Nick Of Arabia

Flight Info

2006-12-20T21:06:00.000+02:00

So there seems to be a few blank spots in my blog. I have a 12 hour layover in Frankfurt to fill them in, in-shallah.

The pictures are from a couple weeks ago when we went to an Ahly soccer game. Ahly is Egypt's best soccer club and based just down the street. Although there is a huge rivalry between Ahly and Zamalek (the other big team in Cairo), I was rooting for Ahly (note my new scarf). At this game verse Olymbee (Alexandria) Ahly dominated and won.

I have one last exam tomorrow and a lot of packing to do. Here is my flight info though:

Fri, Dec 22: UNITED AIRLINES, UA 9105- LUFTHANSA
Cairo-Frankfurt
4:10pm-7.40pm

Sat, Dec 23: UNITED AIRLINES, UA 0945
Frankfurt-Chicago
8.10am-10.35am

Sat, Dec 23: UNITED AIRLINES, UA 6806
Chicago-Traverse City
1.10pm-3.14pm

The Pyrimads by Camel

2006-12-16T01:38:00.000+02:00

And finally on my third visit to the pyrimads I rode a camel- for the first time.

Cairo Camel Market

2006-12-11T01:18:00.000+02:00

Luxor

2006-12-02T02:52:00.000+02:00

Aswan

2006-11-30T00:01:00.000+02:00

The next morning the AUC invasion visited the Nubian Museum in Aswan. The people of Aswan and Abu Simbel are ethnically Nubian and African; they also speak their own dialect. Ironically, Cairo, the ‘Crown of Africa’, has its roots deep into the Middle East not Africa—making its more appropriate nickname the ‘Heart of the Middle East’. The first real African city I have traveled to then is Aswan.

The Nubian Museum is so different from the Egyptian Museum. Instead of being packed to the brim with priceless pieces, the museum is well laid out and all the items are labeled, ranking high on my list of good museums.

Next was Philae Temple, located on an island in the middle of the Nile. Originally on Philae Island, the temple had to be moved after the completion of the High Dam to a near by island. We took two small motor boats out to the island and climbed out on the tourist dock. Ancient Egyptian temples were built so well that 3,000 years later we can still see the detail and even original paint in the carvings. What structures have our generations built that will last for the next 3,000 years? What will those structures tell about us?

I won’t go into the details about Ancient Egyptian temples, religion, or culture because I can’t do them justice. I will focus on my impressions of temples. Egyptologists have mapped out fairly well the evolution of Ancient Egyptian society and religion. Our tour guide (also an Art History professor at AUC) retold each twist and turn, each story justifying some ancient political event, added god, or assassinated Pharaoh. Every new detail recorded on the walls deep in the stone: the walls—their history books—manipulated however by the current ruler. How fluid their history was, in the hands of any jealous or disgruntle Egyptian or even a random man with a chisel. Imagine all of the centuries our heritage has sat vulnerable to the wind, weather, and man.

For me, this reiterates how relative history can be. When viewed from a Eurocentric, American hegemony world, history can be very straight forward. But the moment one moves outside of this sphere, past events become controversial just like today’s events are controversial. The way the Iraq War is discussed in the media now is much different from two years ago; the way the war is written two hundred years from now will likely be different as well. It makes petty arguments of today feel petty—the drama of everyday life insignificant. Did Pharaoh really worry about how their gowns looked that day? Did the ancient carver ever have a bad day and want to get out his eraser?

Later in the day we sailed in two boats down (north) the Nile to a traditional Nubian village. Our guides had arranged for traditional Nubian music on the boat. A group of four or five locals played African drums and sang to the music. My friends joined in on the dancing and we all sang along to the songs/chants.

At the village we were taken through town to the house of a friend of our guides. It was more of a chance to buy local goods then experience culture. We were shuffled into a display room with lots of things for sale. After being sat down, all 50 of us, we were offered tea and hibiscus (flower juice) and the opportunity to peruse their pseudo-store. It was a nice attempt at interaction with Aswan-ians, but I think this picture captures the whole experience. The lettering on the back of this woman’s shawl says “Made in India”.

On the way back to the boat, I passed a group of women who waved. Not thinking I said hello: “Salem allakum”. One of the teenage girls came running over to me and started talking to me: what’s name, where are you from- all in Arabic. Then she asked, “Are you Muslim?” I said no and she immediately ran away. I guess I didn’t make a promising husband. Also “Salem allakum” is traditionally only used by Muslims.

Back in Aswan, we went shopping for Christmas presents in the souq (market). There was a lot of selection for items that cannot be named (*to be replaced after Christmas day) but Tatiana and I wanted something specific. After hitting up almost every shop in the souq, we found two that we both loved. The shop keeper, of course, was asking way too much. We negotiate down a little but it was still too high. I used ‘the walk away’ (pretend to not want it any more and walk out of the shop), to only be pulled back in by the shop keeper. At that point, we realized that the boat was leaving at 8 PM and we only had a couple minutes to get back to the boat. We told him this, almost immediately got the correct price, and rushed him to put them in bags. I went to pay him but he didn’t have correct change, so he went to his friend/ neighbor for change who didn’t have it either. The whole time Tatiana and I are telling him to hurry up. Finally I took the couple pounds that five of his fellow shop keepers could gather for change and went running down the souq.

We caught up with the rest of our friends and realized we had more time than originally thought. By the looks we were given though, Tatiana and I had to be the quickest walkers that souq had ever seen. One tout asked us “Why are you walking so fast?” I said, “We’re American”.

Across from the dock, we saw a group of people singing and dancing. Maria and I looked at each other: “Another wedding!” All of us gathered around the group and started clapping; quickly some of the invited guests saw us and pulled us into the inner circle. Again, the bride wasn’t exactly happy that we were there but the rest of the crowd loved it. After a couple minutes the party got in to cars and drove away. We used our newly acquired wedding vocabulary and congratulated them: “مبروك” (mabrook)!

Now I’m wondering how to say ‘wedding crashers’ in Arabic.

Pictures:

Nubian Museum

In this picture one of the godesses is feeding a Pharoah the Key of the Nile (Ankh Cross). This symbolizes the Pharaoh becoming a god, becoming immortal.

The temples were used as churches for a period of time. Thus in the cross and alter in the background.

Allah akbar- God is Great

On the way to the traditional Nubian village

Abu Simbel

2006-11-28T01:36:00.000+02:00

Although Thanksgiving in Ancient Egypt had promise, it did not deliver- particularly on the pumpkin pie. This last weekend AUC planned a trip to Aswan and Luxor, promising a special Thanksgiving dinner. We flew from Cairo to Aswan late Wednesday night arriving in Aswan Thursday morning ready for a full day of sightseeing. The group consisted of about fifty or sixty AUC students, mostly Arabic Language Unit college or barely post-college students.

I didn’t sleep Wednesday night so I attempted to nap on the plane, on the first bus ride, and on the second bus ride almost recharging my batteries. We visited the Aswan High Dam just at sunrise. The High Dam was built during Nasser’s rule with the assistance of the Soviet Union to hold back the waters of the Nile River, preventing the Nile from flooding each year and creating more growing seasons for the Nile River Valley. This huge dam creates Lake Nasser, which is shared by Sudan.

President Mubarak is working on a project called Toshka Canal or the New Valley Project. This project proposes rerouting part of the Nile from the High Dam to the middle of the desert to create a new fertile valley for farmers to cultivate. Started in 1997 and not expected to be completed until 2020, this project embodies for me Egypt’s bureaucratic wishful thinking and bad decisions.

The Aswan High Dam has a controversial history because it has had some negative side effects. Even though the number of growing seasons has doubled or tripled, helping to feed Egypt’s huge population, the fertile silt that the Nile flood deposited each year is now stuck behind the dam. Farmers have started to use artificial fertilizers. The area now located beneath Lake Nasser use to be the Nubian Kingdom. Traditionally considered part of Egypt with periodic independence in Pharaonic time, most Nubian villages had to be relocated north of the dam with modern government housing projects. The controversy continues because many of Ancient Egypt’s famous temples were in danger of being submerged. The UN organization UNESCO worked for more than a decade and saved 24 monuments—the most famous of which is Abu Simbel.

Abu Simbel is the massive temple constructed by Ramses II to make his presence felt in the remote region of his kingdom. The statues of Ramses II towered over the Nubian people, emphasizing his power; on the way out of town a picture of Mubarak loomed over the highway, accentuating his control. Even in this secluded village on the border with Sudan, Mubarak’s presence—and his police force—can be felt. Also, all of the buses had a military escort from Aswan to Abu Simbel and back.

The temples themselves (there are two- one for the king and one for his wife) are huge on the outside but inside much smaller. The statues out front are larger than I imagined. The inner chambers were carved into the side of the cliff and had great risen-relief carvings.

Abu Simbel was one of the temples saved by UNESCO—particularly difficult considering it was carved into the cliff. The temples were moved up hill from their original location to escape the rising waters of Lake Nasser. They maintain the same orientation so that on specific days the sun shines just right and hits the pillars and carvings inside to signify something—just one day off. UNESCO built two artificial mountains to make the temples have the same ambiance.

Pictures:

Temple for Ramses II's wife

Ramses II's temple

Ancient Grafitti- Fools' names and fools' faces always appear in public places.

Lake Nasser

Egyptian Cinema

2006-11-19T00:52:00.000+02:00

Well, not quite. But here are my videos from Jerusalem and also from when my Unlce Bill, Aunt Yumi, and Cousin Blake came to visit two weeks ago:

The Wailing Wall or Western Wall of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem

A Jewish celebration near the Wailing Wall

A private call to prayer for us in Sultan Hussan Mosque, Islamic Cairo

Call to prayer in Khan Khalili next to the Saiyidi-Hussein Mosque

Jerusalem; Part I

2006-11-12T19:04:00.000+02:00

The Dead Sea at sunset

The Dome of the Rock on the Temple Mount

Al Asqa Mosque on the Temple Mount

The Wailing Wall

Me with my paper yurmulka

Everything bagels just almost like L'Chayim's. Even the employees were grumpy.

Place of the Last Supper

Stone Jesus' body was washed on

Tomb of King David

Church on Mount Zion

Jesus' tomb inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem

Jesus' birth place

Even holy sites need renovation

The back room of an olive wood sculpture work shop

Old poster, fresh emotions.

The Shepherd's Fields

Church near the Shepherd's Fields

Jerusalem; Part II

2006-11-12T18:02:00.000+02:00

Us and more than 300 pilgrims walking the Stations of the Cross with Franciscan monks

Israeli Defense Force guards

Damascus Gate of the Old City, Jerusalem

Church of the Holy Sepulchre

2,000 year old olives trees that saw Jesus sweat blood

A Jewish tomb on the Mount of Olives

View of the Temple Mount from one of the churches on the Mount of Olives

Place of Jesus' ascension to heaven

The Lord's Prayer in English...

Swedish...

Polish...

Arabic...

Bengali...

Zulu...

Over 70 in all.

The Holocaust Museum

Wadi Rum (Updated)

2006-11-10T17:00:00.000+02:00

October 24, 2006

The next morning we took the taxi that our friendly hotel manager had arranged for us to Wadi Rum. Once in the cab, I turned to the driver and started negotiating the price. We had been ripped off on the ride to Petra; we were not going to get cheated again. The driver wanted 35 Jordanian Dinar but I suggested 20, we agreed to that. Maria confirmed in Arabic to make sure.

The drive to Wadi Rum is back the same road to Petra, but half way there is a turn off—the only turn off in fact—that leads to Wadi Rum. Just before the turn though the cab driver pulled over, leapt out of the car and hugged a man. Our driver introduced us to his brother that he hadn’t seen in a long time. How did he spot him on the roadside?

Even before entering the city of Wadi Rum there is a large visitor center run by the government. All the guide books, along with seasoned friends, told us to avoid the overpriced tours at the visitor center and ask for Mohamed Sabah in the village. We fended off the government guides (including walking away from a man in a suit who told us that every other tour was illegal) and had our driver drop us off at Sayeed (Mr.) Sabah’s door step.

Mohamed Sabah looks as if he has stepped out of an Orientialist’s dream. He wore a glaringly white gallibaya, strap sandals, and his family’s red checkered head scarf. The dream continued as he spoke impeccable English, welcoming us into his home and immediately offering us Bedouin tea. Sitting in his living room (on ground cushions, of course) I noticed a TV stand and television set against one wall and, honest-to-God, a computer with internet access—someone had recently been surfing the web. Even on the edge of the Arabian Desert, one can find internet access.

We picked out a reasonably priced jeep safari and overnight trip stay in his Bedouin camp. Then went to buy lunch and settle up with the taxi driver. Thus ensued the Great Clash of Civiliza tions: not over moral differences, cultural misunderstandings, or even religious differences, but rather- the taxi fare.

One might note that our ‘clash’ was probably complicated by any number of the previously mentioned, but the root of our ‘clash’ was this individual man’s greed and dishonesty. The taxi driver who introduced us to his brother and helped us find the best deal in town with Sayeed Sabah tried to turn around and stick us with ten extra dinar (almost twenty dollars more than agreed). Normally I absorb disagreements like this by just paying the extra money and getting on with life, but today I had had enough and so had my travel companions.

We reminded him of the agreement we made before we left; he excused it because he didn’t speak any English. Now that is a joke—he was pointing out landmarks to me the whole drive there. To top it off though, we spoke to him in Arabic; we said, “ashreen” which means twenty in Arabic.

The escalation of events:
1. General disagreement between the cabdriver and I
2. Yelling back and forth after returning the money I had given him
3. Talking to his manager over his cell phone
4. Being called a liar and reciprocating
5. Sayeed Sabah stepping in to negotiate but not succeeding
6. Being asked to go to the police station and being willing to go
7. Maria going crazy on him- good thing he didn’t understand English, or Norwegian
8. Cabdriver pretending to be insulted and not willing to take any money at all
9. Cabdriver takes 25 dinar after realizing we would go with him to the police station and finally realizing who he was dealing with

Not being the most pleasant welcome to Wadi Rum, Mohamed Sabah and his family set out to fix it. We were almost immediately taken on our safari by Sayeed Sabah’s 15 year old son, who drove a stick shift jeep better than some racecar drivers. The desert of Wadi Rum is different from the Great Sand Desert of Siwa Oasis: the sand here was scattered with rocks and stones and every now and then a large mountain.

In a discussion with our safari guide, Jon and I misunderstood him and thought that the cabdriver we had just tangoed with was actually part of Mohamed Sabah’s family. Most tour groups, restaurants, and gift shops in the Middle East all have family connections to each other. Luckily for us though, this was a misunderstanding.

The grand tour went from the red to white to black deserts (all just local fields maybe three or four miles apart) and to several springs as well, finally arriving at Sayeed Sabah’s family campsite. It was comprised of three army shaped tents made out of indigenous cloth. The floors were covered in a carpet of loosely woven plastic, which surprisingly didn’t let any sand through. The edges were lined with our future mattresses and pillows. Our safari driver give me the special tour of the camp, which included the bathrooms and how to turn on running, heated water in the desert.
Note: Bathrooms appeared to be cleaned with sand only—unsuccessfully. We didn’t get a chance to use the running water.

We spent a lazy afternoon relaxing in the deserted Bedouin camp (as in no one there, not as in desertify-ed). Just before dinner, Maria and I went to climb the near by mountain. Who knew what great scramblers we were? With only the Chaco sandals on my feet and my dirty pair of jeans I made it almost to the top of this mountain. Out of all the dangerous things I’ve done in my life scrambling up the cliffs without ropes or a safety system, almost 200 miles away from real medical service is near the top of that list. From the top, we could see the surrounding mountains and distant desert floor. The fresh clean breeze was also great.

For dinner we learned how Bedouins cook, just like my Great Grandpa George, under the sand. My grandpa cooked fish; our new Bedouin friends made chicken. The fresh, sweet tea was the highlight of the cold night.

Maria, Jon, and I slept under the stars that night. We had difficulty finding a safe spot for the mattresses (avoiding jeep roads and rock beds) but finally settled. Our guide said not to worry about scorpions or rattlesnakes because they sprinkle diesel fuel on the perimeter of the camp. The stars were beautiful. They reminded me of home, especially up north. Being away for city lights makes the sky very striking in the Lower Peninsula or the Arabian Peninsula.

The next morning we rose to a Bedouin breakfast, with the wonderful tea again, and began our trek back to Israel.

Additional pictures:

Wadi Rum: desert and home to the mountain named The Seven Pillars of Wisdom made infamous by T. E. Lawerence book by the same name.

It's supposed to look like a chicken; I was more concerned about our jeep in the background.

I almost didn't make it.

Conquered the mountain

People I don't know

Petra (Updated)

2006-10-23T19:44:00.000+02:00

Last week was Eid, the end of Ramadan and a several day celebration for most Muslims. AUC had the weekLast week off, so we took advantage of the time and traveled to Jordan and Jerusalem.

We left Saturday night (the 28th) and arrived at the Taba border crossing at about four in the morning. Just to set the record straight, I did not cross the border into the Gaza Strip, which is currently closed. I am also not crazy enough to consider that option. Crossing the border from Egypt to Israel was stepping from the Third World to the First World in one step. Where as Egypt’s side of the border was worn down, shabby, surrounded by barbwire and poorly paved sidewalks Israel’s border was new, modern, clean, surrounded by fence and perfectly paved with benches for the wait.

And oh the wait- after the 11 hour bus ride we made our way through the maze of lines, metal detectors, and questions. I accidentally thanked one officer with shukran and immediately we got pulled aside for further questioning. Maria, ethnically Turkish but born in Norway and carrying a Norwegian passport with stamps from both Syria and Lebanon, was sent to a special room for interrogation. After passing the first interrogators questions, she moved on to two other separate interrogations. She was asked questions like:
Where is your grandfather from?
What do you study in Egypt?
What is the subject of your final thesis in college?
Why study in Egypt?

We were at the border for almost two and a half hours waiting for clearance. A little frustrated and probably a little desperate too, I made a last ditch effort to speed up the process. While I was buying some food, I started talking to one of the interrogation officers and made sure to compliment her several times. Now realize that Israel’s border is staffed completely by twenty year old girls fulfilling their one year of mandatory service. I figured it might help move things along if I used some of the Micinski charm. The girl went into the Maria’s interrogation room and started talking to the other officers. We waited another forty five minutes but think of how long we might have waited if I hadn’t schmoozed the officer.

We took a taxi from the Israeli border, through Eilat (a resort town in Israel), to the Jordanian border, paid our exit tax (thanks, Israel!), and crossed the Jordanian border at about 10 o’clock. No interrogation or problems this time and the officers actually appreciated our Arabic. In Jordan, the local dialects are much closer to Modern Standard Arabic (MSA). Back in Cairo we get looks for using MSA because Colloquial Egyptian Arabic is filled with so much slang it is almost a different language. It was nice to hear MSA used by actual people.

The first city past the Jordanian border is Aqaba, made famous from the movie Lawrence of Arabia and the actual T.E. Lawrence’s conquest of the city. Aqaba made an impression on me because I saw my first Burger King in the Middle East there.

We hired a taxi to Petra and were treated to Jordan’s smooth roads. Jordan passed us by at 140 kilometers per hour (speed limit: 80), arriving in Petra at noon. We arrived at the same time as the bus that left at eight in the morning. We stayed at the Petra Gate Hostel and were treated to amazing service by the owner of the hotel. He gave us an overview of things to do in Petra, got us tea, gave us a free ride to the visitor center, cooked us dinner, and arranged for a taxi ride to Wadi Rum on our last day. He was the most helpful hotel manager I’ve ever met and the room cost only 14 dinar ($20) a night!

Petra is in a canyon that reminded me of our National Parks in Utah. We entered through a slot canyon—huge cliff on both sides standing only 15-20 feet apart. The rock has a red tint that changes color with the angle of the sun. Petra would be amazing as only a geological site but it also has incredible history and architecture hidden inside.

We turned one corner and suddenly the classic postcard of Petra was standing in front of us. The Treasury is the most famous tomb in Petra and has been feature in many movies including, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Probably the most disappointing thing was that inside every tomb is only a large cavernous room- no booby traps or large rolling stones.

We walked further into the canyon and the tombs keep going and going. On every wall, almost every possible place there is some sort of tomb carved. At one point Bedouins had set up shops in and around caves: one named Why Not Bazaar and another called No Name Restaurant. One of the shop keepers yelled to us, “Happy Hour! Good Price!” Later in the day we were it was still going on.

We climbed up to the High Place of Sacrifice and did a little reenactment. On the decent, we passed a Bedouin family cooking on a ridge. Maria and I talked to them for a bit but they had trouble understanding our Egyptian Arabic. I also need to be more careful with my gendered pronouns. I think I may have offended the little girls. Jon stayed on the trail and talked to an old Bedouin woman. We ended up buy water from her and then throwing the water way because it tasted so bad.

The next day we hiked to the far end of Petra and up to the Monastery. The builders of Petra mastered the art of surprise. We didn’t know we were close to the tomb until we turned the corner and there it was looming over us. The Monastery seemed larger but had fewer details than the Treasury. We ate lunch looking down on the monastery and drank tea in a cave restaurant next to the tomb.

We were offered camel rides to the Monastery many times but the most memorable was when one Bedouin said, “You like monkey to the top?” What a horribly funny joke: teach the locals the wrong name for camels. I wonder what other words he’s been taught incorrectly.

The excavations of Petra are still going on. Only 15% of Petra has been excavated leaving so many tombs to still be uncovered. On the walls of the canyon I saw the tops of doors at street level, obviously hiding whole tombs below my feet. During the Iraq war Petra had so few visitors that they shut down the Treasury and excavated below. They found another tomb, not as ornate, but dating back to the 1st century with the whole tomb still intact and a body inside. It is hard to image what will be uncovered in Petra over the next century.

That night we met several of our friends from AUC to go to Petra by Night. The path from the visitor center, down the canyon, and to the Treasury was completely lit by candles. It was a calm night except for the talkative college kids- us. Only college kids would joke about blowing out all of the candles on the way in and seeing if the two hundred tourists could find their way out. At the Treasury we sat in a large circle and listened to a guide tell about Petra and also heard Bedouin music on a flute and a guitar like instrument.

Matt and I decided to explore a little more of Petra at night, so we grabbed one of the candles and started toward the canyon. One of the guards told us we couldn’t go any further and asked us to turn around. As we did that the bag the candle was in lit on fire and engulfed in flames. We apologized profusely to the guard but all he could say in his broken English was “You’re welcome”.

Our last night in Petra, we went to a restaurant actually inside a cave. As we entered the music picked up and several locals pulled us into a dancing circle. We tried to imitate the dance steps but failed. At one point Ian and I tried the electric slide to the music but that didn’t work either. The music was great though and we had a good time eating inside a cave.

The town’s economy is based entirely on tourism. It was very obvious that Petra’s economy was hurting. Few tourists walked the streets and few restaurants were open to feed them. The town looked as if it was built to accommodate many more tourists but with the Iraq War, continual turmoil in Israel and the West Bank, and just recently the Lebanon War tourists were scarce.

My one regret in Petra: not watching Indiana Jones the same day I saw the Treasury.

The excavation done during the Iraq War

The Monastery

Yodeling in the Royal Tombs

This bridge almost broke under my feet. So I went back for a picture.

Petra at Night

Catch up

2006-10-21T19:49:00.000+02:00

I haven't been able to post the last couple weeks because of several tests and some hectic studying. I took a tour of several mosques last weekend in old Cairo that date back to the 1300's. Last night we ate one of our last iftars at Al-Azar park (pics at the bottom). Ramadan is ending on Sunday and everyone one was out in the streets getting their last bit of celebration in.

Here are this last weeks pictures:

Legend says that this inscription was carved in wood from Noah's Ark.

View from the top of this minaret

View from Al-Azar park

Al-Azar park- formerly a trash dump, now a marble lined park.

Mohammed Ali Mosque/ Citadel

Islamic Cairo at night

SOS: Siwa Oasis Safari

2006-10-07T22:13:00.000+02:00

Last Thursday was October 6th, or the anniversary of the start of the Yom Kippur War, and was marked as a national holiday in Egypt. Although most of the West acknowledges that Egypt was not so victorious, Egyptians look at it in a different—better—light. Even if the history books are somewhat skewed, we had a three day weekend because of it.

We took this opportunity to make the nine hour journey to Siwa Oasis in the Western Desert. Siwa Oasis was secluded from the rest of Egypt, only reachable by a three day camel trek through the desert. In the last decade a road to Siwa has opened up the oasis to visitors and made our weekend jaunt possible.

The bus left Cairo Wednesday night at 11:15 PM. We boarded around 11:45 and settled in for the six hour ride to Marsa Matrou. The ride went fairly quickly and uneventfully. Overnight bus rides are one of the best ways to get around Egypt because you don’t waste any daylight hours traveling and you don’t have to pay for a hotel room. At Marsa Matrou, we negotiated with a taxi to take us the three hour ride to Siwa. Our final price ended at 180 EL but about ten miles later he was insisting on 200 EL and we were too tired to continue fighting.

Driving thru the desert was peaceful. To our right was the Libyan Desert and border and to our left was the Great White Sand Sea. The only thing in both directions was sand and the thin ribbon of road that lay ahead and behind us. The desert sun cooked the car and everyone was asleep within a couple minutes.

Siwa Oasis comes out of no where. Like I said, it’s just continual sand until the road drops down into the oasis then suddenly it is green, everywhere. It’s not the Michigan green (and white) that I’m use to but more of a desert green. Cacti and palms are this color and not surprisingly why the oasis is also this color. There is still sand everywhere and the ground that has vegetation growing out of it still looks like sterile sand. The reason the oasis is possible is because the water table is only about a foot below the ground. It’s not uncommon to see puddles along side the road and later when we were out in the desert we spotted a large lake (let’s hope it wasn’t a mirage).

Houses in Siwa are traditionally made out of the mud, salt, and water mixture that is everywhere. After letting the mixture dry in the sun it created a brick almost as solid as concrete. The only problem is that it’s like concrete but melts away when it rains. This method of building would be out of the question in Seattle, but in Siwa it only rains every 50 years.

The last time their sand castle got washed away they decided to rebuild with more contemporary materials, leaving incredible ruins in the center of town for us to visit. Because Siwa was vulnerable to raids from desert tribes, the city would not allow anyone to build outside of the city walls. As the oasis’s population grew, the city built upward. At one point it looked to be almost four stories high until the rain hit.

Now there are half buildings, broken walls, and twisted alleyways throughout the ruins. Of which Maria and I did a quick tour an hour before we got on the bus to go home. The rest of my vacation in Siwa went as follows:

Our taxi did not know where our hotel was located, so in typical Egyptian fashion stopped at every corner to ask the old man there which way to go. Most give directions even if they don’t know where it is at. Our hotel was way out of town and took almost an hour to get to because the taxi driver was driving so slowly. I will admit that the roads were terrible but the driver was so worried about his baby (car) that he crawled along the road. The Desert Rose Hotel is on the edge of the oasis looking out on sand dunes that go on forever.

The hotel itself was worth the long drive in and even the many hours on the bus. A backpacker’s hostel at heart, the rooms were not air conditioned and it did not have electricity. There was running water, sometimes warm, and an amazing rooftop complete with chairs and a full moon. We also had a pool, extremely rare in Egypt. It was fed directly by a fresh water spring on one side and spilled out the other side into an irrigation ditch that led to the olive and date fields surrounding us. The owner of the hotel, Aly, was very helpful. I could tell that he had built most of the hotel himself and was running it by himself as well.

We arrived Thursday afternoon, went into town, and rented bicycles. These were definitely not Specialized mountain bikes, let alone a bike that was built in the last decade, but only cost two dollars for the afternoon. We rode all around the town and even south of town to the Olympic swimming pool complex. Yes, you read that right: Olympic swimming pool. From what I could gather from staring through the gates, in an off beat attempt to win the bid for the Olympics (summer Olympics mind you) the Egyptian government built a huge swimming complex in Siwa. I hope the person who green-lighted this project is unemployed now. Obviously, Egypt’s Olympic dreams didn’t go very far but now if the entire population of Siwa wants to gather for an afternoon swim they have the facility.

We biked back to the hotel passing rural Egypt just finishing their harvest of dates. The locals had laid out large patches of dates to dry in the sun, which will later be packaged and exported as one of Siwa’s major sources of income. We went for a dip in the pool and then biked back into town for dinner.

The town is so small, and with so few restaurants, that each time we ate we saw the same people and the same waiters. I had a new dish unique to Siwa. It is called shakshooka and is a stew/casserole of vegetables with spices. It is served with either a fried egg on top or melted cheese. I also had a version with meat in it.

Friday we woke up with the sun but couldn’t get into town until later in the day because our ride wasn’t available. We spent some time doing homework (see I do a little studying) and went for a walk exploring the farms and fields near by.

On the walk we realized why the town was so quiet: Friday is the Muslim holy day and it was Ramadan. There was no way we would find someone working in the fields today. So I went for a photo shoot in an olive grove, complete with the picture perfect ladders. We also passed a small building with people and running water inside. We couldn’t figure out what was going on but could see soapy water flowing out under the fence. At one point Maria suggested that they were bathing. We definitely should not have been there if that was the case. We went around the corner and we saw that it was actually laundry day. No washing machines but the young child sounded like he was having fun.

In the afternoon, we went on a desert safari. It reminded me a lot of jeeping in Michigan and the Sleeping Bear sand dunes. These pictures are for Wolfes. I thought of you as we barreled over the top of one of the dunes only to stop and teeter back and forth. The only difference I could find between jeeping in Egypt and in Michigan is that in Egypt the dunes go on forever. Also in Michigan you don’t have to worry about landmines or your neighbor being Libya (Wisconsin doesn’t seem so bad now).

We stopped at the top of one particularly steep dune and went sand boarding. The board is similar to a snow board but has a layer of fiberglass on the bottom instead of wax. The bindings were just canvas straps on the top side. I tried it my first time on the short side of the dune with success. Our guide put some sort of wax or soap on the bottom that made it much faster. Then I went for the black diamond—maybe not the best idea while I was still recovering. Tami, the other girl traveling with us, asked as I reached the bottom, “Did he break his other arm?” No, I did not. It was a blast; I’ll have to try it again the next time I’m in the desert.

We stopped at an oasis that had a hot spring. It had the same sulfur smell as the hot springs in Yellowstone. We got in and relaxed for a bit, then moved on for the sunset. The guide flew back over the dunes to an awesome lookout over the dunes and the sunset. We sat, almost in silence, and watched the sun disappear leaving the sky and the moon behind us glowing pink.

Saturday morning we woke up early, ate breakfast of fresh Siwa bread at the hotel, and went into town to explore the ruins.

Siwa is also very conservative. This means that all Muslims women were completely veiled. In Cairo and Alexandria, I have seen many varieties of the veil ranging from only showing their eyes to covering only their ponytail. In Siwa, though, I didn’t see any faces of women. They had a black veil that covered their entire head and face and then on top of that the typical veil that covers everything but their face. The effect is very eerie. Someone mentioned they looked like the dark kings from the Lord of the Rings; I felt like women’s presence in Siwa had been erased. On the bus ride home, I saw a Siwian woman with her black veil flipped up, facilitating her sightseeing out the window.

On the bus ride back to Cairo I met two guys about my age who had just graduated high school and a Pasha, probably a police chief. I practiced a lot of my Arabic on them, amazingly getting a little bit through the communication barrier. The Pasha was fluent in English and ended up helping us a lot on our homework.

Oh, and one of the good laughs from this weekend was with our taxi driver going to Siwa. I wanted to tell him to drive fast or quickly, which would be “boosahrah” in Arabic. I said, “Bahsra, Bashra.”

The cab driver said: “Basra? Basra, Iraq?” No, Siwa please.

Videos of the sand boarding adventure:

More Pictures of Siwa:

Ramadan in Cairo

2006-10-04T17:48:00.000+02:00

Ramadan, Islam’s holiest month, started almost two weeks ago (September 24th) and Cairo has been transformed. It is hard to comparison it to Christmas or even Hanukah; where as Christians have about one day and Jews about one week, Muslims beat us all with about one month of celebration.

A few basics for Ramadan:

Ramadan is considered the holy month in the Islamic calendar, based on lunar months, because it was when the Qur’an was revealed to Mohammed.

Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. That means about 4:30 AM until 5:30 PM. Most get up early to eat before the sun rises and then gather with their families to break the fast.

Iftar is the meal at about 5:30 PM when every one in the city stops and breaks fast together. It is meal with traditional Arab and Egyptian foods. But typically the first thing one eats and drinks after fasting for the full day are dates and milk.

I’ve been doing a modified-fast. Whereas Muslims refrain from any type of pleasure—eating, drinking, smoking—I have given up everything except drinking water. I’m not dumb enough to be the Westerner who gave up water in the middle of a desert. I try to wake up at 4 AM to eat before the sun rises but sometimes the alarm (and its operator) don’t work correctly. All through classes I feel my stomach churning and making noises. By the end of most days, I’m tired and grumpy. I’ve had a couple days where I didn’t think I could make it—mostly because I was being so mean to my friends. But after breaking fast, a big meal, and a ton of baklava I’m usually as good as new.

One of the reasons Muslims fast is to bring them closer to God. By denying oneself food, they can get closer to God because you are willing to sacrifice something for him. They turn away from worldly needs and focus on him. Another point, Muslims also stress empathy for the poor.

During Ramadan people are exceptionally generous. As a visitor to Cairo, I noticed a significant change. Although the people of Egypt are generally welcoming to outsiders, they become extremely inclusive to everyone in their society. Iftar tables are put out on every street corner and at iftar time free meals are provided for poor and homeless. Beggars are much less common and those that do are not pushy like before.

A simple utterance of “Ramadan Kareem” (Ramadan is generous) brings a smile to anyone’s face (probably because of the unusual well-wisher). Even though many people are fasting, people are generally more polite to one another. I have used more than once, “It’s because I’m fasting” but mostly in jest.

Last week, I was going to a restaurant with a friend and saw an alleyway with beautiful Ramadan decorations. I had to go down it. After walking a couple blocks into the narrow alley, we passed a large group of people yelling. There was a fight between two men. We scurried around the edge and turned down the next alley.

Again the decorations were amazing, consisting of tinsel strung back and forth above us, Ramadan lambs, and the traditional Ramadan cloth. Ramadan lamps are made of brass and decorated in bright colors. Supposedly, this tradition began when all of the people of Cairo greeted a conquering ruler by coming into the streets with these colorful lamps. It wasn’t originally religious but is now closely associated with Ramadan. There are very cheap looking, plastic versions made for children so they don’t get burned from the candle inside.

We passed a family looking into the street—in part because of the fight behind us but also because of the Americans definitely out of place. They spoke quickly in Arabic to us, and all I caught was something about iftar. We thanked them and kept walking. At the end of the alley was a long table set for iftar. The table was mostly full and as we walked by several people invited us to sit down.

I must have looked interested but my friend, Jon, was not. After a little persuading we were sitting across the table from a friendly old man with no teeth. The canon shot (to indicate sundown) and we were served authentic iftar in a back alley of Cairo.

We were probably the only people at the table who were not homeless and probably the only people who knew we’d have food to eat in the morning. But everyone welcomed us as if we were their honored guests.

Later talking with Jon, it was probably a bad idea to eat the food that was cooked out of a closet or to eat at the equivalent of an Egyptian soup kitchen. But the cultural experience alone was worth any hours we would spend in the bathroom afterward. The older man across from us tried to explain what the food was and how and when it should be eaten.

We drank the juice (served out of a paint bucket) first. It tasted like apple juice but had slices of apple and banana floating at the top. There was a heap of rice and a bowl of bean soup for each person. Then a man came around and handed (yes with his fingers) chunks of meat to each person.

Seeing and smelling my possible food, almost put me over the top. I could not a lot of the mystery meat and made sure to get as small a piece as possible. My stomach began to hurt even before I started eating, probably my mind psyching out my body. But who knows what could have been in that food?

Because we were just planning on going out to dinner, I didn't bring my camera with me. I'm kicking myself now and never leaving home without it again. The pictures I have included are of Cairo throughout Ramadan.

After we were done, we got up to thank our hosts. Every person who was involved in preparing the meal came out and shook our hands. The cook made sure to tell us that he did not have his wife cooking inside—it was all him. I was so touched by the generosity of our new friends that I wanted to help buy the next day’s iftar but when I got out my wallet the whole table erupted. There was no way they were letting me pay. After a little discussion and hand gesturing I realized why: this was one of God’s Tables. Any one who can afford to provide iftar donates to a mosque or to a neighborhood group and then they prepare the dinner. The food and the table were provided by God; there was no way I could pay at God’s restaurant.

We left the alley way in awe. We had just experienced real Ramadan. It’s not every day you get to break fast in a back alley of Cairo, but I have experienced every day the generosity of the Egyptian people.

At one point during the meal Jon turned to me and said, “You get into situations like this all of the time, don’t you?” My only possible answer was yes.

Video from a Ramadan Concert earlier this month:

Castaway!

2006-10-02T18:17:00.000+02:00

Cast update: My cast was removed last Tuesday night. After another long night waiting at the hospital, my cast came off and I couldn’t move my wrist. It sacred me but then I realized it hadn’t moved in ten days. The doctor said my arm should be back to normal within two weeks. My range of motion will come back gradually. After about an hour, my wrist was back to normal. I still can’t extend my arm all the way; let’s hope it heals well.

I went to Saqqara on Saturday with AUC. The Arabic Language Institute has organized several tours around Cairo and Egypt to give students an introduction to Egyptian culture. It being over a month into the semester, we know a little bit about the culture but aren’t about to pass up a free guided tour. And the word on the street is that the tour guide has a really soothing voice, just in case we need a nap.

Saqqara is a step pyramid and considered the first pyramid ever built in Egypt. It started as a simple one level tomb with a shaft going down to the burial chamber. Then as the ambitions of the Pharaoh and his engineers grew, the additional levels followed. You can tell I’ve been in Egypt for a while when the sentence I was going to write was: “It was just another pyramid.”

Most of the surrounding temples were reassembled in the 19^th century by a French archeologist. He must have been great at puzzles as a child because he found most of the bricks on the ground surrounding the pyramid and assembled them from there.

Next we went to Memphis, the former capital of Ancient Egypt. One would think that the ruins in the old capital would be spectacular. It turns out Ancient Egyptians only built for eternity with their tombs. Most of the city was lost because it was built mainly out of mud brick. The current tourist trap at the location is less than a city block and is lined with a few statues and a lot of junk shops.

Inside the museum though was one of the most impressivesculptures I’ve ever seen. The detail and scale of the statue were amazing. This statue was abandoned before its completion but I couldn’t tell you why; it looked flawless.

On a different note, President Mubarak announced on television last night that Thursday will be a national holiday, thus AUC has the day off. Wouldn’t it be nice to be an autocrat and be able to order up a long weekend whenever you feel like it?

**Note: Post title provided by Maria.

Picures:

Memphis

Pilgrimage in the Peninsula; Part II

2006-09-26T17:36:00.000+02:00

Part II:

We walked back to town via the boardwalk. There was a lot of construction; most of it looked like potential resorts and shopping centers, except that work had halted and left only the skeleton.

This picture demonstrates what a poor college student will do on a dare for 5 EL (less than a dollar). He didn’t make it to the top, thus he didn’t receive five pounds.

Nighttime should have been when Dahab came alive, but each restaurant was lucky if they got one table a night. In Dahab, the job of the host is to attract costumers inside by either luring them in with menus or whispering special deals. I was offered a special of free appetizers and dessert—we took it.

The restaurant’s name was Friends and it specialized in fresh seafood. My order included Turkish coffee, thickened shake, lemon juice, appetizers, fried red grouper, and fried bananas for dessert. When the food came out, our jaws dropped. The plate was a work of art made of foil, food, and flame. Everything tasted amazing, although I had a little harder time stuffing my face Peter Pan style (one hand behind my back).

Several small Bedouin girls came up to us while we were eating and tried to sell us cheap plastic bracelets and necklaces. The waiters tried to shoo them away but we wanted to barter with them. Their leader, Fahteema, spoke excellent English but wanted a ridiculously high price. We went back and forth and Matt started taking pictures. Fahteema said he couldn’t take her picture until we bought something; what an entrepreneur.

A few introductions: Matt is the one wearing yellow shirt and Yonee is wearing maroon. They are both in my Colloquial Egyptian class and Yonee is in all of my classes. They are also both from Wesleyan University in the States. They have been traveling with us on this trip.

It wouldn’t be a vacation if we didn’t hit up the t-shirt shops. After perusing several shops with exactly the same merchandise, we met the most talented shop keeper yet. The guy had to be about 26 or 27 and spoke six or seven languages. He was absolutely fluent in English but did imitations in Russian, Italian, German, Spanish, French, and Australian… It was hilarious. He also told us which famous person we looked like: I was Eminem. He also broke the collaboration agreement he had with all of the shop owners in town to hold the price at fifteen pounds. We lowered him to ten pounds for each t-shirt ($2!!!) and he fitted me for the traditional Bedouin head dress.

It was getting dark and the plan was to catch a taxi to St. Catherine’s Monastery and Mount Sinai so we could summit for the sunrise. I was getting a little worried because we hadn’t seen a taxi in a while and just as we began searching again another tout approached us. This time he wasn’t offering his restaurant, rather “What can I help you find?” This man of many hats asked the right question to the right people: “A taxi to St. Catherine’s.” He said he couldn’t help with the taxi but he did own a guide service that already had six Europeans going tonight. He could give us a special deal that included a round trip bus ride, Bedouin guide to the top, and a hotel room with showers to store our bags that we didn’t want to take to on the hike all for less than we had expected for a taxi ride.

The bus left at 11:00 PM and I still had time for another thicken shake and an interesting philosophic discussion on the shore. I don’t know if I have emphasized this enough but Dahab’s had the most amazing atmosphere. It was relaxed but not lazy, sunny but not scorching, and touristy but not hooky. Dahab would be an excellent place to spend three months writing a book.

The bus was the typical Egyptian bus with about five extra people crammed inside than the vehicle was designed to hold. I was pretty tired from the full day of napping on the beach so I slept all the way to St. Catherine’s. At the monastery, we were lined up in front of a metal detector placed in the middle of the hiking trail. After passing the most intense security check I have ever had to go hiking, we began our trek around 1:00 AM.

Our guide thought he was pretty funny making jokes every other minute about me being careful. He thought that just because one of my arms was in a cast that I was prone to falling or breaking bones. The trail was pretty rough to be climbing in complete darkness. I had bought a cheap flashlight in Cairo but it broke half way up. The light from Maria’s cell phone helped at times.

After about an hour on the trail, I looked back and saw a line of lights slowly wiggling their way up the mountain. We obviously were not alone on our pilgrimage to one of the most holy sites in religion. Mt. Sinai is the mountain identified in holy texts as where Moses received the Ten Commandments and was spoken to through a burning bush. Some scholars have disputed this actual mountain, pointing to a neighboring summit as closer to the descriptions of the holy mount. But Bedouin tribes have been referring to this summit as Moses Mountain.

It was both reassuring and disappointing that we were being followed up the mount: reassuring that the Bedouin guide wasn’t leading us to a bottom less pit but disappointing that a place so revered by many faiths has become a tourist trap. The climb was steep but there were refreshment stands conveniently located every few hundred meters.

Closer to the top, there were actually a couple of coffee shops (very rugged) and several Bedouins renting mattresses and blankets. We took one mattress for the five of us to sit on and later got another for a backrest. There is both a church and a mosque at the summit, leaving little room for pilgrims. We crowded in close to the edge of the cliff and waited for the sun to rise. At this point the heat from the previous day’s sun was gone and the sweat from the climb up was getting cold. We regretted not getting a couple blankets and I had trouble pulling my sweatshirt down over my cast. I attempted to hide the cast in most of the pictures, unsuccessfully.

The sun started to rise and the crowd grew quiet. Then breaking the silence—no, not a dove call or even God speaking through a charred shrub—a group of older Korean women started singing, something, in Korean. Not exactly the most somber experience but the sunrise was beautiful. Gradually the mountain and its neighbors started to glow. Mountains in the Sinai Peninsula are not of the Rocky or Appalachian variety. They look like someone was playing in mud, slopping together a poor sand castle.

Our ascent took us on the camel trail, but our descent took us down the Steps of Repentance. The story says that a particularly guilty monk laid all 3000 steps by himself. The steps represent repentance for himself and the sorry folks who choose to climb up the steep path. The steps also gave our guide more opportunities to warn me about being careful.

We reached the bottom at about 7:00 AM and the monastery didn’t open until nine. We crowded around the entrance with the rest of the pack. Now monks, of course, can only have little doors and all 500 of us were funneled into one tiny door single file, crouched over. Inside there was about that much walking room and I didn’t last long.

We went to a well in the corner and washed our faces. The water is supposed to grant happy marriages to those who drink it or wash themselves with it. One woman kind of went overboard splashing herself, almost taking a shower in front of us; I wonder what kind of marriage she is in now.

We also visited a descendent of the famous Burning Bush. Because of extenuating circumstances it had to be replanted several times and is now conveniently located inside the monastery overgrowing a cage. Our guide book says it is the only bush of its type in the Sinai and all attempts to grow clippings have failed. I got my tourist picture touching the bush but others went as far to take some of it home with them. I’m guessing God doesn’t give out blessings for those who desecrate his bush.

We boarded the bus at 10:00 AM and started back toward Dahab. We all took naps on the way back even though the bus and the road where not very conducive to sleep. As we got off the bus, I realized that we hadn’t really slept for 24 hours.

After climbing off the bus at the Dahab station Friday morning, we had spent a whirlwind 24 hours exploring Dahab-- the beaches, the shakes, the t-shirt shops-- and climbing Mt. Sinai-- the flashlights, the mattresses, and sunrise. It would be a relief to board the bus home to Cairo, just for the sleep.

As the bus rolled away from Dahab’s last police check point I looked up to see a mosaic of President Mubarak waving us good bye. The question Maria posed, “What do they do with the mosaic once he’s gone?”

More Pictures:

Dinner on the beach

Top of Mt. Sinai

Church on the Summit of Mt. Sinai. There is also a mosque.

Arabic graffiti

Monk from the Monastery

Descending the mountain

Mosque at the summit

View of the monastery

Mubarak waving us goodbye

Goldrush in Dahab; Part I

2006-09-26T00:53:00.000+02:00

This weekend I made a pilgrimage to the biblical Mt. Sinai and to the infamous hippy hangout, Dahab. We made arrangements through AUC for an eight hour bus ride there. In order to get the tickets though, we had to find Turgaman Bus Station. This was an task all by itself. My guide book said that it was located behind the Ramses Hilton Hotel; in no stretch of the imagination could its location ever be described as behind the hotel. Luckily ‘bus station’ had been a vocab word last week and we used it to get a taxi to the actual location. We purchased one way tickets for 75 Egyptian pounds ($12.50) for a bus that was scheduled to leave at 12:15 AM Thursday night/ Friday morning.

We were running a little late the night of and Maria insisted that we get food for the ride. After a quick stop at Felfela (the Egyptian form of McDonalds), we hopped a taxi to the station. We arrived at our platform very rushed at 12:30, hoping to catch the bus as it was leaving. Silly us, of course buses run on Egyptian time (15 minutes late).

The bus was air conditioned (I hear that’s a rarity) and actually had several TV sets as well. Getting to our seats tested our skills at reading Arabic numbers, and also at cramming big things into small spaces. The seats were very close together causing my knees to be jammed into the wall in front of me. I devoured my foul and tamaya and fell asleep just as we were leaving Cairo.

It was a peaceful ride through the desert. There were no billboards, no lights, no taxi horns. When there were lights, I could see them approaching from way off in the distance. It felt more like I was looking across a lake than the desert. It reminded me of Fourth of July nights out on Crystal Lake in which our only real navigation points are lights from houses on land and lights from other boats on the water.

Oh, did I mention that Egyptian motorists like to drive with their lights off? I noticed this in Cairo, but I thought that was just because it was the city. Nope, Egyptians are even thrifty when lighting their roads. When a car approaches that the driver thinks may not notice him, he flashes his lights or honks his horn.

We were boarded by Egyptian police at least five times on our way there. Each time they would pass through the cabin and ask randomly (every foreigner) for their passport. They checked for visas and then just handed them back. James didn’t bring his passport, only a copy of it, because it is being processed for a student visa. Several times they just passed him by without even asking for the passport. Once the police man got really confused and made him get off the bus. At first I was worried because all of those brutal interrogation scenes from movies flashed through my head, but then suddenly all I wanted to ask him was to take my camera with him. James made off with only a warning.

We stopped at Sharm el Sheik and almost got off on accident. I thought we had made it to Dahab but after reading the sign (in Arabic) realized where we were. About two hours later we arrived in the Dahab bus station to a crowd of touts rushing to meet the bus. It was like ants at a picnic.

We forcefully said no to get away from the pack and into the station. There we decided to buy tickets on the 2:00 PM bus home. I have heard that many people come to Dahab, end up becoming beach bums or dive instructors and never leaving; I considered the nonrefundable ticket my insurance policy.

We got a taxi into town which was actually just my four traveling companions and I in the back of a truck. It was only five minutes to downtown and we headed straight to the waterfront looking for food. Dahab is located on the coast but has really utilized its beach front property well: there is a boardwalk from one end of town to the other lined with restaurants and t-shirt shops (sounds like Dad’s heaven). Every restaurant had outside seating with low tables and comfortable couches or just pillows strewn across the ground.

We ate at the first restaurant that had pancakes on the menu (the guide books said they were excellent), Al Capone. From what we could tell it was in no way related to the infamous criminal. Our table was as close to the water as I could get without getting wet and I took a deep breath of fresh air—something I will always appreciate after living in Cairo.

Dahab has opened my eyes to a new love: thickened shakes. Not milk shakes, as I was corrected by a shop keeper, thickened shakes have no milk in them. I sampled vanilla with nuts and strawberry, but my first was mango. I could describe thickened shakes as soft serve mango sorbet except I know there is no such thing as an ice cream machine in Egypt. Every shake was hand made and typically took ten or twenty minutes before it came out. They must have been peeling the mangos just for me.

We ate and ate and ate, adored the view, and talked for the longest time. Then we looked at our watches and only an hour had gone by. Dahab is this magical place where time slows down, the sun is always shining with a perfect breeze to match, and thickened mango shakes flow like rivers. Too bad we already bought our tickets home.

We walked down the board walk to the other end of town, passing by various scuba diving shops and local food joints. The town was empty, with only a few westerners adorned with masks and flippers. As we headed back we were bombarded with touts for each restaurant testing their best pick up lines on us. Which one has the best fish? Which one has the best shesha? Which one has the cheapest dessert? I couldn’t tell you but they sure told me.

We took a jeep (another interesting form of a taxi) to the beach just a little bit a way. Laguna beach was the typical gulf resort beach with perfectly racked sand, umbrellas, and reclining chairs, except it was empty. I know college students shouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury like this but for the cost of buying one beverage we pretended for four hours to be high spenders. The waiter at the restaurant there was happy he finally had customers and wasn’t about to kick out good company. We napped and sunbathed for the whole day.

I wanted to swim in the sea but could only wade into the water up to my knees. Across the sea we could see huge mountains and later discovered they were the mountains of Jordan and Saudi Arabia. Just for those of you keeping track at home: I took a nap eight miles away from Saudi Arabia.

Also note that any attempts I may have made at getting a tan were foiled by the cast still on my arm. Thus when the cast does come off I will have the worst reverse-farmer’s tan ever.

Gazing off into the distace at... Saudi Arabia

Dahab means 'gold' in Arabic: see why?

The Curse of the Pharaoh

2006-09-16T20:21:00.000+03:00

Pyramid day… I woke up early to get to AUC by 9 AM, especially important to not miss the bus. Of course, this is Egypt and every leaves behind schedule.

We finally got going and traveled to the pyramids only about 15 minutes from the center of Cairo. The day was very hazy and the Cairo pollution was making the skyline grey. The tour bus parked next to about 30 others and we joined the crowd.

We got a look al around the three main pyramids of Giza and went down in the middle pyramid. The tunnels down into the burial chamber were tiny and very cramped. The air smelled stale and I felt like we were running out of air the whole time.

At the bottom, we took another shaft the same length up to the burial chamber. There I got a little rushed because James said we should hurry to get our picture taken while the guard was out of the room. I hurried into the room and missed the big step down, falling flat on my face. Actually, it was more like my side with my elbow absorbing the majority of the fall. I was really shaken but didn’t feel any immediate pain. I was out of breath and stayed sitting for a bit but finally got the picture and headed back out.

Gradually throughout the rest of the day my elbow began to swell more and more, which in turn hurt more and more. We continued the quasi-photo shoot of a day by hitting up the sphinx—and I mean literally. The look on my face here is not because I was really socking one at the sphinx but because it hurt so much to put my arm in that position.

We left Giza and headed home. The whole bus ride I was debating in my head what to do. Do I test the Egyptian hospital system or try to sleep it off? Once we got off the bus it was pretty clear I wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.

At about 3 PM we got back to the dorms and I asked the front desk when the doctor was in: 5 PM. A two hour nap and several Advil got me to her office and then sent to the hospital for X-rays. My RA went with me and got a taxi. We rode about 10 minutes to the local hospital that AUC students are directed to ONLY go to. Our insurance works and I think the staff speaks more English than any where else.

After a little bit of the old Egyptian bureaucracy, I got in to see a doctor quicker than in Michigan. It was probably about a total of an hour and a half in the hospital-- X-rays and all. The doctor said I had a fractured bone in my elbow and that I would need a cast for three weeks. I groaned and made sure I was still going to be able to write. I came to Egypt to learn to read and write Arabic, I better be able to do a little bit of it.

I forced my RA to take a couple pictures of me in the hospital to document my trip. The doctors weren’t very interested in being in my pictures until I showed them the picture afterward. Then they all wanted in.

So, I have a follow-up appointment Tuesday night to make sure my hand isn’t falling asleep and then three weeks in Egypt without a right hand. I’m having a lot of trouble typing this right now because of the angle of my cast. I’m working on getting a program to dictate my emails and post so I don’t have to distort my arm and body just to reach the space bar.

For those of you worried about me now, don’t be. I’m laughing of the experience and making the most of it. I’ll be able to make it around Cairo just fine and it is only three weeks. I’ve never broken a bone before so my first had to be in the inner burial chamber of one of the Great Pyramids of Giza. I’m pretty sure it was the curse of the Pharaoh getting me back for breaking the no camera rule.

Mental note: don’t make any other Pharaohs angry. I only have one other arm.

Pyramid-polusa:

Kurplunking in Khan Khalili

2006-09-15T22:35:00.000+03:00

Tourist Nick has taken off his hat and student Nick has settled down to work. I am finished my second week of classes (remember Sunday-Thursday) and I feel like I'm placed at the perfect level.

I really like the structure of classes here. It is broken down into separate vocabulary, grammar, and drill classes. Each has a separate teacher that expects her class to be the highest priority. We use the same book in each class but the teachers focus on different aspects of the lessons. Our classes only have seven or eight people in each and everyone at my level has classes together. We’re getting to know everyone very well, even the annoying ones.

The drill class changed to a Media class, which could drill my skills even more than the original. In our last Media class, we attempted reading the headlines of one newspaper. I had such a hard time I think I gave myself a headache. The professor told us which newspapers were good and which were the propaganda machines for the government, very good to note.

All of my teachers are sweet Arab women. They speak in soft voices and emphasize every word they say. My Grammar professor is cute every time she explains a concept because she is so careful to get every word of even her English sentences correct.

The ahmaya (colloquial Egyptian) class is more difficult than I expected. I thought more words would correspond with Modern Standard Arabic. It feels like two different languages. Hearing Arabic twenty-four hours a day is helpful and I have begun to pick up a lot of the common words and transitional phrases. Being able to use what we learn in class to order dinner is especially helpful. Today I successfully directed a cab driver to turn right just before he was about to miss our turn.

Today we shifted back into tourist mode and visit Khan Khalili. This is my second Khan experience; my first visit having not been documented. Khan Khalili is the traditional bazaar district of Cairo. It is famous for the small streets and overhanging shop decorations. Walking down the alleys feels like the traditional market-bazaar experience… until the millions of touts open their mouths. Every shop has a pushy shop owner wanting you to try out his perfume or see his chess set. Each offering a ‘special deal just for you’; I haven’t been offered a non-special price yet. Although the touts and shopkeepers are annoying, I also find it part of Egypt’s charm. I knew before I came that locals were pushy. Now I’m not surprised when I have to fight off ten people in ten seconds. It gets to be kind of like a game. My “la shookran” (no thanks) is getting tired though.

We all met at Midan Talaat Harb- a square near our school- and then took a taxi east to Al-Azhar Mosque (mentioned in to day’s news). We walked north toward Sultan Hussein Mosque. The guide book said that the worst time to visit the area is Friday from 12-2; we arrived at 1:00. The square was packed with people and we could hear the call to prayer and sermon being given over the loud speakers. Walking down a side alley we found a small shop that sold blue amulets. Traditionally, we’re told, Egyptians hang these amulets on doors to protect their family within. The amulets are made out of plaster and painted glossy blue, each with a verse from the Quran on it. The one I liked in particular protected from the evil eye. We talked to the shopkeeper long enough (five minutes) to become his new friends, then headed on our way.

North of the really touristy area is the rougher side of Cairo. Rough because the streets are paved with garbage and lined with puddles; the buildings should have fallen down years ago. On the right side the road was an interesting building that stood out because it was in decent condition. I explored inside the entry way and discovered that it was actually a development project funded by the Egyptian government and several foreign sources. The man at the entrance let us look around and he gave us a quasi-tour of the workshops. I say ‘quasi’ because he didn’t speak any English and the pointing and grunting only goes so far.

In one shop the men were making brass lamps. This involved sawing tiny holes in the brass to make intricate designs all by hand. Later I met the man who designs the lamps. He said he was in computers as well. I’m not sure if he meant with the lamps because the part the shop we saw did not have any technology in it at all. Our guide told us that about 360 people work in the building. Today being Friday (and holy day) meant that most had the day off. On the roof was a garden growing some pretty week plants but giving us an fair view of the street and mosque next door.

We continued walking and passed several other old mosques that were either padlocked shut or had people praying inside. We made it to a larger gate and a main road which let us find our place on the map (no GPS here). The wall and gate are part of the old wall of the city and are under reconstruction. We walked along the wall until we could cut back in and head south back through Khan el Khalili again.

Just as we entered I heard a juice man tapping out some amazing beats on two tin cups. With my quick reflexes and steady hand, I captured a bit on film (note the sarcasm). The first mosque immediately after we entered was the Mosque of al-Hakim. We weren’t sue if we would be allowed in, particularly the four women without veils. Several semi-official people discussed for a while and determined it was alright. We walk inside (after removing our shoes at the door) and enter the massive marble courtyard at the center of the mosque. The size, quality, and cleanliness of the courtyard is amazing. Cairo is such a dirty city and the courtyard marble was as clean as a hospital floor. I guess that’s what you get if you make everyone walk around in their socks.

At the center of the courtyard are a well and a fountain. A man explained to us that the water was holy water and that the people were washing themselves. I tasted the water and asked the woman next to me if I could take her photo. She got excited and posed for me, then I showed her the photo. She was so excited she made her son pose for a picture as well. We walk across the court yard and into the main praying/sermon area of the mosque. Please excuse any in accuracies I may have in the names or terms inside mosques. I haven’t quite mastered all of the terms and the set up of mosques. Many do seem to have a similar layout though.

Inside there is a set of stairs that leads up to the equivalent of a pulpit. From there the Sheik gives his sermons to the masses. Back in the day, sermons were given o-natural but today they have integrated speakers into the walls and pillars. Many a minaret is now topped with the blaring loudspeaker.

As we left, the man who led us around asked for five pounds each. At first I felt like he was working us for extra money, then I realized: it was one US dollar. The mosque was amazing and well worth the dollar for a friendly guide and look around.

Further down was another mosque and another pushy Egyptian trying to get us inside. I thought the mosque hopping was interesting but a couple people in the group stayed outside while we went up in the minaret. The Sultan Barquq Mosque was under renovation but we were still led to the top by a nice old man. We were told later that our guide was also the man who sings over the loud speaker. We couldn’t get him to belt anything out for us.

We climbed the spiral stairs to the top of the minaret. Our guide stopped at the first balcony but we kept going. The second balcony had a great view and we took several pictures but I wanted to go all the way up. I asked our guide if we could and he shook his head and motioned for us to go down. I kind of joked with him for a seconded—the best begging in Arabic I could pull off—and then headed up the stairwell anyways. We were almost touching the globe at the top. The guide advised us not to use the railing on the second level and I could see why he didn’t want us to come to the top. We hugged the inside wall, took a couple pictures, and headed down. The top of the minaret was the best part of the day. On top you can see so much of Cairo and see inside the mosque below. The haze prevented a good view of the pyramids but it didn’t distract from the rest of the city.

On our climb down Miriam (another AUC student) and I found an unlocked door. The guide was far enough ahead with the others that we could sneak down the blocked hallway. It led to several uneventful rooms but on the way out we started to run to catch up and Miriam tripped. It felt like a scene from Indiana Jones with us trying to escape, except this time there was no gigantic boulder following us.

The rest of the day was spent exploring Khan el Khalili and a taxi ride home. We had drinks (mango juice, strawberry juice, coke, and mint tea) at the coffee shop where Naguib Mahfouz wrote several of his books.

The section closest to the road had the most tourists I have ever seen in Cairo. Mostly European and British, but packed into the artificial coffee shops and trinket shops. I felt more uncomfortable there than anywhere else the last three weeks. Maybe I’ve adjusted well to living in Arab society; maybe a big group of tourists is just a bigger target.

Miriam said that Khan el-Khalili would never get attacked because tourism, specifically sales in the most touristy place in town, is what fuel a lot of Egypt’s economy. That’s reasonable, except that even I was getting annoyed with the ditsy European hanging all over her boyfriend and wearing way too little clothing.

More Pictures:

Graffiti

Century year old antique bench sitting in a back room

The street outside the mosque

Bibliotheca Alexandrina

2006-09-04T15:52:00.000+03:00

Our last day in Alexandria was spent exploring the new library in Alexandria . I rediscovered the poet Constantine Cavafy our first day in the city. Cavafy was born on April 29, 1863 and died on the same date in 1933 in Alexandria and is now considered one of the most prominent Greek poets in modern times ¹.

I read these two poems again while I was in Alexandria and wanted to share them with everyone.

The City

You said, "I will go to another land, I will go to another sea.
Another city will be found, better than this.
Every effort of mine is condemned by fate;
and my heart is -- like a corpse -- buried.
How long in this wasteland will my mind remain.
Wherever I turn my eyes, wherever I may look
I see the black ruins of my life here,
where I spent so many years, and ruined and wasted."

New lands you will not find, you will not find other seas.
The city will follow you. You will roam the same
streets. And you will age in the same neighborhoods;
in these same houses you will grow gray.
Always you will arrive in this city. To another land -- do not hope --
there is no ship for you, there is no road.
As you have ruined your life he re
in this little corner, you have destroyed it in the whole world.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1910)

Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and eb ony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

Wedding Videos

2006-09-03T23:44:00.000+03:00

Here are the rest of my wedding videos. Remember forgive the sloppy footage; it was exciting.

What I Saw instead of Miami Vice; Part II

2006-09-03T22:10:00.004+03:00

Part II:
We ate at an older restaurant named, “Elite.” It’s time and title have faded and the ‘fresh’ fish was not.

We planned on catching the 10:30 showing of Miami Vice. It would be interesting to see American cinema with Arabic subtitles even if the TV series didn’t promise much.

As we walk down the street going to the movie, we saw a car covered in flowers. Upon closer inspection, there was an Egyptian Wedding. The father of the groom saw us and started up a conversation. We had pleasant talk and congratulate him on the celebration and started to leave. The person next to him asked in rapid fire Arabic something then said, “Are you coming to the…[insert dancing motion]?” Out of no where, we are invited to the party and the reception of the son of a man that we met off the street at ten o’clock at night!

We were taken inside the photo shop (which was why they were standing around outside) and were practically put in the wedding photos. We sat around awkwardly for a while in the photo waiting room and asked questions about the family. He is a business man who has a shop in Alexandria. He makes something to do with textiles, maybe bags. The groom was about 25, maybe 30, and scared to death. His mannerisms labeled him as quiet and a little awkward, but his eyes said he was scared.

The father took us himself in a taxi to the hotel for the party. At the steps of the hotel was a band and the wedding party: a lot of people clapping and dancing to the music. The bride and groom were in the center of it all. Suddenly the father of the groom pushes us into the center of the inner circle and we started dancing and clapping along with the crowd.

The music, the drum beats, the crowd clapping, the family bouncing to the beat all overwhelmed my senses. It felt like a wave sweeping over us as we entered the hotel. The crowd moved as one surging amoeba up the stairs and the music followed us, echoing up the stairwell.

At this point I had my camera out and was so excited by the moment that I could barely focus long enough to take one picture, then turn and take another and another. Everyone I took a picture of wanted to see themselves afterward and it turned into one movement. Take the photo, show the people; take the photo, show the people. I also took video with my digital camera, but in the heat of the moment forgot that I shouldn’t hold it on its side. I also think I had a very short attention span; I couldn’t capture everything around me quick enough.

We entered a crowded hall full of the couple’s extended family. The father sat us down at a certain table and we looked around in amazement. Were we really at an Egyptian wedding? Had we really been on our way to see what has to be a horrible movie and in a matter of fifteen minutes sitting at the groom’s wedding party table? The intensity of Egyptian hospitality amazed me. Egyptians are so friendly and inviting that this glowing father invited two college kids on a street corner to come with him and share one of the greatest moments in his life. In the process it became one of mine.

The groom’s father reminded me a lot of my own grandfathers. His face glowed with the thrill of the moment: he was so happy for his son, his entire family was together and he was showing them off to his new American friends. It was reminiscent of my family events back in the States and reminded me of the universality of human emotions. Families everywhere get excited and gather to celebrate happy events. Fathers everywhere are happy on wedding days no matter if the union is in a church or a mosque.

The father asked earlier, when we first introduced ourselves, if we were Muslims. He said in broken English: “Christians. Muslims. No problem.” The smile on his face at the party said it as well.

The bride and groom stood in the front of the room and had their picture taken several times. Then they both took drink of what looked like juice (a layer of orange and a layer of red). Through out the night several people made toasts (all of which I couldn’t understand). There was a DJ in the front of the room who played both traditional Arabic music and more modern Arabic music. At one point Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” came on; the beat fit in well with the rest of the music.

There was lots of dancing. If anyone has previously thought that an Egyptian disco would not be much fun (i.e. can you really cut-a-rug with a veil on?), it is time to correct that. The younger crowd at the wedding formed a huge mass in the front of the room. The women migrated to one side and the men to the other. There were two dancing circles within the crowd: one around the bride and another around the groom. The father pushed us into the crowds and I watched the dancing for a while. One can’t stand in that crowd and not start clapping to the music. The beat was so strong and everyone was in tune with the music.

Also for the record, Egyptian men can dance almost as well as Egyptian women. Egyptian women are famous around the world for inventing belly dancing but Egyptian men don’t just sit and watch. The father of the groom’s moves reminded me of Shakira: he knew how to shake it.

Males and females don’t dance together. We were all in the same group but none of the guys danced with the girls. Many times I saw the women watching the men dance; at one point a mother push her late-teens daughter into the circle to dance. It was an obvious move to try to catch a guy’s eye. Often times weddings are where people meet their future husbands or wives.

Because I was the American in the crowd, the guys wanted me to dance in the circle a lot. I got pushed and pulled into the middle where I attempted to move like the others. There was a lot of bouncing with my hands in the air (video is on its way). The groom was remarkably awkward at dancing but was also forced into the middle. There I was holding his hands in the air trying my best to dance and get him to dance as well.

Other times we made a long conga line and went around the room. They made larger circles and put their hands against each others’ in the air. Then they would dance in a circle, kicking their feet every now and then. It wasn’t difficult to follow along because the music almost carried me along. After about 30-40 minutes of straight dancing, the father of the groom grabbed me and sat me down in a chair. He handed me a glass of water and a napkin to wipe the sweat off my face.

Let’s just say Crazy Legs Micinski made an appearance that night.

The whole weekend in Alexandria I carried an extra set of batteries in my back pocket and didn’t need them. Then the one time I don’t bring the batteries, we get invited to a wedding and my batteries died. We were planning on going to a movie; I’m lucky I brought a camera at all.

After a while the lights came up and a swarm of waiters came out with dessert plates. Now I may have neglected to tell you but in the time we spent before the original plan of the movie we found a way to have dinner and two different desserts. We were already full but could not turn down the hospitality of our hosts. It would have been rude to not eat anything. The food was amazing and about half way through the plate I knew I wouldn’t have trouble finishing it.

We exchanged email addresses, cell phone numbers, and postal addresses with everyone at our table and everyone in the wedding party. Everyone told us that we had to call them the next time we came to Alexandria. Several people asked what we were doing the next day but we had to catch a train earlier in the day. At this point it was 1:30 in the morning and the party would probably continue much later into the night. We said good bye to almost the entire room. The grandmother of the groom pulled me in close and kissed me on both cheeks. Then she said to her table “Habibi!” (My lover!). Grandmothers are also all a like.

The father walked us down the stairs and called a cab. We said goodbye and he even paid for our taxi ride. The hospitality and friendliness of these people continues to amaze me.

Mediterranean Gossip in the Sand; Part I

2006-09-03T17:59:00.000+03:00

Part I:

We designated Sunday “Beach Day” and to fulfill this title we went in search of a decent beach. We’re on the Mediterranean; it shouldn’t be that hard to find a beach. But just like the rest of Egypt, Alexandria is covered in dirt and trash. The sea breeze is extra refreshing because you know it is blowing away the dumpster smell.

The guide book recommended a beach out side of Montazah Palace, a resort area about a 15 minute drive from downtown Alexandria. Again, it took several taxi drivers to get one that knew our location. As we drove along the ‘corniche’ or coast (a word I think from their French heritage), our driver pointed out each beach and its name. The most interesting and, yes, life-like was Miami. There were rows after rows of orange umbrellas and crowds of people packed under each one. The difference: the women were covered from head to toe. Egyptian women do not wear the western style swimsuit. From what I could tell they don’t have outfits even specifically for swimming. I would not have been able to tell we were on a beach by the way they were dressed. A few women ventured into the water fully clothed and the children ran around in typical suits. Men wore typical American swimsuits, except with neon colors from the 80s. Other men wore more revealing, let’s say, European suits. Many men swam with their shirts on as well.

We rented an umbrella and a couple of lawn chairs and set up in the crowd. The turning of the heads was almost one unison movement. I’ve gotten use to being stared at in cabs in Cairo or even just walking on the street downtown. This afternoon at the beach there wasn’t just the sun glaring at us. I had anticipated moments like this when planning my study abroad. Where in the world can a white-middle class-protestant Christian-male be a minority? I understand class and race systems exist every where in the world but today I felt my differences plainly; the issues of being a minority in an unforgiving world hit me right in the face.

It is not as though I felt unwelcome. Our fellow beach-goers were not staring at me because they didn’t want me there: they were staring at me because I was different. My hair has gotten significantly lighter with the intense sun in Egypt but my tan hasn’t progressed at all. As superficial as these differences may be, they are what motivated the stares. The locals couldn’t tell that I am from a Christian family and many of them in Alexandria are Coptic Christians themselves.

People stared because of my skin color but probably for the same reason you take a second look at the purple haired girl in the mall, except I didn’t recently choose to dye it that way.

The feeling I was left with was not hatred for the majority but rather an intense desire to fit in, to conform, to be similar. And I squirmed a little bit in my chair because there was no way I could ever change my physical differences. What I can take from this temporary four month experience of being a minority will be an ability to empathize with minorities in other situations. In the States, do minorities have difficulty finding their identity and resisting this urge to conform? Do minorities ever feel at home as long as they are a minority in a place?

I had two excellent experiences on the beach that day. First as I sat reading a book of poems by Constantine Cavafy (the author of Ithaca and The City), a man sat down next to me and started talking to me. I had difficulty understanding everything he said because his English wasn’t very good. He wanted to know about American’s perceptions of the region: “Do Americans believe we are evil people?” My heart cringed trying to form an honest answer. “Many Americans don’t understand, don’t know you as a people. I’ve only been here for two weeks and I already love Egyptians. They are afraid of the other, afraid of the different.”

I don’t think my answer translated very well but he kept repeating: “Salem to American. Salem to Egypt. Salem to Christians. Salem to Muslims. Salem to Philadelphia. Salem to Chicago. Salem to Salem. I don’t understand.” Salem means ‘peace’ in Arabic.

The second was as I swam back across the cove I said hello to a group of boys. They were all about my age and we started up a conversation quickly. One was going to law school, another just finished high school, and another was looking for his first job. They wanted to know a lot about me and my studies (i.e. why Egypt?!?). Then they asked anxiously if I was Christian and rushed to show me their tattoos. Every one had the Coptic cross tattooed on the inside of their wrists directly under the palm of their hand. They were very proud of their tattoos and I wondered to myself if they would regret such a permanent and obvious branding in any future conflict.

They also asked about my girlfriend. I told them about Monika and that she lived back in the States. They eagerly told me about their secret girlfriends. The law student said that he meets her secretly in public places. They go on dates, go to the movies, go to dinner, but do not tell their parents about their relationships. I asked if people know that they are not related when they are in public (often brothers or cousins accompany women on the streets). They all laughed and said, “Of course.” I wondered if they or their girlfriends worried about their reputations then. Again, laughter- the law student said the girls like it because it makes them edgy. They didn’t say if their secret relationships would have any influence on who they marry.

With that we parted the beach and went back to our hotel to wash off the sea water and pollution.

Tourist Traps in Alexandria

2006-09-02T00:12:00.000+03:00

Alexandria was a small fishing village (centuries ago) until Alexander the Great came through, renamed it and built a great metropolis. There is little left here to remind me of the Greeks or even ancient Egypt. But today we traveled to every known antiquity site/ tourist site in Alexandria.

After enjoying our free breakfast (college students love free), we walked down one of the main streets in town. We passed some interesting shops but I wanted to see one of the many Coptic Christian Churches. The closest was the Church of St. Mark a very heavily gated complex that we walked right into. There was a service going on in the sanctuary, which we think may have been a funeral service. I recorded video and audio but wanted to share the audio the most. Ignore the shaky hand and pictures of the floor:

We walked further to the ruins of a Roman theater. I guess the difference between current Alexandria and ancient Alexandria is somewhere around 10 feet; ancient Alexandria is buried under the current city making it very difficult for archeologist to uncover places like this Roman theater.

The coolest part of the theater is the ‘sweet spot’ as the tour guide that I was eaves dropping from called it. When you are speaking at the bottom of the theater and walk onto the ‘sweet spot’ your voice is amplified ten times in your ears but not in anyone else’s. It sounds like you’re speaking very loudly into your own ear.

Further inside the same complex was a Roman bathing area, complete with bathtub and tiled floor. Romans seem to be about the same size as Americans…

The tile work for these floors was done in the 2nd century AD and still holds their color. I was very impressed by the workmanship.

Next we took a taxi to the Catacombs and Pompey’s Pillar. Several taxi drivers had trouble understanding where we wanted to go, but we finally found one we thought knew where we meant. I knew the general direction we needed to go but he took off driving the wrong way. We told him again and again the name of the place and he said he was going there. Then he got on an expressway and went way out of the way. He stopped at a gas station along the way and finally started going toward where I thought the Catacombs were. After another ten minutes we pulled into a very shady looking neighborhood and the home of the Catacombs.

We threw him some cash and he started to argue for more. I just laughed and walked away. He took us the long way around thinking we wouldn’t know that it was so close. The longer the ride, the more tourists usually pay. We weren’t his average tourists; we have experience with the crazy taxis in Cairo.

They didn’t allow cameras in the Catacombs, probably because pictures never turn out in that low of light. The Catacombs are the tombs of the Romans who lived in Alexandria. It starts with a spiral staircase straight down into the ground. It then branches out into smaller and smaller side rooms that each had two or three beds/ boxes that were used as tombs. One central tomb was decorated with imitation-Pharaoh carvings. I guess the Romans were trying to borrow history from the locals; it didn’t look authentic and it was made almost two thousand years old.

We walked from the Catacombs to Pompey’s Pillar through a very impoverished part of town. The level of poverty here in Egypt is extreme. While you see the Land Rovers and Hummers of the rich visiting Arabs, many of the back alleys and neighborhoods are so broken down and so destroyed that it looks like a war zone. Maybe I’ve seen too many photos from Iraq, but Egypt’s cities have not been bombed and are not recovering from attack. These people live their lives without so many of the amenities that Americans, heck even other Arabs take for granted. The kids are in awe of themselves in my pictures; they obviously have never heard of the Internet. I struggle with how Egypt can begin to lift their standard of living. There isn’t an issue of preserving a dying culture here; do people try to preserve the culture of a ghetto? They need food to survive and actual shelter from the sun, then you can ask questions about culture.

It’s not as if the kids on the street aren’t happy. They have fun in their game of soccer or playing with their friends but I can see the hard uphill struggle they will have in their lives just to stay alive.

Pompey’s Pillar is a huge pillar on top of a hill. The Egyptian government is renovating and exploring several parts around the pillar but have conveniently placed two or three statues of lions that makes for excellent pictures.

I started talking to a couple guards on our way down from the pillar. Actually, I took a picture of them sleeping and tried to talk my way out of not showing them the picture. It worked and I also got us a tour of the not yet open section. The guard took us past the workers who were digging out the site and into an area that was somewhat polished. This was part of the original complex of the great Alexandria Library. There were carvings in the wall for books and a long stair way leading deeper into the complex.

There were two professional looking archeologists working on the stairs. I asked them a little about their work. They explained how they knew where to dig and where to stop. I couldn’t understand the difference between just rock and the original wall of the site. They said it would take months to finish just the ten or fifteen feet they had left in that hallway.

We headed off to Fort Quabey but I made sure to give the guard a little baksheesh for showing us the best part of Pompey’s Pillar. Fort Quabey was built on the foundations of the great Lighthouse of Pharos. One of the seven wonders of the ancient world, Pharos was 120 meters tall with three distinct sections. It may have been a functioning lighthouse but historians haven’t quite worked out how they lit the lamp. But after standing for centuries (and making it on a pretty elite list), Pharos collapsed after a series of earthquakes in the 1300’s. Parts of the lighthouse have been discovered underwater in the bay nearby.

This fort was built by the Arab forces when they conquered Egypt. The building has a lot of Islamic influences including a mosque and having the whole fort face Mecca.

We walked back from the fort along the water. There were tons of fishing boats crowding the harbor. This should have been obviously because of the fresh fish but it wasn’t until I saw this. We passed a beach that a lot of locals were swimming, but the water was so polluted. It was a dark brown color and I could see trash floating in and out with the waves. The smell of the sea was also accompanied by the smell of sewage.

We went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. This is the first time I have ever had good Chinese cuisine outside of East Lansing and Frankfort. Remarkably, one would not think of Alexandria or even Egypt as a hotbed for Chinese restaurants. Note the universal characteristics of Coke.

Alexandria is scattered with little French ‘gateaux’ shops. We decided to skip the Chinese dessert and find a good café with dessert. I had baklava and a chocolate gateau. Both excellent but the baklava definitely came out on top. If I keep eating like this, I won’t have an excuse like the ‘Freshman 15’, just ‘Egypt- The Land of 1000 Cakes’.

I'm also back safely in Cairo at the time of writing.

Today's Pictures:

Look closer for inscription

Oil barges headed toward the Suez Canal

Alex...My Long Lost Love?

2006-09-01T23:50:00.000+03:00

No, not you Alex Hill. Alexandria: Egypt's second largest city, north of Cairo, and on the Medeterranean.

All of the Study Abroad students left last night for the Off-Campus Orientation, which should have been labeled “Three Day Weekend at 5 Star Resort on the Red Sea”. Literally on the agenda it had “9AM Arrive at Red Sea, 10AM Fun in Sun”. Several ALI students and I decided we couldn’t just be left home alone and not enjoy ourselves; we had four days to kill before orientation and then classes. Solution: trip to Alexandrian and the Mediterranean Coast.

We wanted to catch the 9 AM train from Cairo to Alexandria. We thought that by arriving at 8:15 on one of the busiest summer weekends (not Labor Day, but close) we could still get tickets- think again. We departed Cairo at 2:10 PM after a little bit of a struggle finding the right platform. We could read what car and what seats we had but no where on the ticket did it tell us the platform number. After asking several different people with several different answers, we made it to the correct place.

The station felt a little like American train stations but we noticed that none of the announcements over the loudspeaker were given in English. That shouldn’t be odd given our location but everywhere else in the city signs are written in both Arabic and English. Museums list information cards in both Arabic and English, sometimes French. Menus and price lists are also always bilingual (they wouldn’t want to give us the wrong price…).

Riding first class on an Egyptian train means the seat actually reclines and your feet aren’t on top of your neighbors. The air conditioning worked fine and the windows were clean enough to take pictures of the countryside. I enjoyed watching the transition from cosmopolitan Cairo to the Nile Valley: slowly the run down buildings became fewer and with more land in between. Then growing fields became more common than dirty alleyways. From what I could tell the fields varied in crops from corn (just like Benzie County’s) to cabbage and grain.

I have noticed lately that tourists to Egypt are mainly British or German, some French and other Europeans, but the other major group is the Chinese. I have seen many Chinese tourists trying to navigate Cairo’s streets with their big bags and camera’s around their necks. I point this out because in the West needs to be aware that China is not a silent trading partner by which to make our fortunes. If I have felt a significant presence in Egypt in just two weeks, I wonder how the rest of Africa sees China and its position in the world. If China is able to engage the often forgotten countries of the world on a more civil, social level, China may be changing the whole international system right under our noses. Another variable will be China’s position on the Iranian nuclear program. And just to help with my point Yahoo!News agrees.

Once we got to Alexandria, we shook the touts (locals trying to get you to use their taxi or go to their business) and walked toward the sea. As we approached a fence, we felt the cool ocean breeze. And now I remembered why you come to Alexandria: the Mediterranean Sea. We grabbed a taxi, had a little difficulty finding the hotel, but finally checked into the New Capri Hotel, just one block from the center of town and one block from the sea.

If you can’t read Arabic, this bush reads “Allah” or “God”. Now that’s divine landscaping.

In making reservations for the hotel, I booked two rooms because our group consisted of Maria, Erik, and me. I’ve been told that in Arab countries hotels will not allow men and women have the same room without marriage certificates. After a problem with our reservation (only one room left at the inn) and apparently not a problem with the male/female issue, we have a three night stay so close to the sea it can be viewed from our breakfast table for only US $75- total!. Oh, did I mention the complimentary breakfast?

First night in our seaside getaway we wanted Alexandria’s finest fresh fish for dinner. We raced across downtown square (and traffic) to catch the last bit of the sunset outlining the city and Fort Quabey. The RoughGuide to Egypt recommended Denice’s for fresh fish. I don’t think their reviewer’s dinner included the invasion of ants that came with our dinner. For appetizers we had tahina (something close to homos), toasted pita, Mediterranean salad, and various pickles vegetables. The scariest of all had to be the stuffed pickled eggplant. I don’t like eggplant to begin with and I think pickling anything just makes it worse. It tasted like an extremely old, extremely squishy pickle; I didn’t take a second. The toasted pita could have also been day old, but it tasted just like a cracker.

There were no menus but our waiter brought out a tray of raw fish and octopus for us to point at. It smelled fresh. Our options were grilled or fried: I choose fried, he gave me grilled. It was difficult to eat with the head and bones still intact. The fish was so fresh though that it practically fell off the bones. I devoured every last bit of it.

We walked along the coast to find a restaurant for dessert. The coast reminds me a lot of Michigan. I have missed the water. Growing up so close to fresh water and being able to do things like jump off the dock after work and go waterskiing on Saturday afternoons spoiled me. No where in Cairo can you jump off a dock (but I have heard rumors about waterskiing the Nile). The heat and chaos are hard to escape; underwater you’re cool and there is total silence. Alexandria at least has the breeze and that’s enough to cut the heat and turn the volume down a few notches.

Dessert included mango ice cream rolled in coconut from a street vender. After settling in at the hotel, I heard loud popping noises outside. My mind wondered what it could be: gunfire? bombings? the Fourth of July? All fairly unlikely. To my surprise though, a small display of fireworks was being put on above the park near our hotel. Maria and I ran down the stairs (seven stories) and out in the park all to miss the last one. We did find a packed park with several interesting people.

One family saw my camera and asked us (in you’re-a-foreigner-sign-language) to take their photo. I took one of their little boy and of the father throwing the beach ball. They really like to see the pictures after their taken. I suspect it is many of their first times seeing digital cameras.

A group of couples, probably late 20’s/early 30’s, watched us with the camera and the gutsy man of the group called me over. He asked me to take a picture with them. I said only if I get to be in it. Look for the blonde kid in the front, you can’t miss me. All of the women joked that they didn’t want their picture taken- putting up a fuss just like many people in the States don’t like to have their picture taken. But all of the women wanted to see the picture once it was taken. The women on the right in full veil with only her eyes showing said after seeing herself in the photo: “Oh I don’t look very good.” The argument for the veil because it prevents the problem of body image just got thrown out the window.

More pictures:

So much to write about...

2006-09-01T03:07:00.000+03:00

...so little time. I swear I will post narrative for these pictures but for now I'll let them do the talking.

________________

Sunday afternoon I ventured out on my own again. I decided to test out this place called Groppi’s. The guide book said it had great ice cream and everyone knows how I crave ice cream, especially at 3 o’clock. After locating the place, I sat down in a café of all Egyptians. The waiter was obviously peeved that I was there and was actively avoiding taking my order. Finally, I tracker-beamed another waiter over to my table and ordered an ahwa (Turkish coffee). Twenty minutes later the coffee came and I realized that the whole restaurant, including the kitchen, was on Egyptian time. Egyptians, and Arabs in general, are known for there respect of time and timeliness, or rather lack there of. I saw an Arab woman at another table practically discipline the waiter because of his poor service. That made me a little more at ease; the cause of the slowness not being related to my nationality. I also ordered the ice cream Sunday here, which turned out to have way too much pineapple and other assorted fruits floating at the bottom.

I walked further down the street, just looking in the shop windows. I wondered through one bookstore that had a huge collection of Naguib Mahfouz, Egypt’s Nobel Laureate who just yesterday died of old age. I found a really authentic coffee shop called The New Sun Café. I’ve been dying to sit at one of the authentic men-only coffee shops in town but hadn’t worked up the nerve to do it. These coffee shops are the after work of hang out for men in Cairo and are the place for gossip, politics, and philosophical life discussions- also a great opportunity to practice and learn Arabic.

The Sun Café is one of the oldest coffee shops in Cairo and is popular because it hasn’t lost its authentic feel and homeboy clientele. In recent years an internet café has been added just across the street that seems to be part of the same business but the two could not be in more separate worlds. The Euro/ Chinese crowd uses the 90’s style computers, while the local Egyptians smoke sheesha out of as antique water pipes and sip Turkish coffee from little cups. Chess is popular as is dominoes, but the real Egyptian favorite is backgammon. As of writing, I have no idea how to play, but learning is now a goal before the end of the semester.

I sat next to several older men and started talking to them. Raft was a lawyer, another: a guide in Luxor, another: a professor of geology. I had one of the best conversations I’ve ever had about the Middle East with them. We talked about Mubarak: everyone disliked him. We talked about Bush: everyone hated him. It was unanimous that they liked the American people though and it was unanimous that they loved Ahmadinejad, Iran’s President. I asked about Mubarak and his support: the military and elite are very loyal but the general public despise him. I asked about the power struggle between Egypt and Iran: they thought that Iran was more powerful, both politically and militarily. Very often the group jumped straight to military might when I really wanted to know about political power and public support of the leaders. My general impression was that they saw that Ahmadinejad could do no wrong and that he was the Arab people’s leader, maybe even savior.

I left that for dinner that night with an invitation to dinner the next night and another invitation to a wedding next week.

_________________

Monday, I sat for the Arabic placement exam, which consisted of one hundred questions of multiple choice and one written section. After I got going for a bit I felt somewhat comfortable and used my usual, excellent test taking skills. Not to brag, but I know how to take a test. I can usually deduce which answers are totally out and then guess from there or I use the end sections of the exam to help on the beginning (i.e. if they use a word one way at the end it is probably the same in the beginning). But I realized about half way through the exam that I shouldn’t be trying for such a high score- that will only punish me by enrolling me into too high of a class. I couldn’t go back but from then on I didn’t guess on any questions. At one point, it felt like my brain was going to break down. That long of an Arabic test could kill someone.

Finally, the writing section asked me to answer: “Why are you studying Arabic?” After that workout of an exam, I had trouble answering the same question I’ve been asked a ton of times in the States. Why study Arabic? Because I value communication in other languages- because I value the region- because I think the region needs to be better understood by Americans- because I enjoy the different and exotic.

Nope, I wrote:

I study Arabic because I want to work in Egypt.
I study political science and want to specialize in Egypt.
I want to travel in Egypt and also in the region.

Maybe they can help me with my vocabulary.

After that I met a Norwegian girl named Maria, a student from Washington State, and another guy named Brendon. We met up with James and went to eat at the Pottery Café across from the university. This café is Egypt’s best attempt at Starbucks and has a strong A/C that makes it a refrigerator.

James, Maria, and I walked up to Midan Ramses to have a look around. Midan Ramses is similar to Grand Central Station because the both the train and bus systems have their main stops here. Before this week the statue of Ramses II could be seen in the square but it was moved last Friday to a museum near the pyramids to protect it from pollution. After walking around most of the square and staring at similar school supplies stores (really more like stands), we went in search of the former place of Ramses. We had no luck finding it ourselves and tried asking the locals. Each one got a very dismayed look on their face and tried to explain in Arabic and hand gestures that the statue had just moved. It was a hoot watching their faces because you know tourists have been asking where the statue was for several decades and this was the first week they had to direct them away from their beloved square. Also another note: the square is being renamed to Mubarak Square (Midan Mubarak) regardless of what the locals continue calling it.

Then we veered off north of the square and walked through a more run down neighborhood. The streets were still very busy but the buildings got shabbier and shabbier. I took this picture of a corner store and afterward the guy sitting in the chair started yelling that he wanted baksheesh. We just kept walking. I took a couple more good pictures; I’ve been fascinated by the bright paint on the shudders of windows. I wonder what personality type corresponds with bright blue.

Walking down the street with Marie was the first time really walking through a traditional neighborhood with a western woman. I was amazed at the number of catcalls, whistles, and general attention given to us just with the addition Maria. Often times we can’t tell what they are saying and it’s better that we can’t. Other times we make out the word sugar in Arabic and in English. Maria took it very well (she must have been getting it for the last three weeks) but we made sure that James and I surrounded her when we walked past shady characters, particularly the police.

We walked back to Maria’s hostel (she’s staying there until she can rent an apartment) and sat in the semi-air conditioned lobby over looking a square. The hostel was pretty sparse and was fairly run down. The view of the square may have been worth it though.

We left Maria because we were headed to the men-only coffee shop, The Sun Café. The plan was to meet my friend from the day before there at 5 PM. I made sure to take someone with me this time as back up. We sat down at one of the tables and James was in awe at the traditional place I had found. The locals at the next table eyed us for a while until I broke the silence with ‘ahlan wasahlan’.

One of them was a businessman who sold silver all over the world. He had the best English and spoke to us for a while about his trade and his travels. He said that he like America a lot but when we asked where the most beautiful was he said Italy, the best business- Germany, and his home- Egypt.

My friend showed up, accompanied by his friend, who we later found out was going to be married in two days. We went to find food and our friends led us through the city to an excellent ta’mayaa restaurant. The food was excellent and the owner was very friendly- letting us test out our rough Arabic. I didn’t eat there because another restaurant with the legendary Egyptian dish, stuffed pigeon, was recommended to us. Our friend led us past the Egyptian Intelligence Agency; just looking at the exterior was intimidating. Our friend said that once Egyptians go in they never come out. We passed the old Intelligence building, right behind the new one. It was run down just like the rest of Cairo but one can imagine the horrors that those walls have seen.

We waited for my stuffed pigeon for what seemed like two hours. Everyone in Egypt works at a different pace, a slow pace. By the time I finally got my food ordered it was prayer time and would be another 20 minutes before the cooks could start my food. We waited on the street curb and I started playing soccer with the kids in the street.

I had James take a few action photos but a large group of kids started gathering around us. They ask us our names and where we were from but the group got too big too quickly. We said 'ma salem' and left so not to attract too much attention. Our friend came with my stuffed pigeon and I said we had to get going. It was late and we were tired. I walked quickly across the street and started waving for a taxi. Our friend asked me, "What is your hurry?" I told him I was an American: I want every thing fast, fast. He laughed at that. He also invited us to his friend's Egyptian wedding on Wednesday.

James and I rode the taxi all the way back to the student dorms and reflected on the interesting night. Coffee shop gossip, stuffed pigeon, and a wedding: we were really tired. As we walked into the dorm I realized I'd left my pigeon in the taxi and he was long gone! After all that trouble, waiting for several hours, and haggling with the taxi driver over the price, I ended up going home hungry and never trying one of Egypt's specialty foods. I can just see the taxi driver laughing now: we may have gotten a cheap ride home but he ate well that night!

Where has all the falafel gone?

2006-08-27T21:48:00.000+03:00

After several requests, I have decided to discuss Middle Eastern food, or at least what I've tried thus far.

Food off the street is a little scary for me. Mostly because I can see the kitchen from where I'm standing and let's just say it's not something a Health Inspector would have a fun time with. I want to try a lot of the food but am taking it slowly and finding reputable joints that have say... printed menus.

The first thing I wanted to try in Cairo was falafel, but to my surprise I didn't see one falafel stand anywhere. We looked on menus pretty persistently, but to no avail. Then after asking a local where the best falafel was, we found out that in Cairo falafel is called taamia (tah' mee-ah). I guess this difference is only in Cairo and it is still known as falafel in other parts of Egypt. It is flatter than at Woody's Oasis in East Lansing and a little smaller than a hamburger patty.

Another dish I had was kofta- which is meat mixed with onion to make a sausage and then grilled. This dish was ok. It was a little bland (it didn't have the kick of breakfast sausage) and the onion was a little stringy.

Then there was fattah with meat (yes, unspecified) which turned out to be a bed of rice drizzled with a little tomato sauce. Underneath the bed of rice was some sort of fatty substance that soaked into the rice. The meat tasted and looked a lot like pork, but that could not be confirmed.

I, of course, had lentil soup which was amazing. I like it back in the States, but this was much better. It was more orange than usual- probably a special spice. It was also served with crotons once and chunks of pita another time.

I have had Mango, Strawberry, and Guava ice cream. Guava tastes similar to a pear but less sweet. The ice cream was good, probably a sorbet rather than an ice cream.

Yesterday, I ate on the Nile, literally on top of the Nile. I found a boat restaurant- a combination of four restaurants in one (including Chile's)- and had a really friendly waiter with fair English. There I had Veal Kabab, which is what it sounds like, and I think it was mince meat rice with yellow raisins and nuts on top.

Oh and the bread they have in Cairo is great too. It is similar to pita but it has raised more. I guess this bread is special to Cairo just like taamia. I have dipped it in homos and a special spread cheese that had a lot of spices in it to make it hot.

Juices are very good here because all of the fruit is fresh, probably picked within the week. I had strawberry juice my first day in- very sweet, very tasty. I have been stuck on the fresh mango juice the last couple of days. It is so good but I could do without the huge chunks and stringy-ness. I also had guava juice, which turned out to be more the consistency of apple sauce and tasted like pear again. I should have passed on that one. All of the juices are drank through a straw because they're too thick to sip from the edge.

I had kosharya today. Kosharya is a mixture of noodles (macaroni, spaghetti, and rice) and beans. Then I topped it with some hot sauce that made it WAY too hot. The mixture was good and is supposedly a staple of Egyptian diet.

The Turkish coffee has been good. Turkish coffee is similar to espresso in size and strength but is very thick. Folklore says you can stand a pencil on end in it- I doubt that. It is grainy and has a bit of a kick to it. Sometimes the grinds get caught in the back of my throat and I need a sip of water. It can come with "medium sugar" or with no sugar. I haven't dared to try it without sugar yet.

I have seen people walking down the street carrying trays of this dark translucent brown liquid, but had no idea what it was. It is served in short clear drinking glasses, similar to orange juice glasses, that are very difficult to hold when hot. I had some today-it was tea. I had mine with sugar. And finally, I had hibiscus. This drink was purple colored and I'm told made from the petals of the flower with many health benefits. It tasted like colored water.

Tomorrow is my written and oral Arabic placement test and a short orientation.

Water, Water NO-where, And Not A Drop To Drink

2006-08-26T17:36:00.000+03:00

I went exploring more today. That sounds like I'm some Lewis and Clark figure, which obviously I am. It was interesting going by myself. I was a little worried that I wouldn't feel as comfortable. I was fine and actually think I had more freedom. I'm a pretty fast walker and I don't take many breaks, so I think it can be a feat to keep up with me.

This morning I woke up practically choking because I was so dehydrated. I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep (6.30am) but I couldn't. So I went in search of water. Normally you just go get some from the tap, but not in Egypt. I'm still too afraid of the Pharaoh’s Curse. I went in search of a vending machine- none in the building. I went to the front desk and they called the nearest grocery store to deliver two bottles of water. I felt a little awkward asking for my water delivered but I was dying of thirst. I guess it is a lot more common to have things delivered in Egypt but it felt weird.

I walked around Zamalek Island- the island our AUC dormitory is on and also went up in the Cairo Tower. On my way to the tower, I saw a lot of the back alleys of the neighborhood. It's a common sight to see clothes drying out the window and stray cats looking for food in the trash. I took a lot of random photos. After I took this one of the Museum of Art, a guard waved at me. It looked like a beckoning wave. I kept walking; there was no way I was going to walk over and make a problem for myself. The guard gave up after I was half a block away.

Someone inquired earlier exactly how do Egyptians walk? I would say the song would be more accurate if the lyric was: "Loaf like an Egyptian". As you walk down any street there are at least 4 or 5 locals sitting on the curb or in a plastic deck chair waiting. Many of them are dressed in the bleach white garb and are guards so they're on the clock, but others are sitting outside of there shop or just in the middle of the sidewalk. On the ballot this fall: Egypt's National Past-Time- a) Loafing on the sidewalk or b) Coaxing tourists into buying trinkets. Mubarak can't mess with this one.

I had lunch on the Nile today. Yes, literally on top of the Nile on a floating restaurant. There were several choices; I had mine narrowed down to either an Egyptian Grill or Chili's. The grill won out. My waiter was very friendly and attempted to use his English to talk politics. He wanted to know Americans' perception of Egypt and of the Middle East. I told him what I thought but also that sadly I may be in the minority in the US. The information Americans have about Egypt and the region are not what I feel or see on the streets. Yes, it may be difficult to get past the trash, dirt, and heat, but Egypt is not a threatening country and the people I have met are definitely not militant. My waiter compared individual's who have been to Egypt and those who have not. Those who have love it, want to come back, or even work there. Those who have not only have stereotypes and the way the media portrays the region to go off of. While I know this characterization is probably not true about most of the readers of my blog, part of the reason I wanted to come to Egypt was to see for myself, to get real information, and to attempt to bring that back to my community and my home in Michigan.

Lunch was excellent, although a lot. I had veal kabab (yes, veal...) and what I think was minced meat rice with yellow raisons and nuts on top. I also had fresh mango juice and pita that is unique to Cairo.

It was a short jaunt from there to Cairo Tower, which had a great view from the top. It reminded me of Sear's Tower and the CN Tower but 3rd World style. There was an elevator, one elevator, but I could tell it was old. The man operating the elevator asked if I knew Arabic. I said a little, but he just pointed to the back of my ticket. There was the history of the Cairo Tower.

Now let me stop here and tell you the first story I heard about the tower and you can compare it to the back of my ticket. Supposively, several years ago a rich Cairinian paid an assassin to kill President Mubarak (remember Mubarak has been in power for over 20 years). After the attempt failed, Mubarak took the money that was suppose to go to the assassin and built this tower in honor of himself. It is true that the tower honors Mubarak. Right above the elevator doors is a hansom picture of the President, himself.

The back of my ticket says the tower is '60 storeys' heigh and was built in 1961.

At the top of the stairs was a local weighting for me. He tried to tell me the names of all the surrounding buildings. He'd point and say "And my name is... And my name is..." Then he took me thru a shady looking door and up to a level obviously not open to the public. There were bags of cement and workers' tools all around. He took my camera and started taking pictures of me, giving me directions on how and where to stand. Almost like my senior pictures, but 600 feet up and no Lake Michigan in the background. At one point he climbed almost over the railing to take a picture. I tried to stop him but he kept on insisting on more posses. I look freaked in all of pics: freaked because the guy was going to fall, not because I was un-safe.

I got my first look at the pyramids through the haze and pollution that comes with being in Cairo. I hope I can see the top when I'm at their base.

Before we came down he wanted me to pay him. I laughed and said "La, La, more pictures" and pointed below. Once we got to the bottom of the stairs I turned the camera on him and had him hold the door for this shot. His friends there were making fun of him for being in my photo. Then he took a couple more shots and asked for his money. I gave him 10 pounds but he insisted on 20. I gave it to him because I figured I was probably paying per position and I made him take more after we came down...

Then after riding the elevator down, I walked around the Zamalek Sporting Club. Basically the club is a city park that requires membership. It has soccer, basketball, and a few swimming pools. I, unfortunately, am not a member and had to walk around the club. The Nile River was close, so I walked along that as well. The Nile is not the typical river going through a city. There is not a boardwalk and the sidewalk was typical Cairo sidewalk. I think I've had smoother hiking trails in Yellowstone than the sidewalks in Cairo. There is trash every where and part of the banks of the Nile are made into very shabby gardens with fences and gates surrounding them. It looked like people may have lived in the shacks posing as garden sheds.

After a long day, I wondered back toward the dorms on the north end of the island. I stopped in a small grocery store and bought a six pack of water from a little kid. He tried to negotiate the price with me and finally ended up getting a calculator so I could see his math. It ended up between pounds so I made sure to give him some baksheesh.

Yesterday we went to the Egyptian Museum. I wish I had more to tell about it but I don't think I was in the right mood for a museum, let alone one that is not air conditioned. The King Tut exhibit was suppose to be very good but I went through it without realizing I was actually in it. I did get a chance to stare at the death mask for a while. I was struck looking at the mask made of complete gold by how many generations of people lived between King Tut and me. What kind of journey had the mask had to end up here looking back at me? How many important faces have stared into the mask's eyes in the 4000 years it has existed?

There is a section of the museum that you have to pay to see. You actually end up paying more for that section than to get in originally. We were attempting to buy student tickets and one of the guys in our group didn't have a student ID. So we tried to just buy it anyways- the ticket salesman didn't go for that. Then he wanted us to show the International Student Card. I was the only one with it, so I got mine out and tapped it on the desk. I don't know why I did that but that made him really angry. There was no way he was giving us the student rate. Finally after talking to the manager downstairs and coming up again the guy conveyed in broken English and sign language that he was just mad because I was rude to him.

My first stupid American experience in Cairo. No bullets or bruises, but I did feel badly. Time for my Arabic classes to start so I can avoid future incidents like this.

On a lighter note, the section that required us to pay more was well worth it- worth the air conditioning it bought.

Pictures from today:

TV sitcom?

My future motorcyle

Cairo's Character

2006-08-24T21:03:00.000+03:00

"President Mubarek welcomes you! Vote for me, or else! I like falafel and hommos! If I'm elected everyone will have all the falafel and hommos they can eat" ***Note: translation may not be accurate due to my minimal Arabic skills and class not starting for another week.

So, today was Coptic Cairo day. Curious non-Cairinians commute to Coptic Cairo to continue the canvusing of the Coptic quarter. (Also, alliteration day.) This is one of the southern neighborhoods of Cairo that is centered on several very famous Coptic landmarks. Coptic Christianity is a form of orthodox christianity related to Oriental Orthodox and Eastern Orthodox Christianity. It is, however, only really practiced in Egypt. The story goes that the apostle Mark journeyed to Alexandria (a city in Egypt on the coast of the Mediteranian) in 45 AD and began preaching Christianity there. The Coptic Church was originally accepted by the locals. When the region was conquered by Arab forces in 641 AD, the Coptics were allowed to continue practicing their religion because of special protection given from the Prophet Mohammed. Coptics, along with Jews, were considered 'people of the book' and decendents of the same religous tradition as Muslims. Gradually, over many centuries, Egypt converted Islam. [thank you, Wikapedia!]

Until recently, Coptics have lived peacefully among the Muslim majority. This year there were riots in Alexandria after the Coptic Church produced an inflamitory video against Islam. Many people were injured and I believe four people were killed.

We decided to take the Cairo Metro to get to Coptic Cairo. By 'we' I mean James (another ALI student here from University of California) and I, took the AUC bus to Midan Tihrar (downtown) and then decinded these omnious stairs into what we thought would be the hottest sauna this side of the Sahara (sorry...). It actually was not too bad just underground and the first train had the luxorious air conditioning units you see in the picture. It costs only one Egyptian pound for a one way ticket, which equates to less than a quarter US dollar. The actual train was very crowded. It wasn't rush hour and we still counldn't have sat down. Probably best because all eyes were on us... the whole time. After four stops(the stops are labeled in both Arabic and English), we jumped off and went to leave the subway. I didn't have may ticket anymore, which apparently is required to EXIT the station.

This wouldn't be a problem in the States because no one watches you, but in Egypt there are Tourist Police every where. Tourist police = scary Egyptians dressed in a bleach white uniform holding a soviet style gun. Long story short: he looked the other way; we both ran through; pretty sure that wasn't a friendly look we got.

We headed over to the Coptic Museum, which is directly across from the subway stop. Twenty pounds (less than $5) later, we began exploring the museum. It was filled with a lot of stone carvings and paintings of Coptic Saints. Coptic Monastaries have a very distinct architecture: rounded mud roofs with thick walls. Then we went to the Hanging Church, so named because it was built over were the Nile had previously been. Now there is only a muddy space below the church, but I can imagine in its heyday light reflecting up of the water into the sanctuary. The inside walls had tile diagrams of Saints and the sanctuary was very dark with wood and marble everywhere. A few stain-glass windows scattered the walls but light was only from candles along the side.

Before I even entered the sanctuary, I got sidetracked by a little boy in the court yard playing soccer. I may have caught my mother's curse of obsessively talking and playing with children. We kicked the ball around a bit. I thought he would show off for me but he would only pass the ball to me and try to make me do all the tricks. My soccer skills are more impressive than I remember; I was able to keep a 7-year old boy entertained for five minutes. He didn't want his picture taken at first, but after a little coaxing he was really interested in seeing himself in the picture on the back of my camera. No Arabic was spoken, but communication transpired.

We then went out and tried to find several other churches and monastaries, all Coptic, but couldn't really find anything to the south. At one point a Tourist Policeman said we couldn't go in there, but I kind of ignored him/ pretended his English didn't translate and kept walking. It was obvious later that he was just trying to give us a hard time and that the real Cairo was just waiting behind him.

I could tell that James felt uncomfortable there, but this is what I pictured Cairo like from Michigan. I imagined the dirty streets, the crowded back alleys, the playing kids, and today all of that was in front of me. Can you remember the last time Mom let us play with a tire? I think it ended with the story of how she broke her collar bone and we never got to see the tire again. It seems cheesy but I liked this part of town more than any other I've seen because it had character. The children were real children, the mothers were walking down the street with their laundry, and someone was having trouble starting their car (I don't think it had an engine in it yet). And the Tourist Police almost made me miss it.

As we walked by the policeman again, he was telling another group of AUC students that they couldn't go that way. They weren't as persistent as us. Too bad- they missed a real Cairo experience.

Further up the street was a less glamorous Cairo experience. The touts (local shop owners known for their aggressive business approach ) were waiting for us. Shops lined one side of the street while a nunnery, a monastery, and a couple churches lined the other. As we walked each shop owner said hello and tried the only English they knew. Then they asked persistently for us to come into their shop. Now, one or two of these would not be bad, but there was a half mile stretch of shops waiting ahead of us. I perfected my 'la, la shookren', which means 'no thank you', and used it pretty affectively to ward off the touts. I had to smile though every time someone asked 'where are you from?', when you know that they have no idea what to say after or even where it may actually be.

We had lunch at an excellent cafe just after all of the shops. I had lentil soup with croutons, turkish coffee, and grilled kofta. Lentil soup was similar to what I've had in the U.S. but I've never had it with croutons. Kofta is beef mixed together with a type of onion and then grilled. It looks and takes a lot like sausage. This was fair; I'll probably order something new before I try this again. Turkish coffee- famous throughout the Middle East as the beverage of choice and for being thicker than butter. It comes in an espresso size cup and you can have it with either sugar or without. This was the highlight of my meal, but I think it will take more time to grow on me until I truly love it. WARNING: Do not drink the bottom of the cup. It is filled with coffee grounds.

I asked our waitor what he liked best on the menu. He pointed to the most expensive thing. I called him on it and he laughed. Good waiter if you ask me- that's what I did this summer, just ask the Roadhouse gang. Skillet, anyone?

We were finally heading back to the metro, when I saw this amazing sign. It is the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus in neon lights. We tried to get some kids to turn it on for us but they couldn't. This led us to this interesting alleyway that weaved its way around the nunnery and monastary. I started playing soccer with another kid in the allyway. Then Tony went and got a couple of his friends and expanded the juggling game (a game to see how many times you can bounce it on your foot or body- they really liked it when I headed the ball). Then just as I was doing better than ever, the ball flies off my foot and into an open window. All of the locals laugh; James and I stare with our mouths open. Pretty soon Tony (the local kid) went and knocked on the door, retrieved the ball, and were back in the game. Tony and his friends showed us around the ally for a little bit and then back to the metro. They liked getting their pictures taken and then looking at themselves on the back of the camera.

James tried out a lot of his Arabic; I'm still struggling with greetings and question words. We also got advice to go to a great falafel house in downtown Cairo. It turn out to be everything it was promised and more. The chefs liked getting their photos taken, probably because of the baksheesh (tip/bribe) I slipped him. Four amazing falafels for only the equivalent of 50 cents.

The plan tomorrow is to check out the Egyptian Museum, which houses the best collection of mummies (obviously) and a huge exhibit on King Tut.

Here are the rest of my photos from today:

Day Two: RadioShack, Sunsets, and Taxis

2006-08-23T02:20:00.000+03:00

Jetlag is a horrible. I don't think I have it as bad as others, but I went to bed yesterday at 1.30am Cairo time (7 hour difference if you want to figure it out) and was suppose to meet someone in the lobby at 8AM. Normally not a problem, but with jetlagged-nick I didn't wake up until 12.20!!!

So i rushed out of bed, got ready- Heck with a shower, I'm in the Middle East! You’re smelly and sweaty even when you do shower- and ran down stairs to catch the AUC bus. Then I had to wait a half hour for a bus, only to realize the stop was just around the OTHER corner. Then once in the bus I waited for about 15 minutes for a bus driver who turned out to be sleeping in the last row of seats!

I was dropped off at the stop near AUC, in fact I saw the campus as we drove past it but as soon as I got off the bus I had no idea which direction I should actually walk. So in typical Nick fashion, I headed off in the first direction I could, which was straight... This led me to downtown Cairo, some name of a square that I haven't mastered in Arabic let alone English yet. There were people everywhere on this tiny side walk and 3 or 4 lanes (probably 5 because taxis make their own lanes all the time) of traffic zooming by me.

This was the first time I felt unsafe sense arriving. Not physically unsafe, but this was the typical scenario where a tourist gets his wallet stolen. I was extra careful about the feeling in my rearend for the time being and every once and a while checked it with my hand. Then I saw two locals point at me and start following me. There goes the heart, right? So I was extra careful for a while on the feeling and the checking, but they were still there. So I decided to shake them from my trail. I stopped at the next store and pretended to look at something in a window, but actually watched my followers walk past me (in the window). In reality, they probably were not pointing at me, or even following me, but let me pretend I was James Bond for a minute.

After that I removed all my valuable documents (ID), money, and credit cards from my wallet and stuck them in my money belt. Pickpockets can have my wallet now if they're skillful enough to get it and then realize they only earned fifteen dollars and an Eagle Scout card.

Once at AUC, I got the run around on my program. Study abroad students have had orientation and an Arabic placement exam but the ALI office doesn't open until Sunday. I went to check it out and the halls were empty and the walls were being repainted. Now I have a couple days free to explore the city and maybe even a week after ALI opens before classes. This could mean some serious pyramid time or some other type of classic Egyptian experience.

After a needed nap, I forced myself to socialize/ obtain nourishment. I went down stairs to the lobby were both sexes are allowed to congregate and met another ALI student that I knew from the flight. We went back downtown to a RadioShack (yes, a RadioShack) and bought converters and cell phones. I got my phone, plus a prepaid card for only $40. I could get use to this exchange rate.

Then we ventured down to the banks of the Nile. The sun was setting and just as we walked up a felucca (Egyptian style sailboat) pulled out into the current. Sunset + felucca = Amazing experience and now near the top of my To-Do list. We then walked through Garden City, which is technically a neighborhood not a city, but I was not in a position to question their word usage because I don't know either word's translation.

Garden City was built when the Brits were in power and designed to make the ex-pats feel like they were still in the motherland. Apparently making the roads arch and the tops of the roofs look Victorian is enough to make the British feel at home. The overhanging trees in the street do make it homier, but not specifically English. Again, probably not in a position to criticize- I'll let someone who has been to England help with the comparison.

We passed a gas station; I couldn't tell what the price was let alone convert it to dollars, then from liters to gallons. I took a picture to give me more time to do that math, but no luck. Give me a couple weeks.

Now the long awaited, much anticipated, somewhat feared first Cairo taxi ride. Taxis in Cairo are black and white and the typical Egyptian car shape: smooched. They look like American cars that have been smooched from end to end, making some very compact and somewhat funky looking cars. Our taxi driver spoke no English, and I spoke no Arabic to him (I feel like I've lost most of it). James, the other ALI student we were walking around with, went to it with some of his Arabic. After flagging down another taxi and another long discussion, we found a taxi driver that actually knew where we wanted to go. Then we went into prices. The meters in Cairo taxis don't work- who knows if that is intentional or not. I just said 5 pounds and held up my hand (5 fingers…). He held up both hands. I said 5 again and we got in.

I don’t think I’ve told you about driving yet, but it is a roller coaster ride. But not the wimpy roller coasters at Michigan Adventures—this is like 200 roller coasters intertwined into a mess that should not be safe and should not come out in the end. But it did and we made it home safely.

We had to drop one of our friends off along the way, so we decided to switch taxis to make it easier. This taxi driver did not know which way he was going or where our final destination was. His solution: stop every block and ask someone on the corner for help. The further we got, the shadier the neighborhood got. I was getting a little nervous because it was taking so long and we weren’t recognizing anything around us. Suddenly we were on the right street, passing a coffee shop I knew, and were home with in 2 minutes. Although it was a questionable ride in the middle, I would say the overall experience was fun and an adventure.

My roommate finally arrived. His family is from Syria; he was born and grew up in Philadelphia, but has some family in Cairo. That would explain why his stuff has been in the room but he hasn’t actually been in the room-- I guess satisfying that intense Middle Eastern hospitality of his relatives. Sounds somewhat familiar.

Day One: Flights and Sidewalks

2006-08-22T22:26:00.000+03:00

I have finally arrived in Cairo. After a long trek across several continents, oceans, and seas, my flight set down at about 1PM local time. At that point I had been up for 24-hours, and I'm still going now with only a short power nap.

The flight from Frankfurt was not crowded. In fact, it felt a little like a chartered plane for AUC students because there were so many of us on the same flight. The plane was almost the size of the plane that took me across the Atlantic, except this plane was empty save for AUC students and a few families.

It is interesting to see how AUC students clump together. I saw a guy at the Chicago airport with an AUC International Student Handbook and introduced myself. Then as we talked another girl realized we were going to AUC as well. By the time we were sitting in the Frankfurt airport, there were at least 20 of us clustered together talking nervously in anticipation.

The absolute number one question about my study abroad back in the States was: "Are you scared/nervous/afraid?" And my answer was always no. It was important to me to dissuade the stereotype of the 'scary Middle East'. In truth, I was scared. But scared/nervous/afraid in the same way I was just before my first time moving into college. You're afraid because there are too many question marks: What will you eat? What will you wear? What will classes be like? Who will I talk to? Who will I be friends with? And studying abroad in a third world country only adds new dimensions to every question (i.e. think bathrooms). I was never nervous for my life in the way people insinuated I should; I was nervous for what my experience would be like and what it would consist of.

Focusing on fears can be paralyzing- paralyzing in a way that could be dangerous. Never the less, that wasn't a factor. Walking down the street tonight on the way to a restaurant, I felt as comfortable as I was on the streets of Houston or Toronto this summer. Oddly, I think the locals are more friendly in Cairo then in bigger cities. They may compete with small town Beulah-ites but overall Cairo has a friendly atmosphere.

The other thing that can't be avoided is the dirt. Cairo is a dirty city. The sidewalks were probably originally very decorative and ornate but the state they are in now is not. After the long flights, I was dying to take my shoes off and put on my sandals. That may have been a mistake, especially after just taking a shower. One sidewalk we attempted to use tonight was so badly broken up that it was better to walk in the street (tiny 1.5 lane neighborhood road) even with the crazy taxis.

Tomorrow I'm headed to downtown Cairo and AUC's Main Campus. I figure I need to check in some time and get a schedule before classes start. I also have to take an Arabic placement test within the next two days.

My Egypt Study Abroad Program

2006-03-25T18:46:00.000+02:00

The American University in Cairo in Egypt

Fall Semester

What's this program about?

To many, Egypt is the cradle of civilization, “The Mother of the World” - to others, it is the leader of the modern Middle East . Studying at the American University in Cairo will provide students with an extraordinary educational experience in a complex city that is 1,000 years old, in a country that's 5,000 years old!

Students will have the unique opportunity to experience the wonders of Egypt while studying with Egyptian and other Arab students under the guidance of some of the best scholars in the fields of Arabic language, Middle East studies, Egyptology, and Islamic art and architecture.

Where does it take place?

In Cairo, the capital of Egypt, the ancient and the modern, the rural and the urban are brought together on the banks of the Nile in one of the most fascinating cities of the world. The largest city in Africa , the cultural center of the Arabic-speaking world, and a crossroad for the sharing of ideas, leadership and trade, Cairo is home to people from all continents. A rich melting pot of history, culture and tradition, Cairo will captivate you with its incredible past and vibrant present. Where else can you experience both 2000 BC and 2000 AD in the same city? Or travel back further to the cradle of civilization along the Nile River and then forward to study the modern impact on the coral reefs of the Red Sea ? Equally important, Cairo is one of the world's safest cities with very little violent crime.

Located two blocks from the Nile River , The American University in Cairo (AUC) is situated on one of the busiest squares in Cairo. This central location gives students direct access to a wealth of cultural opportunities such as the Cairo Museum (with the world's richest repository of pharaonic antiquities), the pyramids of Giza, the tombs of Saqqara, and the myriad mosques of medieval Cairo. Founded in 1919 to offer a comprehensive American-style, liberal arts education to Egyptian students, AUC is accredited and enrolls about 4,500 students in its degree, Arabic language, and study abroad programs. While students come from over 60 different countries, the majority is Egyptians.

By making this vibrant city your home, you guarantee yourself a unique educational experience. The city awaits you as your classroom and laboratory. You will meet people from all over the world who share your spirit of discovery as you sharpen your linguistic skills and cultural understanding. In addition, Egypt 's location makes it the perfect starting point for travel throughout the Middle East.

What can I study?

AUC houses one of the premier Arabic language institutes in the world, so students can learn Arabic intensively or continue the study of Arabic at an advanced level. AUC will issue a Certificate in Arabic Studies to MSU students who complete two semesters of relevant coursework at AUC. The language of instruction is English except for advanced courses in Arabic literature.

Intensively study only Arabic language at the Arabic Language Institute (ALI)

Where will I live?

Students are housed in the AUC dormitory in Zamalek, a residential district in downtown Cairo about fifteen minutes away from the campus by bus. The dormitory offers single or double rooms for 300 students and is an attractive newer building with a large, quiet interior courtyard. A cafeteria, computer lab, and fitness room are located in the building. Linen is provided and shuttle transportation is included. Meals and laundry service are also available. Students are segregated by sex and live with Arabic students from Egypt as well as other Middle Eastern countries, in addition to international students from around the world.

The Zamalek Student Residence is located at 16 Mohamed Thakeb Street (off Al Maraashli Street) in Zamalek, a residential section of Cairo where many foreign embassies now occupy the former colonial villas built at the turn of the 19th century

Rooms
Student rooms are doubles, furnished with two beds, desks, chairs and wardrobes; pillows, blankets, sheets, pillow cases and towels are provided. Linens are changed and laundered free of charge twice weekly. Rooms are cleaned weekly by the housekeeping service. Personal laundry service is available at a per item charge and there are limited self-operated washing machines and dryers. Each room has one telephone from which local calls may be made and on which international calls may be received, as well as a high speed Internet connection. Shared bathrooms with showers are located on each floor.

Facilities
The Zamalek Residence provides the following:

24 hour front desk service
Lobby on the ground floor which is a comfortable setting for receiving male or female guests
study area
Cafeteria
Computer room
Medical clinic
Central courtyard, a relaxing outdoor area. Graced by a well-tended garden and decorative fountain, the courtyard is a popular meeting spot for students.
Exercise gym
Sports zone for basketball, soccer, table tennis and volleyball.
Personal laundry service, available at a per item charge, and limited self operated laundry facilities (washing machines and dryers).
Housekeeping service, cleaning of rooms in the presence and of the request of the resident (bedding and towels are changed free of charge)
In your room:

Temperature control unit which allows you to adjust the air conditioning or heating
A telephone for making local calls or receiving international calls
Pillows, pillow cases, sheets, blankets, towels

Shuttle buses run between the residence and AUC frequently, and shuttles run in the evening between the two residences

Personal Safety

The AUC Clinic offers routine care, emergency first-aid, controlled dispensing of prescription medicines, and referrals to specialists or hospitals when necessary. The Clinic is open during working hours when classes are in session, and emergency contacts are available at all times. A counseling center also provides services to students.

Safety on Campus

The Department of Environmental Health and Safety monitors conditions and encourages safe practices, including careful use and disposal of chemicals, wearing of protective gear, and a non-smoking policy in AUC buildings.

Security

The University's trained security team works in close cooperation with the Egyptian government to safeguard the campus and dormitory. All entrances are monitored and secured, with access controlled via ID checks, metal detectors, and bag searches.