the news, know where the demonstrations will be (this university or that one), and make sure to avoid the area on that day. There is a definite increase in the military’s presence in Cairo, but there tend to be 300 military for every 100 protestors.

Suffice it to say, we are staying smart and not doing anything foolish. And we are very safe. Let’s send our collective heart-wishes to those who need it most right now, and sadly that’s a lot of the world’s inhabitants. Suffering knows no borders.

Remiss

I know, we’ve been back from Italy for a whole 10 days and I have yet to post a single snippet. Bad blogger! But I’m having a hard time readjusting to life back in Cairo, and apparently am not fully ready to resume it. Plus we had Christmas, a cookie party, an outing to the cave churches and recycling center at Moqattam, "The Nutcracker" at the Cairo Opera House, and none of that would have been complete without a sprained ankle on Ron and a bad 48-hour cold on Julia. Happy Holidays!

Our Christmas Day was a bit Dickensian, minus the dirt and poverty of 19th century living, wait, we’re in Cairo, so it’s EXACTLY like a Dickens tale. It was visions of our Christmas future… Ron laid up with tender ankle, ice-on, ice-off, and me moaning in and out of consciousness on the couch. We had plans to have a friend over for dinner, but had to bail on him and cancel. If we weren’t so completely pathetic I would have invited him down just to hang out, but we were way beyond casual, into the grubby. So we owe him. I’d even forgotten to get anything for the cats, but luckily our friend Teresa had not and mailed us a stocking full of toys and goodies for them, so at least they were active on Christmas.

I’m going to blame our complete holiday apathy on the weather. I mean, surprisingly Cairo at Christmastime is full of colored lights, Christmas trees for sale, as much purple and green tinsel as you could need, plastic Santas lined up in the windows and everyone offering a “Merry Christmas”. It’s a city-sized Dollar Store of Christmas delight. But for both of us, neither of who has ever spent a Christmas in a non-cold state (Massachusetts, Ohio, New Jersey, New York, Maine, Virginia or Maryland), having glorious 70-degree weather with sun, sun and more sun, just left it all a bit hollow. Okay, maybe it was more of missing friends and family, and fighting a bad bout of homesickness (in addition to the cold), but it’s less mushy to blame it on the weather.

So Christmas passed with ice packs, ibuprofen and Kleenex. Not quite the stuff of catchy carols, unless you’re Ron, of course. You should hear his one that goes, “We can make a snowman in the litterbox… He’ll be made of poo and urine, too.” Yes, our children will be socially stunted, but hopefully they’ll have their father’s sense of humor (and maybe some musical talent).

So our outing to the cave churches in Moqattam on Christmas Eve day, was to take three of our friends out there who had never seen them. Ron arranged for an embassy driver and van – no matter how long we live here, we have vowed to never drive through Garbage City/Moqattam (yes, I know I still have to post my Garbage City piece, blame it on the weather). As we were all wandering through the first church, Ron managed to accidentally slip off one of the stone steps and twist his ankle. Unfortunately this was the same ankle just two weeks prior he had fallen on when we were in Rome when he caught it on an especially cobbled sidewalk. So needless to say, he was in significant pain, again. He sat in one of the seats and immediately a very kind and “helpful” Egyptian man came running up. We were all standing around Ron and this man asked if he was okay and if he could see Ron’s foot. For whatever reason, four of us, including Ron, admitted afterward that we all felt that maybe this was a Shaman of some kind, and with a wave of his hand, rub of a magic herb and his folkloric knowledge of ankle injuries, Ron would be cured. Instead we all stood there and watched this man grab Ron’s injured foot and without hesitation wrench it right and left and right again before any of us could utter, “STOP!” Ron’s face of anguish was heartbreaking. When the man wandered off and left us, Ben, the one voice of reason (albeit delayed reason), said, “I knew that was a bad idea.” Always the pessimist. Unfortunately, he’s more than often right.

So we managed to get Ron back to the van, where the driver kindly went and got him tea (Egyptians and Brits – tea cures all). Ron insisted that we continue to explore the other churches, so I directed the others where to go and made sure Ron got settled. We didn’t spend too much time there, but did manage to find one more church that I had not seen before (along with two monkeys (possibly gibbons) in a large metal rusted cage – I can’t even fathom why they’re there). We did a quick stop at the recycling center (yes, a future post awaits, I know), and then finally a stop at the alabaster factory.

At this last stop Ron was waiting in the van chatting with the driver and I came out to check on him. I propped the passenger door open and was leaning in as Ron was telling me about a little fan club he had just before I came out. Apparently he was quite the object of fascination of a group of young girls. They stared at him from across the road, and ever so slowly ventured closer, and eventually got close enough to ask the driver whether Ron knew English or French. I believe the driver told them English, to which they just smiled at him a lot, giggled and stared. As I was listening to this, I glanced up and on the fourth or fifth floor roof of one of the buildings on the edge of Garbage City was a group of small children waving furiously at me. So I waved back enthusiastically, which merely resulted in more waving. I finally ceased the waving, sensing that it could be endless. And a few minutes later a young girl holding the hand of her younger sister, I presumed, were peering at me from around the back of the van. I asked Ron if these were his fan club members and he said yes. I said hi, and they smiled and replied hi. The older one asked me in broken English if I spoke French. I said no and smiled sheepishly (I will apparently never live down my lack of language ability). At this point an older man sitting around (one of the thousands of examples of “older man sitting around” that are liberally sprinkled all over Cairo) yelled at them and in no uncertain terms shooed them off. But as they scuttled away I yelled goodbye and gave them a big smile – I didn’t mind them gawking at us.

So, we made it home, got Ron’s foot propped up and started the icing procedures (with ice cubes, not confectioners sugar). By Christmas Day he was definitely feeling better, so we’re hopeful he’s on the mend. My cold snuck in Christmas Eve, stayed for 48 hours, then departed. I would rather have had jewelry.

Despite our ailments, we had extended an invitation to Ron’s office to come to our place on the 27th for a Holiday Cookie Bash, which was essentially a very belated Open House. I spent the prior week figuring out the menu, making 2-3 cookie batches per day (to which Ron always asked if they were “test batches”, and I always replied, no), and trying to keep the house tidy after our housekeeper spiffed it up on Wednesday. The party went off really well, with fifteen people showing up, four of whom were kids, ten and under. Ron hooked up the Wii so that kept the kids, and the men, entertained. One of the girls who is about seven was utterly enchanted by Chuckles, who remained the entire 3+ hours in a large cat lump on the back of the couch and willingly put up with her tapping his nose, ruffling his fur the wrong way, and squeezing him with great delight. She wasn’t malicious and her mother kept instructing her how to pet kitties, and I was certainly watching for annoyed-feline signs, but maybe after dealing with Albert’s antics for the last month he was just glad to not be gnawed on.

Following the sugar gluttony, a few of us went to see “The Nutcracker” at the Cairo Opera House, which is located on Zamalek. It’s celebrating its 20th anniversary this year and is a really beautiful complex. It was apparently built by the Japanese following the demise of the previous opera house by a fire. I really didn’t know what to expect from the performance but I have to commend it. It might have been good to see it before Christmas to help with the lapsed holiday mood, but it was still enjoyable afterwards.

So now we prep for the Islamic New Year, which occurs tomorrow (December 29), then our New Year on the 31st. No big plans, but we’ll see what we can conjure up between now and then. And I will do my best to get caught up with past postings and finally get back into my Egyptian life.

Vacation Eve

So I was hoping to write and post my pyramids pics (which now include an escapade Ron, Ben and I had yesterday morning out to the Dashur Pyramids), but it’s Vacation Eve here and, no surprise, we’re not even packed yet (though things are strewn nicely about the bedroom, at least). So the pyramids will have to wait. Besides, does two weeks really matter in a 4,600 year life-span?

And I have to say that packing for a trip is such a fun study in how different parts of a marriage function. You have the expert procrastinator and the frantic finisher (you can guess which role Ron and I each fill), but in the end you both get out the door – with or without fussing, you decide.

But Rome and Florence beckon us, and we are thrilled to answer their call. So we will share all our exciting Italian exploits once we return in 10 days. Arrivederci!

Holiday shopping in Cairo – Expat-Style

Holidays in Cairo are apparently marked by the sudden influx of Christmas Bazaars. They’re everywhere! Our embassy newsletter had a full-page list of them so you could plan your life around finding that quintessential macramé potholder – Pharaonic style, of course.

A few friends had expressed interest in going to one being held at the Nile Hilton. We had heard from others that in years past this bazaar was great. Well, it was big at least. When we all thought of a Christmas Bazaar, we thought crafty stuff. Apparently the big thing for expats in Cairo who don’t have access to a Commissary like we do, is alcohol. There were towering stacks of beer and wine from all over the E.U. And that was basically it. Through the throngs, and I mean throngs, of people and baby carriages and big frosty glasses of Heineken (at 10 in the morning), we found two or three tables selling non-perishables, and that was about it.

There were four of us who went, in two pairs. At one point Kristen called me to see if we’d arrived. I said we had and we were by some Swedish Glogg stand. They were inside the main area, working through the Heineken crowd. We’d never find each other. So Susan and I just left. But not before Susan took me to her favorite shops within the Nile Hilton and warned me against others (who were overpriced or just over-snooty). Susan is a consummate shopper. Not only does she know where to get practically anything, she knows who to ask, and how to bargain. It’s great fun going on a shopping adventure with her, so when she asked if I was game, I said sure!

We started out grabbing a cab to see if we could find a certain bookstore that she wanted to see. They have funny hours, so she jumped on the chance to catch them when they’re open. Our taxi driver at one point turned too soon and was two blocks away but on a busy one-way street, so he suggested we just walk. Susan, in no uncertain terms, told him to drive around the block and get us to the address as agreed to. With a heavy forced sigh, he did.

The shop was great, but in addition to books it also had a lot of vintage black-n-white photographs of old Cairo, cards, wrapping paper, postcards, etc. At one point I wanted to know if they had a certain photo that wasn’t matted or framed, just loose. So, to my utter delight, my simple sentence of “Andik bas suura?” (Do you have just the picture?) actually got a positive response instead of a confused look. I was flying high.

From here, Susan walked me all over Garden City (downtown), showing me good rug shops, towel and sheet shops, book binders, everything. It was nice to have a guide. At one point, we stopped in front of a lingerie store (surprisingly there are lots and lots of these all over Cairo – so despite the outward appearance of conservative abayas, apparently Victoria’s Secret might have a niche here, though she’d definitely have some competition!). We saw a pair of underwear in the window that had, for whatever reason, taxi symbols on it (seatbelt, the red hazard triangle, a license plate) and found them funny so we went in. First we poked through the fuzzy pajama sets and lounge-wear and heavy robes but didn’t find anything of interest so we asked about the taxi underwear and were immediately invited to an upstairs portion of the store. Here was the good loot! Satin and silk, feathers and lace, and some bizarre unmentionables we won’t mention. We found the taxi wear and then Susan asked if they had any “Monika” outfits. The saleswoman excitedly said yes and showed us a leaning stack of boxes marked “Monika” and “KoKo.” I asked, “What’s Monika?” “They love Monica Lewinsky here, and there’s a whole line of naughty lingerie named after her,” Susan told me. Now, I guess I’m more naïve than I thought, but I was really surprised by this. And these were feathery, boa-like, outfits. Completely ridiculous. Susan bought one for her sister.

From here we wandered through a few more stores, but nothing could top the taxi underwear and Monika-duds so we eventually headed home and met Ron for lunch. Ahhh, Christmas-time shopping in Cairo – taxi underwear for everyone!

Thanksgiving – Cairo style (replete with corpse)

So we’ve had our first Thanksgiving in Cairo. Instead of the usual Tofurky (for me), cold weather, falling crunchy leaves, driving to New Jersey and shopping with girlfriends, our weekend started with a wonderful Thanksgiving Eve dinner outdoors on the hills around Cairo at Al Azhar Park gazing at the Citadel, followed by some evening shopping in the Khan, and a taxi-stationwagon driver who repeated “No Bloblem,” the entire evening, even when the car was seeming to sputter out next to the City of the Dead (not an ideal location for a bunch of stranded expats). I did get some good photos of Cairo at night and a great photo of a triple-bread-head, though.

Thanksgiving day itself was pretty much just like any other day for me, including laundry, scrubbing litter boxes, and picking up deworming meds for Albert at the local pharmacy (thought that was a little odd, but apparently “pet meds” can be gotten there too… or these were human deworming meds… ewww). Ron had set aside the day for starting his final (not sure how much starting was actually achieved though). We had invited some friends over, but everyone had plans, so in the end I just made a vat of stuffing for us, some corn on the cob and used our last package of smuggled veggie sausages from Wales. I attempted a new pumpkin pie recipe but it actually turned out inedible (didn’t think that was really possible), so in the spirit of giving, we “donated” it to the compost pile.

The day after Thanksgiving, when I often used to find myself with girlfriends heading to the Mall (not at those crazy early hours – no sale is worth that), instead this year Ron and I went with two friends on an all-day tour of the pyramids – finally! We saw the oldest pyramid, known as the Step Pyramid due to its layered construction, at Saqqara. And the most famous pyramids at Giza. I’ll post pictures separately, but suffice it to say, it really was astounding and fantastic!

The final day of our weekend, Saturday, Ron buckled down and dove head-first into his final. Some friends from the office had planned a five-hour yachting trip up the Nile so I decided to give Ron some quiet and went with them. The day was beautiful, the yacht was gorgeous and we were in high spirits as we breezed up the Nile. It was supposed to be just a relaxing trip, checking out the sights along the shore of the Nile (a lot of people washing clothes, washing dishes, fishing, some even wading despite the cool weather). The city stretched on along with us, though things did thin out eventually, become more industrial then turn into more farmland as we got farther and farther from the city.



Our ultimate goal was to head 10 miles (16 kilometers) up the Nile to the Barrages. These were built in the early 20th century to help with British irrigation and agriculture reform projects to divide and control the water flow with a series of lochs and canals. They were placed just before the Nile splits to form two branches, Damietta to the east and Rosetta (where the Rosetta stone was found) to the west.


Along the way we saw a nice assortment of family boats (I’m not sure if these are lived on, or just worked on and used for travel, but apparently they make great drying racks, too).



At one point, between the snacking and relaxing and gazing and gabbing, I jokingly said to someone, “Look, it’s a body floating by us.” Sadly, the Nile is full of garbage, and some areas are worse than others. We guffawed appropriately and as the boat continued drifting on, I watched the floating item come closer and got a weird feeling as I stared and suddenly realized that there were two feet floating behind the black mass. It WAS a body! Floating facedown, just showing the lower back and black heels of tennis shoes. I reiterated my initial statement and we all stood up to watch it float by. I may have a forensics degree, but it didn’t take one to know that there wasn’t any urgent need to fish him out. He was definitely deceased. One of us suggested to the captain that we contact the police and let them know. The captain got very tense and whispered forcefully to us that it would be best if we just forget the whole thing. It was quite obvious he desperately wanted us to sit down and shut up. He said that if he contacted the police he would be dragged in for questioning. He told us that a few years ago another body was found in the Nile and the police refused to touch it, they just let it go. Apparently it just creates too much hassle, paperwork, investigations and all. Interesting approach. The captain said that when you find a body, you should just put your hands on the side of your face to act as blinders (his demonstration helped clear up any confusion).

So we did nothing. Though we did gape at each other quite a bit and everyone was suddenly more diligent in looking at the floating debris. One of the men who has visited Cairo off and on for the last 13 years, said this was the fourth body he’d seen in the Nile. Sadly later on I also saw a dead donkey or something with fur partially submerged. Gives a new meaning to river garbage … And it adds to the horror when seeing the locals washing their clothes and dishes, and fishing in it.

Less than an hour after our lesson in Egyptian forensics, we heard some sirens behind the boat and our captain was slowing down. We were actually being stopped by the Cairo version of the Coast Guard! You have never seen a more innocent looking group of people than us nine expats. I think we all sat a little straighter while the captain and crew chatted with the police. At one point they asked if we were all Americans, we said yes, from the Embassy (never hurts to add that), and then they concluded their business and we were allowed to continue on. Believe me, nothing was mentioned of our earlier finding (though we thought about it). Apparently this is fairly common for tour boats on the Nile, but I can’t deny it gave me cause for pause.

The rest of the trip was, thankfully, non-eventful. The Barrages were impressive, from a distance, the weather turned a little cloudy, we passed more interesting family boats, and no one spotted another floater. I was sad to think that this man’s family will never know what happened to him. In a city of 20 million people, is life really this inconsequential?


We made it home just after dark, and it was nice floating in to the dock surrounded by the lights of Cairo. I hopped in a cab with two other women who were heading my way, and less than 3 minutes later, our driver slammed into another car, smashing out his own headlight (and smashing my knees into the dashboard). Our security lessons have told us to get out of a cab that has had an accident, and leave the scene – there have been cases where the expat passenger has suddenly been accused of being the cause and reparation has been demanded. However, in this case, we were on a bridge, with traffic streaming past us and there was no where to go. So we sat. The drivers argued, but luckily got back in their cars and drove across the bridge to where they could pull over. At this point, we all got out, flagged another cab, and continued on. All in all, it was a very strange Thanksgiving weekend, but I’m coming to expect no less from life in Cairo.