Inch by inch, row by row

It is funny to me, how often I forget things that I shouldn’t. I forget lessons that I’ve learned and then I have to relearn them. Life would be so much easier if I could only remember everything I’ve ever learned.

Andrew planned Family Home Evening for tonight. He bought a pot and some dirt yesterday so that we could plant the basil seeds that we brought with us. The basil seeds that we bought last year to plant and never did. Those seeds.

We found an Italian shop yesterday, but they don’t have pesto…and since we had the seeds we figured that we may as well plant them. So we talked a bit about why we’re supposed to garden and about all the beautiful things Heavenly Father has created for us.

It was interesting to list the plants that Rachel is used to seeing. She loves apples, but she’s never seen an apple tree. We do, however, have a mango tree right outside our window.

After we had talked about gardening, self-sufficiency, and faith, along with anything else that has to do with planting a garden, we went out on the balcony to our “garden.”

Rachel had fun playing in the “dirty” dirt and she even got to put some of the seeds in. Then we covered the seeds with more soil, watered them, and set them up where they can reach the sun. We laughed about that warning to wait until after the last potential danger of frost to plant. There is little danger of that here, especially now.

After we were finished planting we came inside and made peanut butter rice krispie treats together. We cleaned up the toys while they cooled and then we ate them (well, some of them) and started Rachel’s bedtime routine.

When she was in bed, I took out my scriptures. Sometimes it’s hard to find time to read during the day. Rachel will bring one of her books the minute she sees that it is reading time. Or she won’t even notice it’s reading time and will sit in your lap, positioning herself between your book and your line of vision.

I’m at the Vision of the Tree of Life right now in 1 Nephi, chapter 8, which I’ve read several times before. I’m often guilty of skimming over lists of things in the scriptures: the “begats,” explanations of currency, packing lists, etc. I haven’t ever found them all that interesting, truthfully.

But today when I read that they “gathered together all manner of seeds of every kind, both of grain of the every kind, and also of the seeds of fruit of every kind,” I realized something.

First, that the counsel to plant a garden is an ancient one. It’s not like preparation and saving for a rainy day and being self-sufficient are new ideas.

Second, I was reminded that the scriptures, even the preamble packing lists in verse 1, have answers to every question. Even questions like, “What in the world am I doing in Egypt?”

I’m here because I’m supposed to be.

Even though I didn’t have to pack seeds of every kind (we only brought basil), I did bring things from home that are familiar to me and everything is going to be just fine. We brought taco seasoning and maple extract (among other things) so that we can cook things that we’re used to eating. When I want a taco or maple syrup, I can have my taco or maple syrup, and I don’t have to spend a fortune to have it.

We also have good friends here who also packed things from home and who so lovingly share those things with us. So sometimes when I want to make peanut butter rice krispie treats I can, even though that should be virtually impossible here.

And for some reason, that made me feel better.

Here’s hoping we can make our garden grow. We have no idea where to buy seeds here so I’m currently trying to dry my own tomato seeds. It’s an experiment.

A wedding and a funeral

When we were in Luxor in January, we happened across a funeral procession. Andrew snapped a picture.

When we were in the Khan yesterday, we happened across a wedding procession. I snapped a picture.

I can’t tell you much about the details of either weddings or funerals here since I have been invited to neither. And it’s hard to separate the different traditions into culture verses religion. I know a lot more about Indian weddings and funerals than I do about Egyptian weddings or funerals, although most of what I know I learned from Bollywood.

There are some similar traditions, though. Cultures naturally influence each other, especially in the case of a shared religion, in this case, Islam.

Street processions seem fairly popular in both places.

Also, wearing the color red on your wedding day; although white is becoming more and more popular thanks to Western influence.

Obviously I have more questions than answers.

Islamic Cairo…again.

I wasn’t even going to go on this trip. I’ve been to Islamic Cairo so many times that it just didn’t sound interesting to me. And I knew that if I went I’d end up carrying Rachel for the majority of the time and that made me feel tired.

But then Jaehee asked what my plans were instead of going.

When she asked me that I thought of two things. First, the answer to her question, “Nothing.” And second, the question Fredericka asked me at playgroup on Wednesday.

“So, what do you do?” she asked.

“I stay at home with Rachel,” I answered.

“Well, of course,” prodded Fredericka, “But what else do you do?”

Apparently the blank stare I gave her said everything because that is a question I have been asking myself a lot lately. She quickly rephrased to keep the conversation going,

“What did you do before you had Rachel?”

I don’t feel like I’ve done much of anything lately. I feel like all I do is play Ring Around the Rosie and primal forms of hide and seek, and make sure that the house isn’t too destroyed when Andrew gets home. I almost keep up with the laundry, but that’s easier said than done when everything is drying in your spare bedroom instead of in the dryer. Sometimes I even manage to sweep the floor.

There’s also my church calling and some Relief Society activities…but really, what do I do? And what would I do with a day all to myself?

In all honesty I can tell you that I would not spend a day to myself cleaning the house. I haven’t reached that point in my life yet, I guess. And I hate our apartment right now. So why would I want to be alone in it all day, let alone clean it?

I don’t have any good answers. Not today. All I can say is that I’m so glad that I will be going to Greece in a few days. I need a break from Cairo. Living here taxes my patience.

Nothing gets done on time, mostly because there is no schedule to anything, except for praying. And sometimes, especially at the Khan, the locals are so annoying that they really, really get to you. Both Jaehee and I had our *moments* of fury.

Yesterday probably wasn’t the best day for me to venture out to the Khan since I’m already feeling a little bit Egypted-out, but I went anyway because, frankly, I had nothing better to do than wallow in solitude at home.

We rode the metro out a little ways and taxi-ed from there. Rachel is getting to be a pro at riding the metro. Her favorite thing to do is find “Rachel-sized” handles so that she can balance all by herself.

Our first touristic destination was the Al-Hakim b'amr Allah mosque. It was completed in 1013 AD, so it’s like almost 1000 years old (four more years to go), which is pretty old. The minarets are fairly original, but there has been a lot of restoration work done since the mosque has survived several earthquakes, etc.

Once inside we were swarmed by people wanting to take our pictures, especially pictures of Rachel. I think we were held up for about a half hour. No joke. Everyone needed a turn crouching by Rachel to pose for a shot. Everyone needed to try to hold her. Everyone needed to kiss her cheek. She wasn’t very happy about it. She doesn’t like going to strangers.

But then this one girl said some magic words. Instead of asking for a kiss or picture, this girl said,

“Do you want to play with me?”

Rachel sized her up, hesitated for a minute, and then said, “Yeah!”

And that was that. Rachel and this girl were best friends for the next 10 minutes. They ran all around the mosque and had a great time.

From there we continued to wander down Muizz Street, stopping at a few mosques along the way, most of which were closed for renovation. I don’t mind walking down Muizz Street. It’s usually pretty quiet and the architecture is beautiful. It apparently has the greatest concentration of medieval architectural treasures in the Islamic world. I wouldn’t doubt it.

When we started to reach the more congested areas, we knew we were entering “The Khan,” which does not make my list of favorite places in Cairo. I was hungry so we started looking for a place to eat but instead found what we were told was a prison. It was also closed for renovation work, but the ladies who were acting as gate-keepers said we could go in. They mentioned, as we were walking past them, that they “drink tea,” which is a polite way of asking for baksheesh. They would let us see the prison and then offer us some tea, which we would then pay for…except that they wouldn’t really offer us any tea; we’d just pay them.

It was a pretty interesting prison, if that is, indeed what it was. We haven’t been able to find much information about it. There did appear to be prison/dungeon things down below a prayer area made of intricately carved wood, which was apparently where the prisoners would pray. I don’t know if any of that is true, but it was interesting to see, even if I was hungry.

From here we wound our way through some deserted and narrow streets, in search of palatable food, into the thick of the Khan.

We were happy to finally reach the Khan, for the sole reason that the food there looks more appetizing than the food we saw in the back streets. But poor Jaehee was immediately accosted by a tout.

“Ni hao! 你好! Ni hao ma! 你好! Ni hao!” he said, pulling his eyes back so he was looking at her through little slits. He followed us for several meters, continuously jabbering away in Chinese.

“I’m not Chinese,” Jaehee told him, “Go away. Leave me alone.”

He wasn’t about to leave us alone. And Jaehee’s blood was boiling. She turned around and glared at the man.

“SHUT UP!” she screamed at him.

I asked her why it bothered her that he thought she was Chinese. I mean, I’m mistaken for German and French people all the time…and it’s not offensive. Plus, I pointed out, she went up to a Japanese girl today thinking that she was Korean, so sometimes even Asians can’t tell themselves apart. I know that I can’t tell whether someone is German or Australian simply by looking, at least, not usually. She couldn’t come up with a good reason for why this was so upsetting, either.

“It’s probably just Egypt,” we agreed.

More likely just the Khan. People here are always fascinated by Asians. But the vendors at the Khan are obnoxious. End. Of. Story.

Andrew decided he wanted fatir (Egyptian pancakes), so we found a fatir place that we’d been to before and sat down to eat. I ordered a “mixed pizza,” which ended up being a mistake. It looked really good. Someone else at the restaurant had ordered one and it looked pretty safe from where I was sitting.

Little did I know, it was filled with meat. Being filled with meat is fine, as long as the meat inside is not pink, as mine was.

Andrew asked the waiter to take it back to the kitchen and have it be cooked for a little longer.

He explained that he could not do that since I had ordered a mixed pizza an that is how a mixed pizza comes.

We explained again that we only wanted it to be cooked longer and it wasn’t a big deal. You just take it back to the kitchen and have the cook put it back in the oven.

He explained again that he could not do that. I had ordered mixed pizza and that is how a mixed pizza comes.

Andrew is a softie, so Josh interjected, on my behalf.

“The meat is still pink,” he explained, “She wants the meat to be brown.”

“This is hot dog,” he said, meaning sausage, “It is meant to be pink.”

“No, cooked meat is not pink. Chicken, beef, “hot dog,” whatever. It doesn’t matter. It needs to be brown.”

The waiter came to my side of the table and explained to me that it was impossible to take it back to the kitchen.

“I just want it cooked for a few more minutes,” I begged, “I can’t eat it like this!”

He then stopped speaking English to me and instead began to use a very patronizing tone in Arabic.

“I don’t speak Arabic,” I said, “So I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He continued to talk down to me in Arabic.

“I still don’t understand you…blah, blah, blah…please just stop and take my food back and cook it longer.”

“It is impossible!” he said firmly and started to walk away.

I don’t know why he was so personally offended since he wasn’t the one preparing the food. He was merely serving it so it wasn’t like I was critiquing his cooking skills. I don’t know what came over me, either, but as he was walking away I yelled,

“BAD SERVICE!”

I suppose I felt justified calling out his stubbornness. After all, if they can stand outside their restaurant boasting about their merits, why shouldn’t I warn others about their demerits. It would level the playing field and create less of a feeling of false advertisement in the Khan, I think. I was about to add, “DON’T EAT HERE!” when I suddenly found that the server had swooped back down upon me.

Luckily, a kind Egyptian man, who was eating at the same restaurant, came to my rescue.

“What is the problem here?” he asked me kindly.

“I want my food to be cooked longer. The meat is still pink and I can’t eat it that way,”

He turned to the server and said a few short sentences in Arabic.

The server glared at me, snatched my plate away and disappeared inside.

“There,” said the man, “It was all a misunderstanding. Enjoy your stay in Egypt.”

I think I thanked him a thousand times in both English and Arabic. I love meeting nice people.

My pizza came back a few minutes later, much browner than before. Not quite brown enough for my taste, but at least it wasn’t half raw.

And that’s probably why you shouldn’t go to the Khan when you’re already sick of Egypt. It’s a good thing both Jaehee and I will be leaving in a few days. A very, very good thing.

Rachel is coming with us, which is also a good thing, because she also threw a fit at the fitir place and started screaming, growling, and biting the table. Jaehee and I are stellar examples for her, what with our random fits of yelling.

Andrew and Josh were probably a bit embarrassed and wanted to get far away from the fatir place, so we left to go across the street to the al-Azhar mosque.

We met a cute little Indonesian family there that had a girl a little younger than Rachel and a boy a little older, judging their ages solely on their ability to balance and how fast they could run. The little girl was veiled, which I thought was interesting because most girls don’t veil until puberty. I couldn’t tell if they were super-pious or if they simply thought she looked cute veiled, because I have to admit, it was pretty adorable to see a mini-person in a mini-veil.

They were a little apprehensive about making friends at first.

We considered going on to do the rest of Islamic Cairo, since all we’ve ever done is this first half from Bab al-Futuh to al-Azhar over and over and over again. I suggested to Andrew that the next time we do Islamic Cairo we taxi to Bab Zuweila, the gate at the south, because we have no idea where it is, and work our way up to al-Azhar instead of starting at al-Azhar and trying to find Bab Zuweila. There is no guarantee we would ever know if we made it to Bab Zuweila if we tried to get there from al-Azhar.

So that’s our plan for the next time we go to Islamic Cairo. We were all too tired to do the rest of the tour; Rachel, especially, needed a nap. She eventually fell asleep the last 10 minutes before we arrived home, which meant that that was her nap for the day. Oh, boy!

Turn right to go left!

Rachel spent Tuesday evening at the Lewis household so that I could go to my belly dancing class and Andrew stay on campus for his evening class. We met up there to pick up Rachel and stayed to chat for a little while. Sam was still up, kind of playing with Rachel.

They are both interesting to talk to because they are both completely obsessed with different movies. Sam loves the movie Cars. Rachel loves The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. Both of them quote their favorite movies for half of their communication. For the longest time, Sam refused to say any color words. Everything red was Lightning McQueen, everything yellow was Luigi, everything green was Chick Hicks, etc.

So, while Rachel is dragging her chair up to the television screen so that she can hug it and stroke each character as they walk across the screen, it's almost guaranteed that Sam is singing along to the opening music of Cars. And while Rachel is dragging around her Pooh bears (one of which used to belong to Sam), Sam is most likely carrying his Lightning McQueen car around. It makes it very easy to leverage anything with either of them.

Rachel was a little sad about being at the Lewis' without Mommy at first, so Sara said, "Tut, tut! It looks like rain!" and Rachel broke out into huge grins. Every time she got sad after that, either Sara or Sam would say, "Tut, tut!" and everything would be fine again.

When I got there, Rachel and Sam were still competing for Sara's attention. They were each running for books and bringing them to Sara to see who would be the one to get to sit on her lap. During one of their running around sessions, Sam crashed into Rachel and knocked her over.

"Oh, no, Rachel!" Sam lamented, "Turn right to go left!"

The grownups didn't think that was a very good apology, so everyone started prompting Sam to apologize properly.

"So sorry, Rachel," Sam said. It comes out like, "So saucy, Rachel," which is kind of funny.

Then they gave each other a hug, kind of. Rachel was too busy screaming and holding onto me to reciprocate Sam's hug very well. She did manage to get one arm around him and pat his back a few times, which was a cute and well-meaning gesture, even though she screamed the whole time.

I thought it was hilarious that his advice on the whole situation was that, had she turned right to go left she wouldn't have biffed it in the first place. Too much television for those two, maybe...

Flashback Friday: We’ve got roaches

I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but I can’t think of anything but a disgusting post about bugs. That’s because it’s spring here. The only reason we can tell it’s spring, really, is because all the bugs are back. There have been flowers all year long, which I’ve enjoyed thoroughly, sunshine, and warmth. It’s difficult to tell the seasons apart.

Kind of like how in Alberta your four seasons are almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction, here in Egypt we have almost summer, summer, still summer, and bug free.

I’m rather fond of the season without bugs. We still have mosquitoes, that’s true, but at least we were able to stop battling flies and cockroaches and ants for a few months. I knew the seasons were changing on Wednesday when we went to Maadi House and Rachel was fighting off the “bees” (read: flies) the whole time. They were swarming her face and she kept whining about them getting into her eyes. I don’t blame her for whining. They were really annoying.

And then…when I was making dinner last night I noticed a cockroach on the fridge. It was about the size of the fingernail on my pinkie finger. I made Andrew come in and kill it and then we went around and plugged up all the drains in the house because it doesn’t matter how clean you keep your house, they will still get in.

We have these nifty little drains on our bathroom floors that open up to expose the drainage pipes that carry out our waste water, raw sewage, etc. Cockroaches live in these pipes. These pipes are connected to our toilet, bathtub, and sinks. If the cockroaches really want to get into our apartment, which they often do, all they need to do is climb up the pipes.

During “summer” and “still summer” we were absolute vigilantes about covering our drains to avoid another cockroach infestation. We waxed prideful during our “bug free” season and slacked off in our drain covering habits. Thus the reason I saw that nasty little cockroach on our refrigerator.

We’ve since reinstated our vigilantism and are completely anal about covering up our drains before we go to bed. It goes hand in hand with locking up our doors at night. We’re almost back in the habit, I think. Our only problem is that Rachel discovered the drain. It’s kind of hard to miss since it’s basically in the middle of our floor. I’m surprised it took her this long.

Her favorite thing to do is to take it off. That is my least favorite thing to do because it happens to be where all the cockroaches, especially the ones too big to climb through the other drains, await their opportunity to enter our apartment. Beside that, it’s really nasty down inside that hole, even without the ever-present cockroaches.

This is a cockroach that we noticed last night when I asked Andrew to fix the lid so that Rachel would have a harder time taking it off. So gross.

He took off the lid, yelped, and slammed it back on again.

“There’s a huge cockroach down there.” He said, solemnly replacing the lid.

My human thirst for first-hand knowledge got the better of me.

“Show me,” I demanded, climbing into the bathtub just in case it was quick enough to crawl through the hole and…I don’t know…attack me. Somehow the bathtub seemed to be a safer place.

He slowly revealed the cockroach for me and, although it was still big enough to gape at, it wasn’t big enough to absolutely scar me for life. I’ve already been scarred by a cockroach in that drain and this little guy didn’t even come close in size.

When we first moved into our apartment we were battling both ants and cockroaches, constantly, and were still trying to get our house clean enough to be livable. It seems to me that instead of cleaning when you move out (as is customary in America…at least, it’s what I’ve always done) you clean when you move in here.

So, I was mopping the floors and mopping the floors, trying to get rid of the Cairo dust (it’s impossible…ever since Phyllis, who has lived here basically her whole married life, mentioned having dirt in her sheets we’ve decided that getting away from the sand and grime of the city and desert is virtually impossible). I was dumping the mop bucket down the handy little drain on our bathroom floor because that was easier than lifting it over the balcony railing.

One time I lifted the lid to dump yet another bucket of filthy water down the drain and saw the biggest cockroach I had ever seen. It was probably 2 or 3 times the size of the cockroach we found last night. It was huge! Probably a good 2 inches long, and fat.

I gasped (because I’m not a screamer) and aimed my bucket so the water would fall on the cockroach. I had hoped it would wash the cockroach away, but the cockroach stood its ground.

So I slammed the lid back down, screwed it on, and haven’t touched the lid since…at least, not until a few days ago when Rachel discovered how to take it off. Now I find myself constantly adjusting it to make sure it’s fully sealed. And it gives me the heebie-jeebies every time.

I still don’t know what I think they’re going to do to me, but the memory of having them crawling around my fridge and dropping on my head while I’m searching for ketchup is enough to make me sick to my stomach.

Also, the fact that I’ve lived with roaches long enough to be able to have roach flashbacks. Ugh…

As a side note, I have a theory that the cockroaches play an integral part in Cairo’s sewer system. If we got rid of all the cockroaches, I have a feeling that the sewers would be backed up all the time. They can eat their way through anything and can, likewise, survive almost anything. They are probably what keeps our running water running. Isn’t that a pleasant thought?

Luxor: Day 3, Karnak Temple (January 5)

Not wanting to get ripped off, we woke up early in the morning and stood on the corner by our hotel to catch a microbus. It took us a while to figure out how they worked, but eventually we decided they had no predetermined route and when one stopped by us we asked if it would take us all to the Karnak Temple for 5 pounds.

The driver was very willing. Later we learned that was because we had paid him double what the locals were paying. We were sure to only pay 50 quirsh each on the way home.

It was neat to take the microbus, though, because we got to see more of the Valley of the Sphinxes while we were driving. It really does stretch from the Luxor Temple to the Karnak Temple. We know because we saw it. A lot of it isn’t uncovered and/or is destroyed, but it was still really interesting to see.

We saved the Karnak Temple for last because we were so impressed with it the first time we went to Luxor. It was the crowned jewel of our trip and we wanted to repeat that this time around as well. Unfortunately, we were less impressed this time around. We’d already seen so many other temples and things that I think we were a bit tired of the same old, same old. Karnak is also one of the more famous sites in Luxor and, therefore, is more expensive and more frequented, which is both unfortunate and fortunate. It’s unfortunate because you “have” to go see it and there are way cooler things to see. It’s fortunate because all the tourists go there, leaving the cooler places (like Madinat Habu) relatively empty. Karnak is always awash with people.

All that aside, it was refreshing, once again, to be back to our old “stomping grounds,” so to speak. We “knew” our way around the complex better than at Madinat Habu so we could more quickly show David and the Schillings the cool sites—at least, the sites deemed so by both Lonely Planet and our previous tour.

We spent a lot of time in the colonnade, which is huge, and made sure to find the Holy of Holies, the sacred water pond, and the good luck scarab. Those, from what we remembered, were basically what we looked at the last time we were here.

Rachel pretended that she was the tour guide; she was always holding someone’s hand and dragging them along to find more stairs and other exciting things like that.

But we all know that, of course, Andrew was the real tour guide and told us everything we needed to know (or at least everything that he knew). When we didn’t know what things were, or when Andrew’s infinite wisdom ran out, we’d listen in on other tour groups…

In the Holy of Holies we found a rather interesting tour and tagged along for a bit, somewhat accidentally. Everyone in that group thought Rachel was adorable, and after we ran into them in several chambers they asked us if we wanted to join their tour. We declined, but it was nice of them to offer, even if they were only after more of Rachel’s smiles.

Near the end of our visit we ran into an Italian tour group that was completely blocking the way out. They were all huddled together around their tour guide, listening intently, and oohing and aahing. We couldn’t help but listen in again.

Andrew used his superb Italian skills to tell us that the blue line above David and Josh’s hands in the picture marks as high as the Nile would flood. I don’t know how they managed to use the temple during flood season. My gut instinct is that they probably didn’t use it…because that’s really pretty deep.

We found a statue that was missing a foot and took a picture, in honor of Patrick, who took pictures of his foot in front of famous places when he went to Ghana because I told him to be sure to take pictures of himself in Ghana. Andrew’s foot is relatively small compared to the gargantuan size of the statue’s foot.

We did some other silly things, like sticking Rachel on top of ancient things, which we never got in trouble for…and pretending to make sacrifices on altars, which we did get in trouble for (which is why David looks so awkward on top of the altar—the guards were yelling at him). The guards are really quite biased over here. If you pay them, you won’t get in trouble. If you have a baby with you they encourage you to stick the baby on things for photo ops. If you’re an American, they’ll get you in trouble hoping that you’ll bribe them away. It’s an interesting (read: broken) system.

I simply can’t think of much else to say right now, and the pictures tell it so much better, so it’s going to be a little picture heavy for a while.

I feel bad that I blasted Karnak at the beginning of my post. Obviously it really is worth seeing. It isn’t my favorite thing in Luxor, but it is worth seeing. It is huge, and popular, and filled with interesting hieroglyphics.

And where else can you walk around a giant scarab statue for good luck? We couldn’t remember if you were supposed to walk around it 4 times or 7 times, so we all did 7 times just to be on the safe side. My favorite part was when some random Russian tourists (без tour guide, без guidebook) showed up, watched us walk around a few times, and joined in. I wonder if they had any idea what they were doing or why.

Rachel also invented a new way of walking while we were in Luxor. She holds onto your hand and then bends over until she’s completely parallel to the ground and perpendicular to her legs. And then she’s full speed ahead. We crashed into so many things. It was impossible for either of us to keep our balance very well.

We all had a great time and Uncle David was especially happy that Rachel had finally, finally warmed up to him enough to allow him to pick her up and carry her around a bit. She had a hard time trusting him the first few days he was here.

And that, in a nutshell, was our visit to the Karnak Temple.