Oh so stuffed!!

Hi guys,

My friend Ahmed called me tonight and told me he was coming over. So I cleaned up the house and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and, no Ahmed! So I decided to go out for dinner. (I made a big batch of casserole a few days ago and have been having it for every meal. I finally got sick of it and decided I needed something else.) Anyway . . . I finished my dinner and was on my way to visit another friend when Ahmed called. Yep! He wanted to have dinner. So I met him at another restaurant and (you guessed it) had another dinner. I was already full after the first one, but it would've been rude not to eat with him. I have some new-found sympathy for pregnant women after this experience! :) I'm not planning to eat for a few days!

Oh, another funny story. When I was having dinner at the first restaurant, a guy came in and ordered some food. He had a bit of an accent, so the guys at the restaurant started joking around with him. When they found out where he was from, they started cracking jokes. (He's from a small village in the south of Egypt, by the way.) And suddenly it hit me . . . they're treating him the same way they treat me! Maybe it's not because I'm a foreigner. Maybe it's just because that's how they treat everyone. Anyway, I laughed right along with them.

Okay, that's it for now. Time to sit and let my dinners digest! :)

Home sweet . . . desert . . .

Hello Everyone . . .

I'm back in the desert. After many flights and many oceans, I'm back in Egypt!

I'd been following the news before I came back to see what things were like. And my first reaction is that things look just fine. There's nobody on the streets in my town, but I'd kind of expected that. I did see a tank of the side of the road yesterday on my way back from the airport, but it wasn't doing anything. I asked the taxi driver, and he said that things had been really calm in our town.

So, it looks like I've got some time off from work. I'm supposed to call the boss at lunch tomorrow and see what things look like. But aside from that, I've got cleaning, cooking, and chatting to do. Should be fun! I'll let you guys know how things go . . .

Proof of life!

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! :)

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.

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! :)

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!

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.

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 :)

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?

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.

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!

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?

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 . . .

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.

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.

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 . . .

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!

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!

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.

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.