EXODUS

Four months have nearly come to an end, and it feels like an epoch and a day that I have been here. In true Biblical fashion, I will be departing the land of Egypt and entering the land of the Jews (New York City.  Budum ching. Thank you everybody, I will be here all week. :D) In light of this auspicious and much anticipated occasion, I feel compelled to reflect on my experiences, expand upon my opinions (and themes) presented earlier, and speculate on how Egypt has changed me.

What is my opinion of Egypt?

Many people have asked me that question. How is Egypt? Do you like it? I have to be honest and say no. Not all formative experiences are enjoyable, and this one as a whole was not. Too many problems plagued my life here, and too many uncomfortable or painful moments made it difficult for me to actually love or even like living here. That doesn't mean that I was always unhappy. I went to the Pyramids, the Egyptian museum, Alexandria, the Bahariya Oasis, the Citadel, Coptic Cairo, and other interesting places around Cairo. I also enjoyed the company of my Lawrence University professors and their children, as well as the lovely Mrs. Keshk.

Though I admit that the best times on this trip were when I was in Turkey and Jordan, I do not regret coming to Egypt, and I think this was the best use of my four months. I learned how to rent an apartment, how to take care of myself (fully), and most importantly I learned to not take water, heat, clean public toilets, electricity or (laundry) dryers for granted. I will return to the United States with a greater appreciation for the conveniences I have, and I will be better equipped to handle stressful situations, because they will be in my own country and in English.

The People of Egypt

This is a tricky subject, because I feel like a lot of my interactions with Egyptians were “lost in translation” moments. People are people everywhere, and I hope that some of my commentary was not too scathing and misrepresentative. There are good people everywhere, and there are bad people everywhere, and I tried to present both sides. I had good moments with Egyptians, who were polite to me, shared food with me, or helped me without expecting reciprocation. I did experience a lot of the dark side of Egyptian behavior: mainly street harassment (which I will address later in this post) and scores of vendors or taxi drivers trying to cheat me out of money.

Street Harassment

Again, I tried to represent my opinion earlier, but I feel I should clarify. Street harassment is a MAJOR problem here that is perpetrated by men toward any woman on the street to demonstrate dominance over public space. This is a problem that is caused by men who chose to not restrain themselves, who are frustrated by women’s societal/political gains, and who are sexually frustrated. My purpose was not to demonize Arab men, because street harassment happens everywhere, and men in the U.S., though usually more respectful on the street, show different kinds of disrespect towards women. Yet, I have to say that Egyptian street harassment was very uncomfortable, and I have never felt so systematically degraded in my life.

Religion

Don’t hate. Appreciate.

My comments about the muezzins were not a jab at Islam, they were a jab at the singing ability of the muezzins in my neighborhood. Islam is not the enemy; extremism of any form is what threatens world peace and security.

Politics

This is undoubtedly an authoritarian government and a torture state (but really, what country isn’t these days). Recently I read that because of Mubarak’s suppression of democracy, in some sort of official poll (which I forgot the name of) Egypt is ranked in the second tier of worst countries in the world. The scope of censorship is mostly limited to newspapers and television, but surprisingly, the web is overwhelmingly free. As far as basic freedoms, people are obviously not able to fairly elect their own representatives and corruption is rampant. Yet, the government has a limited reach into the private lives of its citizens (because of government inefficiencies at enforcing laws, not benevolence). People drive however they want, have any number of children, practice their own religions (though fundamentalists Muslims and Copts do get beat up on once in a while), live alternative lifestyles (homosexuality is more common than you would think in a conservative Muslim country), drink alcohol, and even blog about their countries problem (with some backlash, but still . . . ). The government can’t do very much about it. This is not a 1984, “Big brother is watching you” state. Although there are police stationed on many corners, (granted, they are usually sleeping), there are not cameras everywhere detailing the moves of its citizens. Frankly, that would be way too organized and efficient for Egypt.

Modest Clothing

Wearing a more conservative wardrobe for the past four months has affected me, and given me a different outlook on life. I abhor that I cannot wear a skirt above the knee (which is classy, stylish, and respectable) because here I would be perceived as a slut for wearing it, or that a shirt that has a lower cut would probably brand me as a whore for all eternity. I DO NOT LIKE THAT. I support women who choose to cover themselves, though I do think that wearing a face veil (niqab) is too extreme. Yet I also think that wearing too skimpy clothes (skirts and short shorts that go up to your buttcheeks and lots of cleavage) is not liberating for women. Somewhere in between the extremes is good. I’m not one for telling women how to dress. Dress how you like.  For me, at least, I want the way I dress to give me an air of respectability. 

The United States of America

Let’s revisit street harassment one more time (there’s a point I need to make, I swear). Ultimately the men who harass women on the street should be held accountable for their own actions, because they have a choice not to engage in lewd behavior. Yet I somewhat blame my own culture for the treatment I have been subjected to here. A root cause that makes Western women particularly vulnerable to street harassment is the oversexualized media portrayals of Western women by Western media. Even more than before, watching American movies makes me cringe, because I think in the back of my mind how Egyptian men, with very little cultural knowledge of the U.S., will think that all American women are available to them. Thank you, U.S sexism.

Besides American culture, a lot of my opinions on U.S. policy have changed as a result of a class I took on Middle East politics in the 20^th century. Now I understand more fully the U.S.’s hypocritical actions in the Middle East. We laud democracy in our country, but support undemocratic regimes abroad when it is convenient for us (Iran 1950’s, Iraq 1980s, Egypt 2000s).

Are we really free?

Americans are often condescending to the rest of the world about the freedoms we enjoy. Yet, taking into account the personal freedoms that many Egyptians have, like privacy and the right not to be digitally stripped at airports, I’m beginning to think that we are not as free as we think. The U.S. is not an authoritarian state (or is it?), but the climate in the U.S. is changing. We are so constrained with our fears about safety that we are locking ourselves in a self-constructed prison and throwing away the key. My fear is that one day those digital machines will be everywhere, scanning our bodies in front of malls, libraries, schools, airports -dehumanizing, and violating us on a daily basis, but we will be too complacent to notice. Just like London, one day New York will have cameras on every street, watching our movements. I’m guilty of participating in the facebook trend, but I feel that our habit of oversharing online will also create a privacy disaster for us in the future.

ME

I am a different person.

 Recently I browsed through my memory card of pictures, and found some of the summer before I arrived here. It’s strange when you look at images of yourself, but you don’t recognize the person that you were. The girl in the photos doesn’t even look like me, or dress like me. My face looks different now, my body is thinner, my hair is longer, and my style has become more sophisticated.

My thoughts are different. My opinions are different, my priorities and future plans have changed, and I am less fearful. 

I am older, I am stronger, I am less naïve, I am more flexible, I am less daunted, I am a better person.

My life, when I return to it, will look different. It will be fresh, it will be new, and I am so excited join the people that I love. I can’t wait for them to meet me.

See you all on the other side. 

      This best sums up how I will feel getting off the plane, except that I'm not bald, and it probably won't be raining. 

One Last Look

DOWNTOWN

SANDSTORM

In Memoriam

Things Fall Apart

Black Sketchers

2006-2010

Silver Flats

2009-2010

+

1 computer cord

+

2 pairs of sunglasses

Things left behind: 

1 towel, 1 Mennonite skirt, 1 dress, 3 shirts

+ 9 books

Please sign my guestbook, and stay tuned for an EPIC blogpost (on Friday). 

Guestbook

Before I leave all of you for the forseeable future (though I am working on some blog ideas), I wanted to create a space for you, my readers, to write comments, questions, and maybe a little bit about yourselves. I know some of you, but I've noticed some really interesting countries on my Stats page, and I would be glad to know a little bit about those readers from:

Thailand

Belgium

Malaysia

Croatia

Germany

Greece

Lebanon

Algeria

Phillipines

Pakistan

Indonesia

Iraq

United Arab Emirates

Brunei

Russia

Tanzania

France

United Kingdom

India

Sweden

Thailand

Australia

Bangladesh

Japan

Brazil

South Africa

This isn't even the complete list. 

 I'm just wondering what brought you to my blog? What did you find interesting? Feel free to share any thoughts . . . :D. 

I'm also interesting in hearing from friends and family, so everyone, please sign my blog and make your mark. I'm making a bound book out of it, so your comments will be a keepsake. 

Thanks for being so supportive, and stay tuned for my last post in Egypt on Friday, December 17th. 

The Icing on the Cake

I know I complain a lot, but this is getting ridiculous. It's as if Egypt, instead of gently saying goodbye to me with a heartfelt invitation to return, is kicking my ass to the curb before slamming the door in my face.
I want to like you, Egypt. Why do you do these things to me?
Yesterday, Egypt gave me my first sandstorm, which I never want to experience again. Imagine the whole world with a brown tint, no sun, and typhoon winds. You can taste the sand in your teeth, inhale it with your nostrils, and feel it burn your eyes. Did I mention that it was also 50 degrees (F) outside? Before all of you Wisconsinites laugh at me, hear me out. I have no winter coat here, no heat in my apartment whatsoever, and it gets colder at night (dipping to 8 degrees C). I'm not sure if I will go into shock when I step out of the airport in New York, but at least my mom's apartment has heat.
Finals are also approaching, which are always fun (not). Too much homework + freezing cold bedroom+ muezzins from 5-6 am= one tired, cranky, semi-depressed, beauty-sleep deprived Ari.
4 and a half days . . .

FINALS

insert panic attack here

Dear Egyptians,

I don't want to sleep with you, 


Cutting in line is rude,


Not all Americans are rich so don't try to swindle us at every turn, 


Winter coats are not appropriate for 70 degree (F) weather, 


It's impossible to always have correct change so don't look at me strangely when I give you 50 LE for something that is 10 LE, 


Western movies are not representative of real life, 


Ketchup does not go on pizza, 


2 am is too late to be yelling in the courtyard, 


Sidewalks are not trash receptacles, 


Children should go in car seats, 


I shouldn't have to tip you for telling me directions, 


Just because you can't figure out how much a grocery item costs, doesn't mean you should refuse to let me buy it, 


Why do your soap operas featured unveiled women when the majority in the real world are veiled? 


Why do you cross highways? 


McDonald's is not a classy restaurant, 


Figure out what your English t-shirt says before wearing it, 


Correspondingly, muscle shirts are for tools, 


Cleaning does not consist of using a dirty broom to sweep the floor (and I shouldn't have to pay you for doing it), 


Alexandria IS better than Cairo, 


Your beat up 1979 BMW is not a luxury car, 


Spitting and hacking is not attractive, 


You did not win the 1967 war, 


Lipton is fake tea, 


$4 is an outrageous price for a Gatorade, 


Where is your basil and oregano? Italy is barely 400 miles away, 


Saying "Inshallah" (God willing) does not reassure me, 


You frustrate me to no end, 


but I know I shouldn't generalize you. 


Many of you are lovely people, 


so maybe we can make a deal . . . 


I will try not to judge you based on my experiences with a lot of your people, 


if you extend the same courtesy to me.


K? Thanks, bye. 


Lukewarmly, 


Ari

Anticipation

Why I Need to Leave This Country:


Reason 1: It's so cold that I could see my breath yesterday. IN EGYPT.
                        a) I have no heat
                        b) I have no blankets
                        c) I only brought summer clothes

Reason 2: I ran out of food, and I'm too lazy to go grocery shopping, but I'm starving. Dilemma.
Reason 3: Cairo can offer me nothing more than it already has (heartache and misery).
Reason 4: My clothes and souvenirs are sitting patiently in my suitcase, just waiting, like me.
Reason 5: Our landlord is showing our apartment to potential tenants, making us temporary refugees.
Reason 6: The (loud/1970's P.A. sounding) muezzins wake me at 4:50am and continue until 6:00am (at which point I have to get up), and then I can't take a nap because there are calls to prayer at 2:00pm when I get back from school and again at 5:00ish.  I need to kick the caffeine habit that I began in order to cope.
Reason 7: I just reinstated my Netflix account, and my new movie is arriving in New York today, without me.
Reason 8: I probably have smoker's lung from the pollution.
Reason 9: Harry Potter 7 (!)
Reason 10: My life is in the United States, and I need to return to it before I go crazy.

Wall of Shame

I decided to create this "Wall of Shame" after flipping through my pictures of various trips to touristy places in and around the Middle East. Before I begin, let me just say that this issue has been bugging me for a long time. Namely, the way the European and American tourists dress in conservative Muslim countries. Yes, it's unbelievably hot, and yes, these people probably were not aware of their faux pas. However, it does not excuse the fact that they are offending the locals, and acting in a way that is culturally entitled. I am not thrilled about dressing conservatively 24/7, however, I am a believer in cultural respect and being aware of the surrounding culture. Unless you are at a beach resort, dressing like this embarrasses you, embarrasses your fellow countrymen, and gives Americans and Europeans a bad name abroad.  My advice to you, is do yourself a favor when traveling to the Muslim world, and wear jeans and a t-shirt, not short-shorts and tank tops. 

Now I present to you the 2010 Wall of Shame: What not to Wear Abroad. 

Ari and Annie Do Arabia

A mural from Farah Hostel, Amman

In order to round out my experience in the Middle East, and alas, to give myself some much needed perspective, I decided to take the plunge and travel to another Arab country: The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. My new friend Annie and I left after our classes on Wednesday, and amazingly arrived in Jordan that same evening. On the way to our hostel, we zoomed past the Jordanian countryside and headed into Amman, a hilly, leafy city in the middle of a vast desert. Although it was nighttime, I could see that the city was relatively clean, and the majority of its buildings were whitewashed. Instantly I was charmed.

***Let me say a quick word about the accommodations, and then I will move on. Annie and I collectively decided that we would stay at a hostel (that was highly rated) in order to cut down on our expenses in Jordan. I don't regret the decision, but I have to tell you that this princess has never stayed in a hostel before, and quickly learned what they are all about. The room that we shared was like a college dorm room, and was decently clean. However, some of the the bathrooms in the hostel were a terrifying fecal strewn mess. That's all I will say on the subject. ***

DAY 1
Our do-it-yourself itinerary was packed, but necessarily so, since we only had two and a half days in this tiny, yet historically significant Arabian country. We began our whirlwind tour of Jordan at the Dead Sea by heading an hour out of Amman on a rickety bus. For the duration of the trip, we were squeezed tightly into the back of a packed, fly infested vehicle that was primarily filled with cigarette smoking Jordanian men. Needless to say, the journey ended soon enough for us both.
Yet we were somewhat chagrined when the bus dumped us at a road stop in the middle of nowhere that was about 10 km away from the sea. Feeling very vulnerable in our semi-beach apparel, we were keenly aware of the mixture of amused and disapproving glances emanating toward us from the local townspeople.
 Fortunately we didn't have to endure the stares for too long because a very amiable hired car driver, our momentary night in shining armor named Mohammed, scooped us up in his PT Cruiser convertible and whisked us away to the beach where we clearly belonged with the promise of picking us up in the afternoon.
Amman Beach was more than we expected, with a two level pool (and waterfall) as well as a beach running about a quarter of a mile length of the Dead Sea where this picture was taken. . .

The Dead Sea's salt content is so high that a person will float on the surface without even trying. P.S. I'm not really reading that book. 

We arrived so early that we were the first ones at the pool, and one of four people in the Dead Sea. However, the early morning stillness was quickly broken by a bus load of people FROM EGYPT who wasted no time in crowding around the pool to take random pictures of each other. Despite the interruption of our little paradise, we stayed for most of the day, basking in the glorious sun (but at the same time swatting away the clouds of flies), and later we took Mohammed up on his offer to drive us to the bus stop.
The bus ride back was even worse than the first. Without going into too many specifics, Annie and I were cornered at the back of the bus by a pair of obnoxious, badgering Jordanian college guys. At first we tried to ignore them, but it's difficult to be rude to people who are talking at you, especially since they seemed harmless. They were clearly trying to pick us up, so we pretended that we were Spaniards who spoke limited English (with very convincing accents I'm proud to say), and thus could not understand all of their questions. Our stunted conversation about our soccer preferences and the weather in Spain this time of year quickly turned invasive. As you know, I have endured this type of treatment too often, and I had had enough. I scolded the perpetrator by saying, "You do NOT ask questions like that!" and both Annie and I stormed toward recently vacated seats in the front of the bus. Yet I was resolved not to let them ruin our trip, since the taxi drivers and other men we met had been more than respectful. (In fact, everywhere we went on the streets of Amman and elsewhere, we were greeted by a chorus of "Welcome! Welcome to Jordan!)
When we returned to Amman, we were feeling a bit peckish, and decided to patronize a place that I had previously heard about called Hashem. After making a circuit around Amman's main street, Annie and I found ourselves at the little hole in the wall restaurant that was way different than I expected. The thing about Hashem is that you don't order; they give you whatever they feel like cooking. So we were handed a hummus bowl and an eggplant puree, flat bread and a side of fries. The meal was very filling and good, and I was satisfied by our choice. The best part is that it only cost about $3 each.


Annie at Hashem

DAY 2
The next morning we woke before dawn to trek to the station in order to catch our 6:30 am Petra-bound coach bus. The ride was a grueling four hours (which was broken up by a stop at the nicest pit stop in all of the Middle East . . . no sarcasm here, really). Our driver tortured us for the better part of the trip by playing the worst movie in the world, the Killers with Ashton Kutcher and Katherine Heigel. We only got half-way through it on the first part of the trip, but don't even get me started on how, during the return trip he replayed the movie from the beginning until the end, thus prolonging my suffering. By the credit roll, I wanted to be an assassin just like in the movie, and I knew who my first target would be.


PETRA

What can one say about Petra except that it is amazing? The 2500 year old bedouin trade city is cut into rock formations in the middle of the Arabian desert and was also a haven for Christians during the Roman persecutions. Recently, it made a cameo appearance in an Indiana Jones movie that I have yet to watch.

The most memorable human interaction of the trip was a bedouin guy with black eyeliner and full bedouin regalia riding a horse who started to trot behind us. When I turned around to shoot him an inquiring look, he told me that I had dropped something . . . his heart. Even when I rebuffed him, he continued to follow us, and made surprise appearances several times later on our wanderings through Petra. Some would be charmed, but Annie and I were skeptical about his motives. No bedouin romances for us.

DAY 3
 At the hostel we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with a sixty-two year old Korean teacher named Tumsook (which I can't spell, and I apologize for butchering the Korean language). She was delighted by us, the twenty and twenty-one year olds who she says are at an age that "makes her heart flutter." Since her retirement, she has made it a goal to visit as many countries as possible and holds ambitions to go to Iran, because she wants to overcome political divisions by meeting and interacting with everyday people. I admire her  for her sincerity and sweet demeanor, and I hope she gets her wish.
Our last morning in Jordan, we explored Amman about which Annie and I were both surprised, because this seemingly new city has ancient roots. Two thousand years ago, it was the Roman Philadelphia, for which the current American city was named. As such, it has a roman citadel on the top of a hill overlooking the city, and a wonderfully preserved ampitheater which we both climbed. ***That is one of the upsides about the Middle East: they are less uptight about their ancient monuments. We were able to touch them and interact with them in a way that is impossible in Europe. 


The Temple of Hercules

Later we found a Bedouin culture museum, which was hidden next to the ampitheater, and then we wandered around the Amman marketplace until we were pressed for time and left for the airport. Landing back in Egypt was hard for me, especially in that on the way back to my apartment, I was stuck in a taxi with a rigged meter. (Though I still paid less than I would have with one of the vultures who swarm around the airport exit . . . it still made me furious).

                     

To sum up why I liked Jordan better than Egypt, I have made a  rudimentary comparative Venn Diagram with the my mostly positive assessments of both places . . .


SCORE:
Jordan 12, Egypt 3

As my last big adventure on this study abroad trip, Jordan left me craving to see more, and that's exactly what I hope to do in the future.

Brazil, lalalalalalalala

If you don't get the title of this post, be thankful, because it means that you've never had to endure Lawrence University freshman studies. . .

Usually I don't comment on the political situation in Egypt, and I hesitate to elaborate on my opinions here because I am still in Egypt. Yet, the reason I bring up politics is relevant because the Egyptian parliamentary elections happened on Sunday, and as a result I noticed some interesting changes in scenery. Let's just say it became slightly more militarized. While I was on my way to and from the Bahariya Oasis during the past weekend, our bus passed dozens of police transport vehicles that were loaded with people who I can only imagine are political dissidents. The Egyptian government has a policy against Islamic fundamentalism and therefore bans political organizations like the Muslim Brotherhood. Over the last week, protests popped up in Cairo and Alexandria, and there may have been casualties. I say "may have", because I get my news from al-Jazeera, which reports from the Gulf, because no local newspapers in Egypt carry the story. Perhaps I am wrong, and those transport vehicles were carrying petty thieves, but my instinct tells me no.
Another thing I witnessed was the location of an event that I read about on al-Jazeera English.com. Recently there has been an increase in violence between the Coptic Christian community and their Muslim neighbors. Last week the Coptic community clashed with the Egyptian police over the building of a church in Giza. The government declared that they didn't have the correct permit and tried to put the kibosh on the project. In response, the Copts protested and rioted against the police. Al-Jazeera reported one death.
Last Thursday, I passed the half-built church which was peppered with scaffoldings and dust. Surrounding the church and lining the highway around it was a police unit of perhaps two to three dozen men in riot gear. If you've never seen government action like it before, the sight is quite imposing.
I will reserve my comments for State-side, but I thought it prudent to record these observations.

Another note for all of you: Don't be worried when my blogposts cease until this Saturday or Sunday. It doesn't mean that I've been taken away in a paddywagon. Rather, I will be going to Jordan for the weekend, and will most likely not be bringing my computer. As of now, I only have 17 days until I leave for New York. With my impending trip to Jordan, this brings the total number of days left in Egypt to 14. Hooray!

Oasis Holiday

  

Ari in Egypt

     What's a girl to do when she has a Thanksgiving weekend, and no one to spend it with? The solution is to embark with a colorful cast of characters on a desert adventure.
The ex-pat community center (CSA) in Maadi offers an annual trip to the Bahariya Oasis, which straddles the Black and White Deserts about 300 km south of Cairo. Since the CSA caters to all ex-pats, on Thursday morning I found myself waiting at the Center to embark on a six hour bus trip with a spunky Australian woman, one quiet German, a Lithuanian couple, an Irish lawyer, a hybrid French-American family,  four American teachers from Egyptian schools including a very loud-mouthed woman from the Chicago area, and last but not least a very normal family from the States. That made the total fourteen adults and four children.
Our bonding began as we watched in horror as the driver hurled our duffel bags onto the roof of our bus, and then we departed. Six arduous, boring hours of desert (the corn-field equivalent of Egypt), one disgusting pitstop in the middle of nowhere, and a few near collisions later and we and all of the bags arrived at our hotel at the Bahariya Oasis. Upon our arrival we were greeted by the owner, Peter, a very bubbly gallabiya-clad German man with a comical accent who made us eat our lunch before checking-in and freshening up in our rooms (mistake). Then barely an hour after our late lunch, we were subjected to a two hour hike up to ruins from WWII (not worth it) on the top of a mountain. The scenery was hardly breathtaking, but I got some good sunset pics, and the torturous walk enabled me to chat with my traveling companions who had been living the expat life for many years. One American woman had worked in eight foreign countries!
For our Thanksgiving dinner that night, we ate in the hotel's beduoin tent, a very contrived affair with local musicians and dancers. The food was superb, and yes, they did have turkey, but I didn't touch it. The fare included eggplant (yum), root vegetables, carrots, brown rice, lentil soup, and oranges for dessert. Not really Thanksgiving food, but it was the best I probably could get in Egypt.
That night I slept about ten hours, and was fresh in the morning for our all-day off-road excursion to the Black and White Deserts. I was lucky to be in jeep #1 with Abdul, the head man of Bahariya Oasis. He was very well spoken and seemed to have done everything from being superintendent of the local school district to graphic designer to bedouin musician (he even got to travel to the U.S. and France).

 Abdul

At our first stop in the Black Desert, named thus for the igneous rocks found there, we played in and around the sand dunes and explored the nearby rock formations. The most amazing aspect I found about the desert is the glorious and haunting silence for miles. Truly amazing.



Our next stop was another semi-horrible pitstop at which the toilet facilities were so abominable that there was more dignity in going in the desert, and so the majority of us did just that. At least we had a good laugh, and it is liberating to think of the entire desert as a big litterbox. Thank goodness I packed toilet paper and hand sanitizer.
We also were supposed to get a lunch from our hotel, and because breakfast and dinner from the previous night were so delicious, we had high hopes that were immediately squashed when we found some icky looking meat kebabs, and a bag of chips packaged for each of us. After straggling far too long at the pitstop in waiting for our guides to finish praying at the mosque, and still very hungry, we headed out to the White Desert which is one of the strangest, most interesting places on planet Earth.
The white rock formations in the desert are made of chalk that was originally at the bottom of a huge sea bed, that eventually receded and that the wind whipped into strange shapes. The blocks almost look like icebergs, but since it hasn't rained in ten years, and the weather was in the 90's (F) this week, I can guarantee that it was not ice.

 We arrived back from the desert at 7:30p.m., and had a nice leisurely dinner throughout which the travelers who were stuck in the jeep with loud-mouthed Chicago woman complained about their ears ringing from her incessant chatter. All of the single travelers (mostly teachers) on the trip seemed to take a liking to me, the youngest adult on the trip, and I found them all easy to talk to. Especially fascinating was learning about the ex-pat lifestyle, and the ease with which people can grow accustomed to different surroundings and form their own communities within the very foreign, alienating Egyptian culture. 
We were all so exhausted that the majority of us went to bed directly after dinner and rose early for the half day excursion to the Bahariya antiquities sites. We went to a very poorly constructed museum filled with Zahi Hawass's loot from Bahariya, the golden mummies. After seeing the hall of mummies at the Egyptian museum, I was not too impressed by these Egypto-Roman mummies. However, the poverty stricken Bahariya people stake a lot on these archaeological finds to bring in tourism, so I gladly patronized the museum. The group also went into an underground Ancient Egyptian tomb. I say "the group" because after walking down the rickety steep stairs to get to the bottom of the pit and finding a two foot high opening, my claustrophobia got the better of me and I decided that one tomb (Saqqara) was enough for this trip. Instead I waited up top with Dorothy, the Australian, and Ingrid, the German and chatted with them. Dorothy's excuse was that she was tired of old stones and faded paint. My thoughts exactly. Boisterous Dorothy lived in Saudi Arabia for a year while working at a university there, an experience about which I was fascinated to hear. She told me that Saudi Arabia is not an easy place to live, and that the only thing she was able to do there was shop. After a while, she said, it got so boring that she applied for a transfer. Her life in Egypt has not been much easier, so she is leaving permenantly for Australia in the next month. I say, good for her.
When the group returned, we got on the bus only to find that at our driver's error, we were stuck in the sand. (A new experience for me, and now I can add sand to my repertoir of stuckage: mud, snow, and sleet).  The tour guide Sherif would not under any circumstances let the women of the group help push the bus, so ten women including me stood around and watched four not-so burly guys and four little boys try to push a twenty-seater bus that was getting further stuck in the sand. Oh, Egyptian sexism. It took about forty minutes to get unstuck at which point we were already late for lunch, and thus for our 1:30pm departure time.
Not much else happened on the trip that is left to report, except that we got further delayed in a horrendous traffic jam getting into Cairo, and our bus driver who was about to take a traffic-laden route started swearing like a sailor on leave when we tried to direct him on a better road. We were right, but he was still livid at our impertinence.

The tour ended without ceremony. Each one of us stood around ready to quickly catch our duffel bags from the top of the bus in order to beat the others in the group to the taxis. Our goodbyes were rushed, which was hard. Even harder for me is that it's difficult to say goodbye to people that I feel close to even after a short time knowing them, with the knowledge that I will probably never see them again. That's how I feel about the ex-pats I met on this trip. They will always be in my memory for making my Thanksgiving 2010 one for the books.

The Problem of Sexual Harassment

WARNING:
**This post is not going to be funny, and despite my nature I cannot find an inch of humor in these experiences. It may even be a trigger for people who have experienced sexual violence, so please don't read on if you have trauma associated with these issues.**

     Defining harassment is difficult, because there are many forms that I can pinpoint. For the purposes of this post, I will define sexual harassment as the subtle and overt forms of negative sexual attention I receive on a daily basis. To make it easier for everyone to understand I will create a "level" system to lead up to the more severe forms of street harassment that I have personally encountered. These include Level One harassment which are by far the most frequent: intense oggling from men on the street, a probing kind of violation. If you haven't experience it before, it's as if every man passing you by is looking at you naked, which is extremely unnerving and creepy. Other Level One forms often occur in taxis: personal questions about being married, asking for phone numbers, and even their attempts to touch you. In American culture, having a man touch my hand is a non-issue, but understanding the cultural context here in Egypt is important. A man should not and will not touch a woman he respects. Therefore, if an Egyptian man is touching you in any way, (unless you know him well), he is disrespecting you. Level Two I would consider to be men spewing lewd and inappropriate comments at me (calling me a whore in Arabic or making kissing noises/sexual grunts). I've been yelled at out of car windows (things I don't understand thanks to my elementary knowledge of Egyptian colloquial) and often hear a cacophony of kissing noises from random men on street corners. Level Three is being followed by a man or packs of boys who are only encouraged by being ignored and/or shooed away. Within my first week of living in Maadi, I was approached by a man who I thought was going to ask me for directions (because he asked if I spoke English), and instead he asked me for sex. I had no idea what to do so I protested in English and started walking away very quickly, but noticed that he was trailing behind me for a block. That's when I broke into a run toward my apartment. The next incident was when I was with my mother in Alexandria, and approximately three teenage boys started following me and asking me questions in English and getting way too close for comfort. All I could do was hold my mom's hand and try not to cry. Level Four I would characterize as hostile and dangerous, and are rarer but still happen more than necessary. Level Four is what happened to me last night. My roommate and I were walking back from dinner at a restaurant down the road from our apartment when a car of Egyptian teenage boys started to follow us and flirtatiously call out to us. We ignored them, and they drove ahead of us. We thought they were gone, but a few blocks later they reappeared and started yelling more aggressively at us and started moaning and jeering in our direction. Mind you, this was on a busy street. I was so angry that I screamed "Imshi", which means "go away". They had a good laugh at my ability to say this in Arabic, but I thought they got the picture and drove away down the busy street. That's when my roommate and I turned into our dark side street to walk the two blocks to our apartment building. Because of shoddy construction and garbage, sidewalks are basically unusuable so we were walking on the edge of the street.  We had no idea that they were still trailing us until a car revved up to probably 50 or 60 mph aimed directly at our backs, getting within inches of hitting us (on purpose) and then the boys sped away laughing. At this point we were shaken, but little did we know that they had more in store for us, because they were waiting towards the end of block, partially in an alley, like spiders waiting for their prey. We were already too far out of hearing range for the police at the beginning of the street to help us, and there was no one else on the street. Both of us were frozen on the spot as we saw one boy open the door to come toward us, and a million thoughts went through my head. I thought about how fast I could dash toward the police unit down the street, and if that would be fast enough to outrun about seven teenage boys who were bigger than me. I thought about my dentist's advice, that the best weapon I have is my set of strong teeth. I thought about the mace that I had left behind in New York, because the penalty for using it in Egypt is imprisonment. I thought about how the law is not on women's side here in Egyptian courts. They could twist any kind of assault on us into something that was our fault, that we brought this upon ourselves especially because we are American "sharmoutas", whores. I thought about the fact that these were privileged boys based on the type of luxury car they were driving, so they could probably do anything to us and get away with it. I was thinking about how loud I could scream. Now that I think of it, this is probably the most terrified I've been in Egypt, bar none. Within that second one action could have changed the course of occurrences. The second that that Egyptian boy opened the door, he seemed to rethink his plan of action, and shut the door almost as quickly as he opened it. Satisfied that they had scared the living daylights out of a pair of defenseless American girls, the group drove away.
This episode made me think about the fear that minorities of all kinds, women, dark-skinned people, transgender, and people across the queer spectrum feel when the majority subjects them to similar modes of violent or aggressive harassment. I was lucky in that I was not hurt in any physical way, but I did learn what it feels like to truly be defenseless.
Other Level Four harassment types have not occurred to me, but I have heard about them. One Canadian woman I talked to told me about a man who was watching her in a public street in Maadi and masturbating . This, apparently, is not an uncommon sight. There are also other kinds of harassment, the likes of which I have only heard about: men groping women on the Metro, the solution of which is a women's train car. My opinion on this is that it only puts a band-aid on the problem, and does not get down to the problem of men who cannot control themselves and who have no respect for women. Another example of a Level Four is an incident that occurred in downtown Cairo last year. A bunch of teenage girls and women were leaving a movie theater when about a hundred men and boys descended upon them and started ripping off their hijabs and grabbing at their bodies. For that reason, I do not go downtown. Level Five I would consider rape. Though, unlike the prevalence with which you find impersonal rape (rape by a stranger) in the United States, there is hardly any reports of this kind. Perhaps that is because few women are willing to report it, but there are no incidences of foreign women reporting impersonal rape. In the streets of Cairo, the abuse stops at groping. It's like trading one evil for another, but I would have to say I would rather endure any of Levels 1-4, instead of going through the hell of 5.
Sexual harassment in Egypt is not playful, flirtatious, or flattering. It's almost surreal, because it's so outrageous to hear about the frequency and kind of its occurrences that a person reading about it may think, "Could that really happen?" Yes, it could and it does. It has happened to me, and I am definitely not making it up. These are twisted, hostile, and intimidating acts that make even the strongest women fearful of walking outside. I hate that this happens to me so often, and I am glad that I will be leaving this country soon, because this is really more than I can handle. After a while, it starts to wear a person down. I'm at the point. I'm tired as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!

*** I promise my next post will be more pleasant.

Kitsch on the Corniche

Last night I watched my mom drive away in a taxi, and by now she is probably back in New York. I was sad to see her go, but I know that in 24 days (!!!) I will be back in the United States of America with her and the rest of my family, so I'm doing okay.
Before she left, we did something ridiculously stupid. Really stupid. Really really stupid. Don't believe me? Here is the proof . . .

Now that I have published the first picture, it cannot be used for extortion. Copies are available upon request. :D

On Saturday we decided to forgo some of the more traditional tourist destinations in Cairo because frankly we've exhausted all of the important ones, and went instead to the cheesy "Pharoanic Village". We both hated it, but in a good way. The place is supposed to be a recreation of a village in Ancient Egypt, but in reality it's just a cheesy 1980's flea-bitten theme park. The other down-side is that our tour guide (who was forced upon us) acted as a jailor and watched out for any potential defections. We got a huge laugh over it, and the picture above as a souvenir, so it was worth a few hours of agony.
Later, to make up for the previous experience we ate at Barry's, the restaurant we went to in August to eat and gaze at the pyramids. They never get old, and the food was delicious.

Unfortunately, I got ill from drinking apple cider at another restaurant earlier in the day on Saturday, and I was unable to do anything except go to school with mom on Sunday. Then the next day, we went to a french patisserie in Maadi that was "very civilized", according to my mother. (See the picture on the right for me and my chocolate confection. Mmmmmmmm).
Now my mom is gone, and I'm counting down the days until my departure.

  

The Ancient Egyptians are Dead

Most people travel to Egypt to find the Ancient Egyptians, only to return to their home countries somewhat disappointed. From my experience here, I have come to terms with the blatant and saddening reality that they are in fact, irretrievably dead. The four thousand year old crumbling stone monuments that remain are only an echo of them, and a decidedly weak echo at that. Perhaps the best example of this is the Great Pyramid complex, which is partially ruined by the pushy vendors selling cheap trinkets within the pyramid confines, and the never-ending urban sprawl that sits around it. This includes the nearby Kentucky Fried Chicken/Pizza Hut, the police sirens, pollution, and urban decay that disturbs what should be an atmosphere of reveree.
This place does not hold them, this culture does not resemble them, the people alive here are not them. My mother wisely observed that the Ancient Egyptians seem to live more in our imagination of them, and in the artifacts that conquering nations stole from this fertile land over many centuries than in the geographical region that is modern Egypt. Although I still recommend seeing the pyramids, it is not necessary to see them to connect with this mysterious and beautiful ancient civilization. Ancient Egypt is in all of us, is everywhere, and belongs to everyone. It just took a journey 6,000 miles, three months, and two trips to the Pyramids for me to figure that out.

Hypatia Returns

In choosing a username for this blog back in May, I settled upon Hypatia for her significance as an important, learned Egyptian woman. Hypatia (350-415 AD) was a librarian of the great library of Alexandria, and a distinguished scholar in philosophy, mathematics, and astronomy. She opposed Christian influence in this Greco-Egyptian city, and abhorred that the Christians destroyed most scientific scrolls (some say as many as 500,000) in the library for their anti-Christian content.  In tandem with the library, she was also attacked by a Christian mob and brutally killed for being pagan. Historians praise her scholarship above the men of her time, and her death was parallel with the end of the Classical era.
 Because of my connection with Hypatia, I felt that it was appropriate that I, the modern Hypatia, travel to Alexandria to see the library and to experience the city that was the seat of Greco-Roman culture in Egypt.
I brought my mother along for the ride, and we embarked on our journey by train, which turned out to be a terrible experience. I'm not sure how to pinpoint the worst part of our train trip, whether it was the choking fumes in the train station, the unfriendly eyes of hundreds of Upper Egyptians staring at us, the only non-Egyptians in the station, the decay of the train itself, the bag attendant who held our suitcase hostage for 40 LE, the blasting air conditioning, the unusable bathroom, or the fact that my window was so caked in dirt that I could not see the landscape outside. Let me conclude by saying that we were in first class. Yes, that's right, FIRST CLASS. This makes me shudder to think of the situation for regular Egyptians.

The beautiful view from my window 

About three miserable hours later we arrived at our destination, chose a taxi driver at the station, and headed to our hotel. We zipped past the Roman monuments (and later the new library of Alexandria), which were few and far between, and found ourselves on the Corniche, a street running parallel to the Mediterranean Sea. I am pleased to announce that the Mediterranean is as beautiful a deep blue in Egypt as it is elsewhere. The city itself is not very impressive, because the buildings are weathered to a negligible level. However, the saving grace of Alexandria is that it has greenery, very little garbage, and fresh air. Most of the Alexandrians we talked to despise Cairo, and I can understand why. Who would want to live in the sprawling polluted mess of Cairo when you can live in the comfortable, beautiful, and clean Alexandria?
When we arrived at our hotel, the Sheraton Montazah Gardens, which is situated about 25 km from the city center, we were even more pleased with our choice of vacation destination. The view from our hotel room balcony was spectacular! We could see the gardens of King Farouk across the street and the edge of the Mediterranean.

 

 

The Montazah Gardens

After a rest from our tiring journey, we braved the traffic (as in we had to run across four lanes of fast-moving cars) to visit the gardens. It was already night time, so we couldn't see or experience the flora and fauna of the place. Instead we experienced the joys of street harassment yet again. I'm not one to blame the girl for what she is wearing, but I did knowingly walk out at night with a skirt that was shorter than knee length in Egypt. I anticipated some trouble, but I am not taking responsibility for their lewd behavior. We shooed away the adolescent perpetrators, and hurried to an American restaurant which was filled with wealthy Alexandrians. For the rest of the evening, we sat, ate, and watched the cars go by from our terrace seating. The highlight of our 'people watching' was a car driving at 25 miles per hour with a seven-year-old child sitting precariously on the hood. Welcome to Egypt.
After our dinner, we decided not to visit our hotel's discoteque for a drink, which was probably a good idea because it was most likely crawling with muscle shirt-wearing creepy Egyptian guys looking to prey upon drunk American women. This is what I'm making up, but it's more than plausible.
This morning we decided to order continental breakfast in bed while watching cheesy Egyptian soap operas. At around 10 am, we toured the gardens again, and found them to be absolutely breathtaking. We also wandered over to King Farouk's palace which is a symbol of a bygone era of colonialism. Then we gathered our things and sat for three hours at our hotel's private beach under a cabana. I fell asleep to the sound of the waves, and was revived an hour later by the feel of the sea breeze on my face.

Heaven

To top this lovely experience, Mom and I sat on the water's edge at our hotel's cafe, and enjoyed a nice lunch before leaving Alexandria for Cairo by private car. We, the princesses that we are, decided that the private car was a good deal because the train sucks, and the chauffer service was about 1/5 of the price of an American car transport. The drive took about four hours (which is an hour longer than the train), but our driver was very attentive and sweet, and delivered us safely back to our apartment. The overall experience of Alexandria was very refreshing, and if our hotel room had been available for another night, we would have stayed. Sadly, this was not the case, because it was Eid weekend and the hotel was completely booked. Hypatia returned to the beauty of her native city, but had to leave it again too soon.