The Things I'll Miss the Most

Today was the third to last Tuesday of our trip. As Tuesday is the most stressful day of the week for us here - homework due and homework to be done, a busy day behind us with work at both NGOs, plus lesson planning for today and tomorrow - I've been counting down the weeks until I get a full night's sleep back in the U.S. by Tuesdays, and only two remain. That totals up to 16 full days in Egypt, three of which will be spent at a beach called Sharm Al-Sheikh, a completely different atmosphere from Cairo. Additionally, we learned the Arabic for "I miss (something)" in class today: "aftaqad." It's about time to let the nostalgia begin, and I've come up with a list of the things I will miss the most about Egypt.

1. My Students - they are honestly a wonderful class. They are always so excited to learn, even if my lesson plans aren't stellar, and they bring the best questions to class (example: what does "BFF" mean?). Yesterday, my co-teacher and I were talking about our plans for when we get home, and our most talented and outgoing student kept asking us, "So you're leaving on July 30? ... I'll miss you!" Luckily we're facebook friends now, and hopefully we'll be able to stay in touch, but it is sad to think that I may never see her (or any of the others) again. I have no idea when I'll be back in Egypt or if she'll ever come to America, but I know that if our paths cross again (inshaallah) I'll make every effort to reconnect with her.

2. Teen Shoqi - in English, cactus fruit. I never thought this was something I would enjoy, and the first time I tried it, I was repulsed by the number of seeds, but it is actually incredibly delicious. I think the taste and texture are similar to a watermelon, and though there are a LOT of seeds, but as long as you don't chomp down on it, they really don't bother you. They're sold by men with wheelbarrows in the streets for 1 guinea each, and you can't pick it up yourself because of the needles in the skin. Instead, the seller peels it for you, and you pick the skinless fruit out yourself. I pass the same guy every day after Arabic class, and it's now become our tradition to each get one on the way to pick up sandwiches.

3. Juice - It just isn't cool to drink juice in the U.S. after age 10 (not like that ever stopped me), plus the juice just isn't that good. In Egypt, any place you go, you can get freshly squeezed juice of any type, and everyone orders it. When I went to a cafe with my English students, even the teenage boys trying to look cool ordered mango juice... which would never happen at home. I still need to try a few more types, including sobea (coconut juice), but it won't be a problem, because instead of Starbucks every block, Cairo has juice stands.

4. Twenty Cent Sandwiches - As I've said before, ful and tamaya sandwiches are a staple in the Egyptian diet, and I can't imagine going back to the U.S. and paying more than 10 times as much for something that won't be nearly as filling. I've decided that until I leave, I'm going to try a new kind of sandwich everyday from my favorite shop (never mind that I don't really understand the menu on the wall) ... hopefully I don't get anything too strange.

5. Faluka Rides - sailing on the Nile in the middle of the night is an irreplaceable experience. First of all, you're on the Nile, a river I've been reading about since first grade, but also, it's an incredibly calming escape from the rush of Cairo. In the dark on a faluka ride, watching the reflections of the lighted buildings on the water, it seems like time stands still (although that might be because the boatman spends 10 minutes at a time standing still in the middle of the river).

6. "Maalesh" - "Maalesh" means "whatever," but in the nicest sense of the word, and this idea encapsulates the mentality of the Egyptian people. Although sometimes this comes off negatively (it definitely doesn't seem nice when someone bumps into you and says "whatever" instead of "I'm sorry"), there is a carefree, laughing attitude about life that is difficult to come by in the West. While I'll miss this Hakuna Matata type vibe, I won't miss the chaos that it's born from, which at times makes me want to bang my head against the wall.

As I think I've told every single person from home that I've communicated with this summer, Cairo is a crazy, crazy place. I'm looking forward to having some order restored when I return to America, land of the free and home of people who obey traffic laws, but from all the insanity of the Egyptian capital have come some true gems, which will always have a place in my heart.

You Mean You Don't Dream About Your Husband?

Women in Egypt have an obsession with marriage. At least, that's what I've witnessed during my interactions with teachers and random passers-by over the last six weeks. I've already mentioned how unknown women in the street have prayed for me to find a good husband, and other girls from my program have been asked by their students if they were married (luckily the subject has not come up in my class). However, the most marriage-crazed Egyptian I know by far is my teacher at Arab Academy. Though she is sweet and funny, I don't think a single class has gone by without some mention of either the m- or h-word. The other students and I (five girls in total) first noticed her heavy interest in matrimony one day when we were discussing our dreams in class. We said fairly random things (limited by our vocabulary) - I dream about visiting Brazil, I dream about becoming a doctor, etc, and she was shocked that none of us mentioned our future marriages. Then came a few other subtle hints: we learned the word for "bride" and when one of us mispronounced it she laughed and reminded us not to forget such an important word; we were talking about words for different ages (youth versus man versus child, etc), and she was careful to point out the distinction between young woman and spinster, and assured us all that we were in the "young woman" category.

Today, however, was the candied flowers and statuette on the wedding cake, as our reading for the week (from a text book which the teacher did not even choose) was about marriage. The moment she walked into the room, she told us that she was so excited to discuss it with us, beaming the whole time. The text itself was about a family arguing over whether the youngest girl should be allowed to marry a boy that was not as wealthy as her and didn't have as high of an education. The majority of the students agreed that she should be allowed to marry for love, and that the grandmother who argued otherwise in the story was too controlling. For once, I wasn't sure if our opinions shocked and horrified our teacher or touched her more sensitive side. Often she seems scandalized by how liberal our opinions are and our lack of interest in traditional values like marriage (for example we watched the first 30 minutes of the teen comedy "10 Things I Hate About You," and she could not believe that the portrayal of some aspects of American high schools was accurate). I hope that today her sensitive side won out, and our support of true love made her realize that we as Western girls have some sense of femininity.

Mummies and Scarabs and Ankhs... Oh My!

This morning I headed to the Egyptian Museum, looking forward to seeing mummies and sarcophaguses and hieroglyphics. I saw all of those things and more; the difficult part was knowing exactly what I was looking at. I heard someone in the museum say that it wasn't just a museum full of Egyptian artifacts, it was an Egyptian museum - which is completely true. The place lacks any sort of organization or explanation. Most of the cards in the display cases are in handwritten Arabic or typed on a typewriter, when they're even there. In some cases, the cards identify an item that is no longer in the display. Of the exhibits, only two were truly organized and with some explanatory aids - the room of artifacts from King Tut's tomb and the royal mummy room. Tut's old things were amazing, especially the mask in which he was buried. This mask is a prominent symbol of ancient Egypt which I've seen through my entire life, and it was incredible to see it in person. The mummies were interesting, if really creepy. I couldn't get the idea that these were real bodies out of my head. Even creepier, I'm nearly positive some of the coffins in the main part of the museum still contain mummies - according to one card I read, a particular mummy was "within," which I think means in the case in front of me?

After the Egyptian museum, we went to Al-Azhar Park with the school that the majority of students in my program attend (I go to a different one, but was still invited). The trip was fun, except for some awkwardly nontraditional games we played for a while (seriously, where was duck-duck-goose). These games involved me getting bit by another student... again. I don't understand why I attract so much biting here: either from kids or mosquitoes or other students... it's ridiculous.

At night I went on yet another faluka ride, which was fun as always, and we met up with some friends we have who are interning at the U.S. Embassy. Talking to them was really interesting, and being able to share our stories truly made me appreciate how much I've experienced and grown in Cairo. It didn't seem like much until I had the opportunity today to talk to my peers, who haven't been in Cairo for as long and have a lifestyle that is somewhere between Egypt and America, and I realized how oddly comfortable I've become here. For example, all three of them seemed hesitant when I mentioned street food, which is what I eat at least once a day here. All in all a phenomenal day, but I'm exhausted and I have another test tomorrow.. yikes! Ma salaama!

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

Tonight our group went on an adventure to CityStars, a mall in Cairo. Actually, mall is an understatement - this place is a palace of consumerism. It truly put Mall of America to shame. It's at least 6 stories tall, with 2 movie theaters, an arcade and bowling alley, a roller coaster, and tons upon tons of stores... and they may still be expanding. Not having been to any place this fancy-schmancy and Western in a while, I was truly overwhelmed, and for the first time in a while I had an urge to really shop. Luckily for my wallet, our plan was to see Toy Story 3 and eat dinner, so I really didn't have any time to try on clothes. The theater was gorgeous (like the rest of the mall), but we discovered that one part about it was truly typical of Egyptian disorganization. We bought tickets for our movie, which were more expensive because it was in 3D, and then went to get dinner. When we returned later and entered the theater, we discovered that you had to buy your own 3D glasses at the front, which the theater employee hadn't told us. So we went back (fighting against the hordes of people trying to enter the theater along the way), bought our glasses (which I now have for all future 3D viewing experiences), and re-entered the theater. The movie was hysterical, but at one point the toys are played with by toddlers in a nursery who attack, hit, bit, and otherwise traumatize the toys... all we could think of was our work at Ana al-Misri. I've never felt more empathetic towards an animated piece of plastic.

Another oddity about the mall was that it was filled with these propaganda-ish signs, advertising the "new Egypt" and the "updated exotic" ... aka CityStars. Honestly, I've never felt less like I was in the Middle East than today (except maybe on the 4th of July). My view of Egypt is hot and dusty and crowded and crazy, full of people smoking and cars honking wildly, not this overly pristine smoke-free castle. In addition, the people I've met in Cairo (my students and the kids at Ana al-Misri), were nothing like the people pictured in these ads, who actually looked white. Not to mention that some of the clothes I looked at in a store were priced in Euros. Overall the experience was interesting and fun, but it was a bit of a shock to see things priced by western standards again. As much as I enjoyed tonight, it didn't feel like being in Egypt, and I think I prefer last night's outing - a faluka ride on the Nile with music (ranging from the popular, Amr Diab's hit "Habibi Ya Noor el-Ain," to the classic, "A Whole New World," to the ragingly politically incorrect, "Arab Money"). Much cheaper, much chiller, and much more genuine.

A Smack of Good Humor

The last week has certainly been a struggle - starting from witnessing discrimination against my students to being locked in the nursery with manic 6-year-olds. Just as I was about to sink into my frustrations, Cairo smacked the laughter back into me. Literally. As I was walking along one of the many narrow and crowded one-way streets in Garden City, I started thinking about how much I hated walking in the same direction as traffic, because it's impossible to see what's coming. A truck drove past me and SMACK - I was hit in the back of the head with some kind of dry grass/stalk thing that was sticking out of the sides of the bed. That whole moment was so typically Egyptian, so crazy and unpredictable, but that I somehow should have seen coming, that I couldn't help but burst out laughing. The two other girls I was with, who had also been whacked by the the plant, were just as hysterical as I was, and when the driver stuck his head out of the window to apologize, all we could say was "maalesh."

"Maalesh" is one of the typically Egyptian phrases that defines life here in Cairo. It means something like "whatever," but in the most positive sense of the word. When things go wrong in Cairo (which happens everyday), it's necessary to roll with the punches, adapt, and otherwise move on and not get upset - this is the idea of "maalesh." When bus drivers decide to go the wrong way down a one way street: maalesh. When the people who run your school decide not to show up and unlock the classroom: maalesh. When random plants sticking out of a moving vehicle hit you in the head: maalesh. And when small street boys run up to you and incessantly shout "Ashrub! Ashrub! Ashrub!" (I drink! I drink! I drink!) so that you have no choice but to give them your water: maalesh. (That also happened to me today. As much as I was annoyed to be without it for the rest of the day, it isn't an issue for me to buy another bottle, and every street kid I see now makes me think of the kids at Ana Al-Misri... and my heart melts).

The other critical phrase in Egypt is "in sha Allah," meaning "God willing." When I first came to Cairo, I thought in sha Allah was an easy way to escape commitments you don't want to go through with or invitations you don't want to outwardly decline. In a society as religious as Egypt, who can argue with an answer like, "yes - if God wills it"? The reality though is that for anything to go according to plan in this city, it takes an act of God. For example, the class I taught today was on nutrition, and since we introduced so many complicated ideas, we really needed our translator for the first time this summer. Of course, today was the one day that he was too sick to come to class. I guess while my small scale frustrations in previous weeks blew over quickly, sometimes things pile up, and everything and everyone seems to be conspiring against you. What you have to do to survive in Cairo is say "maalesh," laugh it off, and have a little faith.

Even the Cute Ones Can Be Monsters

Our professor told us at the start of the trip that the third week of our program was always the most exhausting and disheartening. I'm fairly certain he was wrong; this week has been the most difficult by far. Today's struggle centered around Ana Al-Misri. Organizationally, things there have been worse than ever. We still don't have a specific project or schedule worked out with their administration, and our primary contact has been M.I.A. after her driver's license was revoked last week (I think she got into a car accident with a cop?). Anyway, showing up at the building is always a little awkward now, since there often aren't any staff in sight; instead we just wander around til we find kids or someone who speaks English, and then we get started. The past few days, only the youngest kids (ages 2 - 9) have been at the center, so our group to entertain is much smaller. The last time, I had befriended a new kid, and he was very excited to see me when we walked in. For the first hour and a half of the morning, he was grabbing my hand and dragging me around the room to play at the different stations. (On a side note, there was a group of 6-year-old boys having a tea party for a while and playing with baby dolls... so not what I'm used to). Everything was great with my new friend (whose name I don't actually remember - probably Mohammed/Ahmed/Abdullah) until snack time, when he continually lifted one end of the table the kids were eating at so that the drinks almost spilled. I guess this wasn't that bad a thing to do, but a large part of the program at Ana Al-Misri is adjusting from life on the streets (e.g. always wearing shoes, not snatching food from each other, etc)... so tipping over tables where people are eating isn't really acceptable. I told him to stop, that it was not good behavior, etc, all to no avail. Finally I took his hands and held them until he said he was sorry. This totally demoralized him, and he looked sulky and wouldn't talk to me for about half an hour. In the meanwhile, he hadn't eaten his snack, so the others all tried to pounce on him and take it, and I ended up getting pulled to the ground (yes, by 6-year-olds - to be fair there were a lot of them) in the middle of trying to break up all the fights that ensued. Then came my efforts to make up with my friend: at first he wouldn't even listen to me, and once he did we ran into language barrier issues. Eventually I said, "I don't understand because I don't know a lot of Arabic words. I'm sorry. Are we friends again?" Not my most effective disciplinary tactic, but I was getting desperate. A lot of the really cute ones there don't even look ashamed or upset when you scold them. They just laugh adorably... and what else can I do but let them go when I barely speak their language? Once all the animosity and hurt feelings were gone, the whole group went up to the TV room, which always starts off wild (too many crazy kids in too small a space) but eventually results in nap time. The kids were going crazy as usual, tackling each other and jumping on me (all standard), but at one point this resulted in a dog pile on my lap. One kid bit me (again) and another started joking that I was a toilet that he was sitting on. At the same time, I happened to glance over toward the window, through which one of the other students from my program was climbing into the room - the door was jammed. I came pretty close to freaking out; there was no way I was going to stay trapped in this room with these adorable little monsters biting and pretending to poop on me until a locksmith drove out into the middle of the desert to set me free. However, my friend, noticing I was actually angry, said, "Miss, chalos (meaning "enough"), and they all calmed down. They started to fall asleep slowly, a few with their heads in my lap, and half an hour later I left them napping on the rug (the door was mercifully unjammed by one of the staff). As usual for Egypt, the end of the experience was oddly rewarding, but I wish there weren't so many bites along the way. Luckily I won't return to Ana Al-Misri until Saturday, and in sha Allah, (God willing) by then my attitude and their organizational skills will have improved slightly. Ma salama!

Bud Light and A1 Steak Sauce

Fourth of July in Cairo. I never really thought Independence Day this year would be terribly patriotic, after all there isn't really barbecue sauce in Egypt (actually their version of BBQ flavored chips is kabob... gross). However, today fulfilled my craving for Americana and then some. We all went to a house in Maadi called the American Club, and it was like stepping out of Cairo and into the American suburbs. The American Club had a pool and a playground, plus a buffet dinner, carnival games, an ice cream stand, and a DJ. As we got in line for dinner (hot dogs, burgers, ribs... the works), we saw that the table we passed was set with bottles of Bud Light and A1 Steak Sauce. We were really home. Of course with all the things we missed from America (freeze pops, pork, Tom Petty, grassy lawns), there were some stereotypes so American that they were nearly painful. Example: one of the guys sitting at a table near us had a poorly drawn tattoo of his son on his arm, which was very visible beneath his cut-off tee. Not only was his son's name (Tanner) tattooed underneath the picture, but Tanner was pictured sporting a mullet. Seriously, how redneck can you get? And what is this man doing in Cairo??

As much as we enjoyed the American aspects of the day - soaking up the sun and chlorinated water and eating far too much mayonnaise in our potato salad and cole slaw - there were a few typically Egyptian quirks about the place. For one, we had spotted a moon bounce when we came in and were all extremely excited. However, said moon bounce turned out just to be an inflatable exterior; inside was a popcorn machine and cotton candy maker... cool but not as bouncy and wonderful as what we'd hoped for. The lifeguard at the pool was also Egyptian and typically lacking in political correctness. At one point an Asian boy walked by us at the pool, and the lifeguard commented, "Samurai!" All in all, this Fourth of July was fantastically American (considering we were in Cairo), and I even got a cherry coke. If only there had been fireworks (apparently not legal in Cairo) and apple pie.