Alexandria - The Hotel

Michelle and I stayed one night in Alex at a hotel called The Crillon. As a second choice in the guidebook, it left a lot to be desired. What you can't see in the pictures are the shared toilets, the campy smell, and the dampness of the sheets and mattresses:

Alexandria - The Citidel

Michelle and I spent two days in Alexandria. It was fun, although I have to say that the experience of Egypt with Michelle is quite different for me. I don't get nearly the attention and catcalls that she does!

This post has pictures at and around the Citidel:
A nice family we met. I asked for their picture, as Michelle wanted a picture of the niqab:Outside the Citidel:View from the top of the Citidel. The flat thing just left of the middle is the library:

Recovering

Spring Break is over, Jeff and Michelle are gone, and I'm depressed at having to return to school.

Over the next few weeks I'll post about our adventures. For now, I have class.

Arrived Safely #1

Michelle has arrived safely! I rode a public bus to the airport, and after telling the man next to me to keep his hands to himself, I managed to arrive without incident. Unfortunately, Michelle had already arrived and called me. I felt bad for not being there before she got there, but it was okay. Michelle's the definition of flexibility.

She brought me Skittles, and cashews, and a CD full of pictures from Portland, among other things. It's really great to have a friend from home here.

Spring Break has begun!! (Well, almost. One more class to go.)

Feeling Faint

This morning I almost passed out on the Metro.

I was standing, but leaning against the back of the seats (a man had given up his spot for me when I got on). The car was REALLY SLOW. Like it took 1/2 hour to go 2 stops (normally the whole trip takes 25 minutes). Within that half hour, I started getting really sweaty. It was dripping down my back and front. It was hot, but I was sweating more than usual. My stomach started churning, and I started praying that I wouldn't puke.

I was standing under a fan, so I kept telling myself to breathe and stay calm. My vision was swirling. At the point where I could hardly see and my hearing started to fade, I reached out to the lady in front of me and said "please..." My hand was shaking a lot. Everyone moved quickly and let me have a seat by the window. I took my iPod out of my ears because I could hardly hear it anyway, and leaned forward in my seat. After a few minutes I felt much better and my hearing and sight came back. I realized my iPod was still playing music, so I put it away.

I still couldn't watch the opposite trains pass by me - it made me nauseous. I called a friend at school and told her I may not make it in to school in time for class.

I've never passed out before, except when I got kicked in the head in high school. It was awful. I'm bringing water with me on the metro from now on!

Too Long

Today we had a high of 98 degrees. I've been here too long. I left the comfortable air conditioned office and thought, Wow, it feels good outside. It will remain in the mid-80's to low 90's for the foreseeable future. At least I won't be here during the hottest months of the year!

Happy Anniversary!

Happy anniversary Mom and Dad. Way to go - 33 years! Even though I'm marrying someone older than Rene, it's reassuring that Jeff is still younger than your marriage!

Two Faces

I have to say, my experiences of men in Cairo are striking in comparison. Usually I avoid them as much as possible when I'm off campus. I don't make eye contact, ask women if I have a question, and so on. Of course, men are everywhere and the only way to really avoid them is to stay home. That being impractical, here are my experiences:

The men here are chivalrous. They hold open doors, help when I'm carrying things, let me in the elevator first, and so on. Sometimes I ride the coed car in the Metro, although I usually stick to the women's cars (2 of them). However, sometimes the train arrives just as I walk through the turnstile and I don't have time to walk down the platform to the women's car, so I jump on a coed one. The first thing I typically notice is that men are smellier than women.

While riding the Metro, the men are usually respectful. If I'm standing, I get a little bubble of personal space, and the men give up the prime places against a door or wall. Sometimes they even give up their seat for me, which I never refuse. Sometimes the women's car gets so crowded, I feel like I can't breathe - it's my first true experience of feeling the panic of claustrophobia. The men, on the otherhand, will crowd against each other but try to preserve space around me so there is no inappropriate touching.

That's the nice part of the men here.

On the opposite end of men's behavior, I have been more harassed here than ever in my life. Policemen whistle, men of all ages (even boys!) make derogatory comments when I walk by. It's in Arabic, so they don't think I understand. I've been touched inappropriately by a taxi driver and twice by men on the platform of the Metro. They are very sneaky about it. In the driver's case, he pretended it was an accident. On the platform, it was so crowded or some boys were running by so fast it took me a second to register that my rear had been touched - and they've disappeared. I don't even have anyone to yell at (like I did the driver). I don't consider myself especially attractive, and I dress modestly. I have to constantly tell myself that nothing I'm doing encourages such behavior.

It seems the only way to avoid harassment is to wear niqab, completely veiled except for the eyes. Even women with higab, or regular scarves, get comments.

Portland and Cairo are different worlds.

iPod Use

Okay, so I'm not quite ready to sleep tonight. My iPod accessories are taking quite a beating here in Cairo. I blogged previously about my iPod (here and here), and I have to say the pleasure in using it has not diminished. Lately I've been enjoying the shuffle mode. I go from Stevie Wonder funkiness to Psalm 86 to Dvorak. It's great.

The nice little white leather flip case, on the other hand, is no longer white. The sync cable Jeff gave me (because I lost mine) has to be jiggled to work correctly. But I like the feeling that I'm using things. I'll stop using the case when it falls apart and the cable when it stops working completely.

Ok. Now it's bedtime. After I finish listening to the news on NPR.

Welcome, Jeremy

My friend Jeremy has joined the "Stay up 'til 2 a.m. for just one more episode of West Wing" Club. Of course, it helps that he's not working at the moment. Members so far include me, Christine and Amanda. Anyone else a West Wing fan? I know Tom B. is, but I don't know if he's hit the 2 a.m. mark. For that matter, I don't know if Amanda has either. Hmm.

I'll have to visit Christine when I get home for the seven seasons. If you're bored of what's on TV right now (I have no idea, I haven't seen American TV since... early last summer?), go get the West Wing. If you rent the first season, you'll be hooked. Great cast, great writing, timeless subject matter. Well, timeless if you're living during the modern American political system.

Enough raving about the Best Show Ever on TV. I'm too tired to be blogging right now. I'm going to bed.

Countdown

Only 95 days until I get the MRS degree dad used to tease me about (until I made him stop). Except these initials go before my name, not after.

Check out the wedding website!

Friday's Concert

The concert Friday was tons of fun. I arrived half an hour early, thinking that would be early enough to get a seat, but it wasn't. The place was filling up fast. Since it was just me, I was able to get a seat in the main section, next to a woman named Barbara. We chatted for a while. Then the concert started. There was Graham Kendrick, the 15-voice gospel choir from England (apparently they have them in the UK!) and a trumpet player, Raul Donavera (I think I got his name right). He was fantastic. Barbara said he's from Spain.

At one point toward the beginning of the concert, Raul got to play a couple numbers. It was fun, and amazing. The flugelhorn is one of my favorite instruments, and he is a fantastic player. Here are some video clips:

Unfortunately, this is the point where my camera batteries died. The last song performed was the praise song that goes "We worship you/Hallelujah, hallelujah/We worship you/for who you are... for you are good!" The band continued to play for probably another 30 minutes, trading solos. The bass player was incredible. When it was Raul's turn, he held his flugelhorn in his right hand and a trumpet in his left and traded between the two. It was so cool!

Church Tonight

This weekend at church we have a special guest, Graham Kendrick. He's a worship leader from the UK that I've never heard of, but some British friends of mine really talked him up. This is his fourth year coming to church for a weekend, and everyone loves it. Tonight, which is normally quite a small congregation, there were about 4 times as many people as normal. He had a small gospel choir with him (apparently they have those in England). During the special choir number I was amused at the "As you lift Him high/He will drawr you close" bit of the song. Usually accents diminish with singing, but the "r" was definately there! I'm thinking about going back tomorrow morning even though I'm going to the concert tomorrow night.

The nice thing about guest musicians is the very short sermon. Not that I don't appreciate good sermons, but to expect a special guest who has come from England or Canada or somewhere far to do something other than music is too demanding. I noticed this with Brian Doerkson last semester as well. You feel just as satisfied with a passage of Scripture read, an explanation of what it meant to the artist, and then the song based on it. It's really wonderful. I found myself really wanting to stay there for longer than the already over-long service. Except when the littler girl in front of me vomited. I had to leave my seat straightaway before my overly developed gag reflex kicked in from the smell.

One of my favorite couples at church is an older man and his wife. They're Brits, and she's 6'2" and he's shorter than me - probably 5'3". They are so friendly and into everything. They totally get into the worship: dancing, waving arms, and so on. And they are so encouraging. Sometimes I have a hard time understanding the thick accent, and I feel silly asking them to repeat themselves so much, but they're the kind of people you want to hear.

Have I mentioned how much I love my church here? I think I have a few times. I wish everyone at home could experience the true multiculturalism that exists in the church and in the small groups. In my small group 5 nationalities are represented, and it's great. I love looking at the congregation and seeing all the different features of ethnic groups scattered across the crowd. Asian of all sorts, blonds, hispanic, all kinds of European, Texans, lots of Canadians, Egyptians, and a lot of different Africans. I was thinking tonight what Heaven will be like. If I get choked up and have a hard time singing here, how will I be able to praise God when he's physically in front of me and ALL the nations are there? It's hard and wonderful to imagine.

Fashion Talk

I've started noticing an interesting fashion in jeans. You know the low-rider jeans that young women wear? The kind that are unflattering even to the most slender woman because they hug the hips and cause a little bulge of fat?

As you can imagine, that style is not particularly associated with Muslim dress as it rarely covers the woman's mid-section all the way around, especially when sitting. I've noticed a strange alteration to the style. Several times I've seen women wearing pants with two waistlines. The lower one is the low-rider height, and there's another 4 inches or so of fabric on top, complete with another set of belt loops. It preserves the look of the low-riders without revealing the skin.

Incidentally, I think they look nicer as the waistline is at the natural waist rather than the widest part of the hips. And they don't have that yucky roll of fat.

An Odd Comment

On Wednesday last week a classmate of mine made a comment to me. She asked how long I've been in Egypt, and I told her since August, with a long winter holiday. She was surprised. She said I seem like I have a good understanding of Egyptian culture. I told her I had been here before and have Arab friends at home, and we parted ways.

Upon reflection, I thought that was an odd thing for her to say. She is a classroom acquaintance; we're friendly, but never see each other outside of class, and except for polite classroom small talk, we don't interact socially.

Today I had an opportunity to ask her what prompted that comment. She said she's been around a lot of foreigners over the years (she's an older student, probably with teenage or older kids), and I seem like I fit in well. It's just a feeling she has about me.

My host last semester said something similar that I just remembered. She said she feels comfortable with me, that I'm not like other foreigners she's known.

I don't share these things to boast, I'm just puzzled by these comments. How do foreigners normally make Egyptians feel? I'm not aware of doing anything special to blend in - I have no idea why at least 2 Egyptians perceive me differently.

Just something to ponder.

Walking Cairo

Here are some pictures from the walk I took on Friday morning with some people from an email list I subscribe to. The other woman is my friend, Alice. Captions are below the pictures.

Starting out: in Tahrir Square, with the Mugamma in the background. The Mugamma is a massive Soviet-style government building. Everyone has to go there to do things like renew national ID cards, foreigners get their visas, and so on. People joke that it is full of papers. Once you go in, you may never come out!!

Yummy...

We stopped in an a'wa, or a coffee shop (above and below). I took this picture of the old man smoking sheesha from a distance. The men will sit for hours, smoking and sipping tea. The tea (below, right) is really sweet.

Dinner!

An unused palace.

A train came while we were watching. The herders whipped the goats out of the way.

These trucks are known for their elaborate embellishments and funny little sayings such as, "Don't be envious, you don't know my payments!"

New Foods

This weekend was fun. I'll post about the long walk later, but for now, I want to share the fun new food I tried.

First, I had Abu Farwa, or chestnuts. Believe it or not, I've never had them before! And, they were roasted over open fire - the gas stove to be precise. Too bad I kept picking rotten ones. Yuck.

I also tried a new fruit or vegetable (I'm not sure what it is classified as). It's called harenkesh (ha-RENG-kesh). The street grocer told us it's also called "the hidden lady". It takes kind of tart, a unique flavor that I've never experienced. Here are some pictures:

It's HOT!!

Today it's 102 degrees Farenheit. AHHH!!! And I have the day off so I don't even get the luxury of staying in the nice air-conditioned office at school. According to the weather channel, the average for this time of year is the 80's. Supposedly we'll get there by Wednesday. I can't wait!

Reflections on Good Friday

I went to church tonight instead of tomorrow morning. Because we normally have church services Thursday night/Friday morning, we're having a special Sunday evening service this week for Easter. So tonight was the Good Friday service.

For some reason, I hadn't considered how I would feel about not being home for Easter, I did it in college in Colorado and it wasn't a big deal. This year is different.

At the end of the service, the pastor said if you are not humbled by Jesus then you don't know him. I was overcome with how great his sacrifice was and is. How little I am able to imitate his love and compassion; the significance of the incarnation of Jesus.

I was pondering Jesus Christ coming to Earth, being separated from his father, and then being killed, I started comparing his situation to mine. I'm in a foreign land. Although we keep in touch, I miss the intimacy of my family life. Would I be willing to die for Egyptians? Would I be willing to remain here if I knew before even coming that they would kill me? Is my love for them great enough?

I find my resentments, irritations and anger with my host country overwhelming at times. But they are still human; I can't make Egyptians the Others. Yet Jesus really is Other. And still he loved these human siblings of mine more than I ever can, even on my best of days. How perfect is the love of Christ! The idea of a Brotherhood of Man is a hopeless ideal without Jesus who had to bring his Otherness to make humans whole.

I'm reminded of what Jesus said in one of the gospels, that whoever loves his father or mother more than he loves Jesus is not worthy to follow him. I find myself coming back to that passage every couple years. Am I worthy? Is the desire for intimacy with my family greater than my love for other people? I think in the macro-sense, taking up our cross to follow Jesus means loving people like he does - enough to leave the familiar, take risks and make sacrifices. Those things are different for everyone, but we are all called to obedience.

So can I do it? Can I go to some other people, help the community, teach them, heal their bodies, and then allow them to kill me? I honestly don't know. In so many ways the example of Jesus seems impossible to live up to. I can only be humbled from knowing him. And I think God can work with that.

A Day in the Life...

...of a Cairene policeman.

You know, stand around at your assigned corner for 12 hours. Smoke. Spit. Ogle the women. Yell at people who are driving the wrong direction on the street. Occasionally chase young men off the women's car in the Metro.

Last week I left school early - maybe around 11:30 am. For once I didn't have to stay later on a Thursday when I'm done with class at 10:30 am. The Metro was wonderfully uncrowded. There were actually empty seats for most of the ride.

About halfway home, a group of four young men hopped on the car. A policeman forcibly pulled them off while yelling at them. The train started moving, but the men forced the doors to remain open while the officer was pulling them off. The women watched this happen with absolute equanimity. One of the guy's hat or bag or something was caught in the closing door, and the policeman was running along the platform while holding onto it.

Finally, a young woman (and one of quite intimidating size) sitting across from me jumped up and forced the doors open enough for the object to be pulled out. She went back to her seat and dusted off her purse (which had fallen to the floor) while talking to herself. I don't know what she was saying, but I imagine she was chastising all of the onlookers for not helping. She got off at the next stop. I continued home.