About four blogs in one

I'm not a person to always be snapping pictures and recording every moment. At the same time I value writing as a means of sharing experiences and jogging memory. It's a constant struggle between taking the time to write and saying 'screw it, I'm going to make more memories, not get caught up in the old.'
So this is going to be a long one. Feel free to chose a section--separated by pictures instead of reading this all....I'll break it down by day.

On Saturday a bunch of my fav Long Champions--as we call those ourselves in our hotel, went to Ain Suchna, a stretch of beach called by some the Red Sea and others still the Suez Canal. The theme of the day was fein fein fein (where).
The night before we went to the bus station and bought tickets and 6a.m. the next morning found us snoozing on a public bus with the beach becoming ever-nearer.
Though only about 1 hour outside Cairo, the trip took around 3 hours because it drove to the Suez canal first, which was just fine with me.
It is strange but seeing the Suez canal was almost as exciting for me as seeing the pyramids. I snapped a bunch of awful pictures through the dirty bus windows. I kept thinking about learning about it in Mr. Bergman's? Mr. Lee's? class in HS. All the drama that thing caused...unlike the pyramids, I never had a clear image of what the canal would look like. It was extremely satisfying to be before something I learned about in HS.
We groggily shuffled off the bus, stretching our lives and looking around. Before us was a stand with an assortment of chips and other processed snacks, old men smoking sheisha at tables and dirty structure around back that looked like a bathroom.
It was the last bus stop. Welcome to Ain Suchna!
Somewhere along the way the others had decided it was Lily-practice-her-Arabic-day. That was pretty much fine with me. I asked a guy when the evening buses was and which way the town was and we set off walking down the desert roads, mountains on our right, the sea on our left.
And we kept walking.
...and kept walking.
Hey guys....? maybe we should ask how much further at one of these resorts?
Unfortunately we didn't know the word for town and they didn't speak English. We borrowed some transliterated phrases from the back of my guidebook and learned--gasp--there was no town. Just beach resorts.
After renting a flat for the day so we could use the beach, our next adventure, a search for sustenance, began.
There's a fish restaurant a few kilometers down that way, the man who rented us the flat pointed.
30 minutes later, many half understood conversations (fein matum?? --where's the restaurant?) and very hungry we sat down in a garden and were handed menus, completely in Arabic.
Chicken we asked? salads?
La, bes semack. (No, only fish.) Then fish it was for all.
But then something strange happened.
"Mish semack."
We stared blankly. What. No. Fish.
Turned out they caught fish daily and the boat wasn't back yet.
We bought crackers and chips and a joint next store--the only of its kind in the vicinity and trudged back to our spot on the beach.
where we preceded to soak up the sun
and parting the red sea....(Rami later said really isn't =( )

Until I checked my phone.
wait what does that number end with?
Sullivan.
And he was not happy.
FEIN!?!?! WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!
While we thought we were taking the initiative to make the most of our day off he thought we were taking undue risk using public transportation, not briefing him of our plans and the cause of his morning of anxiety.
We took the earliest evening bus home flawlessly.
While I understand he feels responsible for us I also strongly believe breaking into smaller groups and doing things independently is essential for learning about Egypt; after all the goal of this program. We didn't want to take our attention-drawing-tourist vans, we wanted to travel like Egyptians.

Sunday I volunteered at the after-school program in Maqatum. Here are some pics, any I'm in taken when children hijacked my camera.

Monday after our usual four hours of Arabic we had another dialogue after which most of us went on a felucca with our new Arabic friends. Afterward about ten of us rode horses into the desert toward the pyramids. We had feisty horses and inexperienced riders so didn't make it very far, but it was one of the best things I've ever done it my life.
It was after midnight, the stars and moon shone and the pyramids waited majestically in the distance. We could hardly see in front of us--the desert and dunes stretched out into nowhere but I felt safe and content to enter that nothingness.
It felt great to be on a horse again, mines name was Gamela meaning beautiful, and I was so happy to be out with new friends and what at this point feels like old, doing something new.


Today I left Arabic class early for orientation at St Andrews, a multi faith church which sponsors programs for refugees. Five other students and I have were selected to tutor English to adult refugees Tuesdays and Thursdays there for the next two weeks. --Which was a shock--only two weeks left in Cairo--It's going way too fast for me...

After orientation and then a two hour break, where Julia and I took the metro for the first time--seemed cleaner and better organized than most in the states--to AUC for coffee and HW, we entered the small library where other students and tutors were busily conversing.

While waiting for more tutorees I read Where the Wild Things Are and and a Dr. Seus book, Dr. Brown Can Moo Can You? to Maria, a 13-year-old Sudanese refugee. Her older sister was working to another tutor and I sat down and started talking with her. She spoke almost no English so our reading, which Julia participated in too was a combination of Arabic, gestures, sounds and quick dives into the dictionary. This is the way I like learning Arabic best...

After she left, I worked with a 23-year-old named Suleyman from Senegal. Suleyman had to explain to me where it was and then deal with my mililildjfdin questions that followed.
We talked about so much--concepts of family, religion, culture, opportunity, community--he gave me so much to think about.
For example, why do we--i.e. me, westerners, value independence to the extent we do? If you came to my town, he said, every one would notice, they'd come to my house and welcome you and want to know all about you. Cairo, which is the most family oriented place I've seen, seems disconnected and lonely for him.
Btw he loved America, was wearing a NY jersey and when he left I saw a Bob Marley backpack swinging from his shoulders.

And just to make this day even better--I ate vegetables for dinner, which besides two 'lil siblings, a buff bro a couple parents and my many loves in Boston and beyond--i.e. China--are what I miss most here.

Moqattam

5/25/08

8 p.m.

I’ve talked about poverty, stench, dirt and the likes some. We visited Stabl Antar and I described that. But nothing like what I saw Friday.

Nermeen, our Arabic teacher, heard about the knitting factory project and volunteered to take us to a Coptic church in Moqqatum, built into the side of a cave. The catch was the cave is in the middle of Moqqatum, a city where people make their livings sorting through trash.

www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A23780270
Nermeen said it’s like an Egyptian Mafia. Be careful what you Americans throw away she told us. These people get rich off it.

As we enter the stench seeps into our van. We turn up the AC and wave air in front of our noses as life continues on the other side of the glass. I see kids playing and screaming. They wave as we pass and have the energy to jump up near our van. I see an old woman sitting in a doorway, she is surrounded by garbage, the stench of which seeps into our van. Many men sit in front of narrow stalls selling bread, fruit, or American brand snacks and water. We pass a young mother leading her daughter through piles of trash and a filthy donkey.

Later from the steps of the church, a magnificent structure rising out of the chaos, covered with carvings and seating 20,000 people, we see roof upon roof piled with trash. I can see a pen with pigs, people sifting through piles of garbage and clothes hanging out to dry from those same buildings.

I don't like the smell, I am hot and disgusted by the bathroom in the café by the church, which like usual, was filthy and had no toilet paper.

But I am only a passerby and our van is hovering somewhere around the corner.

This is a way of life. Most of these people don’t have the funds to pick up and leave.

And where would they go? The unemployment in Egypt, is over 10 percent. And many in places like this can’t read and write, can’t speak other languages, don’t have cars or connections beyond their immediate community.

Do these people have lower life-expectancy? How could they not. Do they feel sick often, do they ever breathe fresh air—rare anywhere in Cairo to begin with, do they ever see a spotless street? A little girl handed Katharine a sweet smelling flower….

I haven’t done a real work-out since I’ve been here, my eating habits have gone to crap and I’ve been mildly sick more times than I can count. (Please don’t worry anyone…ahem, Mom.) But what is that compared to these people?

On our way to teach English today we drove past signs for Moqattam. Perfectly normal signs standing straight with green backgrounds and white writing. These places are on a map, they’re no secret.

I thought about the micro-bacterial spray my Mom gave me-- spray if things seem dirty--like if you have to touch a doorknob you don’t want to or spray all around your bed. It seems so comical now.

Where could I spray it, how could I ever chose?

I pictured gallons of the spray being dumped upon the humanity, animals, junk and treasures of the garbage town. It seemed so cruel. This is all they have, it’s their home, their way of life.

On the roof of the Café, overlooking the town, Tara talked about the Dominican Republic where she studied abroad. The people are so poor she said. They have so little, but at the end of the day they dance and sing together. Do they have something like that here, she asked Mary. Do they have little things like that to make there day? Shiesha? I suggested.

Of course they must, I think. I don’t believe people are capable of living without something to make them happy, some kind of hope, however small. And then how can you compare happiness?

Is a child-in a-garbage-dump’s happy any weaker than American kid’s in a suburb? Can’t a chocolate drink in a bag be just as enticing as a Playstation or a teenager’s first car or man’s favorite shiesha flavor. There’s only a range. Contrasts. What we know, expect and think we want.

Now none of this justifies people living in garbage when others, have so much. Happiness does not make up for grossly unequal standards of living.

What I said before about the micro-bacterial stuff I meant in terms of not looking down on their life, not holding our noses or cringing, rather taking it in and really seeing.

That said, I am not OK accepting the differences in luck, birth, nationality and all the inequality that comes with it.

After Moqattam and then Khan—the big outdoor market, we ended our class trip with City Stars, the biggest mall in Cairo.

Fully veiled women pushed shopping carts full of purchases past stores like Espirit and Puma. I didn’t want to be there. I definitely didn’t want to go in any stores I knew so I tried some with Egyptian names, the prices seemed ridiculously high and the clothes inappropriate and impractical for the conservative society we were in.

The gross inequality is not just a western problem. It' s a human one, from what I see prevalent in every division of communities and societies.

I saw it at the dialogue last Monday too. Our Egyptian peers talked about how poor Egypt is, incomparable to anything in the United States. Clad in Gucci shoes and driving BMWs --yess I'm generalizing not all were---were they any more connected then us?

At the end of the day some lived in a garbage dump and some didn’t and we all went on our way because what else could we do?

Any opinions? Questions? Thoughts?

Thanks for reading.

Lily

Shared lessons

Near the end of the interviewing for the knitting project a woman came to collect six of us. We followed her a few buildings over to a school where we were going to read to children.

We entered a building consisting of couple rooms filled with art supplies, books and games and children everywhere. Do you speak English? She asked the kids. She repeated the question in Arabic. Few knew more than a few basic words, the alphabet and how to count to 10.

I went in part because I had the video camera, which is always a good combo with kids. However, I had no intention of standing in the background the whole time. After filming for a few minutes I sat down with a few girls and we said our names in Araglish.

By means of introduction I put the video camera in one girl’s hands. At first she would hardly hold it, she looked at me questioningly, I tucked her small hand into the strap and showed her “on,” and “off.” A few minutes later they were all arguing over it in Arabic. I put it away in my bag and Grace and I, who were working in a room together, moved on to seeing how much English they knew. The “reading,” we did was pointing to words and saying them in English and Arabic if we knew them.

The children were all cooperative and eager to learn. They taught me words in Arabic, tried to understand and correct my mistakes and repeated words in English. I definitely learned as much as they did….

Toward the end I asked the women, who spoke excellent English, how the program is funded and who the kids are. She grimaced at the funding question, saying getting sponsors and funds is always rough. As for the children, they all live in the neighborhood and can sign up for particular programs at the school or just come in during free periods.

Different kids come each day.

Despite, things were being accomplished here. Framed artwork by the children was everywhere and a mural of a حصان, which the children knew means “horse” in English, covered an entire wall.

We’ve been told people in these communities only see people who look and dress like us on TV. From the way people of all ages, especially kids, surround and wave and run to our vans it could be true.

Whatever the significance of our presence to the children, they were open minded and eager to learn and teach.

We taught them songs like, “Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes,” and “The Hokey Pokey,” They taught Grace and I a game where you close your eyes, yell in Arabic and spin around in circles. The girls kissed and hugged us when we left.

I’m going back on Sunday.

While this type of unsustainable project is not what our service learning was meant to be, it feels worthwhile. If we make connections with a couple children, if they learn a little English and want to know more, if we are pushed farther from our western bubble, we are changed and they are too. I believe in ripples….

A story through translation

Upon piling out of our van we were bombarded with children, mostly boys, who were using straws to drink a brown liquid out plastic bags. “Hi, hi they squealed.” One of them asked my name, English? Arabic? I don’t remember. When I said “Lily,” the gang of them started following me and repeating it, I asked them what they were drinking and they insistently thrust their drinks at me.

The 11 or so others and I, led by Cynthia, were looking for the entrance of a knitting factory involved with Sohbeit Kheir Organization, the NGO we’re working with. We were there to conduct interviews with women workers, the manager and organize products to put on a website to expand their markets and raise awareness about the women, their plight, goals and potential.

A couple women walked out of a nondescript building, shooed the boys away and led us in.

We shuffled into a fair-sized room filled with around 15 tables with built in sewing machines. Women, mostly middle aged and clad in long dresses and head scarves, sat sewing at about half of them. After breaking ourselves into groups—cataloguing, photographing and interviewing, we got to work.

Our first interviewee, the male manager, Ye Hia (sp) stood behind a big table to the side. He spoke little English, though more than every women, so Mary translated mine and others’ question.

.

We are still waiting to interview Yesmeena, but here is the story as I currently understand it. Going in, we didn’t know she founded the enterprise

Around 12 years ago two widowed women, Hagga Nasra and Om Amr, needed a way to provide for their children. As residents of the traditional Islamic community ?? where the unemployment rate is estimated at 34 percent, there is no running water or sewage system and illiteracy rates are above 90 percent, finding a way to make a living was no easy prospect.

When Yasmeena, a leader in the non governmental organization Sohbet Kheir, visited the community and heard the window’s plight she decided to help. She saw potential when Hagga Nasra transformed a piece of fabric into a beautiful tablecloth before her eyes. She obtained space for the women to work in, provided two sewing machines and fabric. Hagga Nasra and Om Amr got to work crafting tablecloths, hot mitts and other kitchen ware.

In the small community word of the opportunity spread quickly. Other widows, in need of an acceptable way to make a living, trickled in eager to work. Yasmeen/SKO?? paid for their training, supplied materials and machines. In 2001 the workshop expanded its focus and the women began sewing dresses and beach-ware targeted at female tourists. The products are sold on beaches and stores in Zamalek, Maadi and soon Fustandt.

At first the women were given an allowance, as the factory grew they were paid according to how much they produced, dictated in part by demand. Yasmeena, who travels a lot, brings back ideas and patterns which the women “Egyptianize.”

Ye Hia, the current manager, said the women can fill any orders and the project can grow and invigorate the community. Currently women desperate for work are being turned away because of lack of space and funds for machines.

In addition to producing dresses and kitchen ware, the women take special orders. For example the 15 women recently sewed 2,000 uniforms for Qasrel 3ainy, the biggest hospital in Cairo.

In the future they hope to expand their markets further by reaching international audience. The women pride themselves on their work and independence. Ye Hia stressed they are not a charity and not looking for sponsors, rather they are a self sustaining enterprise looking to grow reinvest and be an asset to its community. Through the work they’re doing, Ye Hia said, the women creating a name for themselves and providing a future for their children.

After about half an hour of questioning we asked to speak with Hagga Nasra. Ye Hia pointed to a smiling old women sewing near the door. Hagra Nasra, who was about 2/3 my height, insisted we interview her in the office. We followed her to a teensy room only half of us fit in. An old desktop computer, opened to an excel spreadsheet with Arabic words and mixed numerals, took up most of the room.

I took out the video camera and stood in the entrance balancing questions with getting a decent shot with poor lighting and little space and other women nearby who refused to be on camera.

During the interview Hagga Nasra smiled and looked curiously at us. She laughed and later had tears in her eyes. I attempted Arabic here and there, understood a word or two and mostly relied on Mary.

Hopefully today, we will finish the history, mission, Hagga Nasra’s story and the products and give it other students putting together the website. I’ll link it when it’s up.

I’m still sorting out the experience. So much happens here; there’s hardly time to process it all. For one, I know I was a bit controlling about the whole thing. The nine of us responsible for the knitting factory met prior to going and I felt my journalism side kicking in….

Being there, squinting at the faces, trying to pick up any words I could, I realized, once again, how important knowing languages is to me. Wherever I am, I hate relying on others, however much I like them, to do things for me, especially speaking and interpreting. At times Ye Hia and Hagga Nasra spoke for five minutes with out pausing. Women spoke among themselves, and said words to us. I asked to take a picture of one and she said no.

There was so much going on beyond my reach.

I can’t tell if I’m over-complicating something quite straight forward and practical or reaching to understand a different systems and way of life.

I don’t know these women, they’re not my grandmothers or teachers, they don’t live down the street. I don’t know what they expected from life or how they feel about what they got.

All of them live walking distance from the factory. They come in wearing shawls and long dresses to craft revealing, western-style-wear out of stretchy, flowery fabric. Sullivan would freak if we wore such clothes in Cairo. If these modest women dream of wearing their products I don’t know. When I asked what they were like on the way there someone compared the dresses to Forever 21s, albeit handmade.

While this is providing the women with a trade, a community, hope and independence, I have so many questions about it….

There is so much context we are missing. Ye Hia said projects like the knitting factory are common….

How to--have a cultural exchange--

Cultural exchange. Peers. Stereotypes. Understanding. Talk.

Dialogue.

Tonight 35 Americans “dialogued” with a similar number of Egyptians at the Fulbright Scholar center in Cairo. What I expected, I’m not sure. It was definitely one of the oddest cases of formality and free for all I’ve ever encountered.

Denis had us count-off to divide into four equal groups of Egyptians and Americans and branch off into four different rooms where professor moderated, and at times dictated, our discussions.

During the fifteen minute break in the middle and even more so at the end the small lobby, where goodies and coffee were laid out, was noisier than the streets of Cairo, which is saying a lot.

Our conversations ranged from the honking phenomena in Cairo to politics—mostly American, to media instilling terror and harassment in the streets.

Despite the science project-like set-up of the program, we're going places. Students are out together now and me and others are meeting tomorrow. The real dialogue is just beginning….

I have many thoughts on the content of our evening, what my fellow Americans said as well as the Egyptians, that however, must wait for another post.

I'm excited for the next few weeks....

Islamic Cairo

I was excited to tour Islamic Cairo because of the Arabic supposedly thrown into the tour, to understand more about the structures which most Arabs hold so dear and because I was dying to explore Islamic Cairo.
I read a lot in my guide book about dirt roads, small allies and traditional foods and dress--this I thought will be a real taste of Egyptian culture.
What I wasn't expecting was to feel a connection with the Mosques themselves.
A girl of multiple religions, loyal to none and only spiritual in the loosest freest sense I expected to value the Mosques only because of their place in society.
The Mosque of Ibn Tulun pictured to to the left, was my favorite. Built in 870 AD by the Tulunid Dynasty who had Turkish and Iraqi connections. It is simplistic, majestic, strangely spiritual and above all peaceful. It is also the oldest Mosque in Cairo and I believe the third largest in the world. I would have loved to stay a while longer, pull out a book or my journal.
Imen our tour guide told us the pillars in the Mosque are specifically placed slightly out of line so all are visible, i.e. nothing is hidden. It adds to the sense of open space and freedom. Gives a sense of confidence and security.
We climbed up the minaret--where the prayers are called from--and gazed down at our city of Cairo. A couple girls were sitting up there with their school books chilling out and studying.
Later mosques we saw were more pretentious...I could get into a whole long thing about that...I'll save it for an editing job...got to run.

You're on my list

To Do List

11:10 p.m. Cairo time….

Because crossing things off makes me happy and yeah, this is also a cop out/I'm getting to it ;D

Write paragraphs in Arabic for class tomorrow

Learn grocery store words/finish presentation with Tara

Write blogs about Arabic class, service learning at a knitting factory, teaching English in a school, dialogue with Egyptian students and reflections on it all

Finish website content with knitting factory group

Reply to a million e-mails, facebook messages, send postcards etc

Figure out how to edit and post video on line---I’ve got some great footage

Figure out my life when I get back—aka housing in DC and such…

Have those conversations, go all those places, meet all those people—live in Egypt =D

Time is going fast…..

Some faces to go with the words

I've put up a couple long posts. So here's a shout out to the more visual =P

















Yeah, a pic of me at the pyramids is definitely a bit overdue...


















Tara, Me, Mary, and Julia a board a Felucca in Aswan.




















What was directly behind us.
















The Luxor Temple.


Not what I expected when I ordered crabs for
dinner in Aswan. I got a plate of 5 for less than 5 US dollars.

Beside the point?

Today we visited Stabl Antar, an illegal/unplanned "town" of about 5,000 where people live without running water or other basic infrastruture.

We drove for a good 20 minutes on streets which hardly existed past children that waved and peered into the windows of our air conditioned van with yellow seat covers reading, 'welcome.' If we had encountered another vehicle driving opposite us it would have been tricky manuvering, but other than a donkey or two, we seemed to be the lone vehicles braving the roads.

I saw a pack of, I think, goats standing in rubbish, which was not surprising considering garbage was not scattered everywhere. Lots of men were cutting wood in small dusty shops and fruit and vegtables lay out for sale under a bridge.

Our destination was a family owned and operated glass blowing shop partnering with the non governmental organization Sohbet Kheir. The plan is for us to help them build a website to market their products. There was also talk of us collecting garbage, with Sullivan objected to.

When the vans stopped we piled out and were directed into a small clean room where two men were paining glass figurines laid out on a table. We were offered cold sodas, which Sullivan told us to take, and encouraged to ask questions to the men, which Sullivan and Mary translated.

The scene was a shock. We could have been anywhere. The shop was clean, albeit small, the men were dressed in typical clothes and fully focused on their work. Nothing on the inside gave away our destination deep inside the poorest area I had ever encountered.



Across the narrow hallway another man sat on a stool creating the glass pieces painted in the room before. He would start with a tube of glass alternately holding in a spout of fire and shaping it with tools. After making a small teapot, he asked Grace, Sullivan's daughter, to spell her name. He deftly inscribed it on a perfume bottle he blew and welded before our eyes. It was complete magic to me.

Who were these people? How had they learned to shape and paint glass? Where were they selling these delicate pieces? Sullivan said it was the first day they were painting the glass; he and others had suggested it when visiting in January. I longed to speak Arabic…I realized how little we knew...It was the most foriegn I've felt since being here.

So the title of this blog...I picked this trip largely for the service learning component. I wanted to jump in and help; get to know Egyptian society by meeting people and contributing. I thought the langauge barriar would be the biggest challenge; it's just the begining.

As we were driving through, one of the guys said something about he'd rather walk in a violent Philaldelphia slum then Stabl Antar. The comment annoyed me. The dirt, poverty and stares didn't bother me and I know I wouldn't be touched. What do you think Mary? I asked.

You can't just walk around here, she said. It's a small community, they all know each other. We're invading. Wait what! Her criticism caught me off guard.

Our meeting with on Monday with Yasmeen and Yousef (sp?) the two attempting to organize our service projects touched upon similiar issues. We sat in a classroom at AUC and they gave a powerpoint presentation about the service projects they're arranging for us. At one point this question came up. "Did these people ask us to pick up garbage and create websites or was this your i.e. the NGOs idea?"
Yasmeen circled the question.

Yesterday a group visited a carpet factory where we are supposed to help. Apparently all they wanted to do was sell us carpets...

However comfortable I may feel, however much I want to help, whatever skills I can offer is only a small part of the picture.

I'm starting to realize how much I don't know. How different it really is here. It's easy to forget. A lot of places we have gone people speak English to us, especially around Zamalek and touristy places like Aswan and Luxor. Brittany Spears is probably the music I've heard most in restaurants.

This pic is actually from Aswan. We couldn't take any today in Stabl Antar.

Today at Stabl Antar the guys could play soccer with the boys, us girls Sullivan suggested, could hold hands and talk about clothes with the other women...ouch...cultural shock anyone?

And take last night. We went out to dinner in Mohandaseen (sp?) a neighborhood in Cairo right across the bridge from Zamalek. Three of us decided to walk home. It was around 10:30. Walking down from the bridge we saw people our age chillin' below. Oooh what's that! I said excited to stumble upon a local hangout. As we got closer we realized it was a mosque. "Let's stay and party at the mosque, I joked. As we walked away I realized what a strange, yet true thing that was.

The mosque is a whole social world and dynamic we can't break into. People spend hours a day praying. Streets filled with green mats because the mosque are overflowing is a common sight.

I was almost dissapointed I didn't feel culturally shocked the first couple weeks. I wanted something extreme. To be shaken....I think the more I open my eyes the more I'll get my wish.

Mabye a reason we forget how different it really is sometimes....

Hagag

We were staying at Isis hotel in Aswan. Our rooms were small cabins and we could board feluccas from the behind the pool. This was all very nice, but after a quick dip I felt the need to see more of town. My plan was to find some local food and catch up on e-mail in a wireless café, which had been plentiful in Cairo.

I crossed the street and walked parallel to the Nile. Despite my long white skirt and modest ¾ sleeve shirt, most guys I passed catcalled, muttered or tried to sell me something in Arabic, English or French. I will write more about this aspect of Egypt in another blog, now suffice it to say while annoying, there are worse things. For example Egypt has a lower crime rate than the United States. I haven’t been touched, with the exception of a boy who looked about 11 who grabbed my ass down the street from our hotel in Zamalek.

Continuing on….after walking about 15 minutes I saw an internet café sign pointing down into the souk, or marketplace. The dark room with old computers and no wireless was not what I had in mind. “What you want?” Asked the young man standing near the entrance. “Wireless internet,” I told him, gesturing to the laptop in my backpack. He nodded like he understood and told me to come with him.

I followed him down a perpendicular alley and then right up another street and into a similar albeit slightly bigger internet café.

*Sigh*

As I thanked him but turned to leave another man asked me in excellent English what I wanted.

He said his name was Arif (means to know/knowledge) and I could use wireless in his shop next store. Reluctantly, I followed to the shop over. He flicked a couple switches and I asked him, “how much?”
He gave me a funny, stern look.
“No charge. You can stay as long as you like. Sit down. Relax.”
Though sketched out, it was a busy marketplace and he seemed harmless.
I watched him make Karkaday (hibiscus tea) with a small steamer from bottled water as I discovered the internet didn’t work with my computer.
I told him so and said goodbye but he asked me how many teaspoons of sugar I liked in my tea. When I refused he seemed to role his eyes.
He handed me one of the many journals on the desk in front of him and flipped to a page in English.

Since reading that first entry I’ve read so many to myself and out-loud to Arif’s father, Hagag, that I forget exactly how that first one went. Most when something like this.

Dear Hagag,

What a blessing to stumble into your shop and find true hospitality a mid the hassle and bustle of the Souk. I will always remember the tea we shared and the hours we talked. You are so wise and knowledable; you talk about philosophy religion, cultures and travels. When I refused sheisha you took out supplies and together we made bracelets; you seem to have something for everyone. I'm sure we will keep in touch

Your friend….
location
address/email/

I flipped through the book and picked up another while Arif watched silently.

The whole desk was stacked with journals filled with similar entries. Some casual thank you notes, some bible verses and prayers. There were also stacks of postcard correspondences dating back to the ‘80s. They were written in English, French Arabic and German by people from all over the world.

After a couple minutes of sorting through the stacks and sipping tea, the famous Hagag made his entrance. Arif, introduced us, vacated his seat next to me and walked out of the shop.

I think I walked in around 3:00, I found myself leaving just in time for our 5:30 Felucca ride with one of his bracelets on my wrist, my words in one of his journals and a promise to visit later on with Mary.

Leaving, I was completely thrown off, all most spooked by the experience. How could someone like that be for real…

After talking about it and going back I think he is.

It’s cliché after reading so many journal entries that said it…but I can’t think of a time I encountered such genuine hospitality and acceptance. I believe he wanted nothing but conversation. He was curious about the people who came to his country, he had traveled some and wished he could travel more. He saw how tourists annoyed with hassling salesmen responded a welcome in his shop. He was optimistic.

What he has done is ironicaly similiar to our purposes for being here.

Bridges between peoples and cultures.

Do you believe in coincidences?

What not to do when you flush a peach down a toilet

It was Jeff, an engineering professor’s idea. The toilets on the overnight train deposit directly onto the tracks beneath he told us.

To fill in the context, Mary and I are filming footage for a documentary and promo video for the dialogue. The two of us with cameras in hand is a common sight.

So after enjoying an amazingly juicy peach I ventured to the WC to get the clip. After dropping the pit into the toilet I couldn’t find the flusher. I looked all over but the only possibility seemed to be a silver metal thing to the side.
I pressed it with my sandaled foot and nothing happened. Determined I began to kick it.
A little exageration on camera can go a long way....
Next thing I knew water was squirting out at me. In the small 4X4 bathroom their was no escaping it. It ricocheted off the walls in all directions. I rushed out of the bathroom, camera in hand and dripping wet into a puzzled British guy.

So that was my first encounter with a bidet. What I don’t understand is how anyone could attempt to use one in that space….

Any city with a couple buidlings I recognize feels like home

Hello again.
The last week we’ve traveled from Cairo to Aswan to Luxor and back to Cairo this morning. We visited a plethora of temples and tombs including Karnack (big temple), Valley of the Kings (saw mummies including Tut's) and Hatshepsut’s temple( denied she was a woman in order to be pharoah).

It was great but touristy, herdish and I was sick the last two days. (Feeling better now =D, don’t worry Mom). Tomorrow, Monday, we’re settling into our routine of Arabic classes.

I’m staying at another hotel in Zamelick, in my favorite room yet. We have free wireless!! And beautiful breezy porches overlooking a busy street with stores, restaurants--our favorite so far is Joffrey's and a school. I'm chilling on the porch now.

Only 10 out of the 35 of our herd are living here, those of us with any knowledge of Arabic. Those with no Arabic and the engineers are blocks away at Flamenco.

So I’m going write separate blog entries of some highlights, I use that term loosely, of the last week starting with the overnight train from Cairo to Aswan. If you’re interested in more details about where we went, I suggest you refer to Denis or maybe Molly, our history major’s, blog.

Also, I used Skype to talk with my roomie loves today. It's easy and free....

Mubarak's birthday

There were rumors of protests so Dr. Sullivan suggested we stay away from downtown Cairo today...
Some background info from the NYtimes.
http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/m/hosni_mubarak/index.html?inline=nyt-per

So I'm debating like crazy what to write right now. I know people are reading this and I might submit it for a grade eventually

Not that I'm into breaking rules particularly...I just know what I want sometimes...

What it comes down to is I need to make my own choices and be OK with them. At the same time I respect everyone leading and on this trip.

I even called Ahmed, (Mickey) the Egyptian student who Elizabeth (thanks!) put me in contact with to get his opinion.

I didn't come to Egypt to eat in Cilantro, a nearby touristy restaurant, or drink beers with Americans in hotels. I want to see the real deal. I want to see how people live, know what they think. There are bread shortages here but you'd never know it from the places we go. Zamalek, it seems, is living up to its touristy rep.

Last night we met a guy, Ramiez. Though Egyptian, he grew up and went to school in Canada for international business. Now he's taking his father's stationary business international, from Cairo to Canada.
He said he'd show us the best salsa clubs.

Earlier yesterday we visited Coptic Cairo. We saw a couple churches, the oldest Mosque and a Temple with Syrian-influenced white and blue stripes. I'll post more details...i.e. names when I put up pictures later.

Later on we rode Fellucas (sail boats) in the Nile, walked back to Zamalek and then went out to Garden of Versaille for food, sheisha, etc....It was Saturday night which is equivalent to our Sunday night, so not too crowded. I'm excited to try something downtown next...

Mary and I have been getting a fair amount of footage for the doc/promo we volunteered to make....The sound quality is poor though...

In about 15 minutes we're going to Abduh and Hayam's, Sullivan's close Egyptian friends, for a feast Hayam has been cooking the last few days for us. Our expectations regarding Hayam's cooking are extremely high =)

Pics and commentary from the first 24 hours in Egypt;

A first glimpse of the Cairo driving from the airport to the hotel. The buildings were close together and made out of bricks or and other thick looking stone. I was surprised, I was expecting something "lighter" though the material makes sense...


















A lot of the buildings looked very old. Windows were often broken or nonexistent, clothes hanging out the sides were a trend.

Our first view of the Nile...

There were modern western looking buildings side by side with Mosques.

So we tried to order falafel for dinner at No Big Deal, but instead we ended up with four plates of babbagunish. We decided it was eggplant, chickpeas and ... it tastes delicious w/ pita bread =D

Paying was a little tricky...

This morning we rode camels to see the Giza pyramids. The boys who led the camels were anywhere from 7 year old to maybe late teens. We learned "baksheesh" means tip.

The Sphinx--this pics for you Lauren...lololol...yeah we'll fill in the story later...

I had so many expectations for the pyramids. They're surely the most known and talked about ancient relic in school.
Getting there though, seeing them, all the talk became secondary. They did not disappoint.

The end of a night, the begining of the trip

In Joffrey's, a wireless cafe, one of many in Zamalek, a touristy/expat part of Cairo where our current hotel, Flamanco is at, drinking a mint lemonade...and leaving. now.

Tomorrow we're going to the Pyramids at Giza.