Hi guys!
Okay, this is a most tardy blog entry. Everyone still remember me? Skinny white boy? No shoes? Speaks Arabic? Lives in Egypt? Sound familiar?
Lately I've gotten a few subtle reminders that I haven't updated this thing in FOREVER. Okay, a few not so subtle reminders as well. You know who you are! :)
Things here have started to turn chilly. Today was 30 degrees (86 for the Americans), and I was FREEZING! That may not sound like much to you, but trust me! When you're used to 45 (American translation - 110), 30 is really cold. I've started wondering what it's going to be like when I get back to the States in December. I think I'm going to have to go buy some new clothes! Or at least steal some from my dad. I've given him enough hand me downs over the last few years that I think I could justifiably pilfer some of his clothes without my conscience bugging me too much! :)
I had a nice time in Cairo a few weeks ago. A friend came from the States for a business meeting, and was going to be in Cairo for a day. Yes, ONE day. It was a long time traveling for only one day with a friend, but it was totally worth it. It was also really good to get out of the town that I live in for a little while. I spent some time at the American University in Cairo with my friend while she had her meeting. It was nice to be around a group of educated, intelligent, refined, cultured young Egyptians. I've realized recently that I hang out with a pretty narrow section of the population; uneducated fishermen and sailors. Honestly, not exactly the best and brightest. It's been really easy to judge the entire culture based on my narrow experience. I think it took that trip to Cairo to confront the judgment and, well . . . racism that I've been nurturing. It was not pleasant to see, but definitely good to see.
My trip to the States is slowly getting closer and closer. It's still over a month and a half away, but it's close enough that I've started counting days. Part of me want to forget that the trip is coming. The whole "watched pot never boils" thing. But the rest of me is excited and full of anticipation. I've been having all of these western food cravings lately. My mom's carrot cake (you're baking me one by the way . . . and I am NOT sharing!), pumpkin bread (you know who you are :), mac and cheese, a really nice salad, club sandwich, fajitas (okay, that one's not really American food), and chicken noodle soup. The list is actually a lot longer, but I'm making myself hungry as I write and don't feel like torturing myself.
Unger, can't wait to see you man. We've got to go climb something when I'm back. If I still remember how, that is! :)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Unlikely Philosopher . . .
I had an unexpected conversation with a friend a few nights ago. I was talking to a local bedouin that I've known for the last year or so. Out of all the Egyptians that I know, he's probably my closest friend.
Anyway, we were having tea at a local coffee shop with a group of fisherman. He pulled me aside and told me something. He said, "I've known you for a long time now, and I know that you try to be everyone's friend. But you can't, because not everyone is respectable."
It was an unexpected nugget of wisdom from an unlikely source. Truth be told, I don't really know why it struck me the way it did. It's actually a total no-brainer when you think about it. But it made quite an impact on me when my friend said it. It was a freeing moment, like getting permission to be genuine.
Anyway, we were having tea at a local coffee shop with a group of fisherman. He pulled me aside and told me something. He said, "I've known you for a long time now, and I know that you try to be everyone's friend. But you can't, because not everyone is respectable."
It was an unexpected nugget of wisdom from an unlikely source. Truth be told, I don't really know why it struck me the way it did. It's actually a total no-brainer when you think about it. But it made quite an impact on me when my friend said it. It was a freeing moment, like getting permission to be genuine.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Gher mouteH
Hey guys,
Okay, so the words "gher mouteH" in Arabic basically mean "not in service." It's the recording you hear if you call someone and their mobile is off.
I think I've been gher mouteH by accident for the last week or so. I've been having some troubles with my email for the last few days. So if you wrote to me during the last week and I haven't written you back, I'm not ignoring you. I promise :) If you don't hear from me, try my other email account (jenson.de@gmail.com). But do keep in mind that while my other email account is secure, gmail is not. So that being said, use a bit of discretion in what you write.
Matt's up in Cairo for a few days. It's the perfect chance to be lazy and kick back. But I was incredibly motivated this morning and decided to clean the whole flat. It was actually a funny moment. I had been listening to a podcast from a pastor in the States. Matt and I usually listen to his podcast together on Saturday evening. There's no church service here in a language I understand, so listening to the podcast is the closest Matt and I come to church. Anyway, our schedules have been out of sync for the last week or so, and we haven't had a chance to listen to the podcast together. So today I decided to listen on my own. The pastor was railing against lazy, passive men. I think I felt like being active and productive because of his sermon. So the most productive thing I could find to do was clean the house and do my laundry.
It made me chuckle. Probably not the most "manly" thing I've ever done, but necessary nonetheless.
The pastor's sermon was actually pretty good. He was talking about how men are to be defined by what they produce rather than what they consume. It flies in the face of what the advertising industry says. Hey, it even got me to clean the house! :)
Okay, so the words "gher mouteH" in Arabic basically mean "not in service." It's the recording you hear if you call someone and their mobile is off.
I think I've been gher mouteH by accident for the last week or so. I've been having some troubles with my email for the last few days. So if you wrote to me during the last week and I haven't written you back, I'm not ignoring you. I promise :) If you don't hear from me, try my other email account (jenson.de@gmail.com). But do keep in mind that while my other email account is secure, gmail is not. So that being said, use a bit of discretion in what you write.
Matt's up in Cairo for a few days. It's the perfect chance to be lazy and kick back. But I was incredibly motivated this morning and decided to clean the whole flat. It was actually a funny moment. I had been listening to a podcast from a pastor in the States. Matt and I usually listen to his podcast together on Saturday evening. There's no church service here in a language I understand, so listening to the podcast is the closest Matt and I come to church. Anyway, our schedules have been out of sync for the last week or so, and we haven't had a chance to listen to the podcast together. So today I decided to listen on my own. The pastor was railing against lazy, passive men. I think I felt like being active and productive because of his sermon. So the most productive thing I could find to do was clean the house and do my laundry.
It made me chuckle. Probably not the most "manly" thing I've ever done, but necessary nonetheless.
The pastor's sermon was actually pretty good. He was talking about how men are to be defined by what they produce rather than what they consume. It flies in the face of what the advertising industry says. Hey, it even got me to clean the house! :)
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Black Honey
Two nights ago I went to the theater and watched my first Arabic movie. It was called "Asal Essoued," which means "Black Honey." It's the story of a guy who's born in Egypt, then emigrates to the States with his father when he's about ten years old. He spends the next twenty years in the States, and winds up working as a photographer. (This is all back-story)
The film opens with him arriving in Egypt on a plane. He's got both an Egyptian passport and an American passport, but only brought his Egyptian passport with him. He's expecting a warm welcome as an Egyptian coming back home, but he gets taken advantage of at every turn. Finally he calls a friend back in the States and tells him to mail him his American passport. When it finally arrives, he throws away his Egyptian passport. He spends the next few hours walking around, being arrogant and flashing his passport around. He finally mouths off to the wrong guy, and a group of young men beat him up and take away his passport.
With no money, phone, or passport, he decides to try and find his childhood home. He manages to find the place, only to be attacked by the neighbors who think he's a thief. There are several hilarious jokes stemming from the fact that his name is Masri. Masri is a common male name here, but it also means "Egyptian." So when he's trying to tell his neighbors who he is, they think he's trying to tell them that he's an Egyptian. It's a lot funnier in Arabic.
He gets taken in by his neighbors, and lives with them for a while. He spends a lot of time trying to get back to the States, with no success. He finally manages to get his American passport back, and boards a plane for the States. But just as the plane is taking off, he decides that he really wants to stay in Egypt. So he fakes a heart attack and gets the plane to turn around.
All in all, it's a pretty funny movie. I was a little worried about going to see an Arabic film because I didn't know how much of the dialogue I would understand. I definitely didn't understand it all, but I got enough to understand the movie. It was a lot of fun!
The film opens with him arriving in Egypt on a plane. He's got both an Egyptian passport and an American passport, but only brought his Egyptian passport with him. He's expecting a warm welcome as an Egyptian coming back home, but he gets taken advantage of at every turn. Finally he calls a friend back in the States and tells him to mail him his American passport. When it finally arrives, he throws away his Egyptian passport. He spends the next few hours walking around, being arrogant and flashing his passport around. He finally mouths off to the wrong guy, and a group of young men beat him up and take away his passport.
With no money, phone, or passport, he decides to try and find his childhood home. He manages to find the place, only to be attacked by the neighbors who think he's a thief. There are several hilarious jokes stemming from the fact that his name is Masri. Masri is a common male name here, but it also means "Egyptian." So when he's trying to tell his neighbors who he is, they think he's trying to tell them that he's an Egyptian. It's a lot funnier in Arabic.
He gets taken in by his neighbors, and lives with them for a while. He spends a lot of time trying to get back to the States, with no success. He finally manages to get his American passport back, and boards a plane for the States. But just as the plane is taking off, he decides that he really wants to stay in Egypt. So he fakes a heart attack and gets the plane to turn around.
All in all, it's a pretty funny movie. I was a little worried about going to see an Arabic film because I didn't know how much of the dialogue I would understand. I definitely didn't understand it all, but I got enough to understand the movie. It was a lot of fun!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Interesting experience . . .
Hey guys,
I had an interesting experience the other night that would never have happened in the States. Well, maybe it might happen in a really small town, but nowhere that I've ever lived. I was buying a pair of pants from a store near my house. The owner and I agreed on a price. I took out my wallet to pay, only to realize that I didn't have enough money with me. The guy who owns the store told me, "No problem. Just take the pants now, and you can give me the rest of the money when you've got it."
I went straight home, got the rest of the money, then went back and paid. I figured the longer I waited before paying, the more likely it was that we were going to disagree on how much I owed him. As I was walking back to the store, I realized something. This would never have happened in the States. It's not even like the owner and I are friends, he just sees me walking down the street every now and then.
I had an interesting experience the other night that would never have happened in the States. Well, maybe it might happen in a really small town, but nowhere that I've ever lived. I was buying a pair of pants from a store near my house. The owner and I agreed on a price. I took out my wallet to pay, only to realize that I didn't have enough money with me. The guy who owns the store told me, "No problem. Just take the pants now, and you can give me the rest of the money when you've got it."
I went straight home, got the rest of the money, then went back and paid. I figured the longer I waited before paying, the more likely it was that we were going to disagree on how much I owed him. As I was walking back to the store, I realized something. This would never have happened in the States. It's not even like the owner and I are friends, he just sees me walking down the street every now and then.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Poetic Justice . . .
Okay guys, here's a story from last night.
I was walking down the street at around ten o'clock at night. A tourist and his wife were walking down the street a little ways in front of me. Two egyptian boys (probably in their early teens) were riding their bike down the street coming towards me. As they passed the couple, one of the boys reached out and tried to touch the girl. She jumped and screamed.
So as the boys rode past me, I pushed their bike over. They looked up at me with a surprised expression, and I started lecturing them. "What? You don't like it when someone gets in your way? It's not okay if someone touches you when you're going down the street?" I was about as sarcastic and mocking as I can manage in Arabic. After I finished, they rode off on their bike. I heard them laughing as they rode away.
It was a nice moment of poetic justice :)
I was walking down the street at around ten o'clock at night. A tourist and his wife were walking down the street a little ways in front of me. Two egyptian boys (probably in their early teens) were riding their bike down the street coming towards me. As they passed the couple, one of the boys reached out and tried to touch the girl. She jumped and screamed.
So as the boys rode past me, I pushed their bike over. They looked up at me with a surprised expression, and I started lecturing them. "What? You don't like it when someone gets in your way? It's not okay if someone touches you when you're going down the street?" I was about as sarcastic and mocking as I can manage in Arabic. After I finished, they rode off on their bike. I heard them laughing as they rode away.
It was a nice moment of poetic justice :)
Monday, July 26, 2010
Story
Hey guys,
I was hanging out with a friend last night, and he told me a folk story from his tribe. You ready for it?
So there was this guy who was really strong. He used to live in the mountains, and his whole tribe was afraid of him. He used to come down the mountain, pick up a camel, then throw it on top of the mountain. Then he would climb back up the mountain and eat the camel. If he saw a camel that he wanted, he just took it.
Finally the men in his tribe get together and decide that they had to do something before this guy eats all of their camels. So they decide to send six young women from the tribe up the mountain for him to sleep with them. So he does. The first one dies, then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth. The only one who survives is the sixth. But she stumbles back down the mountain, and she's in pretty rough shape. Then the guy comes down the mountain. He's hungry and he wants a camel.
So he picks up a camel and throws it on top of the mountain. But when he does, he breaks his back. So all of the men in the tribe come and beat him to death.
So I guess the moral of the story is don't throw camels on top of mountains! Actually, he told me that this is a story that they tell to young men if they start running after women. Kind of an interesting story, huh?
I was hanging out with a friend last night, and he told me a folk story from his tribe. You ready for it?
So there was this guy who was really strong. He used to live in the mountains, and his whole tribe was afraid of him. He used to come down the mountain, pick up a camel, then throw it on top of the mountain. Then he would climb back up the mountain and eat the camel. If he saw a camel that he wanted, he just took it.
Finally the men in his tribe get together and decide that they had to do something before this guy eats all of their camels. So they decide to send six young women from the tribe up the mountain for him to sleep with them. So he does. The first one dies, then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth. The only one who survives is the sixth. But she stumbles back down the mountain, and she's in pretty rough shape. Then the guy comes down the mountain. He's hungry and he wants a camel.
So he picks up a camel and throws it on top of the mountain. But when he does, he breaks his back. So all of the men in the tribe come and beat him to death.
So I guess the moral of the story is don't throw camels on top of mountains! Actually, he told me that this is a story that they tell to young men if they start running after women. Kind of an interesting story, huh?
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Funny story . . .
Okay guys, I just had a random experience happen and I'm not sure whether I should be offended or complimented
A bit of cultural background first. Nobody walks on the sidewalks in Egypt. Everyone walks in the street. In fact, the only people who walk on the sidewalks are tourists. For some reason Egyptian sidewalks are really high, and it's just simpler to walk in the street. So, it's an easy way to spot a tourist. That being said . . .
I was wearing my galabiya and sidari (a vest that a southern bedouin tribe wears, a very recent gift from a friend) and walking down the street. It was pretty dark on the street. A taxi came down the road behind me, and a European man stuck his head out the passenger window and screamed, "get out of the road you f---ing farmer!" (I'll leave the blanks to your imagination) I just stood there in the street for a moment, kind of lost for words. My first reaction was, "you're not in your country, man." But I decided to take it as a compliment, and walked off with a smug grin on my face. I think this is the first time I've been mistaken for an Egyptian.
A bit of cultural background first. Nobody walks on the sidewalks in Egypt. Everyone walks in the street. In fact, the only people who walk on the sidewalks are tourists. For some reason Egyptian sidewalks are really high, and it's just simpler to walk in the street. So, it's an easy way to spot a tourist. That being said . . .
I was wearing my galabiya and sidari (a vest that a southern bedouin tribe wears, a very recent gift from a friend) and walking down the street. It was pretty dark on the street. A taxi came down the road behind me, and a European man stuck his head out the passenger window and screamed, "get out of the road you f---ing farmer!" (I'll leave the blanks to your imagination) I just stood there in the street for a moment, kind of lost for words. My first reaction was, "you're not in your country, man." But I decided to take it as a compliment, and walked off with a smug grin on my face. I think this is the first time I've been mistaken for an Egyptian.
Odd combination . . .
Hey guys,
So, I've got a friend who works at one of the hotels in town making bedouin coffee. He's from a small village in the south of the country, and is a pretty cool guy. I hang out with him every few days. I was visiting him a couple of nights ago, sitting on the ground, leaning on a camel saddle, slowly roasting coffee beans over a fire. If you closed your eyes, you'd feel like you were in the middle of the desert. It was a wonderful time.
Anyway, I spent a few hours with him, then was heading back to my place. I heard some music, and I could tell it was a live band. The drums are always the give-away for me. Anyway, I wandered over and found a band from New Zealand playing in front of the hotel. I stood and watched them for a while, then headed home. It just seemed like a very odd combination of activities for one day. Hanging out with a bedouin, roasting coffee; then hanging out with lots of foreigners, listening to a live band. They were a great band though!
So, I've got a friend who works at one of the hotels in town making bedouin coffee. He's from a small village in the south of the country, and is a pretty cool guy. I hang out with him every few days. I was visiting him a couple of nights ago, sitting on the ground, leaning on a camel saddle, slowly roasting coffee beans over a fire. If you closed your eyes, you'd feel like you were in the middle of the desert. It was a wonderful time.
Anyway, I spent a few hours with him, then was heading back to my place. I heard some music, and I could tell it was a live band. The drums are always the give-away for me. Anyway, I wandered over and found a band from New Zealand playing in front of the hotel. I stood and watched them for a while, then headed home. It just seemed like a very odd combination of activities for one day. Hanging out with a bedouin, roasting coffee; then hanging out with lots of foreigners, listening to a live band. They were a great band though!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
I swear I know you!
Okay guys, funny story from the last week.
I needed a vacation. I feel guilty saying it since I live at the beach, but I had to get out of town for a couple days last week. I realized that I hadn't left my town in about seven months, and was culture-shocking pretty hard. So I took a couple days to meet up with some friends in the Sinai. It was a great time, getting to wear shorts and all! :)
Anyway, I was waiting at the Sharm El Sheikh airport for my flight back. I saw a lady sitting at the gate who looked really familiar. She looked like someone that I used to work with in Oregon. I wasn't sure if she was who I thought she was, so I sat somewhere where I could look a little closer without being too obvious. (Yes, I know this makes me sound like a stalker!) She had her head down, but when she looked up I was certain. She even had a mole in the same place as my friend, so I was positive it was her. We took a short bus ride from the terminal to the plane, so on the bus I approached her and introduced myself.
She waved me off without even really acknowledging me. Okay, fair enough. A single lady in Egypt probably gets approached by dozens of strange men every day. So it was no big surprise that she didn't want to talk to me. But on the flight she was sitting directly across the aisle from me. And of course I peeked during the flight.
We get to our destination, and we're all standing around waiting for our baggage. At this point our mystery lady takes off her shawl and I see the same tattoo that my friend has. So I decide that I've got to try again. So I walk over to her, only to get blown off again. Okay, fair enough. I blow off tons of total strangers every day.
I get my bag, go outside, and get a taxi. As I'm loading up my bag, I see mystery-lady negotiating with the taxi parked next to me. She gives me an odd look as my taxi drives away. So I'm still curious. Was this lady who I thought she was, or am I totally out in left field?
I needed a vacation. I feel guilty saying it since I live at the beach, but I had to get out of town for a couple days last week. I realized that I hadn't left my town in about seven months, and was culture-shocking pretty hard. So I took a couple days to meet up with some friends in the Sinai. It was a great time, getting to wear shorts and all! :)
Anyway, I was waiting at the Sharm El Sheikh airport for my flight back. I saw a lady sitting at the gate who looked really familiar. She looked like someone that I used to work with in Oregon. I wasn't sure if she was who I thought she was, so I sat somewhere where I could look a little closer without being too obvious. (Yes, I know this makes me sound like a stalker!) She had her head down, but when she looked up I was certain. She even had a mole in the same place as my friend, so I was positive it was her. We took a short bus ride from the terminal to the plane, so on the bus I approached her and introduced myself.
She waved me off without even really acknowledging me. Okay, fair enough. A single lady in Egypt probably gets approached by dozens of strange men every day. So it was no big surprise that she didn't want to talk to me. But on the flight she was sitting directly across the aisle from me. And of course I peeked during the flight.
We get to our destination, and we're all standing around waiting for our baggage. At this point our mystery lady takes off her shawl and I see the same tattoo that my friend has. So I decide that I've got to try again. So I walk over to her, only to get blown off again. Okay, fair enough. I blow off tons of total strangers every day.
I get my bag, go outside, and get a taxi. As I'm loading up my bag, I see mystery-lady negotiating with the taxi parked next to me. She gives me an odd look as my taxi drives away. So I'm still curious. Was this lady who I thought she was, or am I totally out in left field?
Monday, June 21, 2010
Melting . . .
It's hot!! My thermometer says 42〫which is 108〫for everyone who uses Fahrenheit. Oh, no wind either. Nice huh? I've abandoned sleeping in a bed. The mattress seems to absorb heat during the day, which it then radiates at night when I'm laying on it. It's actually cooler to sleep on the tile floor. It seems to cool off faster once the sun goes down, and is reasonably comfortable to sleep on.
And what does one wear when it gets this hot? A galabiya, which you can see me wearing in the picture at the top. It's made from light cotton, and you wear a pair of pants made of roughly the same material underneath. It's actually cooler than wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It lets more air flow through, so you stay a bit cooler. You have to learn how to walk in one, though. You can't take large strides, like you can in pants. I almost tripped myself a few times the first day I wore one. But all in all it's comfortable, and my neighbors love that I wear it.
Okay, that's it for the moment. I'm going to go drink several liters of ice-water now . . .
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Assorted moments . . .
Hey Guys,
Once again, it has been forever since the last time I blogged. Oops . . .
Here's a collection of anti-cultural anecdotes from the last few days:
I had to go to another town the other day to pick up some scuba equipment that I'd loaned to a friend. It was a really busy day, and I hadn't had time to eat anything. I stopped off at the first store I found and bought a sandwich. You know, one of those saran-wrapped ones that's guaranteed fresh some time this month. I was wandering down the street munching on my sandwich when I realized something . . . HAM IN MY SANDWICH!! I was eating pig, the forbidden animal. There aren't even any pigs in this country. How did I manage to find a ham sandwich in Egypt of all places?! In case you're curious, yes, I did finish my sandwich! :)
I visited a friend yesterday to fix his computer. It breaks every couple of weeks, so he invites me over at least twice a month. I'd fixed it, and we were sitting around drinking tea. There was a knock at the door, and a bunch of guests came in. One guy, and all the rest were women. Half of them were wearing the ni'qab and half were wearing a complete shroud. Okay, now you guys need to read the cultural lesson so the rest of this story makes sense.
(Cultural lesson - The general rule around here is that you don't speak to a woman that you're not related to. The main exception is if you're buying or selling something. There are also three main types of coverings that women wear here. There's the head-scarf, which basically just covers their hair. Then there's the ni'qab, which covers both the hair and the face. And finally there's the complete shroud, which covers everything. I'm not kidding . . . everything! You don't know if you're dealing with a 20 year old or an 80 year old. Generally speaking, the more completely a woman is covered here, the more strict she is in her religious beliefs.)
That being established, my friend invited everyone in and introduced me to all of them. The guy came over to shake my hand, which was totally normal. Then all of the women came over, greeted me, and shook my hand. It was a very awkward moment. I remember thinking, "I'm not even supposed to be in the same room with you, definitely not supposed to talk to you, and absolutely not supposed to touch you." It was just a very strange moment. I asked my friend if he wanted me to leave, but he said no. So I hung out for a little while longer, then left. I still have no idea what was going on.
Okay, that's it for now. Hope you guys are all having fun. Don't forget to root for the USA in the World Cup. We play Slovenia tomorrow and Algeria on the 23rd.
Once again, it has been forever since the last time I blogged. Oops . . .
Here's a collection of anti-cultural anecdotes from the last few days:
I had to go to another town the other day to pick up some scuba equipment that I'd loaned to a friend. It was a really busy day, and I hadn't had time to eat anything. I stopped off at the first store I found and bought a sandwich. You know, one of those saran-wrapped ones that's guaranteed fresh some time this month. I was wandering down the street munching on my sandwich when I realized something . . . HAM IN MY SANDWICH!! I was eating pig, the forbidden animal. There aren't even any pigs in this country. How did I manage to find a ham sandwich in Egypt of all places?! In case you're curious, yes, I did finish my sandwich! :)
I visited a friend yesterday to fix his computer. It breaks every couple of weeks, so he invites me over at least twice a month. I'd fixed it, and we were sitting around drinking tea. There was a knock at the door, and a bunch of guests came in. One guy, and all the rest were women. Half of them were wearing the ni'qab and half were wearing a complete shroud. Okay, now you guys need to read the cultural lesson so the rest of this story makes sense.
(Cultural lesson - The general rule around here is that you don't speak to a woman that you're not related to. The main exception is if you're buying or selling something. There are also three main types of coverings that women wear here. There's the head-scarf, which basically just covers their hair. Then there's the ni'qab, which covers both the hair and the face. And finally there's the complete shroud, which covers everything. I'm not kidding . . . everything! You don't know if you're dealing with a 20 year old or an 80 year old. Generally speaking, the more completely a woman is covered here, the more strict she is in her religious beliefs.)
That being established, my friend invited everyone in and introduced me to all of them. The guy came over to shake my hand, which was totally normal. Then all of the women came over, greeted me, and shook my hand. It was a very awkward moment. I remember thinking, "I'm not even supposed to be in the same room with you, definitely not supposed to talk to you, and absolutely not supposed to touch you." It was just a very strange moment. I asked my friend if he wanted me to leave, but he said no. So I hung out for a little while longer, then left. I still have no idea what was going on.
Okay, that's it for now. Hope you guys are all having fun. Don't forget to root for the USA in the World Cup. We play Slovenia tomorrow and Algeria on the 23rd.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Through the grapevine . . .
Hi guys,
Okay, I just had another fun cultural lesson. I was sitting out in front of a friend's shop, drinking a Coke and chatting with some guys. From the other side of the street I heard some loud wailing. This older lady ran out into the street screaming bloody murder. She wasn't really screaming any words or anything, just wailing. Everyone in the vicinity came running to see what was going on. I've never seen anything like it before. It was kind of like the story I told about the car accident a few weeks ago, only more extreme. This time even women came out in the street to see what was up. (Trust me, in my neighborhood it's a big deal when the women come out into the street en masse)
People were calling their friends and family, and carloads of people started showing up. I didn't realize there were that many people who live in my neighborhood! Anyway, the crowd finally managed to get her calmed down and taken care of.
One of my friends had gone to get involved, and when he got back I asked him what had happened. He said that a boy was sick, but they got him taken to the hospital. Apparently the lady had been wailing in order to attract attention so that someone would come take her son to the hospital. When one doesn't have a phone and there are no ambulances, this seems to be how you get someone to the hospital quickly.
I thought it was kind of cool. I'm sure it stinks for that lady and her family, but I was amazed at how the community immediately took care of the need. I guess it only works if everyone knows that that's the way things are done. I was thinking a little bit about what would happen if someone did that in the States. I think everyone would assume that they're a raving lunatic and pretty much ignore them. It was definitely a cultural lesson for me.
Okay, I just had another fun cultural lesson. I was sitting out in front of a friend's shop, drinking a Coke and chatting with some guys. From the other side of the street I heard some loud wailing. This older lady ran out into the street screaming bloody murder. She wasn't really screaming any words or anything, just wailing. Everyone in the vicinity came running to see what was going on. I've never seen anything like it before. It was kind of like the story I told about the car accident a few weeks ago, only more extreme. This time even women came out in the street to see what was up. (Trust me, in my neighborhood it's a big deal when the women come out into the street en masse)
People were calling their friends and family, and carloads of people started showing up. I didn't realize there were that many people who live in my neighborhood! Anyway, the crowd finally managed to get her calmed down and taken care of.
One of my friends had gone to get involved, and when he got back I asked him what had happened. He said that a boy was sick, but they got him taken to the hospital. Apparently the lady had been wailing in order to attract attention so that someone would come take her son to the hospital. When one doesn't have a phone and there are no ambulances, this seems to be how you get someone to the hospital quickly.
I thought it was kind of cool. I'm sure it stinks for that lady and her family, but I was amazed at how the community immediately took care of the need. I guess it only works if everyone knows that that's the way things are done. I was thinking a little bit about what would happen if someone did that in the States. I think everyone would assume that they're a raving lunatic and pretty much ignore them. It was definitely a cultural lesson for me.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Schedules and Pie . . .
Hey guys,
I was walking down the street the other day when I had a random craving. I was overcome with a strong desire for a piece of pumpkin pie. (As much as I appreciate the thought, please don't try to send me a pie through the mail. It will not be so pleasant by the time it arrives) Had there been any chance of finding a pumpkin pie on this continent, I would have gone hunting. But alas . . . no pumpkin pie in the Middle East . . . sniffle . . .
The world-clock feature on my computer has been coming in really handy lately. I've been trying to sort out some stuff with my bank back in the States, and I have to make sure that I call them during their business hours. And some departments are located on the east coast, while other departments are on the west coast. So sometimes I'll be talking to one person, then they'll try to transfer me to a number at an office that's not open yet. (It was a fun morning / afternoon . . .)
It's been a really windy last couple of days. The coast guard here has actually closed the ocean a few times in the last week or so. The wind's been so strong that they're afraid that boats will sink. My roommate's a windsurfer, so he gets to sneak out and play in the strong wind. He's been loving it lately!
Okay guys, that's it for now. Hope you're all doing well . . .
I was walking down the street the other day when I had a random craving. I was overcome with a strong desire for a piece of pumpkin pie. (As much as I appreciate the thought, please don't try to send me a pie through the mail. It will not be so pleasant by the time it arrives) Had there been any chance of finding a pumpkin pie on this continent, I would have gone hunting. But alas . . . no pumpkin pie in the Middle East . . . sniffle . . .
The world-clock feature on my computer has been coming in really handy lately. I've been trying to sort out some stuff with my bank back in the States, and I have to make sure that I call them during their business hours. And some departments are located on the east coast, while other departments are on the west coast. So sometimes I'll be talking to one person, then they'll try to transfer me to a number at an office that's not open yet. (It was a fun morning / afternoon . . .)
It's been a really windy last couple of days. The coast guard here has actually closed the ocean a few times in the last week or so. The wind's been so strong that they're afraid that boats will sink. My roommate's a windsurfer, so he gets to sneak out and play in the strong wind. He's been loving it lately!
Okay guys, that's it for now. Hope you're all doing well . . .
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Rats and hole punches . . .
Hey guys,
I learned something today. You can't find a 3-hole punch in Egypt. Seriously, they don't have them. 2-hole punches and 4-hole punches . . . no problem. But a 3-hole punch . . . not to be found. I know because I spent a couple hours today looking for one. A guy at one store assured me that no such thing existed. When I asked why, he told me that nobody makes 3-ring binders. So I pulled one off the shelf in his store and asked "you mean like this?" I finally gave up and bought a 2-ring binder and hole punch.
Funny story from yesterday. I was outside at night, talking to a friend on the phone. I can't sit still while I'm talking on the phone. I'm not sure why . . . some kind of personality quirk. I have to walk around while I'm talking. Anyway, I was wandering while on the phone last night and saw a small rock in the shadows. I gave it a swift kick, only to realize that it wasn't a rock . . . it was a live rat. And he was not happy about being kicked. I almost dropped my phone because I was laughing so hard!
I learned something today. You can't find a 3-hole punch in Egypt. Seriously, they don't have them. 2-hole punches and 4-hole punches . . . no problem. But a 3-hole punch . . . not to be found. I know because I spent a couple hours today looking for one. A guy at one store assured me that no such thing existed. When I asked why, he told me that nobody makes 3-ring binders. So I pulled one off the shelf in his store and asked "you mean like this?" I finally gave up and bought a 2-ring binder and hole punch.
Funny story from yesterday. I was outside at night, talking to a friend on the phone. I can't sit still while I'm talking on the phone. I'm not sure why . . . some kind of personality quirk. I have to walk around while I'm talking. Anyway, I was wandering while on the phone last night and saw a small rock in the shadows. I gave it a swift kick, only to realize that it wasn't a rock . . . it was a live rat. And he was not happy about being kicked. I almost dropped my phone because I was laughing so hard!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Oh my gosh!
Okay guys,
It's hot today. At a certain point you just stop worrying about what the temperature is. I checked out how hot it actually is on the internet. It's 34° and 56% humidity today, which feels about like 40°. Just to give you a slight idea of what that feels like; I'm sitting inside pretty much naked (my roommate's out of town so I've got that kind of freedom), in the shade, with all the windows open, and the fan on, drinking ice water, sweating.
It's funny how your goals in life change when it gets hot. My basic goal in life right now is staying in the shade. You get up early and go out, come home around one, then stay inside until about seven. I promise, I will never complain about being too cold again!
It's hot today. At a certain point you just stop worrying about what the temperature is. I checked out how hot it actually is on the internet. It's 34° and 56% humidity today, which feels about like 40°. Just to give you a slight idea of what that feels like; I'm sitting inside pretty much naked (my roommate's out of town so I've got that kind of freedom), in the shade, with all the windows open, and the fan on, drinking ice water, sweating.
It's funny how your goals in life change when it gets hot. My basic goal in life right now is staying in the shade. You get up early and go out, come home around one, then stay inside until about seven. I promise, I will never complain about being too cold again!
Monday, May 3, 2010
I CAN DO IT BY MYSELF!!!!
I heard someone say something several years ago. They said, "To the degree that your identity rests on anything other than the fact that God loves you, you are to that degree insecure." I think most people would agree with that in theory, but it took moving overseas for me to realize what that actually looks like in real life.
I've lost it on people twice in the last few days, over the most trivial things. A few days ago I was playing dominoes with a friend at a coffee shop. At the end of the game I was counting up the score. I usually try to count the score out loud in Arabic for the sake of my friends. I can do the math a lot faster if I do it in English, but nobody else will understand anything. So I do it in Arabic. Simple math takes a little longer when you're translating while you're doing it. Anyway, some guy apparently thought I was taking too long, so he came and took the dominoes from me and started counting. And I snapped! I stood up, got in his face, and told him in no uncertain terms that I didn't want or need any help. He started laughing, so I just turned and walked off. I haven't been back there for a couple of days. Did I mention that the guy I yelled at is the owner of the coffee shop? Yikes!
Then today I was walking through the neighborhood, and stopped at a shop to get something for breakfast. I stop at this shop all the time, and the people who work there know me. This morning there was another guy shopping at the store too. I was waiting for him to finish so I could pay. While I was standing there he turned around and told me in English how much each thing cost. I told him quite rudely that I knew how much things cost, and didn't need his help. He was a little shocked, so I went on to tell him that I was insulted that he thought I was a tourist just because I'm white. I went on for quite a bit longer than was necessary, and he was quite apologetic by the end. He was probably just trying to be helpful.
Then I paid and walked away . . . feeling like a total jerk. I decided that since I'd snapped on people twice now with very little provocation, that's a good indication that there's probably something going on in my heart. I spent some time praying and thinking about it this morning, and I realized something. When you live overseas, you're very limited in what you're able to do. My language skills are still pretty limited, and there's a lot of things I don't know how to say. I feel like an idiot a lot of the time here because I just don't know how to express myself. I know what I want to say, I just don't know how to get it out in Arabic. And Egyptians are fond of telling you how much better at things they are than you. And after a while, you get tired of it. Because there's not a whole lot I can do, I get pretty militant about the things that I can do. If I don't need help, I certainly don't want it.
I don't know whether I'm trying to prove to myself or the Egyptians that I'm a capable person. But I've realized something. It's not a big stretch for me to believe that God loves me. I can tell you all the verses and sing all the songs. The real crux of the issue is this; "is that enough?" If that really is all I've got going for me, can I be content with that? If my Arabic never gets any better, if I don't have any friends that aren't trying to use me to get something, if nothing else goes right, can I honestly be content with the knowledge that God loves me?
I know what the right answer is, believe me. But when you're in a place where you don't have much else to stroke your ego, you find out just how "enough" the love of God really is for you. If the last few days are any indication of the state of my heart, there's quite a bit of work left to be done.
I've lost it on people twice in the last few days, over the most trivial things. A few days ago I was playing dominoes with a friend at a coffee shop. At the end of the game I was counting up the score. I usually try to count the score out loud in Arabic for the sake of my friends. I can do the math a lot faster if I do it in English, but nobody else will understand anything. So I do it in Arabic. Simple math takes a little longer when you're translating while you're doing it. Anyway, some guy apparently thought I was taking too long, so he came and took the dominoes from me and started counting. And I snapped! I stood up, got in his face, and told him in no uncertain terms that I didn't want or need any help. He started laughing, so I just turned and walked off. I haven't been back there for a couple of days. Did I mention that the guy I yelled at is the owner of the coffee shop? Yikes!
Then today I was walking through the neighborhood, and stopped at a shop to get something for breakfast. I stop at this shop all the time, and the people who work there know me. This morning there was another guy shopping at the store too. I was waiting for him to finish so I could pay. While I was standing there he turned around and told me in English how much each thing cost. I told him quite rudely that I knew how much things cost, and didn't need his help. He was a little shocked, so I went on to tell him that I was insulted that he thought I was a tourist just because I'm white. I went on for quite a bit longer than was necessary, and he was quite apologetic by the end. He was probably just trying to be helpful.
Then I paid and walked away . . . feeling like a total jerk. I decided that since I'd snapped on people twice now with very little provocation, that's a good indication that there's probably something going on in my heart. I spent some time praying and thinking about it this morning, and I realized something. When you live overseas, you're very limited in what you're able to do. My language skills are still pretty limited, and there's a lot of things I don't know how to say. I feel like an idiot a lot of the time here because I just don't know how to express myself. I know what I want to say, I just don't know how to get it out in Arabic. And Egyptians are fond of telling you how much better at things they are than you. And after a while, you get tired of it. Because there's not a whole lot I can do, I get pretty militant about the things that I can do. If I don't need help, I certainly don't want it.
I don't know whether I'm trying to prove to myself or the Egyptians that I'm a capable person. But I've realized something. It's not a big stretch for me to believe that God loves me. I can tell you all the verses and sing all the songs. The real crux of the issue is this; "is that enough?" If that really is all I've got going for me, can I be content with that? If my Arabic never gets any better, if I don't have any friends that aren't trying to use me to get something, if nothing else goes right, can I honestly be content with the knowledge that God loves me?
I know what the right answer is, believe me. But when you're in a place where you don't have much else to stroke your ego, you find out just how "enough" the love of God really is for you. If the last few days are any indication of the state of my heart, there's quite a bit of work left to be done.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Wow!
Okay, I just had my bit of excitement for the day. Let me explain the set-up to you:
I was sitting in front of my usual coffee shop, playing dominoes with a friend. There was an open sewer cover in the street right in front of the coffee shop. Why was it open? I have no idea. Anyway, there was a taxi parked on the right side of the road, next to the sewer. This is a one-way, one lane road. But as I've learned in Egypt, just because it's a one lane road doesn't mean you can't have three lanes of traffic on it. Most of the traffic was going to the left of the sewer. A couple of cars were going to the right, and getting by okay. Then another car tried to go to the right of the sewer, but this one hit the taxi that was parked there. It broke the side-view mirror, and scratched the side of the taxi.
And the coffee shop ERUPTED!!
I'm not kidding, everyone in the coffee shop poured out into the street. Some of them stood in front of the guy's car so he couldn't drive away. Some others got next to the driver's side window and started slapping him in the face, and everyone else crowded around the car and started shouting. They pulled the driver out of his car and started beating him right in the middle of the street. He took a few good shots to the face and ribs before he finally managed to get away. The crowd got a hold of him again, but they didn't hit him any more. They took away his keys so he couldn't leave, then they demanded his driver's license. Turns out he didn't have a license, and the car wasn't actually his.
Both the owner of the taxi and the driver of the taxi (not the same person) were in the coffee shop. At this point they took charge and started demanding money from the guy so they could fix the car. He said he didn't have money, so they just told him to give them whatever he had in his pocket. Then the police came by and wanted to know what was going on. The crowd told the police that they had everything under control, and to go away. They actually made a wall with their bodies so that the police couldn't see what was going on, so they left.
After that, everyone got a lot calmer. They took whatever money the guy had, then started trying to fix the mirror. The guy drove off, and that was pretty much the end of it.
It was a strange experience overall. When things were starting to get crazy, I remember wondering if someone was going to call the police. But, apparently that's not what one does in Egypt. I also thought about trying to stop them when they were beating the guy, but didn't know how that would go. The crowd who was hitting him were all friends of mine, and I didn't know what would happen if I tried to get in the middle of it. They all knew me, so I didn't think anyone was going to take a swing at me. But I wondered if they would think I was betraying them by trying to stop them from beating the driver.
I still often find myself trying to figure out what the culturally acceptable reaction is here. So many things that I see and experience here are different from the way that things are done at home, and I often just don't know what to do. Some culture is just different, and some culture is wrong. One of the tricks to living overseas is figuring out which is which. The stuff that's just different, you learn to leave alone and not fight against. I had a friend tell me a while ago, "if it's not sinful, it's permissible." That doesn't necessarily mean it's good, but it's not something worth fighting over. Today I was standing on the side of the road, trying to figure out which of the two I was dealing with. It certainly looked brutal and strange to me, but does that necessarily make it wrong?
I think when I first came here a year and a half ago, I would have been much quicker to answer that question. Now, I honestly don't know.
I was sitting in front of my usual coffee shop, playing dominoes with a friend. There was an open sewer cover in the street right in front of the coffee shop. Why was it open? I have no idea. Anyway, there was a taxi parked on the right side of the road, next to the sewer. This is a one-way, one lane road. But as I've learned in Egypt, just because it's a one lane road doesn't mean you can't have three lanes of traffic on it. Most of the traffic was going to the left of the sewer. A couple of cars were going to the right, and getting by okay. Then another car tried to go to the right of the sewer, but this one hit the taxi that was parked there. It broke the side-view mirror, and scratched the side of the taxi.
And the coffee shop ERUPTED!!
I'm not kidding, everyone in the coffee shop poured out into the street. Some of them stood in front of the guy's car so he couldn't drive away. Some others got next to the driver's side window and started slapping him in the face, and everyone else crowded around the car and started shouting. They pulled the driver out of his car and started beating him right in the middle of the street. He took a few good shots to the face and ribs before he finally managed to get away. The crowd got a hold of him again, but they didn't hit him any more. They took away his keys so he couldn't leave, then they demanded his driver's license. Turns out he didn't have a license, and the car wasn't actually his.
Both the owner of the taxi and the driver of the taxi (not the same person) were in the coffee shop. At this point they took charge and started demanding money from the guy so they could fix the car. He said he didn't have money, so they just told him to give them whatever he had in his pocket. Then the police came by and wanted to know what was going on. The crowd told the police that they had everything under control, and to go away. They actually made a wall with their bodies so that the police couldn't see what was going on, so they left.
After that, everyone got a lot calmer. They took whatever money the guy had, then started trying to fix the mirror. The guy drove off, and that was pretty much the end of it.
It was a strange experience overall. When things were starting to get crazy, I remember wondering if someone was going to call the police. But, apparently that's not what one does in Egypt. I also thought about trying to stop them when they were beating the guy, but didn't know how that would go. The crowd who was hitting him were all friends of mine, and I didn't know what would happen if I tried to get in the middle of it. They all knew me, so I didn't think anyone was going to take a swing at me. But I wondered if they would think I was betraying them by trying to stop them from beating the driver.
I still often find myself trying to figure out what the culturally acceptable reaction is here. So many things that I see and experience here are different from the way that things are done at home, and I often just don't know what to do. Some culture is just different, and some culture is wrong. One of the tricks to living overseas is figuring out which is which. The stuff that's just different, you learn to leave alone and not fight against. I had a friend tell me a while ago, "if it's not sinful, it's permissible." That doesn't necessarily mean it's good, but it's not something worth fighting over. Today I was standing on the side of the road, trying to figure out which of the two I was dealing with. It certainly looked brutal and strange to me, but does that necessarily make it wrong?
I think when I first came here a year and a half ago, I would have been much quicker to answer that question. Now, I honestly don't know.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Hey guys,
Just a few stories from yesterday. I went out a few nights ago with a deaf friend. He took me to the other side of town, and we walked around and met a bunch of his friends. We ended up sitting at a coffee shop playing dominoes with them. I was actually the only one there who could hear and speak.
Yesterday he called me several times. We've got this system worked out that when he calls me, I'm supposed to come meet him at a certain spot. So I went to visit him, and he told me that a friend had been in a car accident, and he wanted me to go visit him in the hospital. So I went along with him to the hospital to see his friend. Turns out, it was one of the guys I'd played dominoes with the other day. He'd been riding a motorcycle, waiting at a traffic circle. A car came from behind and slammed into the left handlebar of the motorcycle. His hand is a mess; broken bones and missing flesh.
I remembered the guy when I saw who it was, and he remembered me. I fumbled through what little Arabic sign language I know, then sat there, and sat there, and sat there, with his family, and friends, and the nurses. It was a really awkward moment for me, but nobody else seemed to mind. I felt like I didn't belong, but learned something about the culture I live in. Egyptian culture is a community-based culture rather than an individual-based culture (like ours). Because I came with someone who belonged, I belonged. Cool, huh?
Later in the evening I was eating dinner. I had lentils, fried potatoes and bread. (delicious meal, by the way) I was halfway through my meal when I realized something. When I come back to the States, I'm going to have the worst table-manners ever. In Egypt, it's customary to eat with your hands. I seem to remember my mother trying diligently to stop me from eating that way when I was a child. :) Also, making a lot of noise while eating here is considered an indication that you enjoy the food. Yikes! I might have to get cultured all over again when I get back home . . . Sorry, Mom :)
Okay y'all, that's it for now . . .
Just a few stories from yesterday. I went out a few nights ago with a deaf friend. He took me to the other side of town, and we walked around and met a bunch of his friends. We ended up sitting at a coffee shop playing dominoes with them. I was actually the only one there who could hear and speak.
Yesterday he called me several times. We've got this system worked out that when he calls me, I'm supposed to come meet him at a certain spot. So I went to visit him, and he told me that a friend had been in a car accident, and he wanted me to go visit him in the hospital. So I went along with him to the hospital to see his friend. Turns out, it was one of the guys I'd played dominoes with the other day. He'd been riding a motorcycle, waiting at a traffic circle. A car came from behind and slammed into the left handlebar of the motorcycle. His hand is a mess; broken bones and missing flesh.
I remembered the guy when I saw who it was, and he remembered me. I fumbled through what little Arabic sign language I know, then sat there, and sat there, and sat there, with his family, and friends, and the nurses. It was a really awkward moment for me, but nobody else seemed to mind. I felt like I didn't belong, but learned something about the culture I live in. Egyptian culture is a community-based culture rather than an individual-based culture (like ours). Because I came with someone who belonged, I belonged. Cool, huh?
Later in the evening I was eating dinner. I had lentils, fried potatoes and bread. (delicious meal, by the way) I was halfway through my meal when I realized something. When I come back to the States, I'm going to have the worst table-manners ever. In Egypt, it's customary to eat with your hands. I seem to remember my mother trying diligently to stop me from eating that way when I was a child. :) Also, making a lot of noise while eating here is considered an indication that you enjoy the food. Yikes! I might have to get cultured all over again when I get back home . . . Sorry, Mom :)
Okay y'all, that's it for now . . .
Friday, April 16, 2010
Next time, I order!
I know I wrote a day or two ago and said that you can get used to almost anything, but . . . I just had a meal that's made me reconsider that stance.
I met a friend for dinner tonight, and he took me to a place that I'd never been to before. I actually didn't know it was a restaurant. I thought it was just a couple of chairs in an alley. But lo and behold, it's a restaurant! He asked me what I wanted, so I just told him I'd have whatever he was having. While this approach is sure to win you friends among the locals, it can also be a very risky move.
My friend ordered something called "halawa." Up until today I thought the word halawa meant sweets. But apparently a better translation is "all the parts of the cow we don't eat in the States." Intestines, stomach, large chunks of fat . . . and that's just the parts I could identify. On the up-side, I must have an amazing immune system by now :)
I met a friend for dinner tonight, and he took me to a place that I'd never been to before. I actually didn't know it was a restaurant. I thought it was just a couple of chairs in an alley. But lo and behold, it's a restaurant! He asked me what I wanted, so I just told him I'd have whatever he was having. While this approach is sure to win you friends among the locals, it can also be a very risky move.
My friend ordered something called "halawa." Up until today I thought the word halawa meant sweets. But apparently a better translation is "all the parts of the cow we don't eat in the States." Intestines, stomach, large chunks of fat . . . and that's just the parts I could identify. On the up-side, I must have an amazing immune system by now :)
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Fake Cheetos and Naguib Mahfouz . . .
Hey guys,
Just thought I would share the day's events with you. I've been reading a book lately called "Children of the Alley" by Naguib Mahfouz. He's probably the most famous author in Egypt. He won the Nobel prize for literature in 1988. The book is pretty incredible. I've only got about forty pages left, and I'll actually be a little sad when I've finished the book. It's the first one of his books that I've read. But if the rest of them are anything like this one, I'm going to have to stock up the next time I go to a bookstore.
And on the lighter side, I had a healthy dinner of fake Cheetos tonight. Well, I really don't know what to call them, and cheetos is the only thing that even comes close. You'll love the list of ingredients: corn meal, oil, ketchup, salt. Yep, that's it! :) There have been a lot of foods in Egypt that have taken some getting used to. The first time I ate a lot of them I promised myself that I would never eat them again. But after a while you learn to get used to them. The fake cheetos are on that list. The first time I had them, I thought they were horrible. But tonight I actually went and bought them on purpose. What a big difference a little time makes.
I think the secret is not to compare the food to what it reminds you of. For example, if you're thinking of Cheetos, these will seem terrible. But if you just get used to the fact that you're not eating cheetos, you're just eating something else entirely, they're much more enjoyable.
All right you guys. It's time for me to trundle off to bed. Hope you're having fun . . .
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Ghasbet Aani . . .
Okay, so I made a rookie mistake today and forgot a cultural lesson I learned a while ago. Random tidbit about Egyptian culture. If you admire something that belongs to someone else, they will assume that you are asking for it. Occasionally you wind up with gifts that people are honor-bound to give you, but don't really want to part with. On other occasions you wind up with pieces of junk that you don't want either.
I spent most of the evening with a friend tonight, playing dominoes and drinking tea. I noticed that he was wearing a ring that I hadn't seen him wear before. Without really thinking about it, I asked him about his new ring. He took it off and gave it to me. I tried to refuse (three times being customary) but he kept insisting. So, I'm now the proud owner of a ring which has the word "love" engraved on the side. Thankfully most of my friends don't speak any English, so I won't have to explain what it means. But wearing it does mean I'll have to explain that I'm not engaged, I'm just wearing a ring, to dozens of complete strangers each day.
Not only do I have to keep it, I also have to wear it. It would be an insult not to. Fantastic, huh? I titled this post "ghasbet Aani" because it means "against my will" in Arabic.
I spent most of the evening with a friend tonight, playing dominoes and drinking tea. I noticed that he was wearing a ring that I hadn't seen him wear before. Without really thinking about it, I asked him about his new ring. He took it off and gave it to me. I tried to refuse (three times being customary) but he kept insisting. So, I'm now the proud owner of a ring which has the word "love" engraved on the side. Thankfully most of my friends don't speak any English, so I won't have to explain what it means. But wearing it does mean I'll have to explain that I'm not engaged, I'm just wearing a ring, to dozens of complete strangers each day.
Not only do I have to keep it, I also have to wear it. It would be an insult not to. Fantastic, huh? I titled this post "ghasbet Aani" because it means "against my will" in Arabic.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Great Dinner . . .
Hey guys,
My landlady called me a little earlier today and asked me where I was. Usually when she calls to ask me where I am it means her husband has lost the building key again, and she needs me to let her in. I was close to the building, so I told her I could come right over. She said not to bother, but to call her as soon as I got home. I was out with some friends, so I came home a couple hours later and gave her a call.
Just for the record, I still find it strange to have a landlady here instead of a landlord. In a culture that has such strong divisions between men and women, I find myself wondering how appropriate it is to talk to her. Anyway . . .
When I called, she told me to stay in the flat for a little while. About five minutes later, there was a knock on my door. She'd sent down one of her daughters with a tray full of food for me for dinner. It was chicken, rice, salad, some boiled potatoes, and molokhiya (leafy, green soup). It was amazing. After I finished, I took the tray back upstairs and said thanks. A few minutes later there was another knock at my door. This time it was another daughter bringing a glass of fresh strawberry juice, also delicious. When I took the glass back upstairs, a different daughter came out to take it from me.
I don't know if this is my landlady being incredibly hospitable, or part of some devious plot to marry one of her daughters off to the foreigner. Hey, if they can all cook like their mother, I just might think about it! :)
My landlady called me a little earlier today and asked me where I was. Usually when she calls to ask me where I am it means her husband has lost the building key again, and she needs me to let her in. I was close to the building, so I told her I could come right over. She said not to bother, but to call her as soon as I got home. I was out with some friends, so I came home a couple hours later and gave her a call.
Just for the record, I still find it strange to have a landlady here instead of a landlord. In a culture that has such strong divisions between men and women, I find myself wondering how appropriate it is to talk to her. Anyway . . .
When I called, she told me to stay in the flat for a little while. About five minutes later, there was a knock on my door. She'd sent down one of her daughters with a tray full of food for me for dinner. It was chicken, rice, salad, some boiled potatoes, and molokhiya (leafy, green soup). It was amazing. After I finished, I took the tray back upstairs and said thanks. A few minutes later there was another knock at my door. This time it was another daughter bringing a glass of fresh strawberry juice, also delicious. When I took the glass back upstairs, a different daughter came out to take it from me.
I don't know if this is my landlady being incredibly hospitable, or part of some devious plot to marry one of her daughters off to the foreigner. Hey, if they can all cook like their mother, I just might think about it! :)
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Funniest conversation of my life!
Okay guys, I've got to share this one with you.
I was having dinner tonight with some friends who work in a fish market. I was tired, so I yawned. One of my friends asked me why I covered my mouth when I yawned. I told him that in my culture it's considered impolite not to cover your mouth when you yawn. He said that Egyptians cover their mouths when they yawn also. I asked him why, and this is what he said:
"So Satan doesn't pee in your mouth."
I am not kidding! I couldn't make up something that funny if I wanted to. Had I been drinking anything at the time, I'm pretty sure it would have come out of my nose. I almost fell out of my chair laughing. I hope that little nugget brightens your day like it did mine.
I was having dinner tonight with some friends who work in a fish market. I was tired, so I yawned. One of my friends asked me why I covered my mouth when I yawned. I told him that in my culture it's considered impolite not to cover your mouth when you yawn. He said that Egyptians cover their mouths when they yawn also. I asked him why, and this is what he said:
"So Satan doesn't pee in your mouth."
I am not kidding! I couldn't make up something that funny if I wanted to. Had I been drinking anything at the time, I'm pretty sure it would have come out of my nose. I almost fell out of my chair laughing. I hope that little nugget brightens your day like it did mine.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Refusal
Hey guys,
Interesting story from today. I went to visit a friend today who works at a dive shop. He knows I'm a Christian and knows that Easter was a couple of days ago, so he wanted to give me a gift. It's important to be thought of as generous in this culture, so people will often give gifts that they can't afford to give. I had also just brought him a bottle of Pepsi as a gift for Sham al'Neseem (Egyptian holiday) and I think he felt like he needed to give me something. He wanted to give me spare lenses for my diving mask, which would have been quite an expensive gift. I tried to refuse several times as is the custom here, but my friend was having none of it. I finally agreed to take the lenses.
I was reluctant to take them for a couple of reasons. My friend assured me that he was going to pay for the lenses. But I know how much money he owes to various people at the moment, and I find it highly likely that he's going to pay. I think he's probably going to steal them. And even if he does decide to pay for them, he doesn't have the money to pay. He would end up even more deeply in debt than he is now. I decided that I didn't want to be a party to theft, or responsible for a friend making a poor financial decision. The longer I sat talking to him, the more uncomfortable I became. I finally decided that I had to give them back.
I explained to my friend that I couldn't accept his gift, and went on to tell him why. I explained that friends have to take care of each other, and that I would be a bad friend to him if I took his gift. We went back and forth several times, neither one willing to give in. There's a proverb in Arabic that says "even an onion from a friend is like a sheep." It basically means, "it's the thought that counts." He finally agreed to take the lenses back, but only on the condition that I take something else. I ended up taking a key chain, which I took because I think it was the cheapest thing in the store.
It was an interesting discussion with they guy. I think we both ended up having to explain parts of our culture that we both took for granted. I'd never had to work so hard to give back a gift I knew the giver couldn't afford, and he'd never had to try to convince someone to take a gift before. To refuse a gift is quite rude in this culture, so I'm interested to see what the implications are for this friendship.
I was really close to keeping them for the sake of the friendship, but I felt like it would be a moral compromise if I did. It's one of those moments where I honestly didn't know whether to respect the culture and let someone else make a bad decision, or be rude and try to speak some wisdom into the situation. Time will tell if I made the right decision or not.
Interesting story from today. I went to visit a friend today who works at a dive shop. He knows I'm a Christian and knows that Easter was a couple of days ago, so he wanted to give me a gift. It's important to be thought of as generous in this culture, so people will often give gifts that they can't afford to give. I had also just brought him a bottle of Pepsi as a gift for Sham al'Neseem (Egyptian holiday) and I think he felt like he needed to give me something. He wanted to give me spare lenses for my diving mask, which would have been quite an expensive gift. I tried to refuse several times as is the custom here, but my friend was having none of it. I finally agreed to take the lenses.
I was reluctant to take them for a couple of reasons. My friend assured me that he was going to pay for the lenses. But I know how much money he owes to various people at the moment, and I find it highly likely that he's going to pay. I think he's probably going to steal them. And even if he does decide to pay for them, he doesn't have the money to pay. He would end up even more deeply in debt than he is now. I decided that I didn't want to be a party to theft, or responsible for a friend making a poor financial decision. The longer I sat talking to him, the more uncomfortable I became. I finally decided that I had to give them back.
I explained to my friend that I couldn't accept his gift, and went on to tell him why. I explained that friends have to take care of each other, and that I would be a bad friend to him if I took his gift. We went back and forth several times, neither one willing to give in. There's a proverb in Arabic that says "even an onion from a friend is like a sheep." It basically means, "it's the thought that counts." He finally agreed to take the lenses back, but only on the condition that I take something else. I ended up taking a key chain, which I took because I think it was the cheapest thing in the store.
It was an interesting discussion with they guy. I think we both ended up having to explain parts of our culture that we both took for granted. I'd never had to work so hard to give back a gift I knew the giver couldn't afford, and he'd never had to try to convince someone to take a gift before. To refuse a gift is quite rude in this culture, so I'm interested to see what the implications are for this friendship.
I was really close to keeping them for the sake of the friendship, but I felt like it would be a moral compromise if I did. It's one of those moments where I honestly didn't know whether to respect the culture and let someone else make a bad decision, or be rude and try to speak some wisdom into the situation. Time will tell if I made the right decision or not.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Unexpected . . .
Hey guys,
Sorry I've been delinquent about posting recently. I've had guests in town for the last few days, and have been spending most of my time with them.
Okay, story of the day . . .
One of the first cultural lessons I learned here was this, "don't talk to women." In this culture, men and women don't interact much in public. If they're a relative that's a little different, but for the most part men talk to men and women talk to women. Business interactions don't conform to that rule, but pretty much everything else does.
I live in the second story of a three story building. The first floor is a fish shop, the second floor is my flat, and the third floor and roof are unfinished. Recently the landlord has started finishing the third floor and building another flat on the roof so that they can live in the building. They have four daughters who are going to live in the flat above us, and the parents are going to live on the roof. With all of the construction going on lately, there's always people coming and going. We changed the lock to the front door when we moved in and gave the landlord a copy of it. But he keeps losing his key, which leads to people banging on the door really loud, wanting us to let them in so they can come work on the flat upstairs.
Okay, I know that was a long setup to the story, but here it goes. Yesterday I was sitting around the house when I heard someone banging on the door downstairs. I knew the landlord was upstairs, so I didn't answer the door. I assumed the landlord would let them in. Well, he didn't, and the banging kept going and going. I finally opened the door of my flat and told whoever was downstairs to wait a minute. I put on my sandals and went downstairs, and discovered a teenage girl standing at my door, crying. I didn't know if she was crying because I'd yelled at her to wait a minute or because of some other reason. I really wasn't sure what to do. I've so gotten used to not talking to women, and now I have one crying on my doorstep.
I invited her in, but she wouldn't come in. But she wouldn't leave either. So I finally went upstairs and found my landlord's wife. I told her that there was a young lady crying downstairs and I wasn't sure what to do about it. She sent down her oldest daughter to sort things out, and when I went downstairs to leave about 15 minutes later they were talking in the stairwell. All in all, kind of an awkward moment.
Sorry I've been delinquent about posting recently. I've had guests in town for the last few days, and have been spending most of my time with them.
Okay, story of the day . . .
One of the first cultural lessons I learned here was this, "don't talk to women." In this culture, men and women don't interact much in public. If they're a relative that's a little different, but for the most part men talk to men and women talk to women. Business interactions don't conform to that rule, but pretty much everything else does.
I live in the second story of a three story building. The first floor is a fish shop, the second floor is my flat, and the third floor and roof are unfinished. Recently the landlord has started finishing the third floor and building another flat on the roof so that they can live in the building. They have four daughters who are going to live in the flat above us, and the parents are going to live on the roof. With all of the construction going on lately, there's always people coming and going. We changed the lock to the front door when we moved in and gave the landlord a copy of it. But he keeps losing his key, which leads to people banging on the door really loud, wanting us to let them in so they can come work on the flat upstairs.
Okay, I know that was a long setup to the story, but here it goes. Yesterday I was sitting around the house when I heard someone banging on the door downstairs. I knew the landlord was upstairs, so I didn't answer the door. I assumed the landlord would let them in. Well, he didn't, and the banging kept going and going. I finally opened the door of my flat and told whoever was downstairs to wait a minute. I put on my sandals and went downstairs, and discovered a teenage girl standing at my door, crying. I didn't know if she was crying because I'd yelled at her to wait a minute or because of some other reason. I really wasn't sure what to do. I've so gotten used to not talking to women, and now I have one crying on my doorstep.
I invited her in, but she wouldn't come in. But she wouldn't leave either. So I finally went upstairs and found my landlord's wife. I told her that there was a young lady crying downstairs and I wasn't sure what to do about it. She sent down her oldest daughter to sort things out, and when I went downstairs to leave about 15 minutes later they were talking in the stairwell. All in all, kind of an awkward moment.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Backfired!
Hey guys,
Just a funny story from tonight. I was hanging out with a friend at a coffee shop. He invited me back to his place, so we went and hung out for a while. I fixed his computer, then we ate dinner. After dinner his sons came out and started hanging out with us.
The youngest son, who's about five years old was making lots of noise. So his father yelled, "ibn el kelb" which means, "son of a dog." I thought about it for a minute then told my friend, "but he's your kid. Are you a dog?" He thought about it for a minute then said, "no, that's not a good insult." It made me laugh for a few minutes.
Okay, that's it for tonight . . .
Just a funny story from tonight. I was hanging out with a friend at a coffee shop. He invited me back to his place, so we went and hung out for a while. I fixed his computer, then we ate dinner. After dinner his sons came out and started hanging out with us.
The youngest son, who's about five years old was making lots of noise. So his father yelled, "ibn el kelb" which means, "son of a dog." I thought about it for a minute then told my friend, "but he's your kid. Are you a dog?" He thought about it for a minute then said, "no, that's not a good insult." It made me laugh for a few minutes.
Okay, that's it for tonight . . .
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Celebrity sighting!!!
Hey guys,
I had a friend over for tea tonight. He brought his brother along with him. I'd met his brother once before, but this time I was struck by a resemblance to Dave Chappelle. I took a picture to put alongside a picture of Dave Chappelle, but the resemblance wasn't quite as strong in the photo as it was in person. But I thought you guys might enjoy it.
Oh, after a staggering one vote in the book selection, I decided to read "The Blood of Abraham" by Jimmy Carter. One more vote came in after I'd started reading. Sorry Eddy & Jess . . .
-Dave
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Interactive Fizziness . . .
Hey guys,
Okay, the picture on the right is from some random packet I bought at a pharmacy a couple days ago. I was visiting a friend who works there, and some guy came in and asked for this thing. I didn't really know what it was. But when I asked my friend about it, he gave me one and assured me that it was good for me. So today I decided to try it, just for fun. It was kind of like drinking a fizzy banana. I know, it tasted as strange as it sounds. I can't say I feel any healthier than I did half an hour ago, but it was a fun experience.
You know those "choose your own adventure" books they used to have when I was a kid? Well, maybe they still have them. I don't really know. Anyway, you read the first page, then at the end of that page you're faced with a decision. If you choose one thing you flip to a certain page and keep reading. If you choose the other option you turn to a different page. It keeps going like that, with lots of possible endings.
I thought it might be fun to try something like that on my blog. I finished reading Emma by Jane Austen this morning, and I've got a few books laying around the flat that I'm planning to read. I thought it would be fun to post the options online and have y'all choose what I read next. If you want to vote, post a comment with your recommendation. I promise I won't start reading for a couple of days to give you guys time to vote. Sound like fun? Okay, here's the options:
1 - The Essential Theodore Roosevelt: Great Speeches and Writings of America's Most Dynamic President.
2 - The Blood of Abraham: Insights into the Middle East, by Jimmy Carter
3 - Children of the Alley, by Naguib Mahfouz
4 - Sons and Lovers, by D. H. Lawrence
5 - The Woodlanders, by Thomas Hardy
That's it. But no fair recommending books that aren't on the list. You've got to pick one of those, okay?
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Only one for you . . .
Hey guys,
I had an interesting experience tonight. I've got a friend here who often asks me to write text messages and emails for him in English. He'll tell me what he wants to say, then I translate and send it for him. For as long as I've known him he's been corresponding with a young German lady that he met last year. They both seemed pretty serious about each other, so I didn't mind translating for him.
Last night I was hanging out with him at a local coffee shop and he said that he'd gotten engaged. I asked him if it was to the German girl and he said no. He said it was to some local girl that he's known for a really long time.
Anyway, tonight he came by my flat and wanted to check his email. He had two emails from the German girl, who is still very much in love with him. He asked me to write her an email back and I told him no. I told him that since he'd just gotten engaged to another girl, I wasn't going to keep writing emails to this girl for him. He asked why, so we had a good, long chat about how you treat women; especially western women.
He thanked me for talking to him about it, then left. I'm not sure what the long-term effects of that conversation are going to be. In Islam a man is allowed to have four wives. So just because he gets married doesn't necessarily mean that he has to stop looking. But, I'm going to hope that my friend took the lesson.
Okay guys, that's it for now . . .
I had an interesting experience tonight. I've got a friend here who often asks me to write text messages and emails for him in English. He'll tell me what he wants to say, then I translate and send it for him. For as long as I've known him he's been corresponding with a young German lady that he met last year. They both seemed pretty serious about each other, so I didn't mind translating for him.
Last night I was hanging out with him at a local coffee shop and he said that he'd gotten engaged. I asked him if it was to the German girl and he said no. He said it was to some local girl that he's known for a really long time.
Anyway, tonight he came by my flat and wanted to check his email. He had two emails from the German girl, who is still very much in love with him. He asked me to write her an email back and I told him no. I told him that since he'd just gotten engaged to another girl, I wasn't going to keep writing emails to this girl for him. He asked why, so we had a good, long chat about how you treat women; especially western women.
He thanked me for talking to him about it, then left. I'm not sure what the long-term effects of that conversation are going to be. In Islam a man is allowed to have four wives. So just because he gets married doesn't necessarily mean that he has to stop looking. But, I'm going to hope that my friend took the lesson.
Okay guys, that's it for now . . .
Monday, March 8, 2010
Architectural quiz
Okay guys,
In this picture I've carefully hidden an architectural defect. See if you can find it . . .
Got it? Yes, it's the second story door with no balcony or stairs. I chatted with the guy who's going to live in it and he told me that he would just bring a ladder whenever he wants to go upstairs. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure the neighborhood kids are going to steal his ladder at the first opportunity.
Today was a good day. I got to visit with a friend that I haven't had a chance to talk to in a few months. We played dominoes at the local coffee shop, then he came over and we ate dinner together. It was a good chance to reconnect with him.
Right now I'm reading a Jane Austen novel in my free time. It's fun, but I find myself getting angry at the 18th century English aristocracy. I guess it's okay though. It's not like I'm ever going to meet one of them and be bitter.
Okay, that's it for now. Hope you're doing well . . .
-Dave
Friday, March 5, 2010
What ???? Hello????
Hey guys,
I think tonight marks the first time that I intentionally went to an Egyptian wedding. I've been ambushed into a few, but tonight was the first time that I actually made plans to go to one. You know, it was actually pretty fun. I saw some people that I recognized, which made it even more fun.
For the last few days I've been hanging out with a couple of deaf-mute guys. I met one a couple weeks ago, and he's been introducing me to his friends. Between a mixture of charades, sign language, lip-reading, and note-writing we manage to make ourselves understood to each other. Today I learned the signs for male and female. The sign for a guy is to twirl your fingers at the side of your mouth, right where your mustache would be if you had one. The symbol for a gal is to make the shape of an hourglass with your hands.
Tonight I ended up having tea with a group of guys, some of whom can speak and some of whom can't. I kept forgetting who could hear and who couldn't. So it made for several funny situations. I'd talk to people who couldn't understand me. Then I'd try to sign a question to someone else, and they'd start talking to me. Kind of funny . . .
One of my friends invited me to the wedding, so I decided I would go with him. Since we communicate mostly by sign language and lip reading, it didn't matter how loud the music was at the wedding. We were still able to communicate.
Okay guys, that's it for now. Hope y'all are doing well . . .
-Dave
I think tonight marks the first time that I intentionally went to an Egyptian wedding. I've been ambushed into a few, but tonight was the first time that I actually made plans to go to one. You know, it was actually pretty fun. I saw some people that I recognized, which made it even more fun.
For the last few days I've been hanging out with a couple of deaf-mute guys. I met one a couple weeks ago, and he's been introducing me to his friends. Between a mixture of charades, sign language, lip-reading, and note-writing we manage to make ourselves understood to each other. Today I learned the signs for male and female. The sign for a guy is to twirl your fingers at the side of your mouth, right where your mustache would be if you had one. The symbol for a gal is to make the shape of an hourglass with your hands.
Tonight I ended up having tea with a group of guys, some of whom can speak and some of whom can't. I kept forgetting who could hear and who couldn't. So it made for several funny situations. I'd talk to people who couldn't understand me. Then I'd try to sign a question to someone else, and they'd start talking to me. Kind of funny . . .
One of my friends invited me to the wedding, so I decided I would go with him. Since we communicate mostly by sign language and lip reading, it didn't matter how loud the music was at the wedding. We were still able to communicate.
Okay guys, that's it for now. Hope y'all are doing well . . .
-Dave
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Umm, I probably need to apologize now . . .
So, I both impressed and depressed myself at the same time today. Impressed because I realized I knew an Arabic word I didn't think I knew. Depressed because it's not a very polite one.
Most days I go visit a couple of friends who work at a dive shop in town. (Yes, these are the guys I ate maggoty cheese with the other day.) Another guy used to work there, but he quit a few weeks ago. Now he's working as a doorman at the building next door. His nephew took his old job at the dive shop. One of the things that the doormen have to do here in Egypt is fill the building's water tank up on the roof. They usually have to do it a couple times a day. So when I came by to visit today, my friend was up on the roof. I sat down and started chatting with his nephew.
My friend apparently didn't enjoy being left out of the conversation, so he started throwing rocks from up on the roof to get our attention. We moved to somewhere where he couldn't see us and sat down. But he scored a lucky shot and hit me right on the knee. I tried to think of something mildly insulting to say in Arabic, but could think of anything. I thought that if I didn't say anything he'd just keep throwing rocks, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind which was, "ya khawal." "Ya" in Arabic means "hey." And "khawal" . . . well, let's just say that it's not particularly nice. I probably need to go apologize to him tomorrow . . .
Most days I go visit a couple of friends who work at a dive shop in town. (Yes, these are the guys I ate maggoty cheese with the other day.) Another guy used to work there, but he quit a few weeks ago. Now he's working as a doorman at the building next door. His nephew took his old job at the dive shop. One of the things that the doormen have to do here in Egypt is fill the building's water tank up on the roof. They usually have to do it a couple times a day. So when I came by to visit today, my friend was up on the roof. I sat down and started chatting with his nephew.
My friend apparently didn't enjoy being left out of the conversation, so he started throwing rocks from up on the roof to get our attention. We moved to somewhere where he couldn't see us and sat down. But he scored a lucky shot and hit me right on the knee. I tried to think of something mildly insulting to say in Arabic, but could think of anything. I thought that if I didn't say anything he'd just keep throwing rocks, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind which was, "ya khawal." "Ya" in Arabic means "hey." And "khawal" . . . well, let's just say that it's not particularly nice. I probably need to go apologize to him tomorrow . . .
Friday, February 19, 2010
Yummy!
Okay, so a question that I often get asked in my line of work is, "what's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?" It used to be deep-fried crickets, until last night that is. But now I've got a new answer . . . live maggots.
Egyptians are fond of this really old, really salty cheese called "mesh." They store it for months just to let it ferment. But apparently Egyptians aren't the only ones who are fond of it, maggots seems to have a thing for it too. I brought some of my friends falafel last night at their store. They were appreciative, so they decided to share some mesh with me. When they took the cover off the top of the cheese I thought that the cheese was stringy and was sticking to the top of the container. But no, it was maggots.
When in Rome . . . right? I couldn't decide whether to chew extra hard to make sure that they were dead, or to swallow them whole and pretend they weren't there.
Ah Egypt, how I love thee . . .
Egyptians are fond of this really old, really salty cheese called "mesh." They store it for months just to let it ferment. But apparently Egyptians aren't the only ones who are fond of it, maggots seems to have a thing for it too. I brought some of my friends falafel last night at their store. They were appreciative, so they decided to share some mesh with me. When they took the cover off the top of the cheese I thought that the cheese was stringy and was sticking to the top of the container. But no, it was maggots.
When in Rome . . . right? I couldn't decide whether to chew extra hard to make sure that they were dead, or to swallow them whole and pretend they weren't there.
Ah Egypt, how I love thee . . .
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Mono-cultural angst!
Just a warning from the beginning. This is not going to be one of my more culturally sensitive posts. Everybody okay with that? Okay, then here we go . . .
Travel opens the mind. It makes you see that there really is another way of doing things, of thinking about the world, of living life. The longer you live outside of your culture, the more you see this. However, the people you live among often don't share this understanding. Case in point:
One thing Egyptians say all the time is w'allahi. The basic translation is "my God." They use it for emphasis. It's an abbreviation of the phrase, w'allahu azeem, which means "as God is great." They'll tack it on to the end of a sentence in order to emphasize that what they're saying really is true. At least that's the original meaning. At this point it's basically become a saying that they use all the time.
One of my friends asked me today how to say it in english. I told him that we don't really say that in english. Then he said, "oh my God" in english. I told him that yes, that's the translation, but that it has a completely different meaning for us. We say it when we're surprised or scared, but not really in everyday conversation.
So he asked me how we would convey the same meaning they do when they say w'allahi. I tried to explain that when someone keeps saying "I swear to God" when they're speaking in english, we assume they're lying. If they have to keep appealing to God or something else to convince me, then they're probably not telling the truth. My friend couldn't wrap his brain around it. He basically told me, "your culture's wrong."
It's frustrating to talk to someone who's so mono-cultural. When you can get outside of your own cultural box, and examine it dispassionately, as well as several other worldviews, it's irritating to talk to someone who can't think outside of their own box. How in the world do you talk to someone who has no concept of different cultures or worldviews, who assumes that the rest of the world is exactly like their village?
Grrr . . . .
See, I told you it wasn't going to be culturally sensitive . . .
Travel opens the mind. It makes you see that there really is another way of doing things, of thinking about the world, of living life. The longer you live outside of your culture, the more you see this. However, the people you live among often don't share this understanding. Case in point:
One thing Egyptians say all the time is w'allahi. The basic translation is "my God." They use it for emphasis. It's an abbreviation of the phrase, w'allahu azeem, which means "as God is great." They'll tack it on to the end of a sentence in order to emphasize that what they're saying really is true. At least that's the original meaning. At this point it's basically become a saying that they use all the time.
One of my friends asked me today how to say it in english. I told him that we don't really say that in english. Then he said, "oh my God" in english. I told him that yes, that's the translation, but that it has a completely different meaning for us. We say it when we're surprised or scared, but not really in everyday conversation.
So he asked me how we would convey the same meaning they do when they say w'allahi. I tried to explain that when someone keeps saying "I swear to God" when they're speaking in english, we assume they're lying. If they have to keep appealing to God or something else to convince me, then they're probably not telling the truth. My friend couldn't wrap his brain around it. He basically told me, "your culture's wrong."
It's frustrating to talk to someone who's so mono-cultural. When you can get outside of your own cultural box, and examine it dispassionately, as well as several other worldviews, it's irritating to talk to someone who can't think outside of their own box. How in the world do you talk to someone who has no concept of different cultures or worldviews, who assumes that the rest of the world is exactly like their village?
Grrr . . . .
See, I told you it wasn't going to be culturally sensitive . . .
Sunday, February 14, 2010
أخيراً
Hey guys,
The name of this post is أخيراً (pronounced "akheeran") which means "finally" in Arabic. Why? Good question, I'm glad you asked.
One of my neighbors has been teaching me to play dominoes recently. Yes, it's more complicated and has much more strategy than I realized. I've been playing with this guy a couple of times a week for the last month or so. And I lose . . . every time. I'd told him that if I ever beat him I was going to dance naked in the street. We talk so much trash to each other. It's actually more fun to talk trash in Arabic than in English
Well, tonight I finally won. I took off my shirt, started walking towards the front door, and told my friend I'd be back in a few minutes. He thought it was hilarious. I'm glad he didn't hold me to my promise of naked dancing because there's actually a wedding taking place right now in the street I live on.
Here's to many more victories . . . I hope . . .
The name of this post is أخيراً (pronounced "akheeran") which means "finally" in Arabic. Why? Good question, I'm glad you asked.
One of my neighbors has been teaching me to play dominoes recently. Yes, it's more complicated and has much more strategy than I realized. I've been playing with this guy a couple of times a week for the last month or so. And I lose . . . every time. I'd told him that if I ever beat him I was going to dance naked in the street. We talk so much trash to each other. It's actually more fun to talk trash in Arabic than in English
Well, tonight I finally won. I took off my shirt, started walking towards the front door, and told my friend I'd be back in a few minutes. He thought it was hilarious. I'm glad he didn't hold me to my promise of naked dancing because there's actually a wedding taking place right now in the street I live on.
Here's to many more victories . . . I hope . . .
Friday, February 12, 2010
My new friend . . .
For those of you who may not be familiar with Egypt, let me enlighten you. We have mosquitos. Let me clarify that . . . we have LOTS of mosquitos! And the fact that I live in a not-so-nice part of town really doesn't help things much. The mosquitos in Egypt don't carry malaria or dengue-fever though, which is really nice! Anyway, tonight I walked into my room and noticed a new roommate. There was a lizard just hanging out on the ceiling. After my initial shock, I got really excited. Anything that eats mosquitos is welcome in my bedroom. I decided to name him Edwin. It seemed like a good lizard name. I thought about Arthur or Max, but they just didn't seem to have the cultured, educated flair that Edwin does. I hope he sticks around for a few days, although forever would also work for me. Maybe he'll tell all of his friends about the abundant mosquito buffet in my flat.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Egyptian Joke . . .
I had a friend over tonight and he taught me an Egyptian joke. So I thought I'd share it with you.
There was a young boy who lived with his father. His mother had died some years before. One day the boy said to his father, "I have to pee." His father told him, "Don't say, 'I have to pee' because it's not polite and other people might hear you. Just say, 'I have to whistle' and I'll understand what you mean." So as time went on, the boy learned to say, "I have to whistle" whenever he needed to pee.
One day the father's job took him out of town for a few days. So the father took his son to stay at his grandfather's house while he was gone. When everyone laid down to sleep the boy said to his grandfather, "I have to whistle." But his grandfather said, "You can't. Everyone's asleep and you'll wake them up. Go to sleep." So the boy went to sleep. But he woke up a little while later and told his grandfather, "I have to whistle right now." But his grandfather told him again, "No way! You can't whistle right now. Go back to sleep." So the little boy tried to sleep, but couldn't. So he woke his grandfather up again and told him, "You don't understand. I have to whistle right now!" So his grandfather said, "Okay, fine. You can whistle right here in my ear . . ."
And, that's the joke. Hope you enjoyed it . . .
There was a young boy who lived with his father. His mother had died some years before. One day the boy said to his father, "I have to pee." His father told him, "Don't say, 'I have to pee' because it's not polite and other people might hear you. Just say, 'I have to whistle' and I'll understand what you mean." So as time went on, the boy learned to say, "I have to whistle" whenever he needed to pee.
One day the father's job took him out of town for a few days. So the father took his son to stay at his grandfather's house while he was gone. When everyone laid down to sleep the boy said to his grandfather, "I have to whistle." But his grandfather said, "You can't. Everyone's asleep and you'll wake them up. Go to sleep." So the boy went to sleep. But he woke up a little while later and told his grandfather, "I have to whistle right now." But his grandfather told him again, "No way! You can't whistle right now. Go back to sleep." So the little boy tried to sleep, but couldn't. So he woke his grandfather up again and told him, "You don't understand. I have to whistle right now!" So his grandfather said, "Okay, fine. You can whistle right here in my ear . . ."
And, that's the joke. Hope you enjoyed it . . .
Monday, February 1, 2010
Three in a row . . .
Hey guys,
I tried to post this video last night, but the internet was being finicky. Egypt won the Africa Cup last night after a close victory over Ghana (1 - 0). This was actually Egypt's third Africa Cup title in a row. My friends were much better behaved during this match than the last one. Probably because they weren't playing Algeria. Anyway, after the match ended the festivities began. No flag burning this time, though.
Last time I saw a tiny bit of the festivities, then went home. But this time I decided to head to the middle of town to see what things were like. It was crazy! People were chanting, dancing, honking horns, singing, and using aerosol cans like blowtorches. Seriously. Hair spray, bug spray, anything that would burn. I had an initial moment of fear, wondering if I would get impaled by shrapnel if one of the cans exploded. But I figured that with all of the people that were there, the odds of the shrapnel actually hitting me was pretty small.
I also learned something new last night. Steel wool will burn. Well, I think "smolders" might be a better word for it. People were lighting steel wool on fire, then spinning it around really quick. Embers would fly off the end, producing pretty much the same effect as a sparkler. I think this method is a little cheaper than buying real fireworks though.
The game ended at around 8:00 pm, and the celebration was still going strong when I went to bed at about one in the morning. It was so much fun! Let me tell you, there aren't many things that will make you feel more alive than being in the middle of several hundred Arabs dancing, chanting, and lighting things on fire.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Lost in culture . . .
Okay, a brief history lesson for my friends who aren't well schooled in international football (soccer for the Americans). Last year there was a tournament called the Confederation Cup in South Africa. Egypt and Algeria were playing each other, and were both trying to qualify for the World Cup (held in June of this year). It came down to one final game for those two teams. Whoever won the game would qualify for the World Cup, and whoever lost wouldn't. Algeria beat Egypt, pretty badly in fact (3 - 0). Anyway, the Egyptians started complaining that the Algerians had only won because they cheated. I wasn't there for the game, but I tend to doubt it. This is an honor-shame culture. Admitting weakness is unthinkable. So if Egypt lost, then the Algerians were obviously cheating. Makes sense, right? There were riots in both Algeria and Egypt after the game. That was all a few months ago.Fast forward to today. Egypt and Algeria played each other in the semi-final of the Africa Cup a couple hours ago. And Egypt won, quite convincingly in fact (4 - 0). I think they got a few lucky calls from the referee, but they would have won either way. I watched the match at a local coffee shop with some of my friends. And I tried to root for Egypt; I really did. But I was appalled by my friends' behavior. Every time the screen showed one of the Algerian players my friends would shout some lovely things, "ibn el wiskha," "ibn el kelb," "ibn el mitnika!" Roughly translated those mean, "son of a whore," "son of a dog," and "son of (something else I won't translate for you)." But suffice to say that it's not very polite. I was so disturbed by the way that my friends were acting that I was secretly rooting for Algeria on the inside. But I wouldn't tell any of them that.
Anyway, after the match ended I decided to head home. But I was completely taken aback by what I saw when I stepped outside. The first thing I saw was a bunch of young men dancing in the street, burning Algerian flags. Besides my initial surprise of wondering where you find an Algerian flag in Egypt, I was left speechless. These people are burning the flag of another country over a football match! And people are dancing around cheering! I decided to hang out on the street for a while just to see a little more of what was going on. I'm back at home now but I can still hear the car horns in the street, despite the fact that the game ended almost an hour ago.
Egyptians have a method of celebrating called the "zafa." In involves getting as many people together as you can, piling into as many automobiles as you can find, and driving up and down the street honking your horn. It happens mostly for wedding and football games, but occasionally takes place for other things as well. They'll probably celebrate way into the night.
But I think the thing that had the most profound impact on me was the flag burning. Consider how hard it is to come by an Algerian flag in Egypt. These people obviously put some thought and effort into preparing to do this. I can't wrap my brain around that kind of anger and bitterness. Over football! And I thought I was bad about holding grudges!
Okay, so this probably isn't my most culturally-sensitive post ever. If I have some massive cultural revelation on this in the next couple of days, I'll be sure to let you know.
By the way, the cheering and honking is showing no signs of winding down any time soon . . .
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Surprise visit!
Okay, here's the random story of the day. I was in my apartment at about eight o'clock last night when I heard a knock at the door. I went downstairs to see who it was. I found my neighbor's four year old son standing at the door with one of his friends. He told me that he wanted to come visit me.
I was a little suspicious of a four year old coming over to hang out for the evening, so I went outside with them and walked down the street to a small market. I bought them both lollipops, sat on the curb with them, and explained that they couldn't come over and visit without their fathers. But my neighbor's son said, "we just want to sit on your balcony for a while." I told them, "sorry guys, but you can't visit without your fathers."
While I was sitting there talking to them, I heard someone in the street say, "what is that foreigner doing sitting with two little kids?" I live in a pretty small neighborhood and my neighbors are all related to each other. So I figured it wasn't going to be too long before the kid's father heard about it. I asked a friend today if I should go talk to the father or not. He told me not to make a special visit just to tell him about it, but to tell him the next time that I saw him. But I was a little nervous that someone else might tell him before I did, so I went hunting. I finally tracked him down in a barber shop watching a football game between Algeria and Ivory Coast.
I waited until halftime, then asked him to come outside with me. I took him across the street and told him that his son had come by last night, that I'd taken him down the street to the market, bought him candy and talked to him for a bit. I explained that in my culture it's not really okay for a small child to go visit a grown man. I was nervous while I was talking to him, not knowing how he was going to react.
After I finished talking, he looked at me and said, "okay, I'll beat him when I get home." I told him, "No, no, no! That's not why I'm telling you this. I just wanted you to hear from me instead of from someone else." He told me that his son just wanted to be friends with whoever his dad is friends with. I'm not really thrilled about him beating his son later on tonight, but I'm glad that he took the news as well as he did. I can only imagine what I would think if someone told me they saw a grown man sitting with my son in the evening, feeding him candy.
I was a little suspicious of a four year old coming over to hang out for the evening, so I went outside with them and walked down the street to a small market. I bought them both lollipops, sat on the curb with them, and explained that they couldn't come over and visit without their fathers. But my neighbor's son said, "we just want to sit on your balcony for a while." I told them, "sorry guys, but you can't visit without your fathers."
While I was sitting there talking to them, I heard someone in the street say, "what is that foreigner doing sitting with two little kids?" I live in a pretty small neighborhood and my neighbors are all related to each other. So I figured it wasn't going to be too long before the kid's father heard about it. I asked a friend today if I should go talk to the father or not. He told me not to make a special visit just to tell him about it, but to tell him the next time that I saw him. But I was a little nervous that someone else might tell him before I did, so I went hunting. I finally tracked him down in a barber shop watching a football game between Algeria and Ivory Coast.
I waited until halftime, then asked him to come outside with me. I took him across the street and told him that his son had come by last night, that I'd taken him down the street to the market, bought him candy and talked to him for a bit. I explained that in my culture it's not really okay for a small child to go visit a grown man. I was nervous while I was talking to him, not knowing how he was going to react.
After I finished talking, he looked at me and said, "okay, I'll beat him when I get home." I told him, "No, no, no! That's not why I'm telling you this. I just wanted you to hear from me instead of from someone else." He told me that his son just wanted to be friends with whoever his dad is friends with. I'm not really thrilled about him beating his son later on tonight, but I'm glad that he took the news as well as he did. I can only imagine what I would think if someone told me they saw a grown man sitting with my son in the evening, feeding him candy.
Too much gel . . .
Hey there,So, the other day I decided that my hair was getting a little shaggy and it was time for a haircut. There's a Palestinian barber that I usually go to every few days to get a shave. He's a nice guy and I like him, but it's a little awkward every time I go. The other guys at the barber shop always tell him that this is his chance to take revenge on an American. They all laugh and seem to think it's an incredibly funny joke. But that notwithstanding, I enjoy going there.
Anyway . . . I've had the same hairstyle for about the last year and a half, so I decided it was time for a change. I told the barber to give me a hairstyle that he thought looked good. I took my glasses off and didn't see much of what he was doing while he was cutting my hair. But at the end I noticed him reaching for a bottle of hair gel and thought, "this is going to be fun." After much time gelling my hair he let me put my glasses back on and take a look.
I had to stifle a smile & a giggle. Living here for the last year and a few months, I should have known what kind of haircut I was going to get. I paid, told him how great I thought it looked, then immediately went home and washed all the gel out of my hair.
I think fashion may be one part of the culture I'm not quite ready to embrace yet. :)
Friday, January 15, 2010
I thought I was the only one . . .
Hey guys,
I had an odd experience last night. I traveled to a town about an hour south of here to visit a friend. I stopped in at his place, had some tea, and chatted with him for a while. At about ten in the evening he told me that he was going to a wedding, and he wanted me to come with him.
I've been to lots of Egyptian weddings, and I always find them a bit awkward. I usually wind up at them because I'm visiting someone and they decide to take me with them to the wedding (just like last night). But invariably once I'm there, the person who brought me runs into a long-lost relative and spends the entire evening talking to them. I usually end up wandering around, trying to find someone to talk to, and explaining what a white person is doing at the wedding.
Based on past experience, I usually try to steer clear of weddings if I can. But last night it was unavoidable. So here I am, about half an hour outside of the nearest town. As usual, my host left me to fend for myself. I was standing around trying to blend into the background when something caught my eye. You know how sometimes you see something that just doesn't look quite right? I noticed someone standing off to the right who seemed about as out of place as me. I took a closer look, and it was a white girl. Not really sure where she was from. If I had to guess I'd say maybe German or French.
It stuck me as so odd that I didn't even try to talk to her. Not that she would've been able to understand me anyway. The music was incredibly loud! Usually they turn the music up so loud that the speakers buzz and distort the music, then people get microphones and try to sing over the music. It's funny, you can actually understand the music better from about half a kilometer away than you can inside the tent :)
I thought it was kind of funny. Out on the middle of nowhere at a wedding I don't really belong at, and I run into another foreigner. Weird, huh?
Okay, that's it for now. Peace . . .
I had an odd experience last night. I traveled to a town about an hour south of here to visit a friend. I stopped in at his place, had some tea, and chatted with him for a while. At about ten in the evening he told me that he was going to a wedding, and he wanted me to come with him.
I've been to lots of Egyptian weddings, and I always find them a bit awkward. I usually wind up at them because I'm visiting someone and they decide to take me with them to the wedding (just like last night). But invariably once I'm there, the person who brought me runs into a long-lost relative and spends the entire evening talking to them. I usually end up wandering around, trying to find someone to talk to, and explaining what a white person is doing at the wedding.
Based on past experience, I usually try to steer clear of weddings if I can. But last night it was unavoidable. So here I am, about half an hour outside of the nearest town. As usual, my host left me to fend for myself. I was standing around trying to blend into the background when something caught my eye. You know how sometimes you see something that just doesn't look quite right? I noticed someone standing off to the right who seemed about as out of place as me. I took a closer look, and it was a white girl. Not really sure where she was from. If I had to guess I'd say maybe German or French.
It stuck me as so odd that I didn't even try to talk to her. Not that she would've been able to understand me anyway. The music was incredibly loud! Usually they turn the music up so loud that the speakers buzz and distort the music, then people get microphones and try to sing over the music. It's funny, you can actually understand the music better from about half a kilometer away than you can inside the tent :)
I thought it was kind of funny. Out on the middle of nowhere at a wedding I don't really belong at, and I run into another foreigner. Weird, huh?
Okay, that's it for now. Peace . . .
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