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.

Four-wheel drive

We calculated the distance between our house and the chapel we attend by my parents’ house and found that it was the same distance as walking from our apartment in Maadi to Midan Victoria, a short 15 minute walk. The funny thing is that the distance between our house and the chapel is strictly residential. All we pass on our walk are houses—probably about a hundred or so of them—and we know most of the residents.

In Maadi, the walk to Midan Victoria scales residential walls to include political buildings, church buildings, schools, train tracks, stores, embassy compounds, hotels, banks, pharmacies, kiosks…just about everything we could ever need can be found between our apartment and Midan Victoria. And who knows how many hundreds (thousands?) of people lived in the apartment buildings we would pass.

Laundry here vs. there

Today I did not one, not two, not three, but four loads of laundry—I washed them, dried them, folded them, and put them away all by myself…with a little help from my amazing husband…and an awesome Auntie Sarah who let two rambunctious children wrestle with her…and some wonderful grandparents who also helped entertained those rambunctious children.

I like these newfangled machines.

You know you’ve been in Egypt too long when…

Your landlord shows up at your door unannounced at 11:55 PM…and you’re cool with that because, hey, you weren’t planning on going to bed for a few more hours, anyway.

You tell time by the call to prayer.

You judge the seasons by whatever creepy crawlies are taking over your apartment. Or by what fruit is for sale.

It’s 30°C (86°F) outside and you wish you had remembered to bring a jacket.

The weather forecast is always the same—it’s been 40°C (104°F) for weeks now.

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.

Kerdasa Bazaar

Way out by the the Giza Plateau is a little street lined with stores displaying colourful wool carpets and stylish galabias . It’s the Kerdasa Bazaar and on Sunday Josie and I joined our friends Clara and Catharine (and several other members of the branch) on a shopping spree there.

Ain Sokhna Finale

After church on Friday we headed out to Ain Sokhna for one last hurrah at the Red Sea. It was wonderful, of course. Rachel was so excited to start playing at the beach.

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.

Pekma for Wrold

We don’t do a lot of clothes shopping in Egypt and in case you were wondering why I brought photographic evidence of the things they sell here. Granted, if we were willing to fork out the money we could buy decent clothes, but we aren’t willing to pay much so instead we take pictures of the decently priced clothing and then giggle about them later.

While walking down the street in Alex we came across this shirt:

It’s an absolute classic. In case you can’t read the poem at the bottom it says:

The wind lether
Remembers
aredienched in dix
The wind that know
wands the dow
know that my

Later the lether was drenched in the dilk. Basically we have no idea what message this shirt is trying to get across but it makes me want to steer clear of anything with random Chinese letters on it for the rest of my life. Aredienched in dix? What?

I took Amanda to Dar es-Salaam the other day so that she could see an authentic Egyptian market—as opposed to the Khan which is authentic and not at the same time.

We got to see some interesting things like donkey carts loaded with gas canisters…

…and garbage being burned in the street…

…and bloody handprints left over from eid al-adha.

We also had to stop to browse through the baby section. I am pretty sure that is my favourite section of any store—sometimes I have to plan my trips to Target so that I don’t get anywhere near the baby section. Of course, that’s when we live in the States. Here I am much better at passing up on things.

Here we have a shirt featuring Juicy Fresn Fruits…

…and a shirt explaining How Find SDecial Friend.

So that’s why we rarely go clothes shopping for the girls in Egypt. That and because we’ve been so abundantly blessed with hand-me-downs.

The top reason I don’t go clothes shopping for myself here is that I don’t like to label myself.

I don’t know if you can read that, but it says “Redneck Princess.” Not exactly something I would be bragging about…

Saying goodbye to the pyramids

We went to the pyramids on Monday for what is likely the last time for a long time. It’s kind of sad to think about, actually, but I’m sure we’ll be back again someday. We’ve drunk from the Nile. We have to come back. Plus, I can only live State-side for so long…

It’s interesting to see things as we’re starting to say our goodbyes. The pyramids went from novelty to annoyance to intimate in these few short years. They’ve been a beautiful backdrop for our lives.

Now, seriously, with all nostalgia aside, we had a very good day at the pyramids, even if it was a bittersweet visit. Oh, wait. I said “all nostalgia aside,” didn’t I? Well, I lied.

When we arrived a very kind hustler directed us to the pyramids.

“This way,” he said, majestically sweeping his arm toward the Great Pyramid.

“Oh, wait, where?” I asked, turning my back on the pyramid and searching for pyramids in the cityscape. “I can’t see them. Where are they?”

“They are here!” he said, repeating aforementioned arm gesture.

I turned around, “Oh, there! That big, huge pyramid-looking thing that takes up my whole view once I walk through the gate? That’s the pyramid?!”

“Yes, this is the pyramid!”

“Wow! I never would have found it on my own!”

I sure am going to miss playing with those guys. They’ve built up such cynicism in me. Sad, but true. I expect everyone to rip me off.

We were sure to pay close attention this time to the fences surrounding the pyramids in order to answer Vincent’s question about the fences surrounding the second pyramid. So, to answer it, the northern and eastern faces of the pyramid of Khafre are roped off. The southern face is open, but the western face has been closed off with metal fencing—like a road blockade, only for pyramids.

Along the way we noted some guards. I was going to describe them as noteworthy but that would have been redundant. I think the sun has fried my brain. Anyway, one was wearing a Gilligan-style sailing hat underneath his police beret.

We saw another member of the Egyptian mounted police.

Another guard was more of an undercover guy. You can tell he was undercover by the way he sported his gun and walkie-talkie. Also because of his cool shades. And the way he camouflaged so seamlessly into the pyramid, the pyramid which is is supposed to be protecting from would-be climbers.

Josie, Amanda, Miriam, and I all rode camels. Andrew and Rachel have sworn off of camels, it seems. In case you were wondering how awkward it is sit on a camel while it is standing up, Andrew provided several pictures. What he didn’t get a picture of was when the man we bartered with pick up Josie to place her on the camel. I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen. I slapped his hands away from me and told him not to touch me and got on the camel myself.

He still got his touchy-feely in for the day by stroking my leg while asking me to promise to give our “guide” a tip. Since my foot was level with his face I considered swinging it in his direction but satisfied my thirst for revenge by spitting out the words, “Don’t touch me again!”

I will never understand why they—meaning the majority of Egyptian males I’ve encountered working at tourist sites—think it is alright to touch foreign women. I mean, touching women is taboo in their culture and, actually, it’s pretty taboo in American culture, too, from what I remember. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t let any Joe Shmoe, pardon my Yiddish, off the street stroke my leg anywhere.

Luckily he sent us out with a boy who was probably about eight years old. He was just happy we had candy and didn’t try to get fresh once.

There’s nothing quite like a camel ride through the Sahara desert in the shadow of the pyramids to put a smile on your face. For trite’s sake…I should stop. I’m so tired I’m waxing corny.

It was probably the most successful camel ride we’ve taken at the pyramids until the end when our camel didn’t want to put us down.

Camels are among the grossest creatures I know. They smell awful and make horrible grumbling noises. They don’t spit—that’s a misconception—what they actually do is expel their stomach contents. Yum. They also can inflate their palate to impress a mate by dangling it out of their mouths—it looks like a nasty cancerous legion and only serves to make a camel uglier, which I suppose in camel body language means “more attractive.” Their feet are fascinating—they only have two toes. I tried to convince my tutee to study camel feet, but it didn’t work, which is why I know all this.

Well, a bit I know from firsthand experience, like the part about inflating their palate and about their feet. I also know from firsthand experience that camels can be downright obstinate at times, but I suppose any beast can be.

This camel would not kneel down. Our guide was tugging on its rope and giving it commands, “Khush! Khush!”

Our camel bleated and belched and locked its knees. Finally, after more tugging and “khushing” it gave in to our wishes, but not without much protest.

It was an angry camel.

Amanda’s camel was more laidback. Not only did it have a piece of grass stuck in its teeth, but it spent a large part of our ride relieving itself. You may have heard that camels can drink a lot of water—like 200 litres or 50 gallons—per day. They also pee about that much. Holy smokes! Amanda’s camel probably peed enough to fill a bathtub.

After our camel ride I got to take over as pack-animal. Both girls wanted me, badly. So I carried them both down from the Pyramid of Khafre to the Sphinx.

Miriam had fallen asleep and Rachel was getting pretty drowsy, herself, by the time we reached the bottom of the causeway. They were getting mighty heavy…

…but we persevered and walked all the way to the entrance of the Valley Temple instead of hopping the fence like this kid.

We stopped along the way to take silly pictures, though, which helped Rachel to perk up a bit so that she could walk again.

We listened to secrets…

Kissed the Sphinx goodbye…

And did our best to look glamorously Egyptianified…

Oops…let’s try that again. Glamorously Egyptianified…

When we determined that we had done all the usual kitschy poses we moved on to a closer look at the Sphinx. It bothers me that some tourists are sold separate tickets to visit the Sphinx because no separate ticket is required. It’s included in the price of visiting the pyramids but if you take a tour they will sell you an official ticket to see the Sphinx only. I don’t understand why.

Probably because they can.

Anyway, Rachel tried walking some of the way by herself because Daddy told her that camels weren’t allowed down by the Sphinx. He had her look around to see if she could see any camels, and she couldn’t, so she happily skipped off.

She had explained to Amanda that, while American camels eat little girls, Egyptian camels don’t. Later she told me that Egyptian camels just chew them up and spit them out.

I don’t know where she gets this stuff but I suppose her active imagination is reason enough to be afraid of camels.

As she was climbing up on a rock she got a big scare.

A camel was tethered to the rock and was staring right at her.

“Whoa! A camel head!” she screamed and jumped off the rock as quickly as she could.

Seeing the Pyramids with Amanda was fun! She was openly enthusiastic about it the whole time. And Rachel adores her.

Sometimes when she accidentally calls her Panda. I think this is rather cute. 

She also asked Amanda where she was from and after Amanda told her said, “Oh, I’m from Egypt. I’m an Egyptian. I’m thirty pounds!”

Going back to America will be hard for Rachel.