Our Apartment

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

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

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

Rachel ordering some water

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

Dining room

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



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

Our bedroom

Rachel's bedroom

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

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



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

What's cookin'?

The kitchen is for short people only

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

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

Rachel: Life on Parade

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mom, take me back!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweets, for baby. Is good.”

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

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

House Hunting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The landlord dropped his price.

We waited longer.

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

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

“What do you think?” he asked.

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

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

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

Luggage carts

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow things didn't add up.

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

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

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

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

"You need help..." 

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

"I will just help..."

"Really, I can do it..." 

"Let me take your cart..."

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

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

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

Finally I couldn't stand it any more. 

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

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

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

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

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

Bumps, Bruises and Burgers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel reading with Megan, Jacob, and Sam

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

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

Why are we taking pictures? Just take me home!

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

Walking with Mommy

Sleepy girl

Getting Here

We spent the first few hours at the Salt Lake Airport playing at the “playground,” which in this case was just an area with a bunch of blocks and toys. Whoever invented such a space should be awarded a Nobel prize.

This was the first time in quite a few weeks that Rachel has had both room to play and toys to play with. Our house has been cluttered with boxes and her toys have slowly been disappearing, which was quite distressing to her.

(Side story) At one point in my packing, Rachel got out a box of her own, put one of her favorite books, I love trains, inside, along with some of her favorite toys. Then she closed the lid of the box, sat down, and started to cry. It was as if she was saying, “Fine, mom! Just get rid of it all!” It was so sad. I assured her she could take her favorite toys with us and unpacked them for her. It’s been difficult to watch her be so stressed out about everything.

So it was nice to be able to just let her play. No one was crying. No one was trying to hold her. No one was telling her to “not touch” or that she was in the way. She just played her little heart out.

She went on several walks to the drinking fountain and looked at the planes on the way. I think that she finally understood, in her own little way, what an airplane was. We talked about them a lot. She likes to look at them when they’re in the sky. She’ll point at them and get all excited, but they really look quite a bit different from the ground. They’re huge!

We told her that we were going to go on one and fly away. She watched them take off and waved bye-bye to them. At least she understood that they were going away. (We spent the drive to Grandma’s house saying bye-bye to everything: the house, the trees, the mountains, they playground, Target, the library, Macey’s, etc.) So she knew we were going to get on an airplane and go bye-bye.

She was so excited when we were boarding. Daddy told her she could touch the plane, so she did, just as we were going through the doors. She quickly made friends with the seatmates in front and behind us and then settled in for the ride.

She was the best baby! She’d been up since around 5:45 AM, so she just nursed while we were taking off and fell asleep for almost an hour. When she woke up, she spent her time looking out the window and playing with some of the toys we’d brought for her. She colored pictures and read books and played peek-a-boo with the lady behind us. She was a great baby.

We hit some turbulence just before landing in Chicago. Rachel thought it was the ride of her life! She was giggling out of control and clapping her hands. When we’d get steady again she’d bop back and forth, which means that she wants to do it again/go faster. We’d hit some more turbulence and she’d dissolved into a fit of giggles. She had everyone around us laughing, too.

While we were taxi-ing, Andrew and I made a game plan for our arrival. We knew Chicago was going to be tricky. It always seems to be tricky.

When we flew to Jordan I remember running through the airport, lugging my suitcase, and almost crying. We barely made it onto the plane.

This would be dejavu. We had only a half hour to gather our things and catch our flight. And we didn’t even have our tickets yet!

We decided that Andrew would grab all the carry on bags, and I would take Rachel and the diaper bag. We raced off the plane, opened up her jogging stroller, threw her in it (ignoring her temper tantrum) and made a break for it. We had to go from terminal 2 to terminal 1 so we had to use the underground passageway. We ignored the moving sidewalks and just ran through, passing everyone.

When we resurfaced at terminal 1, they were just paging our plane. We barreled down the hall towards our gate, B16, and immediately got in line for our boarding passes.

That was a headache. Apparently we were supposed to exit the secured area of the airport, go to the Lufthansa desk, have them issue our tickets, go back through security, and then find our gate.

We didn’t have time to do that, so the guy at the desk just gave us our boarding passes and told us to cut it front of everyone else because we had a baby. We did that, but then weren’t allowed on the plane because we didn’t have tickets. So we waited, letting everyone we had just cut in front of go in front of us, while he looked up our ticket numbers.

When we got back in line and handed them our information they still wouldn’t let us on because our stroller wasn’t tagged properly.

Breathlessly, we entered the plane. I swear we were almost the last three people on, but I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered if we were the last few on the plane as long as we got on the plane, which we did.

After taking off, a flight attendant asked the lady in the seat beside us to move to a different seat so that Rachel could have her own seat. We couldn’t have been happier, especially since Rachel decided that this was a party plane.

I don’t really know where she got that idea since the lights were off and everyone was trying to sleep… Rachel entertained herself by climbing from mom, across the open seat to dad, and back again; playing a variation of tag with the people sitting behind us where she’d stick her arm out on either side or above the chair and they’d “try” to grab it; eating; playing with her toys; etc.

The only nap she took on the plane was after one of two horrific experiences in which she turned into a fountain of poop. Right during dinner. It was just cascading down her legs, so Andrew had to take her to the restroom, while I sponged myself off with baby wipes, maneuvering around the carts of food and showing off our disgusting baby to everyone trying to eat their meals. When he got to the restroom, he realized that he didn’t have the baby wipes because I was using them to clean off my lap. He also chose a stall without a baby changing table, so he balanced Rachel on the toilet seat (gross) and used wet toilet paper to sponge her off.

While he was back there the plane got a little bumpy and Rachel fell off the toilet seat and her head got wedged between the toilet and the counter. I could hear her screaming and we were like 10 rows away from the restrooms!

He shoved her clothes in a motion sickness bag and brought them back to me and then we sponged Rachel off with some baby wipes. I nursed her, and she fell asleep…for twenty minutes.

Then she was up and at it again. The whole night long. Fortunately she was happy, for the most part, and the only other horrific experience was when laughed so hard she threw up. And she had eaten a lot. Like 2 bottles of juice and some milk and…a lot. (Ew. But much better than incident #1).

The flight wasn’t really that bad. Just long and unrestful. In the morning when they were serving breakfast, I was nursing Rachel when the flight attendant walked by.

“Is she finally sleeping?” she whispered.

I laughed and shook my head no when Rachel stuck her little hand out from under the blanket and gave a little wave.

She fell asleep for the last half hour of the flight and was awake the whole time we were in the Frankfurt airport, still relatively happy.

Boarding our last flight went off without a hitch. We had three hours to make that flight, so we weren’t really worried about it. They gave Rachel a coloring book and some pencil crayons soon after we were seated and she wanted to use them right away. I opened them up and let her color for a while. Soon I tried to convince her that she needed to sleep. I needed to sleep.

Daddy got the most sleep out of anybody, I think. Rachel was fine to let Daddy sleep while Mommy played with her, but if Mommy tried to sleep, she kept getting poked/hugged/etc. by Rachel, who always wanted Mommy to see what she was doing.

(As Daddy explained to Rachel this morning (at 6 AM) while I was napping, “You can play with Mommy not watching. It’s okay.”)

The only way I was going to get to sleep was if Rachel was, too. I tried to take the pencil crayons away and she valiantly fought against me. Many tears were shed on her part, but she fell asleep like 5 minutes later and slept, seriously, through the whole flight. That’s 4 hours. 4 glorious hours.

Unfortunately, I didn’t sleep because the seats were uncomfortable and I couldn’t put it back for some reason and Andrew was already asleep so he couldn’t help me and I had a hot, sweaty baby on me…but at least she slept!

Which is what I’m going to go do right now. Tune in next time to hear about how Rachel becomes a victim of her own stubbornness.

واهلا مصر

After a crazy layover in Chicago where we almost didn't make the plane, an eight hour trans-Atlantic flight in which Rachel decided sleeping was for losers, and a four hour flight from Frankfurt to Chicago Cairo in which Rachel changed her mind about the social status of babies who sleep on planes, we made it!

Now to go find some money and food...

مع السلامة امريكا

Well, here we are...our last few moments on the American continent for who knows how long. Truthfully, leaving the country doesn't bother me as much as leaving our family behind, but there are still some things I'll miss about living here.

Grass, for one thing. I like grass. And friends, and family, and little comfort things like peanut butter and normal cheese. But, we'll adjust. Life everywhere is normal. People live everywhere. Therefore we could, hypothetically, live anywhere. It just takes some time to accept that lifestyle as normal.

We're looking forward to being back in the Middle East again. I love listening to the Call to Prayer. And the falafel shops all over the place. And camel crossing signs.

As odd as this sounds, Andrew and I both knew we would be back in Cairo at some point in time. We absolutely loved being there. The weather was perfectly not-too-hot, the sky was relatively clear, and our hotel was amazing. We found Cairo to be beautiful and intriguing. In short, we loved it.

We talked about coming back after we visited the branch on Friday. We knew then that we'd be back.

I think that was the Lord's way of preparing me to go. He knew we'd be back, so he made sure to make Cairo as beautiful to us as possible...so that we'd want to go back (not everyone enjoyed it as much as we did, apparently).

Since coming back to the States, we've planned our lives around going back, even though we didn't know when or why we'd be back. Every purchase that we've made, every little thing that we've done did not happen without thinking of moving back to Egypt at least once.

It's been remarkable how everything has happened to get us to this point. We definitely see the Lord's hand in our lives. With the financial aid that we've received and the people we've been able to meet and how everything has worked out...there is no way this is coincidental. We know this is where we're supposed to be.

We've both been rather in control of our emotions, unlike last time we moved to the Middle East. I don't think I ever lost it quite as badly as I did when we moved to Jordan. I was a complete basket case then. I've held together fairly well this time, which is definitely a blessing.

Anyway, before I get too sappy, I'll just say that we're so excited to be off on our adventure.

Now for a Rachel story... (how's that for a subject change?)

We've decided to take pictures of our child(ren) in front of a special landmark by each of our places of residence. In this case, it was the sign outside of our apartment complex.

We took Rachel down to the sign and got all ready to take a picture of her. Andrew went and set her in the grass; I was the one with the camera. Getting a picture of Rachel was difficult. She wouldn't smile or look at us and she kept whining and trying to climb up the wall.


After getting a few awkward pictures, I went to go get her.

Andrew had set her down in a little patch of thistles in her bare feet! Silly Daddy!

Olympic Packers, we are

If suitcase packing were an Olympic event, we'd for sure earn gold.

We started training about a month ago, setting aside things we thought we'd like to take. Then about a week ago we got really serious, actually putting things in suitcases and weighing things.

We would weigh ourselves on a bathroom scale and then get back on holding a suitcase. That proved rather inaccurate, but it gave us a general idea of how much stuff we had waiting to be packed. First we were using Andrew to hold the suitcases while I bent over and looked at the number, but then we switched roles. I'm now just over 100 lbs. (yahoo! I'm not in the 90s anymore!) so it was easier to tell if we had reached 50 lbs. or not. With Andrew we kept messing up our math.

A few weeks ago we had decided to just eat the $155 fee for an extra bag. On Sunday we decided to eat the $310 fee for two extra bags. Have you ever tried to cram your life into 100 lbs.? Babies require a lot of stuff--and we're going for two years...

So we had way too much stuff. We began to feel like pioneers. We opened up our suitcases, dumped them on the floor, and started weeding through our stuff, taking only what was absolutely essential. I don't know why I feel so hard done by since we're each taking 100 lbs. and the pioneers could only take 15 lbs.

After packing and weighing and repacking and weighing several times, with the world record line chasing us all the way, we decided it was time to invest in a luggage scale. We were going for accuracy and a luggage scale is far more accurate than trying to balance on a bathroom scale holding something half your weight. Plus, Radio Shack sells them for like $2. Awesome.


And so, with 11 hours to go, we are completely packed up and have loaded our suitcases into the van. We're both feeling relaxed and excited and nervous and sad and anxious and happy and afraid. I suppose that's how most Olympians feel.

Playground Extraveganza

We went to visit my family late this afternoon. Since we had all eaten late lunches and since Rachel has been wanting to go to the park for quite some time (we didn't go yesterday, so it's been more than 24 hours; Rachel thinks that's too long) we decided to take her to the playground one more time instead of having dinner.

She couldn't have been happier.

She went down the big twirly slide, first with Grammy, and then by herself. She wasn't too sure if she liked going by herself or not, but we kept sending her down, anyway. Auntie Josie took her down a few times and Grammy a few more times. She seemed to be happiest when she was riding on someone's lap as opposed to flying solo.

Static Hair!

Slow this thing down!

She sat in the sand with Uncle Patrick and they got all dirty together. Rachel put a few handfuls of sand on her head and she got a few in her mouth. I don't know what it is about sand but I just can't keep it out of her mouth!


Rachel had a fun time with Daddy, too.


He let her try out the monkey bars and jumped up at her and Auntie Josie, making her giggle with delight!

Uncle David came to the park after we had all been playing, which was rather nice. We were all hot and tired but Rachel was still going strong. I think we were starting to bore her, but then Uncle David came along and tossed her in the air.


I hope Rachel enjoyed herself. That will be her last playground adventure in quite a while.