Bleeding heart

Trading Tables is next week and I've already got five garbage bags full of stuff to get rid of. Five!

That's what living in a house for three full years will do for you. I'm going through cupboards and closets and drawers and saying to myself, "Self, we haven't used this ever in this house. It's been sitting here for three years taking up space." And into the giveaway bag it goes.

I saw a post on Facebook last night about a charity accepting baby slings and carriers to send to Greece to help outfit Syrian refugees. I'd put two baby carriers in the giveaway bag. I love wearing my babies, but after eight years of baby wearing I've certainly developed "favourite" carriers so I decided to ditch the ones I never use anymore. They're in the Trading Tables bag but I thought I'd dig them out to send to Greece (actually to Colorado where another person would send them to Greece (international shipping is quite expensive)).

But then a friend—who I met in Egypt but who now lives in Jordan—hopped on and said, "Just send them to me and I'll take them directly to the Syrian refugee camps here!"

So that's what I'm going to do (since I can ship to her without paying international shipping prices).

And, frankly, Jordan's dear to my heart and they've taken in so many refugees (1 in 13 people in Jordan is a Syrian refugee (when we were living there I feel like there were more Iraqi refugees)); they could use the help.

We won't speak about how Israel is building a fence to keep refugees out, but I will say that I just finished reading Rose Under Fire and, wow. It was no Hogan's Heroes, I'll tell you that much. Of course, Hogan's Heroes was about life in a POW camp (and was a comedy) and Rose Under Fire is about life in a concentration camp (and was anything but a comedy).

Finishing that book and then reading Netanyahu's little blurb about being unable to take in refugees made me smirk and think, "Nice."

Israel's gross domestic product is $36,051 per capita, nearly seven times the GDP of Jordan ($5,214), and yet Jordan can help with refugees and Israel can't?!

Ahem.

Anyway.

Miriam was so sweet today when I was talking about this—the war in Syria, etc—with the kids.

She immediately started ticking off extra sleeping spaces on her fingers.

"We have the single air mattress," she said. "And the double air mattress. That's three. Then I guess someone could sleep on the couch. So we could take three, maybe four, refugees!"

Albinos

Conference weekend was wonderful. Emily and Morgan came down from Idaho so we got to have a family lunch yesterday afternoon with Andrew and all his sisters and their husbands. We were only missing Jacob, who is still on his mission in Peru and doing great (he just became a zone leader; he's pretty excited...and overwhelmed).

It's funny to watch Emily and Morgan being so—dare I say this—young and in love.

I still feel like I'm young and in love but when I see Emily and Morgan I can tell that...they behave differently than Andrew and I do.

For one thing, I can't think of the last time I called Andrew Andrew. Usually I call him Daddy.

For another, Morgan got home from priesthood session and Emily literally ran up the stairs and into his arms. Andrew got home from priesthood session and I gave him a quick peck as I handed him the baby and said, "Let's get these kids to bed!"

Like I said, I still feel like I'm young and in love but obviously things have changed around here.

Does this mean we left the honeymoon stage without me even realizing it? Are we no longer newly weds? Are we getting *gulp* old?

Egyptian meal

Today is February 25th which means it's been exactly one month since January 25th. Obviously.

The reason it's significant, though, is that January 25th was the start of the Egyptian Revolution. I'll admit that that might not be significant for you, but it is significant for our family. So we decided to celebrate.

We got out every pot we own and made koshari. I know it doesn't technically need to involve every pot you own and when I learned how to make this from a very cute, elderly Egyptian woman she only used one pot. But we were already hungry when we started cooking and wanted the koshari to cook three times faster so instead of cooking the lentils and then cooking the rice and then cooking the noodles we went all in and cooked the lentils, rice, and noodles at the same time. In different pots.

We also made sauce and caramelized onions and hummus.

So we'll probably finish doing the dishes by sometime early next year. Thanks for asking.

Caps for Good

I was reading my amazing friend Tamsin’s blog this afternoon when I was instantly motivated to crochet a hat. She participates in a service project—sometimes spearheading one of her own and sometimes jumping on the bandwagon of an existing one—each month. This month she chose to participate in Caps for Good and invited her readers to join in, too. So I made a hat this afternoon, between playing the part of school teacher, lunch monitor, Fa Zhou, the Emperor of China, disciplinarian, and mother.

Life in these United States

Living in the States is different. For example, I find that I don’t need quite as many things. Like peanut butter. I no longer need peanut butter. There’s something about living abroad that causes an intrinsic need for peanut butter.

Nebulizer Baby

As I mentioned, we’ve been sick. We’re all doing much better now, thank you. Rachel is completely over her cough, Miriam is sleeping for much longer than forty minutes at a time, and my sinuses are almost cleared up. And it’s awesome.

Miriam was probably the sickest of us all. She ran a fever for a couple of days and then was stuck with this horrible, hacking cough that would shake her body from head to toes. After she finished coughing she’d whimper.

*Cough!*Cough!*whimper*

She was, in a word, pathetic. And things only got worse at night.

AUC Forever

Andrew’s graduation ceremony was yesterday. The semester ended almost a month ago and we’ve seriously been hanging around Egypt just for this. I voted for skipping the ceremony and going home early but Andrew insisted that he wanted to participate. Then about two weeks ago he was like, “What was I thinking!? We should have just gone home!” But I think by yesterday he was back to being happy that we decided to stay.

It seemed like a rather formal affair. They sent out fancy invitations and letters of detailing protocol: no cell phones, no cameras, no children. They even arranged special bus privileges for the guests of the students. So we got a babysitter and headed out to campus at the appointed hour.

The bus was fifteen minutes late. So we stood at the bus stop munching on pistachios and watching people cram themselves into buses like sardines.

Just around the river bend!

So many titles ran through my head while trying to make a title for this post, most of which had to do with Steamboatin’—a musical my brother and I were in when I was in grade 3 and he was in grade 5. I’m sure he remembers even though it was, oh, seventeen years ago.

Paddle wheeler rollin’ down the Mississip’!
Won’t you come and join us for a steamboat trip!
Paddle wheeler standin’ proud as she can be
All decked out and waiting for some company!

Step inside
(Just step inside)
We’re goin’ on a steamboat ride
(We’re goin’ on a steamboat ride)
Come with me
(With me!)
We’ll travel down in history!

It went something like that, anyway, and while judging from the decrepitated condition of the boat, this ride promised to be a ride through history, there was nothing remotely inviting about taking a ride on it. Our original plan was to ride downstream to Kanater, the Nile locks, and play around there for a while. However, no boats were running there when we arrived at the water bus station.

Not a problem

Traffic here is crazy—I think I’ve talked about it before—but somehow I’ve managed to steer clear (haha, no pun intended) of getting hit by rogue vehicles the entire time we’ve lived here.

Until Thursday evening, that is.

I’ve had many close calls but have never actually been hit. I tend to be a bit more cautious than Andrew is when leaping into traffic because I usually have a child or two somewhere on my person. That was still the case on Thursday evening.

Zagazig

I’m not going to lie: We originally opted to visit this city solely because of its name, hoping that there was something else cool enough about it to warrant a trip. Zagazig? Who wouldn’t want to go there? It’s like zigzag…only backwards. Granted, they don’t say zag-a-zig in Egypt. They drop the Gs so it comes out like za-a-zi, but still, it’s a cool name.

Zagazig is a bustling town in the Delta, with a population of around 279,000, according to Wikipedia. It claims the ruins of the ancient city Bubastis, or Tell Basta, named after the feline goddess Bastet, and is possibly the city Pi-beseth, mentioned in Ezekiel 30:17.

Bowling at Bounce

Our friends invited us to go bowling with them and we jumped at the chance. We actually like going bowling…we just haven’t been for a few years. We hadn’t realized that there was a bowling alley here, but there is. It’s called Bounce Sports Entertainment.

Bowling is not exactly a popular sport in the Middle East.

Mohammed and Ahmed were evidence of that. Those poor blokes were bowling their best and ended up not doing too well at all…not that I was checking out their score board or anything, but…their final scores were in the 30s and 50s, which is so, so sad.

Mo, who is five, scored higher than them.

Al-Azhar Park

On Saturday afternoon we headed off to al-Azhar park for a final visit. Apparently we’re on a farewell tour of sorts—we need to find something new to do! Al-Azhar park is one of the most beautiful locations in Cairo but it’s such a pain to get to that we rarely go.

Islamic Cairo…again

We decided to go on an adventure today since we’re mostly feeling better and since Andrew has finished with all his coursework and everything. Of all places to visit we decided to go to the Khan. I don’t know how many times we’ve been there, but that old bazaar in Cairo is huge so there are plenty of places we’ve yet to explore.

First we found a brass shop called Three Crazy Brothers that our friends recommended to us. We really had no idea where to find it but everyone knew where it was and pointed us, surprisingly, in the right direction so we found it without a problem. 

Qalawun Complex and Sufi Dancers at the Khan

I ran out of steam the last few days that Amanda was here. We’ve been running around like crazy the past three weeks or so and it’s gotten so darn hot. Like on Sunday it was 117°F (47°C). That’s a little warm…at least, I think.

Saturday wasn’t terribly hot, though we barely managed to get out of the house by noon. We wandered around Dar es-Salaam for a while then headed back to the apartment to get the girls settled before I took off for the evening. Andrew stayed at home with Rachel and Miriam while I took Amanda and Josie to the Khan to watch the Sufi dancers.

We debated taking the metro and walking from there but at this point we were all still so sore from going inside the pyramid that we opted for the relative comfort of a cab ride and got to the Khan much earlier than expected. I led Josie and Amanda to Midaq Alley, which was alive and bustling with patrons.

Well, perhaps not bustling. It is far too hot for any bustling, but people were lounging around drinking tea, smoking shisha, and playing backgammon.

After finding Midaq Alley we still had too much time on our hands before the show started so we wandered around the Khan for a while.

After wandering around for a while we found ourselves standing in front of the Qalawun Complex, quite near the Sabil-Kuttab of Katkhuda, and, much to my surprise, it was open. We have wandered past it so many times and it has always been closed. It was first closed in 2000 for renovations, but other times we tried to get in we were told they were filming inside and another time we were told something else. They always had excuses. We have tried to sneak in on more than one occasion and were consistently thwarted in our efforts.

When I noticed that people appeared to be visiting the complex I got a little excited about it. Amanda and Josie both were less excited since they had already been when they went on an Islamic Cairo tour with Jaehee earlier in the week. I dragged them inside, anyway.

The madrassa was fairly typical but easily falls on the more ornate side of ordinary.

My favourite part of the madrassa was the back courtyard. I’m not sure why. It just had a unique view of the mausoleum and minarets that we usually see from the street, I suppose.

What’s impressive is that the entire complex—comprising of a madrassa (school), mausoleum, and maristan (hospital)—was apparently built in only 13 months. I did the math and I’m still confused. To quote from Wikipedia, “the complex was begun in 1285 by the Mongol Sultan Kitbuqa, who ruled only briefly, and was completed by al-Nasir in 1304.” Now, call me crazy, but I see a span of approximately two decades in there, which is substantially longer than 13 months. Is it possible that Ali Pasha Mubarak made an error in his Khitat? Or perhaps I am figuring the dates incorrectly. If the complex really was completed in 13 months it must have been quite a feat because the mausoleum is amazing.

Sunlight was streaming through beautiful stained glass windows dancing red, blue, orange, and green lights across the marble floors and pillars.

And every surface was absolutely dripping with lacey geometric motifs or gold plating.

After vowing to return again with Andrew I was able to peel myself away from Qalawun in order to make our way to the Wikala of al-Ghouri for the Sufi dancing. We got there plenty early and enjoyed some pastries in the street while watching the feral dogs and cats run around.

The doors open at 6:30 and we got there at around 6:10. We ended up getting seats on the third row and sat there for two whole hours while we waited for the show to start. It was a long wait, but worth it. The show is amazing—it has definitely moved from the “sacred” to the “spectacular” and the routine the troupe has worked out is a showpiece if I’ve ever seen one. Still, it is interesting to watch, and, having seen “actual” whirling dervishes, I can see that they still have some traditional elements in their show.

I was thrilled to see that the older gentleman was back with the finger cymbals. He seems to be the backbone of the show and everyone seems to perform with more gusto when he’s on stage. The audience responds to him very well. He just does a fantastic job.

Just for kicks I timed the spinners this time. The first dancer was spinning for just over 23 minutes. He was very expressive.

The next set of dancers were spinning for approximately 15 minutes. I stopped timing when the dancers stopped twirling in circles even though they continued to twirl and toss their skirts for several minutes after that.

When the performance ended half the audience sat around in stunned, muted silence for a while before filing out the door. It is a fabulous show but so incredibly loud.

We caught a taxi home and were greeted at the door by none other than…Bridget! Yes, yes, Hotel Heiss lives on.

Al-Ghouri Tannoura Dance Troupe

Not to overextend ourselves or anything, but I took Dad and Josie out to see the Sufi dancers at Wikalat al-Ghouri this evening.

Andrew had some homework he needed to get caught up on so he had to stay home and if you saw the temper tantrum that Rachel threw upon returning home from the beach you would have known that she was in no mood to accompany us out, either. Miriam was also tired and wouldn’t have lasted through the performance. I was quite nervous about leaving her with Andrew, though, because it meant that he’d have to put her to bed and since she had never had a bottle before I wasn’t sure how smoothly things would go, especially since she still likes to nurse until she’s nearly asleep at night.

I had just enough time to help unpack some things, shower, nurse Miriam, and pump a bottle for her before it was time to run out the door.

Birds of Passage

I just finished reading Birds of Passage by Robert Sole. It’s a work of historical fiction told in anecdotes of sorts so, naturally, I loved it. It discusses at length the theme of belonging, I suppose, versus being an outsider—in families, in school, in countries. Andrew was thrilled to read it because it was his “thesis in fictional form.” I found it very easy to relate to several passages in the book, particularly toward the end of the book. I’m not sure why.

The whole book was an interesting read, but I found the end very touching. Perhaps that is because that is how the end of stories are supposed to be, or perhaps it is because of what has been going on in my life while reading the last few chapters that caused it to resonate so soundly within me.

Abayat and Nuqub

Last night after the fireside we had Hayley and Nacia and Jaehee and Aden over to play games, specifically Risk. In Arabic.

I’ve never played Risk before, but Andrew loves it and since I’m devoted to him I decided to give it a try. For years we’ve been pitted against each other in our game playing—scrabble, dominoes, fluxx, what-have-you—but last night we divided into teams. Andrew and I played on the same team. It was interesting to get to work together instead of against each other.

Andrew let me place half of our countries—I swear it took me like ten minutes to read the name on the card and then find the country on the map. Andrew finished his half in like 20 seconds…

Them’s fighting words

Even after fixing our satellite a year ago, our television viewing experience has not been improved much. We don’t watch television much but occasionally there are things that we’d like to watch like, say, the Olympics. We didn’t get to watch those this year since our satellite isn’t working again and our internet connection is too slow.

Our landlord finally stopped by to see if he could fix the problem for us. He’s one of few people with access to the roof, which is sealed off by a locked door, which is weird because usually the roofs of buildings are open-access or private oases for penthouse residents.

Ours isn’t either of those things, although I suppose we could go up there if we wished since the door is only haphazardly framed by a pony wall of stacked bricks, dusted with mortar. With the aid of a stool we could scale the wall and see about the connection ourselves, but we are lazy.

Also, sometimes there are dogs on the roof.

Mawlid al-Nabi

We tried to catch a taxi to take us to Midan Hussein from Midan Opera. No one would agree to take us there, so we walked. It isn’t far.

Ezbekiya Gardens, where Miriam discovers grass

Today is Mawlid al-Nabi so I dragged Andrew out of the house—literally dragged him—to go downtown to see the celebrations. He was a little grumpy about having to give up his Friday afternoon nap and insisted that he wanted to take a taxi downtown since he didn’t feel like battling the metro. There weren’t many taxis to chose from and he got tired of waiting so we ended up taking the metro, anyway, which was fine.