Saying Goodbye, and Answering The Question: "Why Egypt?"

It is hard to say goodbye. 

Of course, I have been complaining about Cairo a bit recently. But as soon as you realize that you're really leaving a place, nostalgia kicks in.

I don't regret a minute of this trip. Up and moving to a foreign country for five months is not something that most people will have the chance to do in their lives. I feel lucky.

When I think about what will happen next in my life--how I am supposed to get a "real job", perhaps one with paid vacation (probably 2 weeks at most), I can't help but question everything. It seems to me that many Americans with a "good job" just look forward all year to the things they might do in those two weeks.

The truth is, I don't feel that I should wait until I retire to see the world or until I have "enough money" or two short weeks of vacation, or until I feel secure or I have this job or that car or whatever. I am actually living my dream right now. 

Ever since I was a 7-year-old-kid with an inexplicable obsession with Finland (thank you Charlotte public libraries for indulging me with your collection of books on the country), I have always been curious about the people, places, and things I read about. I escaped to different times and faraway countries everyday. And I knew that I would find a way to get there, someday. 

People have always questioned this curiosity. 

As a 7-year-old, it was "Why Finland?" 

My answer? "Um, did you know that at some points in the year it NEVER gets dark in Finland?"

And now, it's "Why Egypt?" or "Why Arabic?"

My answer: "Why not?"

My journey started with my decision to major in International Studies with a focus on Middle Eastern Culture and Arabic Language. I had a vague inclination that there was more to life for me than staying in the U.S., and Spanish classes got boring when people in college were clearly just taking them to meet requirements. I wanted a challenge. Thus: Arabic. And oh, boy, is it a challenge!

Plus, although I do HATE politics, I realized that as an American I have the luxury of being distanced from the problems of the rest of the world. American soil hasn't seen war since the Civil War, yet we have engaged in many wars in faraway countries. A few years ago I thought, "maybe it would be a good idea to pay a bit of attention to a region where my government is constantly involved".

I also find that it is easy to sympathize with a neighbor, friend, cousin, etc., but it is not easy to sympathize with someone halfway across the world who speaks a different language and ascribes to a different religion. 

I can easily choose to be ignorant about the rest of the world. That is a privilege. But in 'developing' countries, there is no such privilege. People concern themselves with America because they have no choice. Images of American celebrities are plastered everywhere, even in Egypt. People know American bands and movies. (People compare me to Kristen Stewart here, too, unfortunately). Many people are trying to learn English.

Do most Americans appreciate Arabic music? No. Do they know the names of Egyptian actors? No. Despite the booming movie industry here, Americans, for the most part, just. have. no. clue. 

I am not trying to hate on America. Actually, I have come to appreciate my own country more since traveling here. But I also think that I needed a healthy dose of I-am-not-the-center-of-the-universe. It is refreshing to be the ignorant, silly American here sometimes. To be the butt of the joke. Because it takes a while to figure out how to get around, how to buy things, how to do anything in a foreign country. And it is a humbling experience that has taught me to laugh at myself.

People naturally assume that what is normal in their culture is the universal "normal" unless they are exposed to something different. However, before getting out of the U.S. I pretentiously felt that the "American way" was deeply flawed. I felt that I grew up missing something. I felt a longing to discover more history. For the most part, our history books start in the 1600's with the European "discovery" of America and a brief mention of Native Americans. I felt that I was somehow missing out on culture. A desire to assimilate runs deep in America; throughout American history, groups have immigrated from all over the world and tried to assimilate to keep from being ostracized. (Remember when Irish immigrants were the "other" in American society? No. I don't either. And what does being a "bit Irish", mean to anyone except on St. Patrick's day, the one day of the year when it's a reason for Americans, "a bit Irish" or not, to get wicked drunk.) 

Being here, I have also realized that I glamorized other countries. There does not exist a perfect country, a perfect culture, a Utopia. Yes, there is racism in Europe and Egypt and probably everywhere; only the groups change. But for me, discovering a way of life that makes me happy means being exposed to other ways of life and therefore having more choices about how I will live my life. 

For example, Egyptians generally are much more laid back about time, appointments, etc. Even telling the time in Arabic, you kind of just approximate or round up or down instead of saying the exact time. 

While living here is hectic and crowded, it is also relaxing. People are generally more community oriented. I went to a shop on my birthday and had some time to kill before heading to the restaurant above for a birthday-dinner. I looked around for a while and the shop owner was very helpful. When I tried to check out, he invited me to sit and have tea with him and his daughter. 

It was no scheme to sell me things. I was already going to buy things. He just wanted to have a chat. He sat, casually sewing cushions by hand, and talked to me about his life: how he studied fine art in Cairo and Italy as a youngster and how he loves his shop, a shop that he opened 23 years ago. (It was my 23rd birthday! I interpreted this as a "happy birthday!" message from the universe. :)

 I will really miss all the times/ways/places I have been offered tea here. Really--if I sit somewhere, anywhere, in Cairo for long enough, someone will offer me tea.  And I have just gotten cozy here! I have started to dress more like an Egyptian without really noticing. 

See what I mean? And I'm eating foul, no less. Delicious, delicious foul.

As an artist, I appreciate Egypt's visual culture immensely. Check out my Hamsa hand necklace! For goodness sake, it is not just beautiful but also protects me from the evil eye. 

I fell in love with Arabic script as soon as I started learning it and there are always moments when I'm looking at something in Arabic and say to myself "Wow! I can read this!"

I really do believe that "You life a new life for every new language you speak. If you only know one language, you only live once." (Supposedly this is a Czech proverb). And I haven't just been exposed to Egyptians and Arabic here. I have met people from all over the world--France, Greece, Germany, Norway, Sweden, Korea, Russia, to name a few places. A woman from Korea once started a conversation with me on the metro and gave me several granola bars. (I'm not really sure either. But it was nice.) I love to listen to people's traveling stories--how severe people are in Vienna, how the temples are beautiful in Cambodia, what it is like to ride an elephant. 

And I finally rode horses in the desert here. Completely amazing. With the pyramids off to my right and the glittering city behind me, I felt transported to another time. 

What more is there to life, honestly? I have a travel bug and I have no doubt that it will take me across the world. But I hope that I can spend more than a few days here and there. What I have enjoyed most about Egypt is feeling that I have a new home-away-from-home. I didn't just run to the pyramids, buy a  scarf in Luxor and call it a trip. I drank from the Nile, and as they say, it means that I will return. 

I am also really looking forward to my new life in New York, an incredibly unique place that is a jumble of cultures. The most important thing I have learned on this trip is that the more I learn about the world, the more I realize I don't know.

Yes, I'm still in Cairo

and I don't want to talk about politics.

!خالص (At ALL).

But I have been suspiciously silent for a while.
Maybe because it seemed to me that if I wrote a post...it would necessarily have to be about politics.

And to be honest, I am tired of the subject, as most everyone around me seems to be. Egyptians have a way of laughing things off that is normally refreshing but lately seems only to cover thinly veiled frustration. The news here is censored and biased (undeniable, sorry) and at home, everyone is just tired of the endless barrage of alarming images about Egypt on the news.

Coming out of a period of being, well, drained, and tired of the curfew and other aspects of Egyptian life of late, I have decided to consciously focus on the positive.

And because daily life has resumed some state of normality, I am able to quietly take in the sights of Cairo life again. For those of you only getting the negative side of things at home, I would like to paint a different portrait of Cairo to balance all that negativity a bit.

First of all, let's not forget that when you can't take the noise and crowdedness of Cairo but can't escape to the sea, you can always take a boat (felucca) ride in the middle of the Nile for cheap. No longer at any time of night, but you can sail in the pleasant "fall weather" (ok, it's 88F at 8pm, but there's a breeze), enjoying a view of downtown from the peace and quiet of the middle of one of the world's most famed rivers.

Second, the people. More than once, I have seen a woman offer water to comfort another's crying baby, suffering in the suffocating heat of a crowded women's train in the metro. I see small kind moments like this every day in the metro, regardless of how oppressive the heat or how crowded the train. Women making space for an older woman to squeeze in, women telling me kindly that I should "close my bag" or "put my cell phone in another pocket" to avoid robbers (number of times anyone has tried to steal anything from me on the metro or in the street in Cairo? 0. Number of times women have given me these types of kind warnings? I've lost count). People pull me in when I am about to be caught in the quickly closing doors of the train. And then we laugh about it together in relief. I have even started to recognize faces on my morning commute to Arabic class.

Not to mention that I recently ran around with these kind people one day in a Japanese Garden:

How did I meet them? Well, first, I noticed a group of teenage girls trying to snap secret pictures of me on their cell phones. I laughed and borrowed my friend Tom's phone to "sneakily" take a picture of them in return. Soon, they sent a few delegates to ask me and Tom about ourselves. Next, we sat on a bench and they brought us fruit (guava). Finally, they brought us glasses of sprite and asked us to join them on their picnic blanket under a japanese-style gazebo. We exchanged glances and a few words and said "maashi, shukran" (ok, thank you).

I learned how to play Egyptian games that are more or less like freeze-tag and jump-rope and all the things we do in the U.S. as children. Kids are kids, everywhere. And I was happy that my Arabic was understood and I understood the rules, for the most part.
I took a boat on the little fake-river and sat in the middle as Tom and my new friend Hanan paddled (I was wearing a skirt, and women in skirts should not paddle, I was told).

The neighborhood of Helwan is rather conservative and although I blend in more in other parts of the city, I stuck out like a sore thumb walking around here with Tom (he's German), speaking English and wearing my sweater buttoned awkwardly in an attempt to cover more of my collarbone. But on the way to Helwan, the last stop on the metro in the Northeast section of Cairo, we sat and stared out at the brown desert hills and felt like we were on our way to somewhere new. There is always something else to see in Cairo; every neighborhood is a bit different. And yes, you should always bring a sweater and expect that the paler and more fashion-forward you are, the more children will try to snap secret pictures of you in the farther corners of sprawling Cairo.

Ok, and seriously, let's not forget that Egypt has some of the most gorgeous and least crowded beaches in the world (I kid you not).

Those are just a few pictures from my trip to Ain Sukhna earlier this summer. Yes, I happened to notice dolphins and run out into the water, taking pictures first and then abandoning my camera to swim near them. I will never forget the first time I went to the Red Sea for a scuba-diving trip with Caleb, and as we approached our hostel on the water I started to cry. I felt so lucky. We got fins and masks for snorkeling and waded out into the water and at the point where we could no longer touch the sand with our feet, a cliff of coral and an underwater world of tropical fish loomed ahead, completely visible through our masks and the transparent turquoise water.


These little escapes seem more important these days in Cairo. It's important for one's sanity to find places that feel peaceful. So, on a slightly serious note: I do have to admit that at moments, my faith in humanity has been shaken this summer in Cairo. I hate to see Egyptians engaging in and supporting violence against other Egyptians. I have learned many things over the course of my time here, and one of those things is that human nature has an ugly side; that what I think is "fair" is not always a reality. But at the end of the day, who am I to judge what is "fair"?

There are many things that I do not understand in this life. Some days I wake up and cannot understand why I have been blessed with so many good things. Then, there are days when I wake up and feel resentful of everything. Such is life, but when I accept that I don't and probably never will understand the reasons for hatred and suffering, my attitude improves my life and the lives of those around me in unknowable ways. I believe that when I focus on the positive, my interactions with others around me improve and I am adding to the good in the world. My actions are the only thing that I have control over, and my thoughts lead to my actions.

Assurances from Apocalyptic Cairo

Ok, family and friends. You might have heard that, well...some shit is going down in Cairo at the moment. 

I will not deny that. And yes, I snapped a few pictures before things got out of hand. 

Tomorrow, Egyptians will be marching and protesting at the Presidential Palace in Heliopolis, in Tahrir, and everywhere in between. 

Where will I be? 

Snugly resting in my apartment with several novels (English and Arabic), plenty of tea and food, my guitar, a phone, and a computer (to skype you). 

Although there has been some violence already, let's remember a few facts. I may be brave in the respect that I am willing and happy to board a plane to Egypt and embark on a five month trip, alone. 

I follow my dreams. I am not brave, however, in any other respect. Not only am I not the type to risk my life, but I am actually really rather the anxious type. Let's look at the evidence.

I have a phobia of bridges (and ceilings, and air conditioning units, and storefront signs) collapsing on me at random. 

I panicked on the second day of scuba lessons because I felt like I couldn't breathe normally. I exited the water, shaking, and vowed "never again". (What did I expect? It's scuba. I was underwater. Of course I couldn't breathe normally. I'm not a fish.)

I used to plot and plan and try to evade gym class by any possible means because I am so terrified of having objects, any objects, flying at my face.

I usually opt for the stairs over elevators because of mild claustrophobia.

When I get nervous, I start shivering uncontrollably and my voice goes up an octave to barely-audible sounds about the pitch of a tea kettle.

Again, I am not the risk-my-life type, y'all. So before you go thinking I'm crazy and brave and need to get on a plane and come home, let's remember that you are only reading the news. The news only lists the bad things that are happening. Being myself, I am probably not anywhere near those occurrences. I am actually probably chilling in my air conditioning, watching an Egyptian soap opera, drinking too many caffeinated beverages, and getting really excited about Arabic grammar.

That's who I am. I am not a revolutionary. Am I the type to "stick it out" in a country where I am in danger? I couldn't even "stick it out" in my scuba class long enough to get certified.

 I love love love you, Egypt, but I am not Egyptian and I will not risk my life for an uncertain political future in a foreign country. And for those of you in the U.S., remember that I am the one here and probably have a better idea of what's going on and am taking necessary precautions. 

Best wishes from one of my favorite places on Earth.

Downtown at Dawn

Demonstrations, Quirks of Cairo, and more on Viagra

Mural in my neighborhood, artist unknown (to me) but the figures on the right remind me of Alaa Awad's murals.

Yesterday, I ventured to the demonstration outside of the Ministry of Culture in Zamalek with my friend Leila. Before you panic at the word "demonstration", family and friends in America, it was in swank Zamalek and almost felt like a concert in the street. (Yesterday, at least).

 The workers in the Ministry of Culture are on strike and protests have been going on for almost a week now--today there were supposed to be Salafis present! If you're interested. My roommate just got back and said she didn't see anything unusual other than more police officers. But supposedly Muslim Brotherhood supporters are going to storm the Ministry of Culture tonight. 

How exciting: people are debating and defending freedom in the arts. Although I am very interested, my day-to-day life in Cairo is still mainly about trying to eat more than one type of sandwich and improving my elementary Arabic. I do, however, run into interesting cultural differences on the daily. 

Hesham Talaat responded to my post about Viagra sandwiches: 

"It's called Viagra because Egyptian always have this popular belief that sea food increases sexual abilities for men, and since the sandwich is a combination of shrimp and crabs, that's why its called Viagra."

Why am I still surprised to hear things like this? That a sandwich would be named after a drug? I have heard several mentions of foods that are supposed to increase sexual virulity. It just comes up in casual conversation, usually in restaurants. Many of my conversations turn into back-and-forth expressions of surprise at differences between American and Egyptian life. ("Really?! Bigaad?!") I mean, I guess Americans think oysters are an aphrodisiac, but no one seems to bring it up in seafood restaurants.

My friend AboBakr took this picture by the Nile.

Here are some of the things that have most often surprised Egyptians about me:

 I take the metro. I read Arabic. Strawberry juice is a new thing for me. I studied several vague things in college (International studies? What does that mean? And Art? And English literature?) And none of those specialties have specific career prospects.

I get lost on the little island of Zamalek on a regular basis. I love Cairo--I do actually enjoy being here. I am vegetarian. I am a vegetarian but I still do not enjoy molokhia. It kind of looks like spinach soup but if it were I might have a chance of enjoying it. Unforunately, it's not spinach. It's slimy and completely unappetizing. I'm sorry if I disappointed you, Egypt.

Molokhia. Completely unappetizing, right?

Things that surprise me about Cairo:

Taxi drivers don't know where things are. Mainstream street fashion dictates that everything should match. And more jewelry is always preferable. One example from the metro today: neon green shoes with a neon matching hijab, ten bracelets, and a matching neon green waist belt. The lady cars in the metro are a stunning sight, full of beautifully decorated women.

People seem to think it is welcoming to yell "Welcome to Egypt!" at me incessantly on the streets. In the winter they yell "Welcome to Alaska!" Women don't go to coffee shops alone and are barely seen in most coffeeshops, with or without men. (I went to one the other day and sat for an hour before an interview across the street, enduring the stares. Sometimes I just need my cheap caffeine fix; the world can deal with it.) 

There. Are. So. Many. Engineers.

One idea still circulating in Egypt that worries me: that foreigners are spies! Remember this video from last summer? It is ridiculous and hilarious, yes, and hopefully most people laughed it off.

But I am still hesitant to break out my gigantic, professional-looking camera in Cairo.

Goodnight!
باحبك يا مصر
انا مش جسوسة

The Nile at Night

Why do I only end up by the Nile at night?

Maybe because no one really does much in the heat of the day. And sometimes when I feel the most chaotic in this noisy desert city, I just need to see water. (That may mean running away to the beaches of the Red Sea soon--but I shouldn't forget that the Nile is right here.) Some days I hail a taxi on my way to Zamalek, the  island in the middle of the Nile, stressed and hoping not to get lost or ripped off by the taxi driver. But as I lean back I inevitably look out the window at the giant glittering signs of restaurant boats and feluccas lit up with strings of lights, brimming with Egyptians blasting Arabic pop and celebrating weddings, and I feel a little bit of relief. There's just something about water.

I most often have moments of feeling far away from home when I find myself looking at the sun or the moon over the Nile. It looks different here; I squint straight into the sun too often, an orange orb dulled by the dusty air of Cairo. I forget that it's the sun, perfectly round, looming large over the River.

Fried Viagra?

Today, I walked by a sign in a restaurant window advertising “Grilled Chicken” and “Grilled Viagra”. 

The letter “V” doesn’t even exist in Arabic; this can't just be a case of poor transliteration. Meaning... Fried Viagra is something in the same food category as Fried Shrimps?

Honestly, I wouldn't be all that shocked to see prescription Viagra on a food menu in Cairo. The food industry could stand to tighten its regulations to say the least. My roommate once pulled a huge, rusty nail out of her plastic-sealed granola bar. Not to mention pharmaceuticals: Viagra and steroids are advertised in pharmacy windows. You don't even need a prescription to wander into a pharmacy and grab some human growth hormones! You may as well fry up some viagra while you're at it. Yum.

Let's hope that something was just lost in translation.

One good reason to improve my Arabic! I'm going back to my old school, Drayah, for a placement test tomorrow. Meanwhile, I've been roaming my neighborhood trying to buy decently priced oranges and wondering about buildings and graffiti.

(Mosque, right?)

My neighborhood is covered in the most exquisite graffiti.


Today, I also wandered down the street a bit and spied the only Cairo "bar" I've ever stepped foot in. Most places that I've been to in Cairo I can never find again. Even the taxi drivers don't know where things are in this huge, crowded city full of unmarked roads.

"El Horryia" means "freedom"; ironic since this place is stiflingly hot and full of cigarette smoke and bright lights. It feels like a sweaty summer prison.

This "bar" is called "freedom cafe" and as I passed by I noticed old men sitting and drinking tea. At night, it fills with smoke and people drinking beer and a "fake beer" option that's really just pineapple soda. (It's delicious, actually). I don't drink and my roommate is allergic to wheat, so we probably won't be frequenting El Horryia this summer.

Other news: I met this lovely group of Egyptians last week at the Opera House for a language exchange. There happen to be plenty of Egyptians who are eager to practice their English and teach a strange foreigner colloquial phrases. The Opera House is beautiful and well air-conditioned.

Add caption

Unfortunately, the group didn't meet this week because of a workers' strike at the Opera House. In a nutshell: the new Minister of Culture, appointed by President Morsi, fired the head of the Opera House (the Ministry of Culture here funds many arts initiatives, including the Opera) and has fired several other important figures. Perhaps to replace them with pro-Morsi figures or in an attempt at controlling Cairo's cultural realm. If you're interested

I support the protest. But no language exchange, what a shame! Khusara.

Anyway, I'll make an effort to update this weekly. It's tough to break out my humongous, expensive-looking camera in the streets of Cairo alone. Building up the courage.

Ma-salama!
Ariel

My neighborhood (oh, lordy)

Well, it is beautiful.

Hello again, Cairo. This is the view from my balcony. I walk up about eight stories on a narrow, dusty staircase to get home: past occasional piles of trashbags or, occasionally, the old woman who we supposedly pay to get rid of the trash. And a street cat the same sandy color as the stairs that thinks it's ours.

Cairo, you still have the same beautiful orange flowers as last year. And a mosque on the corner, glowing green at night, the call to prayer at odd hours. 

The same horrible taxi drivers. The same confusion, crowdedness, clutter, trash, street cats, vegetable vendors with donkey carts. This city will drive me crazy.

Here is my roommate, my Cairo-bff. We both stay up late; I can't get used to the time change and she is constantly working on stories. This is pretty typical:

Get some sleep, Kristen!