Flashback Friday: Trapped

I had a lot of fake jewelery when I was little. I suppose by 'fake' I mean 'costume' because even fake jewelery is ornamental, and thus real jewelery. Fake or real, I had scads of it. Chain upon chain of cheap metal alloys colored silver or gold, strands of plastic beads and pearls, strings of charms and lockets.

Truthfully, I don't know why I had so much jewelery because I'm not exactly a jewelery person. I suppose every little girl just needs her own jewelery box full of shiny stuff; whether she actually wears any of it on a daily basis or not is another question. The only jewelery I wear on a regular basis as a grown woman (debatable) are my wedding band, engagement ring, and my CTR ring.

Anyway, this one time my brother David dared me to put on every single necklace that I owned.

It seemed like an innocent enough dare, so I began to heap the necklaces on. David helped. We encountered no difficulties...until it came time to take the necklaces off. Somehow they had gotten so tangled together that we couldn't get them off one at a time and there were far too many to take them off all at once. I started to panic, which meant that I started sobbing/screaming. I was sure that I was doomed to wear all those necklaces until the day I died. I would be bedridden, for sure, since my neck was getting tired from the weight after only a few seconds; and I was quite sure I was slowly suffocating, even though my neck was not constricted at all.

In this moment of absolute despair, David hightailed it out of my bedroom. I don't blame him. My screams were terribly high pitched. And he was only 9 or 10, maybe younger; probably he couldn't deal with the stress from and guilt of accidentally strangling his younger sister by way of jewelery overloading and he didn't want to stick around to watch me slowly suffocate. Or he was afraid of getting in trouble. I don't know why he left, but he did.

I screamed louder. I was going to die, after all.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably more like 2 minutes, my dad rushed into my room to see what all the ruckus was about. Then he calmed me down and gently, methodically, patiently, lovingly disentangled each and every strand of beads from around my neck. I really have no clue how long it took, but probably the majority of his Saturday afternoon.

I was just reminded of this when Rachel ran up to me this evening wearing an apron, only an apron, and in complete distress because she had stuck her head through the handles of her diaper bag (she likes to wear it over her head instead of over her shoulder) and couldn't get it off because she was pulling at too many things at once.

I used to wonder how my dad stayed so calm when I was in such a tizzy, but now I know. It's because it wasn't that big of a deal; I just needed to calm down and work through things slowly, gently, methodically, and patiently instead of clawing and ripping at the necklaces like a trapped bear.

So I smiled to myself while I easily slipped the diaper bag over her head--sometimes a grown-up perspective is so welcome.

Happy Cairoversary!

Today is our one-year mark of life in Cairo. I don't really have all that much to say about it because, well, 383 blog posts have already graced the topic. But here we are, alive and well.

This past year...

• We had numerous encounters with stomach bugs; call it what you will--Mummy Tummy, Pharaoh's Revenge, or some other cutesy name--we've had it several times.
• We battled cockroaches and ants and other mystery bugs.
• We encountered balady dogs (and cats, horses, donkeys, cows, sheep, goats, and chickens).
• We suffered water shortages and power outages.
• Andrew has been grazed by who knows how many taxis.
• We sweated to death through the summer and shivered to keep warm in the winter.
• We visited Luxor, Alexandria, and Ain Sokhna.
• We traveled to Spain, Morocco, and Greece.
• We have taken planes, trains, boats, taxis, metros, and minibuses.
• We went horse riding in the desert and snorkeling in the Red Sea.
• Rachel and I visited the Leprosaurium for service projects on more than one occasion.
• Andrew completed half his master's degree.
• I made it through three-fourths of a pregnancy.
• Rachel learned to talk, made the switch to underwear, started sleeping in a big-girl bed, and entered nursery.
• We've had ten overnight guests, most importantly my mom, Andrew's mom, and David.
• We've been to the Great Pyramids three times.
• We've been on seven felucca rides. I think...
• We gave a devotional on a felucca in the Nile to the YSAs from Israel, Lebanon, Jordan, and Egypt.
• Andrew went camping with the scouts, which involved riding horses from Giza to Saqqara and sleeping in the middle of the desert without a tent.
• We've gone on a few camel rides. Two or three, I think.
• We've gone swimming outside every month of the year that we've been here.
• We dined on gold-trimmed dishes and drank from crystal glasses on Thanksgiving, even Rachel.
• I took two sessions of belly dancing classes.
• We watched our friend Elisabeth get baptized in the Red Sea.
  

I mentioned on Facebook that today was our anniversary of living in Egypt and quipped that we were still alive. Diana wondered why. Did I expect us to not survive our time here? No, but I think my mom could tell you what I meant.

Before she left she mentioned that she wasn't sure she should have visited us in the middle of our time here, that she almost wished that the only exposure she got to Cairo was through our blog, and that she's going to worry about us even more now that she's seen the traffic and the way things work here and, well, the traffic.

Most everything else is forgivable here...but the traffic? It's horrendous. We've seen two dead bodies on the side of the road this year. I didn't list that in our highlights because, face it, that's not really a highlight.

Also, you can't buy things like sour cream sometimes. Or tortillas. Or vanilla. Or brown sugar. Or any number of things.

But we're being careful and are loving the adventures we're having. We're definitely looking forward to what the next ten months have in store for us--that's right, we're "Statewardbound" in ten months or so. We don't really know what that entails yet but have rough sketches of plans A, B, and C, so I'm sure something will work out for us, wherever we end up!

He held it all night!

We have two bathrooms in our house but we only use one. The other one is kind of scary. There's a shower head in there, attached to the wall, but there's no actual shower area--just a drain--and the toilet leaks nonstop and when you flush it the bidet sprayer thing inside goes off all over the place. So we just turned the water off in that bathroom and use it as a literal water closet; it houses boxes and boxes of tap water that we have on reserve to use for when we don't have water so that we can still do things like flush our toilet.

Usually we're fine with having only one washroom. Rachel isn't to the age where she understands privacy yet, so more often than not the door stays open no matter who's in there.

When we have company over, though, we do close the door and have to worry about shower schedules and other things like that.

My mom wanted to take a shower the first morning she was at our house and before she did wanted to make sure that no one would need to use the bathroom while she was in there. It's not really a problem for Rachel since I can just drag her little potty into the hallway while company is showering. When I forget to do that, she's pretty open about doing her business in a bowl, although I'm sure that will wear off as she gets older.

It's a little more tricky for Andrew and I since we're so fond of using toilets and not fond of using bowls.

So I called out to Andrew, "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

He looked at me all innocently and said, "I'm dry. I mean, I held it all night."

My mom and I burst out laughing. Apparently he hadn't been listening to the whole conversation my mom and I had just had about showering schedules.

"No, like, my mom wants to have a shower, so...do you need to use the bathroom before she goes in there?"

Andrew said that I used my "Rachel voice" on him when I asked if he had to go to the bathroom so it confused him. I'm sure I did use my "Rachel voice" because she's the person I ask that question to most often. Still, why would he even think that I was concerned he had wet the bed?

I'm a polar baby!

This morning Rachel had strawberry-filled cereal that is super sweet, accompanied by left-over blueberry pancakes with syrup. It's now almost two o'clock in the afternoon and she is bouncing off the walls. Still.

She's spinning in circles, flipping somersaults, climbing up on furniture, jumping off of things, dancing, and singing songs made up entirely of nonsense words.

Then she flips her character around completely and begins screaming and biting her hands and stomping her feet in rage. Usually because we're laughing at her. Because, to be frank, it's quite hilarious to watch/listen to.

I suggested to Andrew that the combination of foods she had for breakfast never be repeated, ever again, and that we should have a sugar-free lunch. I may or may not have used the words "psycho bipolar baby" to describe her behavior.

Shortly after those words escaped my mouth, Rachel climbed up on Andrew's lap and declared triumphantly,

"I'm a polar baby, Daddy!"

Excuse me, now, while I go and pull my daughter off of the ceiling. We might need to admit her for clinical detox.

More Ain Sokhna and Goodbye to Naanii (August 8 & 9)

Due to Rachel’s early hour of rising on Saturday morning, we got to the beach earlier than usual, as well. The tide was coming in, so the beach was void of jellyfish bodies, since the tide is what brings them in. Instead little crabs had been at work all night long, burrowing under the sand and leaving intricate star patterns in the sand. 

It was as captivating a sight as freshly fallen snow; we didn’t want to walk on it and ruin their pristine piles of sand, but Rachel had already taken across the sandbar at a dead run and we wanted to catch up with her before she swam to Sinai or something. We followed her sandaled footprints to the end of the sandbar where she sat, splashing happily, in the water.

Of course, she wasn’t in the water alone. She had dragged Naanii off to the water before we’d even gotten to the umbrella Andrew was headed to. Andrew was leading, and carrying most of the stuff. I was following him, and Rachel and Naanii were right behind us. Next thing I knew, they were tearing off through the sand towards the water. It took Andrew and I a little while to get caught up with them since we had to set up camp.

We spent all morning at the beach, then had lunch at the condo. We left Naanii and Rachel there while we went snorkeling, then we went back to the condo to pick them up and we all went to the beach again. It was a long beach day!

Something bit Rachel, either in the water or before she got in the water. We’re not sure what, but I suspect mosquitoes or these little pesky black flies that I’ve caught biting me. She, however, blamed it on the little minnows swimming around her and wailed about the fish all day.

“Little fish eating me!” she’d shriek whenever she saw a fish or remembered that she had a bite on her foot.

Soon she forgot about the fish enough to enjoy herself in the water and was just as excited as the day before. We stayed until sunset again and wished that we had our camera with us for our last trip to the beach on Saturday because we saw, get this, a cloud! And not just any cloud, either. It was a cloud that was big enough to cover the whole sun, making for a beautiful sunset.

It’s been a while since we’d seen such an enormous cloud and I have no proof that it happened.

We stopped by a swimming pool to rinse the salt off before going back to the condo for dinner. The shallow end hit Rachel’s chest, which she found thrilling. She demanded to be put down every time anyone touched her and kept trying to swim. Again, this was a little scary for me to watch--I always worry about secondary drowning—but she’s bound and determined to swim. She kept dunking herself and then reaching around for something to grab onto to help upright herself.

“I went in there!” she would say each time she came back up.

I kept reminding her to blow her bubbles under water so that I could have some security that she wasn’t inhaling too much water.

We were all exhausted when we got back to the condo and fixed a quick dinner of sandwiches before getting ready for bed. Rachel took forever to fall asleep, it seemed, because her bites hurt so bad. She kept scratching at them and irritating them so they were all swollen and, indeed, painful looking. She woke up in the middle of the night and stayed up for forever, crying about how the fish were eating her and how bad her foot hurt.

It was a long night. She finally fell asleep at around 4:00 AM in our bed and slept in until 9:00, which was nice. We were all so exhausted, but she remembered that we had promised we could go to the beach one last time, so we rushed off to the beach and spent a while there before cleaning up the condo and heading back to Cairo.

It was a long car ride. Rachel wouldn’t sit in her own seat, so she sat on my lap…or at least what’s left of my lap. She kept trying to climb all over everything and I kept trying to convince her to sit down, preferably in her own seat.

“Rachel, we are in a car and when we are in cars we have to sit down.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” she stalled while she thought of the right word, “No, not car. Van.”

SUV. But still, that’s not the point. The point was to sit down!

Miriam kept kicking me and Rachel kept elbowing me and I was going crazy. I can’t really do much about Miriam kicking at this point, but I can do things about Rachel’s behavior.

“Rachel, take your elbow off my belly, please. You’re hurting me.”

“No, please! Please may I more having elbow there?”

“Why? Why would you want to have your elbow there when you are hurting Mommy?”

“Why-cuz…crazy!”

I was so happy when we saw the city rise out of the nothingness of the desert. It doesn’t take very long to get anywhere once you’re in Cairo. As much as we complain about the traffic, things run remarkably smoothly.

When Rachel saw that we were in Cairo she immediately asked if she could see a donkey.

“Please may I more seeing donkey?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “We can look for one but I don’t know if we’ll see one today.”

“Please, Mommy! Please!”

“Let’s just look out the window and see if we can find one. I don’t know if we will, but we might.”

We looked and looked and looked, but we didn’t see any donkeys. Sometimes we see donkey carts passing under the overpass by Carrefour. I knew that if we were going to see a donkey, that would be where we would see it. We didn’t see one. Rachel kept on with her pleading.

“Please, Mommy! Please more seeing donkey! Please, please please!”

I told her that I would love to have her see a donkey but that I really couldn’t do anything about it. For some reason she thinks I’m magic and can conjure up anything her little heart desires if only she says please enough. That might work some of the time, but it certainly doesn’t work all of the time.

It was so nice to get home and showered. We all needed a good scrub down after being incrusted in sand all weekend.

We went out to dinner at Arzak so that my mom could try some local Egyptian food. I don’t cook Egyptian food much here because it’s so cheap at Arzak.

After a quick trip to Road 9 to search out some aloe vera for Andrew’s back (yeah, they don’t have that here, apparently) we went home and relaxed until Rachel’s bedtime. Time was dragging by. We were all so tired! Seven o’clock…eight o’clock…

We played some Cinderella Go Fish and Winnie the Pooh UNO to help pass the time.

The grumpies started around nine o’clock so we got Rachel ready for bed, and she said goodbye to Naanii. Then Naanii took a nap while I put Rachel to bed and cried. When Naanii woke up, we talked and talked until 1:00 AM when her ride came to take her to the airport.

She told me not to cry, so I didn’t. We like to pretend that we’re just going on little trips instead of great big ones so that we can hold things together a little better. We pretend that we’ll see each other tomorrow or next week instead of next year.

I lost it when she drove away, though. Poor Andrew, always having to console me. We stayed up far too much longer and didn’t get to bed until after 2 AM.

And then Rachel ran into our room this morning at 5:45 AM.

“Hi, Mommy! I want cereal. Naanii goes back Mrita? I like clouds. I’m dry. I want water. I wanna hold baby sister. Hold me, Mommy!”

She wasn’t dry, so I had her pull off her wet underwear and climb into bed with us, bare bum and all. She fell back asleep after about a half hour, which was wonderful. We all slept in until 10 AM and had the most lazy day today, with Rachel running in to Naanii’s room every once in a while to see whether she was still sleeping or if she really left for America.

It was so fun to have my mom here, but so sad it was for such a short time. And now the countdown really begins, I guess. Uncle Patrick comes in two weeks. By the time he leaves I’ll be 33 weeks pregnant. Grandma will get here 6 weeks after that, a week before Miriam’s due date. Then we’ll have Miriam. At least, that’s our plan for the order of arrival. It wouldn’t be much fun if Grandma came after Miriam was born since we’re banking on having Grandma here to help with Rachel while I’m busy having the baby and everything…we still need to come up with a solid backup plan just in case.

Sometime in there Andrew’s next semester will start, and then before we know it the semester will be over and Grandpa and Uncle Jacob will get here and…and I need to stop thinking about time like this because it’s going by way too fast. Already I have Miriam aged to 2 months post-delivery and we still have the whole third trimester to go through!

What’s goin’ on?

When we got back from the beach on Saturday evening we walked into the backyard to desandify ourselves in the grass and were pleasantly surprised by the sprinklers coming on.

Rachel hasn’t seen sprinklers for such a long time (about a year) and wasn’t really sure what to think. We all started running around in the sprinklers and Rachel was right there with us, laughing and asking,

“What’s goin’ on? What’s goin’ on? What’s goin’ on?”

After asking that for a while she’d stop and do something new, like putting her head in the water or spinning in circles or attempting summersaults or practicing karate kicks, and then she’d start asking again like the little broken record she is.

“Oh! What’s goin’ on, Mommy? What’s goin’ on!?”

It was so much fun to watch her play! She was so thrilled and genuinely curious about what was going on. If she knew what rain was, I’m sure she would have thought it was raining upside down. She couldn’t have thought that, though, because she hasn’t ever really experienced rain, either. Sprinklers were just another novelty.

She was such a hoot all weekend! I should have followed her around with a tape recorder so that we didn’t miss anything she said.

We took the “tram” to the beach a lot. The resort has two open-air buses that have no windows or doors, but instead have a railing to keep passengers inside. There are park benches secured to the floor of the bus and they really aren’t the most comfortable thing to ride on since we have to go over speed bumps every few minutes.

I used to wonder why the pioneer children walked and walked and walked instead of riding in the carriage. I think I understand why now because sitting on a rickety wooden bench for a long, bumpy ride really isn’t a whole lot of fun.

When we got off the bus one time, Rachel waved at the driver and yelled out a friendly, “Shukran!” And then she added, “Means thank you! In Arabic! For riding bus beach!”

Later we had a discussion about where we live. We’re trying to get her to say Egypt, but she just can’t or won’t. She’s always willing to share her little gems of wisdom, though.

“Where are you from, Rachel?”

“I’m from Mrita!”

“Where do you live?”

“Home.”

“You live at home, yes. Our home is in Egypt. Can you say Egypt?”

“Yeah, Eshiwogpt. Lotsa Arabics live there.”

At least she tried to say Egypt. Some things she won’t even attempt.

During an early morning breakfast (a too early of the morning breakfast, if you ask me), Rachel said,

“Shukran nana, Mommy?”

“Do you want a banana?” I asked her. “Banana is mooz in Arabic. If you want one you say, ‘Mumkin mooz,’ or ‘Mooz minfudlik.’ After I give you one is when you say shukran. Can you say mumkin?”

Clearly my Arabic is a little primitive and I shouldn’t be the one teaching her the language. Oh, well. They’re letting me raise her and I’m not sure how I qualified for that position, either.

“No, I can’t!” she said, “Too hard say mumkin!”

Oh, it was so funny! She said it perfectly.

When we were having our second breakfast with Naanii and Daddy, she shared some more Arabic that she had learned earlier that morning.

“Ishishishishishish!”

I asked her what she was talking about.

“Mommy said, ‘Mishish!’” she quoted.

She was mishish-ing and ishish-ing the whole day long! We had been talking about flavors of yogurt before everyone else got up. Andrew told me that we had purchased apricot yogurt but the kind Rachel and I had was definitely peach, so I taught her that word, too—khoukh, which really is too hard to say. We all had fun laughing about Rachel trying to say apricot in Arabic and how if the yogurt wasn’t apricot flavored than it was mish mishmish flavor, since mish means not in Arabic. We really did have apricot yogurt in the fridge, too, but Rachel and I hadn’t seen it.

Rachel had a bit of a hard potty day on Saturday; just having too much fun to think about getting to a potty, I guess. She peed while we were playing on the sandbar, while running up to me and saying,

“Oh, no! I’m going pee!”

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Andrew just ran her into the sea to rinse her off and let her finish her business. When we were at the condo having lunch, though, it was a bit more of a problem, though not a huge one.

In the middle of lunch, Rachel started whimpering and looking really nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“My bum’s going pee!” she said.

“Well, stop!” I instructed her and, again, Daddy rushed her away to find a better place to relieve herself. This time it was the toilet. Daddy gets to do a lot of the rushing since my rushing is a little less rushful as of late.

While they were in the bathroom, Rachel told Andrew,

“My bum is soooo bad! My bum went potty in my seat!”

It’s a little difficult to play the blame game when you’re they only child, but Rachel seems to do an okay job of it.

She really did a full-on peeing on the chair when Naanii was watching her that afternoon. Luckily the chairs are made of woven plastic fibers (they remind me of sitting in a wicker basket) and the floor under the chairs is tile, so clean up was simple.

While spending time alone with Naanii, she also started nursing her baby doll. Mom said that she sat down, held baby doll in just the right way, and covered herself up with a blanket while she nursed. I happen to think this is hilarious because the last baby Rachel saw nursing was herself, pretty much. And she didn’t ever watch herself nurse because she was too busy nursing. Apparently she remembered our technique well enough to mimic it, though.

She also tried to nurse her baby doll with her belly button, which is not a technique we ever tried.

When we came home from snorkeling, Rachel tried to quote Naanii to us. She’s all about quoting people and movies, but this time was a little different because she was quoting a gesture.

“Naanii said,” Rachel said, before tilting her head to one side.

“What did Naanii say?” I asked her.

“Naanii said…” Head tilt.

“What?”

Dramatic head tilt. Rachel was obviously losing patience. “Naanii said…” she said slowly, drawing out the said in an annoyed fashion before stopping talking and finishing off with a flourished head tilt.

It took us a few minutes to understand that the *quote, unquote* quote was actually the head tilt she kept doing.

Ain Sokhna with Naanii (August 7)

Every time we go to Ain Sokhna, the beach is completely different. This time when we arrived, the beach was littered with hundreds and hundreds of purple jellyfish. We were a little timid about getting in the water at first because of all the jellyfish, so Andrew and I left my mom with Rachel and wandered down the beach looking for a less infested area of beach to play at. There wasn’t really an area untouched by jellyfish, though, so we started back to find Rachel and Naanii and tell them that where we were was as good as anywhere.

On the way we stopped by the dive center to ask about snorkeling. While we were there I also asked about the jellyfish. So, these little purple guys really, really are moon jellyfish and are completely harmless. I don’t know about the ones we saw before…because we didn’t ever get stung by them, either. Maybe that was just luck.

After enough goading from Andrew, I got brave enough to touch the jellyfish. First I poked it with my finger and when it didn’t sting me I got really brave and put my whole hand on it. Then I picked it up. They are the weirdest things ever. No digestive system, no brain, no central nervous system, no respiratory or circulatory system. They can’t even osmose, which kind of explains their odd consistency.

 

Even with my remarkable example of valor in picking up a jellyfish, Andrew didn’t get the guts to touch one until the next day when we went snorkeling…

Obviously we’re quite fascinated by jellyfish. They’re too weird not to be. Rachel didn’t find them quite as interesting. All she could think about was the water and she dragged Naanii right into the it chanting, “I wanna go beach! I wanna go beach!”

The water was perfect—calm, clear, warm. Perfect.

We were surprised she was being so brave because usually we have to coax her into the water slowly. Sure, she’s been talking about going to the beach with Naanii for about a month and was so excited when Naanii got here so that we could finally go (and was a little disappointed that we didn’t leave for the beach the minute Naanii got here), but we really didn’t expect her to actually initiate the getting-in-the-water part of our beach trip. She’s always been a sand baby, happy to sit on the beach but screaming her head off in the waves. Not today.

She was all about swimming this time around. We couldn’t keep her out of the water. She was putting her face in, blowing bubbles, jumping waves, riding around on Daddy and Naanii’s backs and stomachs, holding our hands and kicking her legs, laying down on her stomach and crawling around while the waves splashed in her face. She was so brave it was scary to watch.

Rachel even got brave enough to touch a jellyfish, although she thought it was very gross. Every time one washed into her she’d scream, “Jellyfish getting me!” and make terrified shrieking sounds. It’s probably best that she remains wary of jellyfish since I really wouldn’t want her running up to grab one that actually stings.

 

We stayed until sunset and were all exhausted when we got home. It was hard to believe that just that morning we had gotten up and gone to church, but we had. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Naanii got up and bore her testimony…and as she was walking back down, Rachel said, “Naanii said ‘amen.’”

Rachel was so loud and exhausting during church. She kept yelling out things that I would have preferred she had whispered, like:

“Jesus has bellybutton!” and “Where’s Jesus’ clothes?” when we looked at a picture of Jesus on the cross. Or, “Nephi’s naked!” when we looked at a picture of Nephi looking at the liahona. He didn’t quite have a full shirt on…

It was nice to have Naanii there because now that there are so many nursery-aged children around, Rachel’s out of primary and back in nursery. Unfortunately, she isn’t transitioning back very well and always wants me to stay with her, but I have so much to do during primary that I can’t. Naanii stayed with her, and that was very helpful because then I could help worry about the 20 some-odd kids we have in primary now instead of helping Rachel feel comfortable in her new class. We’re rather understaffed at the moment, but it is fun to see the primary room so full again!

Snorkeling at Ain Sokhna (August 8)

Signing up to go snorkeling was pretty nerve-wracking for both of us. We’ve been wanting to go for quite some time since the Red Sea boasts some of the best snorkeling/scuba diving destinations in the world…and here we are in Egypt, just an hour and a half away from the Red Sea.

This weekend we found ourselves up at Ain Sokhna, with a babysitter no less! We decided to drop by the dive center to ask about things and the next thing we knew we were running off to find my mom so that we could ask her if she wouldn’t mind watching Rachel for a few hours the next day while we went out to the reef. She said she would, so we went ahead and signed up for the trip.

And then we started to get nervous.

I’ve always had a lot of reservations about the open sea. Sharks, for one thing; then there’s the whole Gilligan’s Island scenario; and jellyfish and stingrays and waves…among other things like knowing that I’m too far away from shore to swim back without dying of exhaustion first.

That night I had a dream that my stomach had been filled with seawater and tropical fish. I could feel the fish moving around and everything; it was the oddest sensation. I woke up thinking what a strange dream that was, then realized that my stomach was still moving and I kind of freaked out.

And then I remembered that I’m pregnant.

We spent the morning at the beach, wearing Rachel out so that she and Naanii could go back to the condo for a nice afternoon nap while Andrew and I went on our snorkeling trip.

Andrew was so jittery while we were waiting at the dive center. I don’t know if I was visibly nervous since I can’t see myself, but Andrew was obviously edgy. He couldn’t even remember his shoe size when it came time to pick out our flippers and mask.

Granted, they wanted to know his European shoe size, but still. I couldn’t remember his shoe size, either. I used to know what size of shoes he wore, both in European and North American sizes, but I have too much to remember to keep that information near and dear to my heart. I figure he’s a big boy and can keep track of his own feet, which don’t grow, while I try to remember what size of shoes Rachel needs. We’re constantly moving her shoes into the “it fat* yesterday” pile and it’s all I can do to keep up with her.

He wears a 40-42, we found out. At least in flipper size. I’m not sure how well that translates into shoe size, but when I asked for my size (36-38) the flippers fit perfectly, so apparently it’s pretty accurate.

After we tried on our equipment, we sat and dithered a while longer while the two other couples who had booked the same trip as us backed out. We ended up getting the whole boat to ourselves, besides the captain and our guide.

We took a little dingy from the shore out to a larger boat. I almost laughed when they told us to climb from the dingy over the railing of the big ship to get on deck, but I heaved my huge belly on board, anyway, and then we sped off away from the mainland, watching somewhat torpidly as the people, trees, and beach umbrellas faded off into the distance. As if that wasn’t enough to shake up these two mainlanders, the water had the gall to turn a brilliant, beautiful blue, proving to us how deep it was.

It was so beautiful that by the time we reached the reef, we were pretty excited to jump in. We put on our flippers and mask and practiced breathing for a minute before taking the plunge. Breathing in was easy enough, as long as you remembered to always breathe through your mouth. Breathing out was a little more difficult since you have to exhale and clear any water out of the snorkel so you end up breathing out in short, powerful blasts. I felt like a whale the whole time, spouting out a column of water and air every time a wave washed over me.

I was a little embarrassed that they threw the life ring to me to carry around while we swam since I’m a pretty strong swimmer, but I was glad to have it in the end. I guess they were worried about me because I was pregnant, and pregnancy really does take a toll on one’s endurance. I got tired of battling waves pretty fast and my feet kept cramping up from having to be pointed for so long. When I had had enough, the guide half-towed me back to the boat because I wasn’t swimming fast enough for him and then offered me a bed in the cabin, which I didn’t take.

Aside from pregnancy complaints, though, it was an amazing experience. Kind of surreal, like how I imagine going to the moon would be—a completely foreign view of our world.

The fish were looking at us all curiously and we were looking back at them with the same look of awe, I’m sure. We felt like we were thrown into Finding Nemo. We saw clownfish (anemonefish), angelfish, and even some blue tang (which are also known as dory fish, making Dory’s name on Finding Nemo rather ironic since no one ever seems to know what kind of fish Dory is. She’s a dory). We also saw some carpet fish, several kinds of butterfly fish (including lined, chevron, bannerfish and raccoon), Forster's hawkfish, Emporer’s angelfish, and Arabian surgeonfish.

The coral reef, itself, was an amazing conglomeration of color and shape with varying kinds of urchins and anemones nestled in crevices of the brain and branching fire coral. The vibrant and flashy fish were darting in and out of the coral and anemones. The big, ugly fish were slowly swimming on the ocean floor. It was amazing. We even got brave enough to dive below the surface to get a closer look at things.

We swam through schools of small silvery fish and swarms of moon jellyfish. The fish avoided us, but the jellyfish are at the mercy of the current and could do nothing to avoid hitting us. They’re much more solid than they look and feel more like silicon than jelly. The small ones are barely noticeable when they bump up against you, but the big ones get quite heavy and crash into you with considerable force. Not enough to hurt, really, but enough to surprise you with how heavy and solid they are.

They’re completely benign—we were poking them back and forth at each other in the water and on shore people pick them up and throw them at each other like balls—but it was still so strange to swim through a whole swarm of them. We are so conditioned to fear jellyfish, and while there were a few “dangerous” jellyfish lurking about they never got close enough to be alarming.

I don’t think we would ever have wanted to leave if we both didn’t get headaches from breathing funny and tired from fighting against the sea. Poor Andrew also got completely fried. For some reason he decided to take off his “beach shirt” but I didn’t put sunscreen on his back before we left because he was wearing his “beach shirt.” Andrew doesn’t touch sunscreen, see, so I basically have to tackle him just to smear sunscreen on his face.

We were out swimming by the coral reef for over two hours, belly down the whole time. From the back, Andrew looks like a lobster, but he’s still smiling.

Now we’re tempted to get scuba certified…. We had so much fun on our little snorkeling adventure, we couldn’t help but think of what else we could do and see with some more training and practice…and equipment. Obviously this will have to wait until I’m not pregnant and we have more money to spend on things like this…

*Otherwise translated as “too small.” Once Andrew accidentally used “fat” as the past tense of “fit” and we’ve been saying it ever since. Especially in the context of “it fat yesterday.” I believe those were his exact words when he made that error. It’s been years, but we don’t let these things slide by in our family. Because we think they’re hilarious.

In other news...

My mom's cousin was gored to death by a buffalo while out for a Sunday morning stroll.

He was 71, which is plenty old enough to have died by other less exciting means. I think if you're going to die, having an exciting story to share about it is nice consolation. Not that it's ever nice to have anyone die...or that it lessens the grief of his wife and children and siblings and friends.

Still, I think Grandpa Conrad would have been a little jealous that Keith died "with his boots on." When your death is mentioned in the entertainment section of the newspaper? Well, that's just got to be better than dying of boring old cancer.

The Pyramids with Naanii

“Let’s just hang out around here today and go to the pyramids on Sunday. I. can’t. move.” I whispered to Andrew, who gave me a kiss and promised me we could do anything I wanted because he’s one of those wonderful, obliging husbands. Or he just doesn't dare cross me when I'm pregnant.

It was like waking up at 8:00 in the morning was going to kill me. Ironically, I was feeling much better strep-wise; I was just tired from the day before because we did a ton yesterday.

So we got up and announced that we would be staying home, unless I started feeling better. I showered, and we had breakfast, and we relaxed. And then I said,

“Actually, I feel pretty good now. Anyone still want to go to the pyramids?”

We left for the pyramids in the middle of the day. Potentially this was a very bad idea because it’s usually hotter out in Giza by the pyramids. The pyramids are right on the edge of the city—there are buildings leading right up to the gate of the pyramid complex—but beyond the pyramids is nothing but sand, sand, and more hot sand.

My mom was a little wary about going out to the pyramids so late in the day; we all had our doubts, I’m sure, especially when we stepped out from the “cool” stairwell into the blazing hot late-morning street.

It ended up being a perfect day and time to go, though. There was a nice cool breeze flirting around the pyramids, which was very refreshing. It wasn’t a strong enough breeze to whip sand into our faces or make our hair go too crazy, just enough to cool us off. We were completely expecting it to be several degrees hotter out there than in Maadi, where we’re kept shaded by trees. It might have been hotter, but the temperature was tolerable and the breeze only made it that more pleasant.

Still, we were happy to go sit in a restaurant, lunching for an hour or so, in air conditioned bliss before getting in a hot taxi to come home.

I’m glad that I started feeling better, because Rachel has this amazing memory. She’s not one of those out-of-sight-out-of-mind children and can be quite difficult to distract. You’d think after sleeping a whole night she’d forget that we told her we’d be visiting the pyramids and sphinx the next day. But no. Not her. She remembered. Of course.

She talked all through breakfast about camels and how she rode one once and was telling Naanii what they say. When she had spilled all her knowledge of camels on the floor she started talking about the pyramids and how big they are. Then she started begging to ride a camel when we go to the pyramids. Yes, at breakfast. She started begging then, which meant that she got to beg for them for a long time.

When we actually got to the pyramids, though, and she saw camels and remembered how absolutely huge, grotesque, and scary they are, and how she once peed her pants in fright (literally) while on a camel, she quickly got over that idea and spent the whole time scream/crying/wailing,

“I’m scared! I’m scared! I’m scared!”

We didn’t do any camel rides today, which Naanii was fine with. She rode an elephant once at the San Diego Zoo (or somewhere); I never knew that. Camels are nothing compared to elephants, I guess.

*Sigh.* I want to ride an elephant one day.

Naanii was excited to touch the pyramids, though, and to get to sit on some of the stones. Rachel was insisting that, not only was she petrified of camels, she was also deathly afraid of pyramids, so she had a hard time approaching them.

Rachel was excited to see this donkey, for some reason. She used to be afraid of donkeys, but she was fine going up to this one (although, not too close). She said he was Eeyore and started making donkey noises at him. Or at least, she was saying “hee-haw.” It’s a good thing the donkey didn’t bray back at her or he probably would have given her nightmares for a week!

We like to walk to the farther pyramids because you get more of a personal experience with the pyramids. I’m not sure why we feel we need personal, one-on-one time with these big slabs of granite, but we do. I guess we just like to get away from the crowds at Kufru’s pyramid since that’s where tour buses dump their thronging mobs of picture takers. We spend most of our time at Khafre’s (the one “in front of” the sphinx) and Menkaure’s (the smallest one) pyramids.

Even with the cool breeze, we were finished with the pyramids after an hour or so, so we started the walk to the Sphinx. On the way, Rachel and Andrew had us stop to take their picture standing on this rock in front of Khafre’s pyramid. Rachel dubbed it “Camel Rock.”

She’s been watching a bit of The Land Before Time recently and thinks that everything needs a name, often a very obvious, descriptive name. Like Camel Rock. Why? Because there were camels all around while she was naming it, of course.

Mom was at first very willing to “kiss” the Sphinx…until I kept messing up the shot and made her stand there for a few minutes until I got a picture that turned out alright. I probably took 5 or 6 pictures…she started to get a little embarrassed since so many people were walking by.

When we were finished we crossed the street and went to Pizza Hut for lunch (Andrew’s pick; no surprises there). We sat by a window looking over the pyramid complex. From our high vantage point, we also got to see a funeral procession walk by. Also we saw a 10-year-old waiter stick a ketchup bottle up his nose while carrying it over to a customer and later saw him trip down the stairs carrying two trays full of empty wrappers. We were very glad that we chose to eat at Pizza Hut and not KFC since this little boy was employed by KFC. I realize that Egypt doesn't really have labor laws to prohibit a 10-year-old from working, but I'm pretty sure KFC does. Who knows?

Then we had to catch a taxi home, which was a little tricky since no one wanted to take us for the price we wanted and everyone we found who said they were taxi drivers didn’t actually own a taxi. Eventually we did find a driver and had a smooth and air conditioned ride home…in a black and white taxi. That never happens, but the driver had a newer car that was actually equipped with A/C and he stopped to buy some delicious looking mangoes on the side of the road. I guess he didn’t want them to spoil, so he asked us to roll up the windows and cranked on the A/C. It was a very pleasant ride.

When we got home we all took long afternoon naps and lived happily ever after!