Ants, Ants, Ants, Ants

Marching up and down again…Ants, Ants, Ants, Ants…5, 7, 9, 11

Eleven o’clock is approximately the time that I scared Andrew half to death this evening by wildly slapping my arm and screaming,

“Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!”

I got bit by an ant. So small, yet so painful. It had dug its little pinchers into my skin and was not letting go no matter how many times I slapped it. For some reason I was thinking it was going to be like a mosquito: slap, dead. But it wasn’t. Andrew had to scrape it off and then smash it with his fingers.

This was just a mere minute or so after Andrew had received a bite of his own and, after listening to him freak out about it said, “Oh, did the little ant get you?” in a patronizing baby voice. Why did I have to open my big mouth.

He had just come from the kitchen to inform me that there were ants swarming on top of the refrigerator and I guess a few ants had hitchhiked on his person from the kitchen to the living room just to bite us.

We went back into the kitchen. He had moved all of our food off the fridge and onto the stove and had sprayed the fridge with RAID. The ants were caught in their tracks and died in perfectly straight rows.

They had been filing in from, of all places, an electrical outlet.

“That must be why they hurt so bad! They’re electric ants!” I told Andrew. He asked me if such a thing existed. I told him that I doubted it but that I couldn’t be sure because we don’t have the internet and thus no Google so I couldn’t check. Later on in the evening I moaned, “Ants don’t live in electricity!”

The ants here, however, must feed on electricity. When we were staying with President McCallister Andrew had ants in his laptop constantly. He would open it up and they’d pour out from under the keys.

There were ants here and there around his apartment, but they weren’t into organized crime.
The ants at our apartment have been a bit more aggressive. They march around the apartment like they own the place, making only 90 degree turns. Two lines side by side: one filing in and one filing out. If only Cairo traffic could pick up on that…

From what we knew all the food on the fridge was sealed—the food was on top of the fridge because we hadn’t cleaned out our cupboards yet and they’re gross—but we started to go through it anyway.

The ants seemed to be concentrating on the packages of Oriental noodles (Ramen, for you Utahans) we had purchased at Carrefour (thanks, Jill, for taking us there, btw). The packages of noodles were sealed in a bigger plastic bag, but the ants were inside those, so we opened them up.


Not knowing if they had the ability to chew through plastic or not, we opened them up and started examining the individual pockets. Ants were spilling out all over the place. We boiled a pot of water and started throwing the packages in the water to kill the ants. Bubbles coming from the packages of noodles led us to believe that there were holes in some of the packages.
Now our noodles were wet and full of dead, semi-dead, and live ants. We ended up throwing most of them away. Our spaghetti noodles were completely sealed (except for one bag that was completely ripped open), so we were able to keep those, and the corn flakes, that were open, were ignored by the ants. Go figure.


With ants all over the place at varying stages between life and death, we continued to battle them with RAID, fire, boiling water, and sheer brute force. I think most of them are dead now. At least, I hope so.

We found some Tupperware containers left behind in the church cupboards by some previous students (thanks Mark and Aprilee!) and put our corn flakes in one for safe keeping. To lighten the mood in our hot kitchen, I brought one in to Andrew, cracked the lid and quoted from Aladdin,

“Ooh, look at this. I have never seen one of these intact before. This is the famous Dead Sea Tupperware. Listen. Pbbtt! Ah, still fresh!”

I thought it fitting since we were experiencing an Arabian night…I didn’t ever used to think that having the vendor in Aladdin selling Tupperware was very authentic. If I only knew…

This morning we had another ant infestation, but this one was entirely our fault. We were running late for church and didn’t clean up Rachel’s mess before running out the door. When we came home there was a little trail of ants leading from the dining room to a hole in the wall somewhere. We took care of that and thought our problems were over, but alas!

For those of you who know me well, you know that I’m not the best housekeeper. I sometimes put off doing the dishes for too long and let my floor go unswept for much longer than it should…
But seriously, when there are cockroaches on the line I can be downright religious about cleaning house.

We wash our dishes after every meal. I sweep and mop. We don’t leave food out.

Still, we don’t know what to do. And so we turn to you, dear readers, for advice. Lay it on us!

How do we get rid of these ants once and for all without completely fumigating the place?

We’re already planning on investing in more Tupperware containers to hold pretty much any food-like substance and are keeping about as clean as we can, what with a one-year-old on the loose and everything…any ideas?

Coptic Cairo

At church today, President McCallister mentioned that we currently hold the gold medal for finding an apartment. I suppose it seems like we found an apartment quickly—it only took us one day of searching before we signed a contract—but in truth, I’ve been searching for apartments for months online to no avail. I looked at thousands of apartments and pumped tens of landlords for more information. So our search extends far beyond the one tiring Saturday we spent looking at apartment after apartment.

But we’ll accept the gold. Unless the Shillings or Sharps can beat us!

Now that we’re getting settled, we decided it was time to venture out of Maadi. Since it’s Friday, the Sabbath, we decided to head into Coptic Cairo for the day. So, after church, lunch, and a nap for Rachel, we hopped on the Metro.

I was a little nervous at first since I seemed to be the only woman on the wagon—there are separate cars solely for women and I didn’t get on one of those. As I understood it, they are there for your convenience, and should I ever decide to use the Metro alone, I will probably jump on one. But it seemed for a moment that perhaps riding the women car was requisite—I was quite relieved when I saw some other women get on!

We got off at the Mar Girgis stop, walked out of the Metro, and right into Coptic Cairo. It is just that close. The Roman Towers stand right in front, and kind of below, the Metro station, marking the start of Coptic Cairo, or Roman Babylon.

St. George

In front of St. George

Our first stop was St. George chapel, where several families stopped to wave at Rachel and take pictures with us. It was kind of interesting to be a tourist attraction at a tourist attraction, but such is the life of an American family with a “blonde” baby in the Middle East. Everyone was shocked that we spoke Arabic—truthfully only Andrew speaks Arabic, but I’m getting much better.

A little girl named Maria came up and asked me, very slowly,

“Ism-ha eh?”

“Rachel,” I said.

“Rasha?” she repeated.

That’s close enough. Most people say Rasha or Bashel. I don’t know why since they have all the phonemes in Arabic to say Rachel.

After I assured her that Rasha was correct (or at least along the lines of correct) she ran off to tell her family that I spoke Arabic to her.

They followed us around for a while, snapping pictures with their cell phone cameras, and asking us a few questions. They were definitely a Coptic family. Not only could we tell by the tattoos of crosses on their wrists, but the children’s names were a dead giveaway: Maria, Justine, and, of all names, Andrew!

It was quite a shock when we were innocently poking around the chapel when we heard a voice call out harshly, in Arabic,

“Andrew! That’s wrong!”

Andrew checked himself to make sure he wasn’t leaning up against any ancient relic and that the lens cap was on his camera still so that it wouldn’t look like we were taking pictures. He was clear. And then we saw the culprit.

A little Arab Andrew, swinging on a chain blocking the tourists from entering the rest of the chapel.

We eventually lost that family…and found ourselves in a group of teenagers, all haggling us for pictures. I was so proud of myself when I understood that one of them asked if Rachel knew how to walk. I am proud of pretty much every time I understand anything at this point.

We posed for several pictures and didn’t lose that group until we left to get on the Metro again.
We wandered all around the graveyards and into several chapels, including the chapel built on the cave that, allegedly, Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus hid in from King Herod; and the Hanging Church, all the while with our personal paparazzi, snapping pictures and repetitively kissing Rachel's cheeks.

Cave where Joseph, Mary, and Jesus hid while in Egypt

Wandering in the old cemetery

Pokey tree in the cemetery (that's not a cactus)

Mosaic by the Hanging Church

The Hanging Church

Interior of the Hanging Church

After two hours, we were beat. We had finished off the last of our water, and Rachel was getting rather grumpy, so we headed home. We’ll go back to Coptic Cairo another time, not on a Friday, so that we can go to the museum and other things…but we’re waiting for Andrew to get his student ID card so that we can get in cheaper.

Rachel before dinner

Thirsty baby

After dinner

Floorplan

I know we haven’t posted much recently, but don’t worry because we haven’t been doing very much yet. Mostly we’ve been cleaning our apartment. It’s not as dirty as it could be (we’ve seen worse), but we still have a lot of work to do to make it livable.

Andrew was the most amazing husband ever and cleaned the whole bathroom yesterday morning while Rachel and I slept. It’s currently the least scary room in the house. I’ve been working on sweeping the floors really well—I have a feeling I will be sweeping a lot in the next two years. None of our windows close very well so we get a lot of dust coming in. There’s plenty of dust in Cairo! I suppose that’s normal for the desert.

Last night I drew up the floor plan of our house, as my mom requested. It’s not to scale, but it should give you a pretty good idea of how the apartment is set up.

Since drawing this Andrew opened the “scary door that we’ve never opened.” It leads onto a little balcony that is scary beyond all description. Knowing what’s behind that door makes the kitchen seem a little friendlier. The door no longer leads to the unknown and is no longer a source of nightmares.

We were dreaming it was a secret door that the bowab could use to get inside our house, or a creepy utility closet, or perhaps hiding a skeleton or two. All along it just opened onto a fire escape and there’s no way to open it from the outside, so it’s relatively safe—just covered in a ridiculous amount of junk and grime.

Uh, Yikes!

Instead of spending our time wondering about the door, we’re glad that it’s there to hide that big mess. And if I ever feel afraid of my kitchen, I can just open that door and suddenly the kitchen seems bright and cheerful and a lot more inviting!

A few more random things about our apartment:

1) Yes, we have the option of separating our rooms with curtains.

2) Our shower curtain was too short so we used 4 sets of rings to make it long enough. It's classy.

3) No, you can't have it! It's ours.

Here Kitty, Kitty!

There are stray cats everywhere. I don’t remember seeing this many cats the last time we were here but I don’t know how I missed them because they are everywhere. In every bush, behind every tree, on every step. Perhaps I’m exaggerating, but not by much.


Most cats are pretty docile, begging for food and then running away. Others are less well tempered and jump out at you, making you run away. Some look decent and others are missing limbs or bits of their ears and tails. Some are even kept as pets. So far I haven’t let Rachel touch any of them, which she wasn’t very happy about at first. She’s fine with just waving at them now and doesn’t cry every time she sees one because she knows that if we walk two more steps we’ll see another one.

Stray kitten

The word for cat in Arabic, “kota,” is very close to the English word for cat, but it still takes me a while to recognize it in Egyptian. We were walking down the street a few days ago, trying to find a specific store, and we kept walking past this older man. We must have passed him 3 or 4 times, at least. He and Rachel made friends and he started up this little game with her. He’d touch her chin and then say,

“Ota! Ota! Na, na, na…”

I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about but thought perhaps he was copying Rachel, who was saying, “Na, na, na…”

After he’d repeated himself several times as we walked back and forth in front of his shop, I realized that he was saying cat. Perhaps he thought that Rachel was meowing. Or maybe he just figured that she likes cats. It may have been that he was just trying to get me used to the Egyptian dialect.

Egyptians clip off most k sounds. Saqqarah becomes Sa’arah. Kelb is ‘elb. Kadaesh is ‘aesh. And kota becomes ‘ota.

Needless to say, Rachel was very happy on Sunday evening when Auntie Sarah brought her kitty, Athena, to say hi to Rachel on the webcam. Rachel even pet the screen. That was the first cat she’d pet in a whole week!

She had a hard time figuring out how the webcam worked. When we first turned it on, she got down and ran around behind the computer, just to check and see if we weren’t hiding our family back there (which we weren’t). She took everything quite literally.

When Grammy suggested that Rachel crawl through the computer, Rachel tried; she climbed up on Andrew’s lap and put her head on the monitor. She was a little disappointed to learn that she couldn’t actually just do that (but wouldn’t it be nice?). She held her arms out to Auntie Josie and kept poking Grandma’s nose.

We had a good visit with everybody, but it was hard to say goodbye. I almost cried when my mom told me that she had put away the teeter-totter and box of baby toys because, since Rachel is the youngest grandchild on my side of the family, no one is going to be using them for a while. Not for a few years, at least!

Falling Asleep

Rachel finally seems to be on somewhat of a schedule now. She’s almost sleeping through the night again and her naps are much more reasonable. I think using the pack’n’play really helped (thanks, Sara!) because she no longer wakes herself up by falling out of bed.

Here’s a picture of Rachel’s last nap before Sara and Kevan delivered the pack’n’play. She looks like she fell asleep praying or something. She’s kneeling on a pillow, on top of a suitcase. That’s a table under the blue towel.


Now she’s much more comfortable. She can toss and turn as much as she wants without having to worry about ending up on the floor, which is great.


The other night I couldn’t find any clean pyjamas—I’m sure they’re just at the bottom of the suitcase somewhere—so I put her in an oversized t-shirt. Grandpa Layton got it for her in Nevada. It’s size 3T, I think, so she won’t actually be wearing it for a while, but it made a nice nightshirt, or so I thought.


Andrew thinks that it makes her look too grown up. What do you think?

Our Apartment

We’ve been staying with the McCallisters these past few days. Dave is the branch president and is going into his fifth year in Cairo, I believe, so he’s been a wonderful resource of information! It’s been so nice to have a place to call home base while we’ve been busy finding an apartment; much better than living in a hotel or being, essentially, homeless, as we were in Jordan.

And now for the grand tour! (Sorry the pictures aren’t the greatest—perhaps we’ll get some better ones up soon—the lighting was bad).

The apartment clusters all of its rooms together, so when you walk in the door, there’s a cluster of gathering areas: a dining room, two “reception” areas, and a mini-bar. We’re planning on moving the furniture in the mini-bar area, if we’re allowed, to make it look a little less bar-like. The one air conditioner for this room cluster is in the bar, so we’ll probably make that a hangout for Rachel and me.

Rachel ordering some water

The carpet under the dining room table is nailed to the floor, so we’ll be putting down some plastic under Rachel’s chair (she’s such a messy eater). Luckily, we just bought some pillows and they put them in a big ol’ plastic bag. That should work perfectly.

Dining room

There isn’t much to say about the other two rooms except that we aren’t afraid to sit on the couches, as we were in Jordan. They’re actually clean and smell alright. When we moved into our apartment in Jordan we sprayed Lysol all over the couch, and even then would only sit on one couch cushion for a number of weeks. Man, that apartment was so dirty! This one is much, much better!



Next is a cluster of bedrooms, all of which open up onto a shared balcony. The bedrooms all seem to be about the same size and they all have a double bed and a wardrobe in them. Andrew and I took the bedroom with the wardrobe, dressers, vanity and nightstands. Rachel is in the room next to ours. The last room will probably just hold our empty suitcases for now, but we’ll use it (and Rachel’s room, if necessary) for company. I hear rumors that David (my brother) will be out in January…I sure hope so!

Our bedroom

Rachel's bedroom

The kitchen and bathrooms are located in the last cluster of rooms. Both the floors and walls are tiled and there’s a little lip separating that area of the house from the rest, so I have a feeling that to clean it I just spray it down and squeegee it off. I’ve always wanted to do that, so I’m kind of looking forward to doing it. Kind of.

I don’t know why anyone would need two bathrooms right beside each other in a house, but that’s what we have. There’s a full bath with a tub, toilet, and sink, and then beside that there’s a half bath with a toilet, sink, and a shower head on the wall. I suppose you could shower in there if you wanted to, but we don’t plan on it.



The kitchen is, as I said, connected with the bathrooms, which I think is interesting, to say the least. It’s pretty clean, though. Just a little bit scary. There’s a water heater in there, a fridge, a stove with an oven, and a washing machine.

What's cookin'?

The kitchen is for short people only

So, that’s our place. We live just two buildings down from the Cannons, who are in our branch as well, and about 4 streets down from the McCallisters, the branch president. It’s a pretty central location—we’re 5 or 10 minutes away from the church and 10 or 15 minutes from Road 9 (where the Metro station and shopping district are).

We move in tomorrow. That means we probably won’t have internet for a while, but I’ll see what we can do to keep in touch. We’re excited to be in our own place, though.

Rachel: Life on Parade

Rachel has taken to waving. Constantly. Of course, she has always been a bit of a waver, but now this trait is even more pronounced. She waves to everyone she sees. Sometimes she waves to know one at all—trees, cats, dogs, cars, and buildings also get waved to. Most of the time people will wave back. She’d make a great rodeo queen.

As a general rule, Arabs love children, and with Rachel being “yellow” haired, she gets double attention. Guards with machine guns croon, old men without teeth swoon, and ladies vie for a glance or wave from Rachel.

At first she was a little wary of the extra attention. The first time we met the bowab at the church, Hussein, she cried and hid her face on my shoulder.

“She’s afraid of Egyptians!” he said, “She sees mom—white skin, yellow hair. She sees dad—white skin, yellow hair. She has white skin, yellow hair. Then I am dark skin, black hair. Egyptian scary!”

He wasn’t really offended that she didn’t want to be friends. Just a little disappointed. And I'm not sure his assessment of her fears was correct, either, since we have several "dark skinned, black haired" people in our ward in Orem and she does just fine with them.

When we went over there today, though, he had his two children and wife with him. His daughter got hit by a car and broke her leg, so she has to come to the doctor every 15 days. His family lives way out in the desert, beyond the pyramids (from what I understand) and he rarely sees them, except now, because of the broken leg ordeal.

After talking with him outside for a while, he invited us inside to meet his wife and his son, Shehab, who happens to be 1 year and 1 month old, just like Rachel.

Rachel got so excited to see his son, which made him very excited. Rachel even went to his wife in order to get to his son and that made him even more excited. It was pretty exciting, I suppose, since that was the first Egyptian she went to willingly.

Mom, take me back!

“Oh! She is afraid of Egyptians no more!” he exclaimed, “She does not think we are scary!”
“We are no scary,” he assured Rachel, pinching her cheek.

She’s endured a lot of cheek pinching recently. And not just a gentle little squeeze, either. It’s like they grab her whole cheek and tug on it. Let’s just say I’m glad I’m not a baby!

Not everyone pinches her cheeks, though. Most people say “Pss, pss, pss, pss, pss,” to get her attention and then they will do one of the following:

• Wave and say “Hi,” “Bye,” or “Amore” to her
• Try to make her give them a high five
• Blow kisses, which she’ll respond to with gusto
• Touch her yellow hair
• Stroke her cheek, which is much better than pinching it

She also gets a lot of free stuff. She got a pretty pink washcloth at the store we bought our sheets, pillows, and towels at today.

“It’s gift for baby,” he insisted in English, “Free, free, free, free, free.”

And he shoved it into our shopping bag after we’d paid and were headed out the door, all the while smiling and waving to Rachel.

She was being rather cute at his store, playing hide-and-seek with a little boy. He’d run around the store and she’d go and find him, which made me a little nervous because they were playing both in and outside the store. At one point he was hiding outside and she was following him out. When she poked her head out of the doorway, she waved and said, “Hi!”

She was just being cute. I’m not sure if just being cute should earn you a pretty pink wash cloth, but I suppose we’ll take it.

Yesterday she got a free pastry from the grocery store. She was starving, which is why we were going shopping in the first place, and she wanted everything in sight. When we walked past the bakery she got particularly excited and started pointing to some pastries and singing, “Na, na, na, na, na,” while licking her hands.

The staffer picked up a pastry and handed it to Rachel. He said something in Arabic and then translated it for me,

“Sweets, for baby. Is good.”

I called Andrew over to pay for it since I haven’t gotten in the habit of carrying around my wallet yet. The staffer wouldn’t let us pay. I always knew Rachel was a mooch, but mooching food off of store shelves is almost unheard of. The girl has talent.

So, Rachel has, obviously, been enjoying herself so far. She’ll continue to wave at everyone, thinking she’s so cute, while she is taught that she deserves baksheesh for being, well, cute.

House Hunting

Yesterday marked the beginning and the end of our apartment hunt. It was a long day!

We began by getting SIM cards for our cell phones in order to call a few real estate agents that had been recommended to us. We walked all the way to Maadi Grand Mall but every phone store there was closed for the day. That’s what we get for going on a Saturday, I suppose. We asked people in other stores where to find SIM cards and they’d always tell us the name of the phone store in the mall. We’d tell them it was closed and then ask where else we could find a SIM card. They’d say they didn’t know and then go to answer their own cell phone…

Somehow I have a feeling that they really did know where to get a SIM card since they all had one in their phone.

We headed off to Road 9 via taxi. When we got dropped off we stood there, somewhat stupidly, wondering where to go. We were debating whether we should head up the road or down the road (I’d use N, E, S, or W but I really don’t have my bearings yet) when I saw a bunch of blonde children. Upon further staring, I noticed that I knew them. It was Kevan with his four oldest children in tow. We asked him where to go and he pointed to the Vodaphone store that was right under our noses, just across the street.

Getting the SIM card there was a lot more official than when we got them in Jordan. We had to show them a copy of our passport, fill out some paperwork, and then buy both the card and some minutes. In Jordan they just hand you the card and tell you to have a nice day. Much easier, but much less official, as well.

We phoned Nahad soon after getting our phones and she said she had to work but would call us back later. Since we wanted to get started looking for apartments right away, we called another agent recommended by the university who said he could meet with us that afternoon.

We met him at the McDonald’s on Road 9 and he took us to several apartments.

The first apartment was really nice. Bigger than we had been thinking, but clean, and relatively cheap (considering the size). Rachel jumped right down and started exploring.

The next one was a little trashy, smaller, and more expensive. The third had a view to die for—it was on the seventh floor and you could see Saqqara and the Nile from the reception window—but it was being remodeled and, although our agent said it would be finished in “2 or 3 days” it looked like it would take several weeks to get it back to normal.

After looking at those three, he dropped us off back at the McCallisters, promising to pick us up to meet with the owner of the first apartment at 8 o’clock that evening.

Soon after we arrived “home,” the first agent called asking if we’d like to see a few apartments. We did, and she picked us up at 6. Most of the apartments she took us to were more expensive. One particular apartment was rather scary. It belonged to an old French man for 10 years. Apparently he didn’t want to leave Egypt, but his family came and took him home because he was too old to live alone. My personal opinion is that he died in the apartment and that’s why they came to take him home.

All of his personal belongings lie right where he left them. His cupboards were full of food and his fridge stocked with molding produce. The apartment smelled musty, and a little like cat pee. The worst, though, was the bathroom.

The agent took us back there and pulled aside the shower curtain to show us the tub…which was full of cockroaches! They were falling down from the curtain into the tub by the dozens. I must have looked disgusted.

“I know in America things are different,” she explained, “But this is normal for Egypt. You’ll have to get used to living with them.”

I don’t think so. A few of the other apartments we looked at had some visible cockroaches. All of them had ants—those don’t bother me as much, though (every time Andrew opens his laptop ants crawl out from under the keys. I wonder if that’s bad…). But none of them had cockroaches just swarming the place. I hardly noticed the tub for all the cockroaches.

There was no way I was living there. I told Andrew that. He agreed, oddly enough.

She took us to a few more apartments that were better than that first one, but not what we wanted. The last one she took us to, though, was oddly familiar. It was the first apartment the other agent had taken us to. We walked around it again, laughing about how two different agents had taken us to the same apartment. Since we had been considering this apartment all afternoon, it was nice to go back and look at it again. We made sure to double check a few things that we couldn’t remember from the last time—that it had a washing machine, and that it wasn’t completely covered in cockroaches.

Good on both fronts. But the price she quoted us for the apartment was higher than the first agent.

We thanked for showing us the apartments and she dropped us off at the McCallister’s again. Soon we were picked up by the first agent to look at a few more (trashy) apartments and to meet with the owner of the apartment we’d seen twice already that day.

Rachel smiled when she saw the bowab—they’d already become friends when we visited the first time—and he took us to meet the landlord. He was a pushy guy! He asked us point blank whether or not we wanted the apartment and got right into haggling for rent.

Andrew and I were not prepared for this. And we are an indecisive couple. We wanted to think about it overnight, but the landlord said no.

I think this is typical. It seems that this was how it happened in Jordan, as well, for a lot of people.

“Do you want it or not? Yes? Good. No? Bye.”

They just want to work fast, I guess. Andrew and I took a while to debate, while Rachel threw a few temper tantrums. She was ready for bed.

The landlord was chain-smoking and pacing the floors. Our agent kept talking up the apartment. The bowab kept opening windows and turning off and on all the appliances to prove that they worked. Andrew and I bit our lips and hummed and hawed. Rachel screamed and kicked her legs.

The landlord dropped his price.

We waited longer.

He dropped his price again, but only for the first year.

“We need to decide.” I whispered to Andrew.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think the kitchen is scary, but I could live here.”

“So could I,” he said to me, and then announced our decision to the rest of the crowd.

And that is how we found our apartment. Andrew’s over there right now signing the contract. Hopefully things will run smoothly!

Luggage carts

Besides Chicago, the hardest leg of our journey was disembarking from the plane in Cairo, getting our luggage, and finding our ride. 

Neither of us had slept in who knows how long, so we were both dogtired. I had Rachel strapped to my front and she was fast asleep so I was little help while Andrew dragged all six of our suitcases, and Rachel's stroller, off the baggage carosel. 

It took two luggage carts to hold our suitcases. At first, we decided that we'd each push a cart, but picture this:

100 lbs. woman with 20 lbs. of sleepy baby strapped to her front. Luggage cart with 150 lbs. + a bunch of baby hud.

Let me do the math for you: 100 ≠ 170+ 

Somehow things didn't add up.

I was able to move the cart an inch or two, but I could go no farther. I felt like I was pushing up against a wall. How do ants carry x-times their body weight? Just carrying Rachel wears me out. I was pushing with all my might, giving it the old college try,but I looked like I was on a tread mill. I was going no where.

Anyway, people started staring and baksheesh dudes were starting to circle around me like vultures,

"I will just help you..." They would say, leaving off the part where they beg for money after helping.

"I have no money..." True, at that point.

"You need help..." 

"La, I can do it..." Not true, at that point, totally not true.

"I will just help..."

"Really, I can do it..." 

"Let me take your cart..."

"La, la, la, la, la..." No, I'm not singing. La means no. 

"You have baby...let me take cart..."

"My husband will come back for me..." I say, watching Andrew and his cart (also loaded with 150 lbs.) disappear into the distance. 

Finally I couldn't stand it any more. 

"ANDREW!" I yelled in desperation. He heard me, which is a miracle. No one ever hears me when I yell--especially not in a crowded airport, "I can't do it!"

We started doing a relay race of sorts. I ran over to the cart he had been pushing and stood by it while he pushed my cart along. Then I'd run up to that cart and stand by it while he'd push the other cart along. 

He was so hot and tired by the time we got through customs...and then our ride wasn't there! So I stood by the luggage again while he went and borrowed cell phone after cell phone after cell phone, trying to find our ride (thank you, Egyptian hospitality!)

Our ride was parked, so we had to get everything on a shuttle and ride out to the parking lot where we unloaded our suitcases and loaded them up again. Why did we bring so much stuff?

I suppose we should just be glad that everything arrived. We've been less than that lucky before.

Bumps, Bruises and Burgers

Since arriving in Cairo Rachel has gotten more bumps and bruises than I could possibly count. She's a little tipsy when she walks--I think it's because she's so tired. Or it could be that most of the floors here are marble or wood so I'm a little more aware of when she takes a tumble.

Last night she fell out of bed twice. We have padding on the floor around the bed, so the first time she just rolled off and landed nice and soft on her tummy. The second time around she hit her head on the bedframe, so it was a little more traumatic.

She couldn't even walk when she woke up this morning the second time (the first time she was up from 2 am until 7 am and was just fine--throwing balls around and making a racket). In fact, she could hardly stand up! She wasn't at all happy about getting ready for church and her face was all blotchy from crying when we arrived at the meeting house.

Rachel was happy to see the children there and decided that she could be happy. It was nice to meet everyone here, and Rachel started making friends quickly, sitting on a boy named Robby in order to solidify their friendship. (Hey, Emily, isn't that some Tongan thing? Just kidding!)

She kept falling over though, and every time she did it was as if the world was going to end! She'd trip and then scream before even falling over. And then she'd scream some more. That was her main method of communicating today, really. Oh, boy, was she ever a grump. I guess that's what we get for dragging her halfway around the world!

She started screaming during sacrament because she wanted the bread passed her way and now! So we had to go out into the hall, which is where she met (and sat on) Robby. The two started playing together a little bit, running from couch to chair and teasing Robby's little sister.

I didn't mind what Rachel was doing as long as she wasn't screaming, but her happiness didn't last long.

Soon Rachel tripped and faceplanted right into the leg of the chair I was sitting on.

From that she has a nice bruise on her forehead and a little one one her nose. She has a bruise on her ear and the side of her head from falling off the bed. She has a scrape on her knee and a few other minor injuries. Aside from those and the persistent grumpiness, she's doing alright.

This evening we were invited to dinner at Sara and Kevan's apartment. We had to wake Rachel up to go and she was not happy about that. She cried the whole way to their apartment--of course, it didn't help that we got completely lost and backtracked several times so it took us far longer to get to their place than it should have. When we got into their air conditioned lobby she stopped fussing. When she saw all their kids she got pretty excited but was still too nervous to play. When we left she was screaming again--she wanted to stay and play longer.

Rachel reading with Megan, Jacob, and Sam

We had some nicely grilled hamburgers with lettuce--that's a nice benefit of having friends in the military! I thought for sure our diets would be lettuce-free for the next two years. We were able to chat about life in Cairo, found out that Sara keeps a blog. It was nice that Rachel was able to go off and play on her own--she rarely does that so she must have felt rather comfortable there--so that we could visit without her squwaking at us.

Rachel was asleep by the time we walked home, which took us half as long as it did to get there since we went home the right way. It was fun to get to know their family and to wander around Maadi a bit more. We're starting our apartment search tomorrow--hopefully we'll have a home soon! Then we'll be able to get organized and really get exploring Cairo.

Why are we taking pictures? Just take me home!

Sorry our posts aren't as detailed or coherent as usual and there are fewer pictures. I feel like I left half my brain back in the States. Hopefully it will catch up with me soon! For now, here are a few pictures of Rachel.

Walking with Mommy

Sleepy girl