Flashback Friday...on Saturday: Packing Fiascos

How did it get to be Saturday already? I leave for Spain in just a few minutes and I've been wildly packing and cleaning all day. Perhaps if I had started a few days in advance it wouldn't be such a chore the day of departure. But traveling is more adventurous when you forget things.

My family often went down to Utah when we lived in Alberta. We went at least once a year, if not more. This particular trip was a "girl's trip." Me, my mom, Abra, and Josie were going. It was probably for a nephew's baby blessing. I don't think it was the time we all went down when Matthew was born, but it might have been when Andrew was born. I just remember that it was kind of warm-ish, so it couldn't have been December.

Anyway, we were all very well prepared and had our suitcases packed and right ready to go. We set them in the living room by the stairs so that we wouldn't forget to load them in the car. My mom and dad did that part to make sure that everything fit properly and wouldn't fall over while we were driving.

We checked once or twice to make sure that we had everything and then we were off.

It was only when we had arrived in Utah and unpacked the car that we noticed we were missing the suitcase my mom had packed for Josie and herself. It simply was not in the car. (I believe this was the same trip that Abra forgot to pack underwear...)

We phoned home and had the boys check around the house. They couldn't find the suitcase, either. And it wouldn't have mattered if they could because we were all the way in Utah. Our only choice was to do a little clothes shopping. We headed out to Target and got a few days worth of clothes for my mom and Josie, some underwear for Abra, and a new shirt for me (so that I wouldn't feel left out, I guess).

At the end of everything, when we arrived back home, we found that the suitcase had been shoved under the desk/filing cabinet combo we had in the living room. We can only assume the culprit was Josie because since no one else remembered putting it there and she was the only one young enough to do something like that and not realize the consequences. So she got the blame.

Now, I've heard of people forgetting toothbrushes (David), and underwear (Abra, Karen), or even pyjamas (I have done that on more than one occasion), but forgetting your entire suitcase? That's special.

I wonder what we forgot this time. I'm sure we forgot something. And we'll have to make due without it, as long as we remembered to bring everything else.

What's the worst thing you've forgotten when going on a trip?

Dashur and Saqqara (Jan. 11)

Going inside the Red Pyramid was a whole lot easier without carrying Rachel. She didn't enjoy herself too much the last time she went inside, so instead of having her scream the whole way down and back she stayed with Daddy and played on the outside of the pyramid.

Daddy and Rachel down by the taxi

Me inside the Red Pyramid at Dashur

I went inside with Uncle David and was overwhelmed, yet again, by the intense smell of ammonia that only got stronger the deeper you went in. I didn't remember it smelling that badly. I almost gagged when we went up the stairs to the farthest chamber. The air was very...less-than-fresh. I was definitely glad I had remembered to bring my scarf with me so that I could hold it in front of my nose and mouth. It made it barely breathable.

David on the stairs leading to the upper chamber

Needless to say, we didn't spend a whole lot of time in the depths of the pyramid for fear of suffocation.

Going back up wasn't nearly as treacherous as I remember it being, either. Not carrying a screaming baby the whole way somehow made it easier. Still, I was out of breath when we reached the top, as was David, and my legs were a little wobbly heading back down the outside of the pyramid.

When I stopped to rest for a minute, letting my jell-o legs solidify a bit before completing my descent, shouts of "Mama!" started drifting up from somewhere below me. It took a few minutes to see where they were coming from, but eventually I spotted Rachel and Daddy far, far down below me. They were smiling and waving at me so I smiled and waved back at them.

Do you see them? They're about dead center...

Then they started off across the base of the pyramid to meet me and I started on my downward climb to meet them. While they were walking across the bottom of the pyramid, however, this pack of dogs--probably about a dozen or so--that had previously been sleeping, all snapped to attention. The leader of the pack stood up and started aggressively barking at Andrew and Rachel. The other members of the pack did the same. Snarling, barking, and baring their teeth, they began to close in around Andrew and Rachel.

It was quite scary to see all those dogs getting ready to attack my husband and baby. Everyone else seemed to ignore what was going on, but clearly these dogs weren't going to rest until they had torn Andrew and Rachel limb from limb. I started walking down the stairs a little faster, calculating the whole time--there were three of us. How much of a fight could we give when we were outnumbered 4 to 1?

Six of the feral dogs

Andrew was pretty scared, himself, but he knew if he was going to reach us before being attacked by the dogs, he'd have to keep Rachel from noticing them, so he did his best to keep her happy.

"Wave to mommy!" he'd say, "What does a car say? I see something blue, do you? Yes, it's the sky! The sky is blue! Where's your head? What does a camel say? Do you see a camel? Yes, there's a camel right over there!"

He kept talking to her the whole way and she didn't even notice the dogs. As soon as Andrew stepped onto the "pathway" the dogs quieted back down and dropped their fighting stance. Andrew was pretty shaken up about the whole thing.


We were all happy we didn't have to fight off all those dogs, though! Who knew they were so protective of their pyramids?

The Bent Pyramid was closed, so we weren't able to visit that one, but earlier in the day we went to Saqqara. They are doing some restoration work on the main pyramid, which is unfortunate. It basically looks like they're remaking it--they have workers putting blocks of stones up around the foundation. It's completely covered in scaffolding so that was also a little disappointing, but we made it there before most of the tourists and were able to have a pretty good time.

First we ran around the b-shaped formations in the courtyard that the pharaoh apparently ran around to prove his strength and worthiness to rule. He only had to run around them once every 30 years, according to the Lonely Planet. I thought that was silly because if he started reigning when he was 25, let's say, and only had to run it every 30 years, he'd only have to run it once the whole time he was ruling. Maybe twice, if he lived long enough...

I ran around it. Several times. So I guess I'm fit enough to rule Ancient Egypt.

Go me!

Rachel discovered her love for rock climbing and started forcefully experimenting with her independent nature. She climbed up on everything she saw and rarely let anyone hold her, let alone hold her hand. She wanted to climb what she wanted to climb, go where she wanted to go, do what she wanted to do. Trying to make her do otherwise always resulted in screams.

Behold: a rare cuddly moment with Uncle David

Here are some pictures of Rachel climbing on everything. She got so dirty. So very, very dirty.




This is my favorite picture of her climbing. We all walked up this rocky hill to see what we could see. Rachel also wanted to see what she could see. She climbed up this hill all by herself. It wasn't too strenuous an activity for the grown ups, but it was a pretty tricky climb for Rachel. She did it all by herself!


We left Saqqara just when about 20 tourist busses were dropping off hoards of tourists. It was nice to see it in such seculsion. It was also nice to have so few locals there. Egypt has really cleaned up it's tourism industry lately and it makes visiting the sites a lot easier and tourist friendly. Last time we visited Saqqara I was lifted onto a donkey by some toothless tout and was not too happy about it. This time very few people approached me, and no one tried to pick me up, so that was nice.

Pear Salt

You've heard of Seasoned Salt, Garlic Salt, Sea Salt, Table Salt, Kosher Salt, and maybe even fleur de sel, but have you ever heard of Pear Salt?

Didn't think so, and that's because it was just invented today. I, Rachel Roni, have included the full recipe here!

Ingredients:

• Shapes from a shape sorter
• Regular table salt, in a shaker
• One juice box--preferably pear

Directions:

1. Carefully con dad into giving you a juice box and letting you run loose around the house with it while mom is busy blogging. Go to the table and sit in one of the chairs hidden by the pillar in the middle of the living room so that mom can't see you. If you don't have a pillar in the middle of the living room, hide somewhere else. Note: It doesn't matter if dad can see you because he will ignore you, anyway. This recipe works best if mom thinks dad is watching you or if you are being tended by older siblings.

2. Climb onto the table and grab the salt shaker. Poor the salt into the shapes, spilling as much or little as you wish. I like to spill a lot when I do this.

3. Next, grab your juice box and squirt juice all over everything. Try to get some in the salt. We are making Pear Salt, after all, but it really is best if you get it all over the chair you're standing on, the table, and your shirt.

4. Mix until clumpy.

5. Enjoy!

PS. If you happen to get caught, just smile for the camera and act cute and innocent. If you need an example, see the photo at the top of the page. It gets them every time.

PPS. Take my word for it and don't drink it. It's kind of nasty plain but I think it would be alright on something.

Andrew's close call -or- the longest post about horses you'll ever read

Although I grew up in a somewhat-rural town (a town that shocked even me with its "small town-ness" when I returned to visit it with my husband) my cousins teased me about being a "city slicker."

They grew up on a real, live farm.

But not the kind of farm that has horses, so even though I would visit their farm often, horseback riding didn't often figure into the picture. Unless we went to their cousin's house--they raised cows and had horses, and sometimes we'd go over there to help brand the cows or ride the horses or just because Aunt Susan would give us candy and let us watch movies.

My Uncle Ken had horses when I was growing up, too. I think his horses were the first horses I rode. He lived in the far away land called "Utah," which I could never spell correctly and is sometimes found as "Uhta" or "Eutih" in my childhood journals.

I was so excited to ride a horse for the first time and explained to him in all my six-year-old knowledge that I already knew how to ride a horse. You hold the reigns like so and pull left to go left and right to go right and back to stop. You kick the horse to make it go. And that's that.

He let me ride Fox--his oldest, gentlest horse, who happened to have a bad case of arthritis.

I was a little offended, at first, that he would chose such a tame animal for me, but let it be known that I almost died of fear up on that horse. I did not like my first ride solo and I haven't really enjoyed many rides since. Although it was pretty funny when one of the horses sat down on a car bumper to scratch its behind. That put a smile on my face, but it didn't instill a deep love for horses within me.

I think the closest I got to loving horses was the "My Little Pony" fascination I had when I was four--though, I only named my tricycle and not my ponies.

I'm sure it didn't help any when I was riding one of Uncle Darrel's ponies (another relative who lived close by on an acreage; he had goats, llamas, miniature horses, ponies, chickens, rabbits, cats, dogs, and a pot bellied pig) and the pony reached its head around and bit my leg.

Darrel got me off the pony and started slapping it immediately, which I guess is what you do with horses that bite. I'm not sure what scared me more--being bitten or watching Uncle Darrel with the horse.

My horse riding experience is, apparently, pretty sparse.

Andrew's, however, is worse. He went riding once at a Smithson family reunion in St. John's, Arizona when he was 13 or 14. He rode on a "stupid, white horse that was, like, feral," or something. It was riding around a corral that had barbed wire along the fence and the horse kept rubbing up against the fence so Andrew's leg was getting cut up. That's the only time he'd ever ridden.

See? His horse riding experience is even more sparse than my own.

So why we decided we were game to ride Egyptian horses across the desert in the dark, I'll never know.

Especially after Carolee, an animal lover, volunteered to stay at home and watch Rachel and Finn so that we could go out with the Masons and Josh. According to her the horses ran too fast, didn't obey anything, and the whole experience was just a little too scary for her.

The Schillings' neighbour married an Egyptian and he's got some wusta with a stable by the pyramids so he set us up with a few of his friends and they took us to go ride horses.

We took the metro to Giza and then took a microbus to the stable. That was quite the ride--I thought for sure we were going to die. We kept weaving around semi-trucks and big busses. We had so many close calls it wasn't even funny.

Trying to look happy on the microbus

When we got to the stable, alive, it was all we could do to not kiss the ground. Thank goodness for all the horse manure or we, for sure, would have kissed it! Instead we all just stood around nervously waiting for the horses to be brought out.

They brought the horses out a few at a time and we all watched them, trying to decide which ones were the calm, docile ones. None of them seemed particularly calm-tempered, but there was one--the one on the far right--who was a little more skiddish than the rest. Even after one of the stable-hands took him out for a run to calm him down he still seemed to be quite angry. We nicknamed him the Devil Horse. No one wanted to ride him.

I ended up on the horse with the long white stripe down its nose--the one just to the left of the Devil Horse.

One by one we all got up on our horses and were told how to ride.

Egyptian equestrianism is pretty straightforward, at least I thought so. Pull right to go right, left to go left, back to stop, and kick to go. Perhaps that's just universal...but just because we already knew the commands didn't mean we didn't run into trouble, because we did.

The first problem we had was with the saddles. One look at these saddles had me scared. No horn?! What the heck was I supposed to hold onto? Apparently there are different types of saddles--English saddles and Western saddles. I am used to the latter. I like to hold onto the horn for dear life. Wedging my fingers between the saddle and the horse's back just didn't seem as safe somehow.

After we all figured out how to stay on our horses things were pretty easy, for awhile at least, until we wandered into some alleyways of poor dwellings.

Apparently Egyptian children think it's fun to carry around whips and sticks to hit the horses with while you're going down the alley. Do you know what happens when you hit a horse? It goes faster. We didn't want fast.

One boy grabbed my leg while I was walking by on my horse and he wouldn't let go so I yelled at him and shook my leg out of his grasp. When Melissa was going by she accidentally kicked him while trying to avoid him.

We finally got through that area and were then faced by a makeshift garbage dump.

"This is where Carolee's horse almost fell over the last time we went," Josh called out.

Thanks, Josh, for telling me that. Because that's just what I wanted to know when I'm on an uncontrollable animal. Thanks.

I start shaking while we're picking our way through the garbage. It was pitch black and frightfully chilly. I couldn't tell if I was shaking from fear or from the cold. Most likely it was a combination of the two.

We made it through the garbage unscathed and the whole desert opened up to us. It was dark, so everything was in shades of grey, but it was an amazing view. Sand dunes rolled off into the distance as far as the eye could see and the pyramid light-and-sound show was going on to our right. It was like two Hollywood movie sets had collided. We were starring in a Western and an Ancient Egypt movie at the same time.

Just as the view was really starting to sink in one of the stable hands yelled out something that sounded like, "Get go! Get go!" and then cracked his whip in the air.

Our horses were off like rockets. We were galloping across the desert, flying!

I didn't think I would like going fast but, aside from being afraid of dying the whole time, it was pretty okay. In fact, it was much nicer than trotting, I found. It would have been even more fun if any of us could actually control our horses.

The horses only seemed to listen to the stable hands, who somehow commanded all of the horses to stop at once, right by the carcass of a worked-to-death horse. Thanks.

We had to wait for Melissa's horse to catch up. It was having a lazy day and just wanted to walk. While we were waiting, Patrick's horse decided it needed a break so it got ready to lie down. It got down on the ground and started rolling over.

It was Patrick's first time on a horse and he was just as scared as the rest of us. No one really knew what to do about the horse that was about to roll, casually, over its rider.

Some were yelling for him to jump off. Some were yelling in Arabic at the horse. George, one of the Egyptians who came riding with us, jumped off his horse and grabbed Patrick's horse's reigns and made it stand back up.

We all thought that was going to be the worst of our problems because all the horses seemed to be fairly gentle riders. When Melissa had caught up, however, the stable hands sent us all into a gallop again.

And then they yelled, again, "Get go! Get go!" spurring the horses even faster. Too fast, if you ask me. I could hardly breathe, we were going so fast. I was trying to stand up in the stirrups a little so that I wouldn't bounce on the saddle so much but it was all I could do to keep my grip on the saddle.

One moment Andrew was right up beside me.

"How are you doing?" he yelled over the rush of the wind.

"Not good!" I yelled back, "I can hardly hold on and the camera keeps bouncing. I'm afraid it's going to break. And I. HATE. THIS!"

I guess my yelling sent my horse into a frenzy because we shot far ahead of Andrew and kept on going at break neck speed. The horse shoes were sparking against the sand.

And then I hear, "Whoa! Whoa! Ahhh!"

I turned around just in time to see someone fly over their horse's head. I pulled on the reigns to stop, or at least slow, my horse. No response. I pulled harder. Again, harder. I felt like I was going to yank the horse's head off before it actually slowed down.

That someone did a front layout over the horse's head--kind of like a front flip, but all sprawled out. Then they disappeared.

The horse went down next, head over heels.

I didn't see their silhouettes reappear.

"Is that Melissa?" I heard Patrick call out to me.

"No, it's Nancy. What happened? Who fell off their horse?"

"Andrew! I was right behind him and his horse tripped. He just flew off!"

By this time I was really worried. It was dark and I couldn't see them at all. And my stupid horse wouldn't stop. It just kept plodding along.

I couldn't get it to turn around or stop. It just wanted to get to the campfire, I guess. So I reverted to yelling again.

"Is he okay?" I screamed, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" I heard Andrew yell back at me as a blob of a person reappeared several sand dunes back.

A few minutes later I made it to the campsite. I hopped off my horse and waited for Andrew to get there. Someone had helped him back onto his horse, who now had reason to go a little bit slower than before. He jumped off his horse and stumbled over to me.

I took out the flashlight and we checked him over for injuries. He wasn't hurt too badly. Just his neck hurt, his elbows, his hands, his knees. You know, pretty much everywhere.

The only blood we noticed was on his elbow. This picture is post-shower when we got home, so it looks a lot better than it did originally. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt and a jacket and still ended up bloodying his elbow. Don't know how he managed that one...

He's not really sure how he fell or landed. He remembers flying off his horse and thinking something like, "Wow. I'm going to die. Right now."

The next thing he remembers was opening up his eyes and seeing the horse rolling towards him in a big cloud of dust. He couldn't have blacked out too long because he was still sliding through the sand and was able to just curled up into fetal position and use his momentum to roll out of the way of his horse.

We were hoping to get some nice pictures from our vantage point, but Andrew was too shaken up to think straight and I don't know a whole lot about cameras. Then there was the group of annoying teenagers who kept sticking their faces in our business and counting how many pictures we were taking.

I'm sure they were trying to be friendly but they were actually just annoying. One girl offered me some tea.

"Min fadlak," she said, thrusting a cup of tea in my face.

"Laa, shukran," I said.

That sent her and her friends into a bubbling pot of excitement.

"She understands Egyptian [Arabic]! She must be from Egypt! Blah, blah, blah!"

"Why are they taking so many pictures! It's just he pyramids. Blah, blah, blah!"

"They understand what we're saying."

"Oh, yeah! I forgot!"

And so forth. The funny part was that I didn't say anything impressive at all. They kept coming up and asking me things and I'd say things like, "I don't know" and "I don't speak Arabic" and they still were excited that I spoke Arabic. Crazies. We were glad when they left and stopped counting our exposures.

Once the teens stopped chattering and left to join a dance party on a farther dune we were able to enjoy the view a bit easier. The moon was rising and it was a brilliant orange color (thank you, pollution).

To keep a long story short, Neddie insisted to the stable hands that we walk back through the desert. He yelled at them whenever they started talking about making the horses run and we made it most of the way at a pretty lazy speed.

Once we got to the trashy area, almost in town again, the stable hands made the horses run again and we ended up coming into the stables bouncing uncontrollably.

It was there, in the light, that we noticed Andrew's hands. Can you guess which hand was holding onto the saddle?

We walked to the main road to catch a micro bus and ended up standing by a store. Neddie was kind enough to go in and buy some antiseptic, cotton swabs, and band aides.

I would have gone in myself, but I didn't realize that P _ _ M A _ I E meant to say "pharmacie" or, as I like to spell it, "pharmacy." The Arabic sign was much more intact but since I don't know how to say pharmacy in Arabic, reading the sign wouldn't have helped.

We got him all cleaned up in no time, caught a taxi to the minibus station, and rode the microbus all the way to Maadi. 2 pounds from the Giza Pyramids to Maadi! That's amazing, and really just about as comfortable as a taxi.

We got home shortly before midnight.

Andrew is feeling much better after having a good night's rest, but his back is still pretty sore, not to mention his poor elbow.

This might be an adventure of the "one time only" genre.

Opposite Day: Garbage City and Al-Azhar Park

There is no such thing as "garbage day" in Cairo. You know, the day when you take the garbage can out to the curb and the truck comes by to pick it up? It goes to a dump or an incinerator and you never see it again. That doesn't happen here.
We put our garbage in the hall and our bowab comes by and does...something...with it.
We're not really sure what happens to it, but are pretty sure it is just added to the piles of trash on the streets. Those piles of trash are then sporadically sorted through and picked up by the zabbaleen.
The zabbaleen live not too far from the Citadel in the Moqattam Hills in an area nicknamed "Garbage City." Once you visit Manshiyat naser it becomes perfectly clear how it earned this nickname.
Garbage floods the streets. The houses are full of garbage. We saw one house full of organic waste: orange peels, banana peels, rotting meat, egg shells. The women inside the house had shovels and were combing through the knee-deep sludge looking for reusable goods. Children and babies sat by their feet and played in the refuse.

We saw gasoline cans stacked up several stories, racks of mismatched and newly repaired shoes, stacks of soiled and torn clothing, donkey carts pulling loads of cardboard, children sorting out empty water bottles, and piles of garbage bags yet to be sorted.
The smell was incredible.
Although I think it is neat that they find some many things to reuse I do not envy their position. Their faces are completely lifeless as they sift through our garbage, as their parents and grandparents did before them. What a life.

Truthfully, it reminds me of the Junkyard in Labyrinth. That movie always scared me, and Garbage City scares me a little, too.
In fact, most taxi drivers will not take you to Garbage City unless you ask to go to the St. Sama'an Eldabbagh Church, an amazing church built right into a cave in the hills. It is a huge amphitheater and apparently has seating for 20000 people!

The only way to get to it is to make your way through Garbage City.

Once you are there it is hard to believe all the filth you just came through. St. Simeon's is beautiful. The walls of the cave/hill are covered in reliefs of scripture stories, the gardens are well-kept and very clean. It's quite the contrast to the stark poverty of the neighbourhood that surrounds it.
After looking at St. Simeon's we opted to leave Garbage City and head to Al-Azhar Park. It was our first time in Garbage City, it was our taxi driver's first time in Garbage City and none of us really knew what else there was to do there.
Emad said he'll take us back there sometime. He knows of an orphanage we can visit, as well as some shops where they make crafts of recyclables (Josie and Emily, your purses were made by the Zabbaleen; we bought them at a store in Maadi). Unfortunately we didn't know that there was anything cool to see in Garbage City, besides St. Simeon's. And garbage.
So off to Al-Azhar Park we went to pay our 5 LE in order to enter the beautiful park. It's a short drive to there from Garbage City. In fact, it's probably within walking distance, if you happened to want to walk through all that garbage to get out of Manshiya naser.
It's really kind of guilt-inflicting to think that while we were basking in suburban utopia, the zabbaleen were still shoveling their garbage. We can see their hovel from the hills of Al-Azhar Park. Behind the beautiful fountain is David. Behind him is more park. Just across the street? Trash, trash, and more trash.

As you can tell, I'm still getting over how much garbage I saw in Garbage City. I'm still amazed I was able to put it all behind me and have a good time at the park. Truthfully, I did feel a little guilty enjoying myself so fully after witnessing the zabbaleen lifestyle. The irony of it all is that Al-Azhar Park is built on an ancient garbage dump.

Rachel, on the other hand, had no problem getting over Garbage City and was excited to play at the playground again! It's been such a long time since we've gone to the playground. Playgroup kind of died off during the winter break, so Rachel hasn't been to the playground since we babysat the Lewises at the beginning of last month. That's a long time for a little baby!

She had such a blast in the Children's Area. She probably played for about an hour, all by herself--going up the stairs and down the slide, up some more stairs and down a different slide. She went through tunnels, which she used to be afraid of, and followed some bigger kids around, taking turns and everything. There is so much that she can do without help now, it's really amazing to just be able to sit on a bench and watch her play nicely!
I would have been able to relax, even, if Rachel wasn't such a little dare devil! She would put her hands up in the air--you know, like she was riding a roller coaster--when she was going down the slide so that she wouldn't touch the sides and she would walk up the stair without holding onto the railing. She was making me so nervous!
When we were all but starving, we ordered some pizza from a kiosk in the park and walked over to the lake for an impromptu picnic. We played tag and leap frog, turned cartwheels and spun in circles. It was really fun!
While we were playing a chasing game, I accidentally taught Rachel how to say, "Neener, neener, neener!" I'm sure she would have added, "You can't catch me!" if she could talk better. I was making antlers at the side of my head by putting my thumbs on my temples and extending all my fingers (kind of like this). Then I would stick out my tongue and twist my hands before singing, "Neener, neener, neener! You can't catch me!" And then I'd run away from her.
Well, after doing that to her a time or two she decided to copy me. She stuck her index fingers in her ears and twisted them around, singing, "Nana, nana, nana!" She kept twisting and singing and twisting and singing. Then she stopped singing, twisted her finger a little more, wiggled it around, twisted it again and pulled out a big gob of ear wax. Quite hilarious.

After all that running around, we were all pretty thirsty. It was almost sunset and, since we hadn't been planning on staying at the park for quite that long, we were all incredibly thirsty. We had only brought one small (600 ml) water bottle with us, which isn't enough to keep 4 people hydrated for hours on end, so we went to another kiosk to buy some more water.
David even bought his own bottle, speaking Arabic the whole time!
After we had our water we walked up the hill to a lookout point to watch the sunset. Andrew taught Rachel how to roll down the hill, which they did over and over again and got completely covered in grass!

The weather was perfect--not too hot and not too cold; all we needed was a light jacket. For a while we all opted to go completely jacket-less, but while we were watching the sun set things got a little chillier. Rachel held out without her sweater the longest, but eventually we tackled her to the ground and forced her back into it.

It really almost felt like spring. The air had that lovely springy feel in it; still chilly, but like the "warming up" side of chilly rather than the "cooling down" side. Yes, our Saturday afternoon at Al-Azhar park was the perfect counterpart to Garbage City. Peaceful, clean, warm, and quiet. It's one of our favorite places in the whole city!

What does a ________ say?

Here's a little video of Rachel that we put together a few weeks ago. It's taken us so long to get it up because our internet connection is so shoddy and we've never been able to connect long enough for the entire video to upload. Today was just our lucky day, I guess.

This is just a sampling of the noises she knows how to make. There are others that we'll have to catch later. She's just too funny with how and what she chooses to communicate these days. Like when I blew on her stomach when I was getting her ready for bed and then she signed "more," pointed to her stomach, and went "Phhhhllllpphh!" blowing spit all over the place.

I, of course, couldn't resist her request and blew on her stomach again.

Anyway, Nancy is whining about me staying up too late with the computer again, so I had better get off to bed. Here's that video we promised:

What was that?

It's 8:40 PM. Naturally it's pretty dark outside. We just finished having FHE. Probably the best FHE ever! We watched a "Little People" movie--Karen sent a DVD that has 6 short clips on it. We watched the one about the frog. Rachel thought it was great; she kept bouncing up and down.

After we watched the movie we played leapfrog. And then we talked about nursery.

For some reason, now that Rachel is basically old enough to go to nursery (8 days until her 18 month birthday) she is petrified of it. Up until a few weeks ago she loved nursery. She's been going for months!

I sat in nursery with her for a little while last week but she ended up coming to primary with me. So today we reviewed the lesson that she had in nursery. It was about prayers. Then we talked about how fun nursery is and asked her if she wanted to go this week. She said she did. Here's hoping...

Anyway, after scriptures, prayers, silly tickle fights, tooth brushing, hugs, and kisses, Rachel had popcorn. This just means that we sing "Popcorn Popping" and put her to bed. She loves popcorn. Sometimes.

With Rachel tucked snuggly in bed, Andrew and I lazed around for a few minutes until we thought she was asleep. Then we went into the kitchen to clean up from dinner.

I had just gotten out a plastic bag to put the cheese into when two things happened at once: a huge cracking sound and a power outage.

I screamed.

That huge cracking noise? Yeah, it happened right behind my head. I was pretty sure something terrible had happened. I've never heard a gunshot, but maybe that was one. Or maybe Andrew fell and hit his head on something. My imagination was going 100 miles an hour.

"What was that?" I asked, groping around in the dark to find a counter top or Andrew or an assailant or something. Anything. I needed more than the plastic bag I was holding onto.

"I just snapped the pizza thing!" Andrew said.

We had half-homemade pizza for dinner. We bought the crust from Metro Market and it happened to come on a Styrofoam tray that made an amazingly loud noise when broken in half.

I suppose the fear was compounded by being plunged into darkness at the exact moment Andrew decided to break the tray right above my head.

Our cell phone beeped, drawing me out of my panic attack.

I found Andrew and held onto his shirt and we bumbled our way out of the kitchen. Once we were in the hallway we could use the light from our laptop screens to guide us into the living room (thank goodness for laptops!) where Andrew found the flashlight sitting on his desk.

We spent the next ten minutes searching for the candles that we had gotten for moments just like this. The only problem is that electricity has been so stable lately that we forgot where we put them.

Finally we found them, and started lighting them.

The Schillings, who had texted us, came to borrow a can of evaporated milk. They were in the pharmacy down the street when the power went out and found their way to our house and up our stairwell in the dark. Kudos to them.

We talked for a few minutes about all the fun things you can do when the power is out: ghost stories, games, shadow puppets on the wall, etc. A good old fashioned power outage was beginning to sound like a lot of fun. But just when Andrew was lighting the sixth candle the power came back on.

Our apartment hummed back to life. The fridge started clicking. The lights turned on. Even our microwave started running--we had just thrown in a bag of popcorn two seconds before the power went out.

So I guess we'll just watch a movie together as we'd planned to before the power went out. But that sounds a little unadventurous now.

Maybe we'll take a break from electronics and do that shadow puppet show on the wall after all.

Great Pyramids at Giza

On Thursday (January 8th) we woke up bright and early to hit the pyramids at Giza before the throngs of tourists arrived. After talking to every ticket booth person multiple times Andrew was finally able to convince one of them to let us in with our student ID cards (note to self: get ISIC), and this ended up being our most pleasant trip to the pyramids yet.
We had Emad drop us off at the gate and we just walked the whole complex. It isn't as big as it seemed. Every single bus/taxi/ donkey/camel/horse/carriage driver that we've talked to has said that it takes hours and hours to walk between the pyramids and that it's just too hard. Last time was an interesting experience and not one to be repeated, in our opinion, and the time before that was an absolute joke, so we decided to do it our way this time and walk the whole way.
It ended up being just fine.
Taking pictures was fun because we didn't have tour guides yelling at us to hurry up the whole time. We explored and meandered to our heart's content--and as much as the Tourism Police would let us.


We ended up getting a little silly, but it sure was fun!



We were a little worried that the smog wouldn't burn off, but the sky was a nice crystal blue about an hour after we started snapping pictures.
Since David was with us we had to ride camels. Going to Egypt and not riding a camel is pretty much taboo. Rachel was not happy about this at all. When we first approached the camels she started growling, and then when she realized we were going to make her ride one she started wailing, "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"
She screamed the entire half hour we were riding!

I'm sure it didn't help that our "guides" insisted on riding the camels with us. That wasn't the most pleasant experience for her, I'm sure, being squished between me and some random person she's never met before. She doesn't do well with camels or strangers so it was kind of a double whammy.
Funny enough, she almost peed her pants while sitting on the camel. Again! When we were riding back to the pyramids from the "lookout point" she stopped screaming "NO!" and started screaming "POTTY!"
I couldn't tell if she needed to go herself or if she was just pointing out that the camels use the desert for a potty. She spent all morning pointing to piles of camel droppings and declaring, "POT-TY!"
She's great at object identification!
The first of the great pyramids is always swarming with tourists, so we skipped that one and went to play on the farther pyramids. They are always much less populated and we were able to play around a lot more.


And, for the first time ever, we were able to actually spend some time with the Sphinx! We still couldn't get right up to it because that either is a separate ticket or is only for special tours, but at least we were able to get a good look this time and it wasn't a drive-by glimpse!

Taking a dump

I have so much to write about. So much has happened this year already. We've visited so many places, done so many things, and learned so much. And I haven't been writing about any of it (well, at least not much).

My mind is one jumbled mess of thoughts.

I think I sleep better when I write because my thoughts get all sorted out. But I suppose that's not always the case because sometimes I stay awake thinking of what to write. I know I don't sleep when I'm not writing, though, because I was still awake at 3:30 this morning to hear Andrew call out,

"Look at all the cool touristy stuff, Rachel!"

And then was still awake for adhan at 4:45 AM.

I have so many different stories floating around in my brain that it just can't keep still. It's buzzing around in my head and keeping me from that precious commodity known as sleep. So maybe it would be best if I write a list of things I want to write about so that I can put my mind at ease a little.

1) Rachel is pretty much officially potty trained. She had 2 accidents while David was here. That is all. She hasn't had an accident for about 2 weeks. She can wear pants again!

2) We visited Luxor: Karnak, Luxor, Felucca, Medinat Habu, Valley of Kings, Queen Hatshepsut, Calesh, Shoeshine, Museum, Trains.

3) We went to Garbage City to see St. Simeon and then we went to Al-Azhar Park; Rachel played by herself for an hour on the playground. Was wonderful. Garbage was up to our ears at Garbage City. Was disgusting.

4) Josh sorted out the "red cards" and we guess "Serious Shape" while playing our own personal version of Catch Phrase.

5) We visited Saqqara and Dashur. Went inside Dashur. Almost got eaten by a pack of while dogs. Seriously.

6) We visited the Great Pyramids. Rode camels.

7) Corruption. Police. Tea. Emad. 'Nuf said.

8) Rachel adds "pretty," "snack," "potty," "yes," "neener, neener, neener," "pee," "poo," and "David" to her vocabulary. Apparently we're all about potty words lately. See #1. She also learns what a car says, and will sometimes do donkey.

9) Our bed broke. Like forever and a day ago. I still haven't written about that.

10) Nor have I given an update on belly dancing, although I did sign up for another class this coming semester. Intermediate level, because I'm so good. Ha, ha.

11) I think spring might be in the air. Maybe. Or the weather is playing tricks with me.

12) Templeton is MIA. This might be combined with #11.

13) Andrew update from last semester. His grades posted, but he's not really satisfied with them. He's a perfectionist and didn't get a 4.0. But he did really well! I may also share what classes he'll be taking next semester.

14) We went to Ibn al-As with David and I had to wear a green cape/hood thingy. Discuss the purpose of the hijab as I understand it. Perhaps also discuss women in Islam. Maybe.

15) Sobri's shop. Maternity statue. Weird picture thing of seed.

16) My own little elephant in the room. Or counting blessings by looking at how horrible my life is not.

I feel a lot better now that I've dumped all of that. Kind of like eating after fasting. You know that shaky feeling you get after you haven't eaten for a while and then you start eating again but the food hasn't even made it to your stomach yet...and yet you still feel better?

That's how I feel right now.

I haven't really written about anything, but I feel like I'm going to, so I feel better.

Of course, the rest of January is looking very busy, indeed, so we'll see what I'll have time to write about...

Flashback Friday: Can I have your room?

We recently got back from our friend Braiden's mission post-church open house. It was awesome. Pretty much everyone in the branch was there, except for the Penrods (because someone in their family broke their hand) and the Brunets (because they were watching the Penrods that didn't go to the hospital). The food was great, the company was great. It was fun.

I was talking to Megan about how she felt that her brother was leaving for 2 years.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" I asked her, "He shares a bedroom with Ryan!"

"Why is that the worst part?"

"Well, because you won't get his bedroom!" I answered.

Seriously, when my brother left for his mission his room went up for grabs immediately.

That isn't to say there were no tears shed at the airport; I think we all cried when we dropped him off. It is to say, though, that the minute we got back to the house we went down to the basement and moved all the bedrooms around.


I think my mom started the project more as a way to get her mind off the fact that her little baby was taking off to Brazil for 2 years and that the President Christensen prayed that the plane wouldn't fall apart or malfunction on the way down, and that he'd be free from illness and insect bites and spider bites and snake bites and rat bites and dog bites and...bird bites.


Let's just say that had my brother not been blessed with all he was blessed with when he was set apart that he would have had several more mishaps on his mission.

I mean, when he landed in Brazil a panel inside the plane dislodged and landed on some seats. Things could have been a lot worse. The whole plane could have fallen apart mid-flight. You never know.

Anyway, since I already had my own room I just kept mine as it was. Patrick and Josie did a big swap up, though. Josie moved into Patrick's room, and Josie Patrick moved into David's room. At least, I think that's what happened. I can't remember because all I cared about was keeping my own room. And I did, so I was happy.

The same thing happened when I got married. Because I had been smart enough to keep my own room when David left my territory was still clearly marked when he got home from his mission. So he moved into Patrick's bedroom. When I got married, about a year later, David claimed my bedroom. I still haven't figured out why since he doesn't even live at home...

In other news, I just discovered that my fly was down. It's almost 9 PM. We went to the Bestor's at 3 PM...and I just noticed it was down now.

"Oh, my fly is down!" I said while I pulled it up.

"Oh, yeah!" said Andrew, "I meant to tell you that. You didn't do up your zipper when you put on your pants."

"What?" I asked.

"Yeah, I noticed when we first got to the Bestor's and you were talking to Melissa, but then I saw the cookies and I was like, 'Whoa! Cookies!' and then I forgot to tell you."

"You mean," I asked, "That my zipper was down for six hours and you knew it and you never told me?"

"But there were cookies..."

Yes, and my fly was down for six hours and the whole branch was there to see it!