The commencement of my 22nd year in life (for birthdays are the celebration of a year finished--you are born into your first year of life) has been marked by a repeated consumption of a particular beverage, but it's not Stella (which I think I will have no problem giving up in 10 days--yikes!): it's sahlab.
A few nights ago, I finally conceded to the souvenir shopping impulse deep within my soul and went to the Kahn il Khalili su (market), where I purchased several gifts that I won't reveal for you, the reader, may actually be receiving one of them. Taking one of many breaks from haggling and the assorted issues that arise when shopping with girls, I had this particular Egyptian drink for the first time. It has a consistency somewhere between pudding and milk, a product of the thickening agent of a ground Orchis mascula bulb. Suspended in this milky, gelatinous solution are golden raisins, coconut, pistachios, and cashews. Here's a recipe (including a substitute for the ground orchid bulb) if that description didn't scare you.
And I've had it every night since. Every place makes sahlab a bit differently--last night's variety was a bit sweeter and closer to a liquid consistency, while the offering the night before was diluted pudding mush which sat at the bottom of my stomach. It's not fantastic, but it's not bad either. I think this may be how I'm coping with leaving. Ten days.
12/07/2007
12/02/2007
Definitely in Dereliction of Duty
So much for resolutions. I could attempt to rationalize my 20-some day absence from the blog by saying that I've written three research papers. And that I've been wanting to edit my pictures before posting. But 20 days is quite a long time, and let's be honest, I've watched a good five or six episodes from the second season of the West Wing when I could have been engaged in more meaningful activities (i.e. blogging).
So, what to say and what to post? I've been on two adventures since last posting from the comfort of a Costa Coffee franchise. One was a day trip to Alexandria (it's only 2.5 hours by train), and a longer four-to-five day excursion to Pharaonic Egypt beginning in Abu Simbel, which is 50 KM north of the Sudanese border. Rather than excessive dialogue, I'll just do the whole picture posting thing, and then make long comments about each picture.
The train station in Alexandria was lined with spiritually-trimmed bushes--those say Allah in Arabic.
The Greek amphitheater in Alexandria, a city named for Alexander the Great and a possible location of his final resting place (his body has yet to be discovered anywhere).
This is the entirely underwhelming "pillar of Alexandria." I actually paid three dollars to see it, so I had to have a picture taken.
This, on the other hand, was the entirely magnificent Fort Coitbey, which is built atop the foundation of the Alexandria Lighthouse (one of the original seven wonders of the world).
The very modern Biblioteque Alexandria, built in the late 1990s by a UNESCO team from across the world, photographed from across the bay.
A glimpse into a government-owned bread factory in Alexandria. In my opinion, the government-subsidized bread is probably the tastiest and most certainly the heartiest selection, as long as you don't mind a bit of sand, toenail clippings, hair, or chunks of sea salt mashed in with the baladi loaves. You can buy about 100 loaves for one US dollar.
This is what the interior of the library looked like. It's surprisingly sparse--almost all of the books only date to about 2002, which is when the library opened.
Sunset in Alexandria.
Four days after a day trip to Alex, I was on a 4 AM plane to Abu Simbel via Aswan. The current town is a relatively modern creation, as the original Abu Simbel (and the original site of the temple) is now under the 200 meter-deep Lake Nasser, which was formed by the damming of the Nile at the High Dam. UNESCO archaeologists moved both the Abu Simbel and Philae (below) temples to higher land in the 1960s to prevent their submergence by water; the result is that they appear a little fake.
Fresh off the airplane in Abu Simbel (the airport has one gate).
An impression inside Abu Simbel, which was the most pristine and intact temple that I visited.
Abu Simbel was built by Ramses II, mostly as a self-venerating, fear-imposing symbol to any foreigners cruising down the Nile from Nubia & Sudan, warning them of his power and tyranny. He also commissioned a smaller one to be built for one of his four wives, Nefertiti. The walls of her temple, however, are mainly graced with impressions of Ramses worshipping himself.
After spending two or so hours at Abu Simbel and drinking Nescafe with a Japanese-speaking Egyptian guide Meg and I had met on the plane (who learned English from watching American movies--his favorite actor is Nicholas Cage, and his favorite movie is Face/Off, though The Rock is a close second), we re-boarded a plane for Aswan, where we promptly reunited with Dave & Halley, who were fresh off the 14-hour overnight train from Cairo to Aswan. Working with a tout, we got ourselves a couple of hotel rooms (because Nev was flying down to Aswan that night) for the princely sum of five bucks per person per night (including breakfast) and also arranged our transport from Aswan to Kom Ombo temple (or almost all the way there): a felucca, or sailboat.
Impressed with our logistical capacities, we drank beer on the Nile, which is much wider in Aswan than in Cairo.
Sunset on the Nile in Aswan.
The next morning, we went for a pretty terrible tour of the Aswan High Dam (no good pictures) and Philae, a Ptolemic temple that we had approximately 40 minutes to see, which included the boat ride to and from the island.
The pylon of Philae, which looks a lot like all of the other pylons.
The sketches on the pylon are still quite marked after some 2500 years of erosion (and some six months underwater).
Doing the tourist thing.
We caught a boat down the Nile (but headed north, so most of us said up the Nile). It was a relaxing vehicle for travel, especially since the Nubian crew also prepared our meals.
Meg, Nev, Halley, & Dave (my illustrious traveling partners) take a break from sailing.
At night, the Nubian crews from other boats came to our felucca, which was blessed with a battery-powered boom box, and proceeded to smoke Sudanese hashish while blasting Bob Marley. Once they were sufficiently stoned, they summoned all 50-something of the people camping on the Nile to sing and dance and make fools of ourselves.
Sleeping on the felucca was interesting, or rather, cold. It was probably only 50 F, but it's a dry 50 degrees, and all I had was part of a blanket, as I was sharing with Nev and Halley. One time during the night I awoke to being big-spooned by our boat captain. Awkward. The crew awoke early, and set sail down the river before alerting all of us to go to the bathroom. Stress and frustration ensued among the boat's occupants.
Once we finally came back ashore, we caught a shady-looking pickup truck to the Kom Ombo temple, which was pretty clutch.
The ruins of Kom Ombo. And tourists.
Kom Ombo was a temple specifically to the alligator form of Horus. They also had mummified alligators there. However, there are no longer any alligators in the Egyptian Nile, for they are trapped behind the Aswan High Dam.
Due to a series of terrorist incidents and the government's lack of authority in Upper & Middle Egypt, tourists are required to travel by caravan anywhere between towns, which means that we had to join one to bus it from Kom Ombo to Edfu and then onto Luxor. Traveling by convoy was not only annoying for ourselves, but frustrating for us with respect to the other tourists. We had seen much of Egypt and had thoroughly experienced (some would maybe argue too thoroughly) Egyptian culture. However, many on the convoy were doing Egypt for a week, and all they could see was on government-approved stops, which were replete with hawkers, overpriced junk food, and the repetitive shouting of broken English.
Edfu was probably my least favorite temple, and so you'll find no pictures of it here--it looks like a combination of Kom Ombo and Philae. Luxor, however, had plenty to offer (besides the relentless sexual harassment of female tourists). Nev and I awoke early (5:40 AM) the next (and last) day to catch a tourist-free Luxor Temple at sunrise, which was amazing.
Morning sun cuts across the entrance to the temple.
The Avenue of Sphinx leading to the temple's gates.
Light warming Luxor Temple's hypostyle hall.
The temple from a far.
Returning to the hotel (another steal--4 USD per night per person), our group decided to go to Karnak temple along with the rest of the tourists in the county. Once again, I took a lot of pictures, but I don't want to inundate my readership (if I still have any after not writing for almost a month...). So, instead, I bring you pictures from much cooler and much quieter locations: Medinet Habu and Hatchepsut's Temples. At this point, Meg & Halley had Egypt-ed out and found the nearest pool, but Dave, Nev, & I had a good time exploring these as well as the Valley of the Kings, where photography is not allowed (Nev assumed she was above this rule, and had her camera temporarily confiscated).
Hieroglyphs at Medinet Habu.
Two of Medinet Habu's caretakers console(?) each other.
Approaching Hatchepsut's temple, which almost appears carved into the bluffs.
Paintings at Hapchepsut's temple.
Aww.
Moonrise over Luxor.
Upon returning to the hotel, we migrated to the bus station to catch the 10-hour SuperJet service back to Cairo via the beach town of Hurghada. I took a NyQuil and slept the entire time that Halley wasn't talking to me about psychology and family dynamics. And then I went to class the next morning. Good times.
So, what to say and what to post? I've been on two adventures since last posting from the comfort of a Costa Coffee franchise. One was a day trip to Alexandria (it's only 2.5 hours by train), and a longer four-to-five day excursion to Pharaonic Egypt beginning in Abu Simbel, which is 50 KM north of the Sudanese border. Rather than excessive dialogue, I'll just do the whole picture posting thing, and then make long comments about each picture.
The train station in Alexandria was lined with spiritually-trimmed bushes--those say Allah in Arabic.
The Greek amphitheater in Alexandria, a city named for Alexander the Great and a possible location of his final resting place (his body has yet to be discovered anywhere).
This is the entirely underwhelming "pillar of Alexandria." I actually paid three dollars to see it, so I had to have a picture taken.
This, on the other hand, was the entirely magnificent Fort Coitbey, which is built atop the foundation of the Alexandria Lighthouse (one of the original seven wonders of the world).
The very modern Biblioteque Alexandria, built in the late 1990s by a UNESCO team from across the world, photographed from across the bay.
A glimpse into a government-owned bread factory in Alexandria. In my opinion, the government-subsidized bread is probably the tastiest and most certainly the heartiest selection, as long as you don't mind a bit of sand, toenail clippings, hair, or chunks of sea salt mashed in with the baladi loaves. You can buy about 100 loaves for one US dollar.
This is what the interior of the library looked like. It's surprisingly sparse--almost all of the books only date to about 2002, which is when the library opened.
Sunset in Alexandria.
Four days after a day trip to Alex, I was on a 4 AM plane to Abu Simbel via Aswan. The current town is a relatively modern creation, as the original Abu Simbel (and the original site of the temple) is now under the 200 meter-deep Lake Nasser, which was formed by the damming of the Nile at the High Dam. UNESCO archaeologists moved both the Abu Simbel and Philae (below) temples to higher land in the 1960s to prevent their submergence by water; the result is that they appear a little fake.
Fresh off the airplane in Abu Simbel (the airport has one gate).
An impression inside Abu Simbel, which was the most pristine and intact temple that I visited.
Abu Simbel was built by Ramses II, mostly as a self-venerating, fear-imposing symbol to any foreigners cruising down the Nile from Nubia & Sudan, warning them of his power and tyranny. He also commissioned a smaller one to be built for one of his four wives, Nefertiti. The walls of her temple, however, are mainly graced with impressions of Ramses worshipping himself.
After spending two or so hours at Abu Simbel and drinking Nescafe with a Japanese-speaking Egyptian guide Meg and I had met on the plane (who learned English from watching American movies--his favorite actor is Nicholas Cage, and his favorite movie is Face/Off, though The Rock is a close second), we re-boarded a plane for Aswan, where we promptly reunited with Dave & Halley, who were fresh off the 14-hour overnight train from Cairo to Aswan. Working with a tout, we got ourselves a couple of hotel rooms (because Nev was flying down to Aswan that night) for the princely sum of five bucks per person per night (including breakfast) and also arranged our transport from Aswan to Kom Ombo temple (or almost all the way there): a felucca, or sailboat.
Impressed with our logistical capacities, we drank beer on the Nile, which is much wider in Aswan than in Cairo.
Sunset on the Nile in Aswan.
The next morning, we went for a pretty terrible tour of the Aswan High Dam (no good pictures) and Philae, a Ptolemic temple that we had approximately 40 minutes to see, which included the boat ride to and from the island.
The pylon of Philae, which looks a lot like all of the other pylons.
The sketches on the pylon are still quite marked after some 2500 years of erosion (and some six months underwater).
Doing the tourist thing.
We caught a boat down the Nile (but headed north, so most of us said up the Nile). It was a relaxing vehicle for travel, especially since the Nubian crew also prepared our meals.
Meg, Nev, Halley, & Dave (my illustrious traveling partners) take a break from sailing.
At night, the Nubian crews from other boats came to our felucca, which was blessed with a battery-powered boom box, and proceeded to smoke Sudanese hashish while blasting Bob Marley. Once they were sufficiently stoned, they summoned all 50-something of the people camping on the Nile to sing and dance and make fools of ourselves.
Sleeping on the felucca was interesting, or rather, cold. It was probably only 50 F, but it's a dry 50 degrees, and all I had was part of a blanket, as I was sharing with Nev and Halley. One time during the night I awoke to being big-spooned by our boat captain. Awkward. The crew awoke early, and set sail down the river before alerting all of us to go to the bathroom. Stress and frustration ensued among the boat's occupants.
Once we finally came back ashore, we caught a shady-looking pickup truck to the Kom Ombo temple, which was pretty clutch.
The ruins of Kom Ombo. And tourists.
Kom Ombo was a temple specifically to the alligator form of Horus. They also had mummified alligators there. However, there are no longer any alligators in the Egyptian Nile, for they are trapped behind the Aswan High Dam.
Due to a series of terrorist incidents and the government's lack of authority in Upper & Middle Egypt, tourists are required to travel by caravan anywhere between towns, which means that we had to join one to bus it from Kom Ombo to Edfu and then onto Luxor. Traveling by convoy was not only annoying for ourselves, but frustrating for us with respect to the other tourists. We had seen much of Egypt and had thoroughly experienced (some would maybe argue too thoroughly) Egyptian culture. However, many on the convoy were doing Egypt for a week, and all they could see was on government-approved stops, which were replete with hawkers, overpriced junk food, and the repetitive shouting of broken English.
Edfu was probably my least favorite temple, and so you'll find no pictures of it here--it looks like a combination of Kom Ombo and Philae. Luxor, however, had plenty to offer (besides the relentless sexual harassment of female tourists). Nev and I awoke early (5:40 AM) the next (and last) day to catch a tourist-free Luxor Temple at sunrise, which was amazing.
Morning sun cuts across the entrance to the temple.
The Avenue of Sphinx leading to the temple's gates.
Light warming Luxor Temple's hypostyle hall.
The temple from a far.
Returning to the hotel (another steal--4 USD per night per person), our group decided to go to Karnak temple along with the rest of the tourists in the county. Once again, I took a lot of pictures, but I don't want to inundate my readership (if I still have any after not writing for almost a month...). So, instead, I bring you pictures from much cooler and much quieter locations: Medinet Habu and Hatchepsut's Temples. At this point, Meg & Halley had Egypt-ed out and found the nearest pool, but Dave, Nev, & I had a good time exploring these as well as the Valley of the Kings, where photography is not allowed (Nev assumed she was above this rule, and had her camera temporarily confiscated).
Hieroglyphs at Medinet Habu.
Two of Medinet Habu's caretakers console(?) each other.
Approaching Hatchepsut's temple, which almost appears carved into the bluffs.
Paintings at Hapchepsut's temple.
Aww.
Moonrise over Luxor.
Upon returning to the hotel, we migrated to the bus station to catch the 10-hour SuperJet service back to Cairo via the beach town of Hurghada. I took a NyQuil and slept the entire time that Halley wasn't talking to me about psychology and family dynamics. And then I went to class the next morning. Good times.
11/10/2007
In Light of My New Resolution, Another Posting
If I blog immediately after my previous entry, I can coast on my feeling of accomplishment and self-worth and then just sort of slide into the next one. And thankfully, blogging is all about numbers and little to do with content, so exhaustion and boredom has little to do with the overall success of this blog. With that in mind, may I present the long-overdue next installment of When in Egypt...
No one, especially the government, is even remotely certain on Cairo's population. In fact, I don't think the government wants to know, for its feigned ignorance means it doesn't have to provide social support of any kind to them. And since the majority of individuals here admit to not paying income taxes (which is partially why the sales tax is 10%), they're fine with improper censuses and a lack of acknowledgment and support, especially since the support would be mediocre at best (unless the request was law and order related). Qualitatively, however, it's crowded. It's dense. It's loud, and it smells. Or reeks. Whatever the case, the 16-25 million people which live along the narrow banks of the Nile, surrounded by the Sahara, is far above its carrying capacity. This notion has spurred the creation of several entities, be it the three-story stacks of roads which throttle traffic across the city or the reclamation of the desert and the creation of entirely artificial suburbs, complete with McDonald's PlayPlaces and Chevy Suburbans. But, perhaps most importantly, it's created a thriving delivery industry for whoever doesn't want to venture out into Cairo's teeming din (or, in the case of restaurant food, pay the addition 12% service fee which is automatically added in to your bill if you choose to dine in the restaurant--that's before the tip mind you).
So, what can you get delivered. Answer: just about anything. McDonald's has a bustling delivery service, featuring a central Cairo call center which automatically distributes your order to the geographically-closest restaurant for delivery, which, as for most establishments, is a moped-based service.
However, you can have a latte delivered to you, from one of several upscale cafe chains. Or a pack of cigarettes, which are ridiculously cheap here (7 LE for Marlboros, or about $1.15). Or a single cigarette--yes, I've seen it done. Phone cards are popular delivery items, as is American pizza, be it from Dominos, Papa John's, Little Caesar's, or, Cairo's favorite, Pizza Hut. Another popular item among non-dorm-residing AUC students is Stella, for the majority of cab drivers refuse to shuttle alcohol-bearing Americans from the liquor store to their home.
Ahh, a doubling sense of accomplishment--two posts in one sitting. I'm going to celebrate by ordering a McFlurry (they just hit Cairo) for delivery.
No one, especially the government, is even remotely certain on Cairo's population. In fact, I don't think the government wants to know, for its feigned ignorance means it doesn't have to provide social support of any kind to them. And since the majority of individuals here admit to not paying income taxes (which is partially why the sales tax is 10%), they're fine with improper censuses and a lack of acknowledgment and support, especially since the support would be mediocre at best (unless the request was law and order related). Qualitatively, however, it's crowded. It's dense. It's loud, and it smells. Or reeks. Whatever the case, the 16-25 million people which live along the narrow banks of the Nile, surrounded by the Sahara, is far above its carrying capacity. This notion has spurred the creation of several entities, be it the three-story stacks of roads which throttle traffic across the city or the reclamation of the desert and the creation of entirely artificial suburbs, complete with McDonald's PlayPlaces and Chevy Suburbans. But, perhaps most importantly, it's created a thriving delivery industry for whoever doesn't want to venture out into Cairo's teeming din (or, in the case of restaurant food, pay the addition 12% service fee which is automatically added in to your bill if you choose to dine in the restaurant--that's before the tip mind you).
So, what can you get delivered. Answer: just about anything. McDonald's has a bustling delivery service, featuring a central Cairo call center which automatically distributes your order to the geographically-closest restaurant for delivery, which, as for most establishments, is a moped-based service.
However, you can have a latte delivered to you, from one of several upscale cafe chains. Or a pack of cigarettes, which are ridiculously cheap here (7 LE for Marlboros, or about $1.15). Or a single cigarette--yes, I've seen it done. Phone cards are popular delivery items, as is American pizza, be it from Dominos, Papa John's, Little Caesar's, or, Cairo's favorite, Pizza Hut. Another popular item among non-dorm-residing AUC students is Stella, for the majority of cab drivers refuse to shuttle alcohol-bearing Americans from the liquor store to their home.
Ahh, a doubling sense of accomplishment--two posts in one sitting. I'm going to celebrate by ordering a McFlurry (they just hit Cairo) for delivery.
Well, Stuff is Happening Again.
Eight days have past since my own prose has graced these sacred charcoal walls. I exercised my prerogative to avoid writing about nothing as to avoid further boring you; Google Analytics shows a diminishing amount of return hits, and, there's no one I can blame for that beside myself. And my friends, for not wanting to live such exciting (i.e. bloggable) lives. And this school, for it prevents all sorts of fun. Or, rather the useless yet all-time-consuming schoolwork.
But, onwards and, inshallah, upwards (in frequency of blog posts, that is). Today, I resumed being a tourist in Cairo and paid a visit to the Citadel. As my trusty guide states, "the Citadel ( القلعة) is the natural focus of a visit to Islamic Cairo. The whole fortified complex was begun by Salah al-Din, the Crusaders' chivalrous foe. The focal point of the bastion, however, was built much later, as construction was begun by the Egyptian leader Muhammad Ali which this particular mosque was eponoymously named after.
This is the most Turkish-looking mosque that I've seen in Egypt. True to most mosques and holy buildings in general, the interior was quite dark and fairly un-photographable, but the Citadel is by far the worst-smelling mosque I've had the opportunity to patronize while in the Middle East. The musk of sweaty feet and and the particular scent of mothballs combine in the air to create an altogether-repulsive stench, which has the benefit of ensuring that only the devout remain in the mosque for periods extending beyond five minutes.
Like the mosques in Turkey, the Muhammad Ali mosque also had an ablutions fountain. Unlike the Turkish mosques, however, said fountain was non-operational. Which means it becomes yet another place to have your picture taken.
The Citadel also had some amazing viewpoints of the city of Cairo and surrounding area. Here's a sampling:
Looking north to the City of the Dead (where an estimated 500,000 live in a large cemetery).
Meg & I, and Cairo.
The Pyramids of Giza, obscured both by smog and by a decorative wooden screen.
Islamic Cairo.
Besides the mosque, the Citadel is also home to the Egyptian National Military Museum, where overtly erroneous (I suppose the proper term is revisionist) murals adorn the walls, flanked by models of tanks and actual cannons. The prize-winning holdings of the museum? The original plans of the Free Officers coup in 1952, when Nasser & Co. seized control over King Farouk's regime, a puppet of the UK.
We also saw the prison cell where Anwar Sadat was held by the British for espionage.
After sufficiently touring the Citadel, Meg & I walked around a neighborhood of Islamic Cairo that surrounds the mosque in search of the Ibn Tulun Mosque. After heading in the exact opposite direction for almost a mile, we finally asked directions at a large bus stop, and were given about three different answers, all in Arabic. This leads to a tangent/cultural judgment which almost any Egyptian will confirm: despite the fact that the phrase mish araf (I don't know) exists in colloquial Egyptian Arabic, an Egyptian will never actually use it. An Egyptian never does not know. Even if they have no clue what you are asking or where you are going, they will give you an answer backed by a tone of absolute certainty. Anyway, two Egyptians actually walked us the two kilometers or so to the mosque; our journey led us through the "American TV" section of Islamic Cairo, where we spotted both a Friends Restaurant (the signs featured the entire cast of the American sitcom) as well as a Clarissa Explains It All hair salon.
The Ibn Tulun mosque, a rare survivor from the classical Abbasid period of the ninth century, is appreciated for its simplicity, and was quite worth the walk. It's also enormous; the pictures don't really convey its size.
The ablutions fountain and corkscrew minaret.
I arrived back to the AUC dorms, satisfied with a seemingly productive day, only to find that my room had mysteriously flooded; freezing, foul-smelling water had saturated my clothes, some books, my MacBook power adapter (shameless product placement), my sheets/bed...pretty much everything. I just considered it the icing on the cake of my unfortunate second half of the week, when I decided to get a hair cut on Wednesday. Apparently, this particular barber was using the character Lloyd from Dumb & Dumber as a reference point for Americans' hair, for this was the product of my request, which I felt like was pretty simple and quite understandable, even given the immense language barrier.
Eliza has commented that I look pure. Or, rather, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, like a Puritan.
As you can see for yourself in the previous photos, I've since had my hair cut again--at a salon called Miami. I got a free eyebrow waxing there too.
Incidentally, I've been listening to the new (sort of) Jens Lekman album while writing this, and I'm a big fan.
What else have I done? Do you care about what I do in my daily life? If not, skip to the next paragraph.
-My internship at Ashoka is going quite well. I designed a newsletter for them on my recently-acquired copy of Adobe Creative Suite II (Egypt has no copyright protection, so anything and everything is available, quite cheaply, as long as it's not pornographic). I would definitely consider working for Ashoka full-time sometime in the future. I've also applied for a summer internship at the U.S. embassies in Cairo and Damascus.
-School is pretty terrible. I attribute my lack of motivation to the disappointingly low quality of the school's professors, academic environment, and curriculum. The only course which I consistently strive to excel in is Elementary Modern Standard Arabic; the other ones I see as impediments to my full exposure to Egypt and the Middle East, since the class meetings prevent my exploration of Cairo, and their ridiculous assignments prevent weekend travel.
-For some reason, my group of friends has drastically increased its preferred value of dinner. I'm consistently spending at least six U.S. dollars on dinner each night. Though I enjoy it, I'm not sure if this habit is sustainable. Thursday night was sushi, Friday night was kimchi, and tonight was a half-pound burger that I will undoubtedly be digesting until morning.
-I'm going to Alexandria for the day next Friday, and then on a long adventure along the Nile for Thanksgiving.
OK, it's safe for all those selectively reading. On Tuesday, I left another useless class early to see Cornel West speak. In addition to being inspiring and a gifted rhetorician, he also made me feel quite inferior in terms of my education. Damn you, Carleton. Or, perhaps, damn you America. Is the American educational system really preparing the country's future intellectuals? That's another blog posting. But right now, I think not. West's lecture was on his colleague Edward Said, the great high-brow, cosmopolitan Palestinian-yet-New-Yorker intellectual who is most famous for his essay "Orientalism." I was most influenced by West's ultimatum: that American intellectuals, policymakers, and leaders alike cannot just be Socratic. Socrates never cried, West pointed out. They must also immerse themselves in the concrete individual, striking a blend of Socratic intellectualism steeped in profane humanist beliefs. Also, my favorite quote of the evening (it was something like this): "The only thing more evil than evil is indifference to it."
Last thing: I went to Helwan, a poor slum on the outskirts of Cairo, last Saturday, to visit the Tofulty Foundation, the project of an Ashoka fellow which takes in street-dwelling orphans, which the Egyptian state denies even exists. In addition to drawing, clay-molding, and attempting to speak with some of the kids, I took pictures.
If you got this far to the end and are reading this (that's you, Kevin), you can reply with a gift request. I can't guarantee it, but I might as well take advantage of my killer purchasing power since the dollar has tanked just about everywhere else.
November 11th Resolution: to blog more.
But, onwards and, inshallah, upwards (in frequency of blog posts, that is). Today, I resumed being a tourist in Cairo and paid a visit to the Citadel. As my trusty guide states, "the Citadel ( القلعة) is the natural focus of a visit to Islamic Cairo. The whole fortified complex was begun by Salah al-Din, the Crusaders' chivalrous foe. The focal point of the bastion, however, was built much later, as construction was begun by the Egyptian leader Muhammad Ali which this particular mosque was eponoymously named after.
This is the most Turkish-looking mosque that I've seen in Egypt. True to most mosques and holy buildings in general, the interior was quite dark and fairly un-photographable, but the Citadel is by far the worst-smelling mosque I've had the opportunity to patronize while in the Middle East. The musk of sweaty feet and and the particular scent of mothballs combine in the air to create an altogether-repulsive stench, which has the benefit of ensuring that only the devout remain in the mosque for periods extending beyond five minutes.
Like the mosques in Turkey, the Muhammad Ali mosque also had an ablutions fountain. Unlike the Turkish mosques, however, said fountain was non-operational. Which means it becomes yet another place to have your picture taken.
The Citadel also had some amazing viewpoints of the city of Cairo and surrounding area. Here's a sampling:
Looking north to the City of the Dead (where an estimated 500,000 live in a large cemetery).
Meg & I, and Cairo.
The Pyramids of Giza, obscured both by smog and by a decorative wooden screen.
Islamic Cairo.
Besides the mosque, the Citadel is also home to the Egyptian National Military Museum, where overtly erroneous (I suppose the proper term is revisionist) murals adorn the walls, flanked by models of tanks and actual cannons. The prize-winning holdings of the museum? The original plans of the Free Officers coup in 1952, when Nasser & Co. seized control over King Farouk's regime, a puppet of the UK.
We also saw the prison cell where Anwar Sadat was held by the British for espionage.
After sufficiently touring the Citadel, Meg & I walked around a neighborhood of Islamic Cairo that surrounds the mosque in search of the Ibn Tulun Mosque. After heading in the exact opposite direction for almost a mile, we finally asked directions at a large bus stop, and were given about three different answers, all in Arabic. This leads to a tangent/cultural judgment which almost any Egyptian will confirm: despite the fact that the phrase mish araf (I don't know) exists in colloquial Egyptian Arabic, an Egyptian will never actually use it. An Egyptian never does not know. Even if they have no clue what you are asking or where you are going, they will give you an answer backed by a tone of absolute certainty. Anyway, two Egyptians actually walked us the two kilometers or so to the mosque; our journey led us through the "American TV" section of Islamic Cairo, where we spotted both a Friends Restaurant (the signs featured the entire cast of the American sitcom) as well as a Clarissa Explains It All hair salon.
The Ibn Tulun mosque, a rare survivor from the classical Abbasid period of the ninth century, is appreciated for its simplicity, and was quite worth the walk. It's also enormous; the pictures don't really convey its size.
The ablutions fountain and corkscrew minaret.
I arrived back to the AUC dorms, satisfied with a seemingly productive day, only to find that my room had mysteriously flooded; freezing, foul-smelling water had saturated my clothes, some books, my MacBook power adapter (shameless product placement), my sheets/bed...pretty much everything. I just considered it the icing on the cake of my unfortunate second half of the week, when I decided to get a hair cut on Wednesday. Apparently, this particular barber was using the character Lloyd from Dumb & Dumber as a reference point for Americans' hair, for this was the product of my request, which I felt like was pretty simple and quite understandable, even given the immense language barrier.
Eliza has commented that I look pure. Or, rather, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, like a Puritan.
As you can see for yourself in the previous photos, I've since had my hair cut again--at a salon called Miami. I got a free eyebrow waxing there too.
Incidentally, I've been listening to the new (sort of) Jens Lekman album while writing this, and I'm a big fan.
What else have I done? Do you care about what I do in my daily life? If not, skip to the next paragraph.
-My internship at Ashoka is going quite well. I designed a newsletter for them on my recently-acquired copy of Adobe Creative Suite II (Egypt has no copyright protection, so anything and everything is available, quite cheaply, as long as it's not pornographic). I would definitely consider working for Ashoka full-time sometime in the future. I've also applied for a summer internship at the U.S. embassies in Cairo and Damascus.
-School is pretty terrible. I attribute my lack of motivation to the disappointingly low quality of the school's professors, academic environment, and curriculum. The only course which I consistently strive to excel in is Elementary Modern Standard Arabic; the other ones I see as impediments to my full exposure to Egypt and the Middle East, since the class meetings prevent my exploration of Cairo, and their ridiculous assignments prevent weekend travel.
-For some reason, my group of friends has drastically increased its preferred value of dinner. I'm consistently spending at least six U.S. dollars on dinner each night. Though I enjoy it, I'm not sure if this habit is sustainable. Thursday night was sushi, Friday night was kimchi, and tonight was a half-pound burger that I will undoubtedly be digesting until morning.
-I'm going to Alexandria for the day next Friday, and then on a long adventure along the Nile for Thanksgiving.
OK, it's safe for all those selectively reading. On Tuesday, I left another useless class early to see Cornel West speak. In addition to being inspiring and a gifted rhetorician, he also made me feel quite inferior in terms of my education. Damn you, Carleton. Or, perhaps, damn you America. Is the American educational system really preparing the country's future intellectuals? That's another blog posting. But right now, I think not. West's lecture was on his colleague Edward Said, the great high-brow, cosmopolitan Palestinian-yet-New-Yorker intellectual who is most famous for his essay "Orientalism." I was most influenced by West's ultimatum: that American intellectuals, policymakers, and leaders alike cannot just be Socratic. Socrates never cried, West pointed out. They must also immerse themselves in the concrete individual, striking a blend of Socratic intellectualism steeped in profane humanist beliefs. Also, my favorite quote of the evening (it was something like this): "The only thing more evil than evil is indifference to it."
Last thing: I went to Helwan, a poor slum on the outskirts of Cairo, last Saturday, to visit the Tofulty Foundation, the project of an Ashoka fellow which takes in street-dwelling orphans, which the Egyptian state denies even exists. In addition to drawing, clay-molding, and attempting to speak with some of the kids, I took pictures.
If you got this far to the end and are reading this (that's you, Kevin), you can reply with a gift request. I can't guarantee it, but I might as well take advantage of my killer purchasing power since the dollar has tanked just about everywhere else.
November 11th Resolution: to blog more.
11/05/2007
Halley Chimes In: Istanbul Isplorations Day 4
In a refreshing gesture, guest correspondent the illustrious Halley Morrissey has volunteered to recount our fourth day in Istanbul (yes, that was on October 14th...). Without further ado...
So, at the request of 'bencanblog'—the self-proclaimed demigod of the blogosphere—I am writing an entry for "Parlor Tricks" as a guest blogger. Apologies to all, hope you will not be missing your dear Ben too too much. He's off eating apples and saving the world…..
On our second to last day in Turkey, we awoke to gray skies and rain. I would say it was wonderful reprieve from the endlessly sunny days in Cairo, but this was day four (or was it day five?) of gray and gloomy low cloud cover over the city. I had absolutely no interest in crawling out of my bed that morning….or rather, out from under the skimpy coverlet that served as my makeshift bed on the floor. I had somehow endeared myself to the floor over the past few nights (note: couch surfing does not guarantee a couch. Be not surprised when you find yourself on an unelevated plane of floor with a kitten sleeping next to your head) ….so getting off the floor was as difficult as crawling out of bed. But Ben's cell phone was trumpeting an alarm, and it was time to get up. I think I kept my not-so-pleasant morning grumbles to myself—the day before Ben had received quite the earful—"I'm not taking a shower, I've changed my mind. I'm sleeping for the next fifteen minutes!"…….oh the joys of traveling with a 'morning person', which Ben definitely is….you know you secretly dread these types, even though you outwardly applaud them for their ability to wake up chipper and refreshed on the less than six hours of sleep they managed to squeeze in the night before.
And we were off for the day! Ben politely refused the shelter of my umbrella as he had brought a raincoat--let's call him the ever-prepared urban explorer shall we! We continued in the general direction of the harbor. Ben and I both enjoyed a heart- and body-warming breakfast of potato pastry and cheese-pasta delight. Both of us decided we very much liked with the Turkish breakfast offerings.
On to the harbor, where our faithful water chariot awaited. There was a long line at the ticket window for the Bosphorus ferry, which was very comforting. The day before, there was no line, and we didn't speak a lick of Turkish and it was all very unsettling—we assumed it was closed and moved grumpily along. But on this day, there was a long line of tourists, ready for a lovely little jaunt on the ferry, in the pouring rain. We bought our tickets and hoped on the vessel, forget the name of her, but no matter. Meg enjoyed a cup of coffee, and the rest of us had tea. The roomy cabin was warm and the bustle of old and young travelers moving about to enjoy the scenery mingled with snippets of happy conversation in German, French, Japanese and English. Reading materials brought by our little group of four included The Turks of Today, Lord of the Flies, and A Moveable Feast. Really, can this group get any cuter? I took a short nap, because any trip—whether by land or by sea, short or long—calls for one.
Views from the stern of the ship were quite stunning. Grand villas (does this word apply to residential architecture outside of western Europe….in any event, the homes were villa-inspired) lined the straits. Green hills crept up from the water, with little and big burbs nestled into the creases. There was lots of greenery, more than we had seen since we had left the states. "Feast for the eyes" would certainly apply. Smartly dressed Europeans took photos and then returned to the cabin, likely clearing off their equally smart eyewear of mist and fog, only to return again to take more photos. The Galata Bridge, an impressive suspension bridge that spans the straits and connects the European and Asian sides, got much attention. We all went out on the stern deck to watch it pass overhead. When we finally arrived at our destination, it became apparent that catching a taxi to Yoros Castle would not be necessary. We climbed up through a series of stone pathways flanked with gloomy looking restaurants. The panorama from the top was definitely a 'moment I will not forget'. The mouth of the Black Sea loomed in front of us and the Bosphorus stretched behind us, with the Istanbul skyline a faint smudge in the distance. A couple of lone industrial looking ships made their way out to the Sea. We took some photos, the wind whipping hair and coats around as we posed, smiling big, in front of the perfectly beautiful grey sky and still greyer waterway below….The castle itself was not especially captivating.
We made our way merrily down the road. Ben commented on some of the Turkish signs posted on the fences outside a Turkish military installation. We assumed they were communicating such imperatives as "Keep Out!" and "Danger!", and Ben thought they would make for great Indie t-shirts back in the states. Before hopping on a bus back to Istanbul, we bought some fresh bread and candy. Nothing compares to a crunchy loaf of French-Italian style bread. Yes, we were tired of pita by then.
Bus ride was followed by another bus ride, which was followed by a short ferry ride, which was followed by a long walk back to Beyoglu. Shoes were soggy, we were soggy, and all were pretty eager to say farewell to one another and enjoy some much-needed alone time. The group split up and Meg and I went off to warm our bones with some hot chocolate and reading time. When we reunited a few hours later, Ben brought good news. Brian, a vegan chef and fellow couch-surfer staying at the apartment with us, was going to make us dinner. We headed to the grocery to pick up some produce, olive oil, bread, and peanut butter. He made us a veggie stir-fry rice bowl, served with a peanut sauce that was just right! I hadn't had Asian cuisine since August, it was such a treat….
After dinner, I was ready to hit the hay, or the floor rather. Ben and Brian faired the cold and rain to go meet up with friends at a bar. It was really a great day, spent in the company of great friends.
………Ben, I hope this blog entry is up to snuff. Halleycanblog. As my life coach and ad hoc nutritionist, I think adding editor to the list would be overdoing it. But overdo it we will! All other assignments can be forwarded to Dave Harvey. I hear he is quite a talent with quite a bit of time on his hands. Cheers to our trip in Istanbul Ben! You truly were a joy to travel with!
So, at the request of 'bencanblog'—the self-proclaimed demigod of the blogosphere—I am writing an entry for "Parlor Tricks" as a guest blogger. Apologies to all, hope you will not be missing your dear Ben too too much. He's off eating apples and saving the world…..
On our second to last day in Turkey, we awoke to gray skies and rain. I would say it was wonderful reprieve from the endlessly sunny days in Cairo, but this was day four (or was it day five?) of gray and gloomy low cloud cover over the city. I had absolutely no interest in crawling out of my bed that morning….or rather, out from under the skimpy coverlet that served as my makeshift bed on the floor. I had somehow endeared myself to the floor over the past few nights (note: couch surfing does not guarantee a couch. Be not surprised when you find yourself on an unelevated plane of floor with a kitten sleeping next to your head) ….so getting off the floor was as difficult as crawling out of bed. But Ben's cell phone was trumpeting an alarm, and it was time to get up. I think I kept my not-so-pleasant morning grumbles to myself—the day before Ben had received quite the earful—"I'm not taking a shower, I've changed my mind. I'm sleeping for the next fifteen minutes!"…….oh the joys of traveling with a 'morning person', which Ben definitely is….you know you secretly dread these types, even though you outwardly applaud them for their ability to wake up chipper and refreshed on the less than six hours of sleep they managed to squeeze in the night before.
And we were off for the day! Ben politely refused the shelter of my umbrella as he had brought a raincoat--let's call him the ever-prepared urban explorer shall we! We continued in the general direction of the harbor. Ben and I both enjoyed a heart- and body-warming breakfast of potato pastry and cheese-pasta delight. Both of us decided we very much liked with the Turkish breakfast offerings.
On to the harbor, where our faithful water chariot awaited. There was a long line at the ticket window for the Bosphorus ferry, which was very comforting. The day before, there was no line, and we didn't speak a lick of Turkish and it was all very unsettling—we assumed it was closed and moved grumpily along. But on this day, there was a long line of tourists, ready for a lovely little jaunt on the ferry, in the pouring rain. We bought our tickets and hoped on the vessel, forget the name of her, but no matter. Meg enjoyed a cup of coffee, and the rest of us had tea. The roomy cabin was warm and the bustle of old and young travelers moving about to enjoy the scenery mingled with snippets of happy conversation in German, French, Japanese and English. Reading materials brought by our little group of four included The Turks of Today, Lord of the Flies, and A Moveable Feast. Really, can this group get any cuter? I took a short nap, because any trip—whether by land or by sea, short or long—calls for one.
Views from the stern of the ship were quite stunning. Grand villas (does this word apply to residential architecture outside of western Europe….in any event, the homes were villa-inspired) lined the straits. Green hills crept up from the water, with little and big burbs nestled into the creases. There was lots of greenery, more than we had seen since we had left the states. "Feast for the eyes" would certainly apply. Smartly dressed Europeans took photos and then returned to the cabin, likely clearing off their equally smart eyewear of mist and fog, only to return again to take more photos. The Galata Bridge, an impressive suspension bridge that spans the straits and connects the European and Asian sides, got much attention. We all went out on the stern deck to watch it pass overhead. When we finally arrived at our destination, it became apparent that catching a taxi to Yoros Castle would not be necessary. We climbed up through a series of stone pathways flanked with gloomy looking restaurants. The panorama from the top was definitely a 'moment I will not forget'. The mouth of the Black Sea loomed in front of us and the Bosphorus stretched behind us, with the Istanbul skyline a faint smudge in the distance. A couple of lone industrial looking ships made their way out to the Sea. We took some photos, the wind whipping hair and coats around as we posed, smiling big, in front of the perfectly beautiful grey sky and still greyer waterway below….The castle itself was not especially captivating.
We made our way merrily down the road. Ben commented on some of the Turkish signs posted on the fences outside a Turkish military installation. We assumed they were communicating such imperatives as "Keep Out!" and "Danger!", and Ben thought they would make for great Indie t-shirts back in the states. Before hopping on a bus back to Istanbul, we bought some fresh bread and candy. Nothing compares to a crunchy loaf of French-Italian style bread. Yes, we were tired of pita by then.
Bus ride was followed by another bus ride, which was followed by a short ferry ride, which was followed by a long walk back to Beyoglu. Shoes were soggy, we were soggy, and all were pretty eager to say farewell to one another and enjoy some much-needed alone time. The group split up and Meg and I went off to warm our bones with some hot chocolate and reading time. When we reunited a few hours later, Ben brought good news. Brian, a vegan chef and fellow couch-surfer staying at the apartment with us, was going to make us dinner. We headed to the grocery to pick up some produce, olive oil, bread, and peanut butter. He made us a veggie stir-fry rice bowl, served with a peanut sauce that was just right! I hadn't had Asian cuisine since August, it was such a treat….
After dinner, I was ready to hit the hay, or the floor rather. Ben and Brian faired the cold and rain to go meet up with friends at a bar. It was really a great day, spent in the company of great friends.
………Ben, I hope this blog entry is up to snuff. Halleycanblog. As my life coach and ad hoc nutritionist, I think adding editor to the list would be overdoing it. But overdo it we will! All other assignments can be forwarded to Dave Harvey. I hear he is quite a talent with quite a bit of time on his hands. Cheers to our trip in Istanbul Ben! You truly were a joy to travel with!
11/02/2007
An Excuse, an Expose, an Expectation
Well, my parents having tearfully departed after having their flight on the EgyptAir monopoly mysteriously delayed four hours, I have no excuse to procrastinate from the blogosphere. However, with so much lost time (I'm not even done blogging about Istanbul and I've been back for over half a month), I don't think it's very feasible to offer a play-by-play, as much as everyone would love it. So, a couple brief highlights, and then a return to normalcy (inshallah):
-Friday (today) is the Muslim world's Sunday, and so most shops are closed until the late afternoon as it is obligatory for Muslim men to attend prayers at the mosque. As I write this from the comfort of an air-conditioned cafe which is loudly blasting the Soundscapes albums you can buy at Hallmark and Target, about one hundred Muslim men are praying across the street, sprawled out on carpets outside a flower store which obscures the small neighborhood mosque. There is something overwhelmingly sensual about Islam; hearing their prayers and chants (loud enough to permeate the glass walls and the obnoxious music here in the cafe) and to witness the men rising and falling in tandem is in itself a religious experience. As I stated before, the men are on a street, yet they are universally undistracted by the cars, women, nd Westerners strolling by. Some of the men are on-duty police officers, evident by their all-white uniforms, presenting the odd juxtaposition of praying (and rising and falling onto the prayer carpets) with an AK-47 slung over their shoulder. Clerks and bagboys from the market (Seoudi) across the street still wear their aprons during the service. Not being very religious myself, I am tremendously aware of the devotion of almost every Muslim I have met and observed. As I write this, the service has ended, the men fold up their ornate prayer rugs, and the street scene quickly returns to normal, with only a few stragglers remaining to pray on the sidewalk. The end of the prayers consequently bring a return of the Cairene din of taxi cab horns, meowing feral cats (who suspiciously also respect the prayers), and the shouts of the Egyptians.
-The past two days not only coincided with the departure of my parents, but also with me being the sickest since I arrived in Cairo and, perhaps since I came to college. Yesterday consisted of the consumption of some seven liters of water to replenish all of the liquid I was perpetually losing, as well as a diet of strictly plain corn flakes, bananas, and anise tea. I also ran a fever of 101 F, and, according to my roommate, mumbled and shouted in my sleep as I fluctuated between shivering and sweating profusely. On the upside, I got to skip class and instead went to go see the film Stardust, complete with Arabic subtitles and an Egypt Ministry of Culture-added intermission i.e. cigarette break.
-I very much enjoyed my parents' time in Cairo, and I think/hope they had a good time. They also spent a week traveling between Cairo and Abu Simbel, which is near the Sudanese border, visiting literally everything of note in between. A particular highlight was a visit to the Grand Hyatt (I know...) Rotating Restaurant, which at the 41st floor, offered an incredible view of Cairo as well as the Pyramids of Giza as well as a pretty fantastic French meal.
-I took two midterms this week in class. One had absolutely no pedagogical utility, for it consisted of two essay questions: "What does Samuel Huntington's 'Clash of Civilizations' article say?" and "What does Raymond Hinnebush's article say?" Yes, between the 400-some pages we've read for the course, we simply had to recall the intricate details of these two particular authors. The more we could remember, the better our grade (for instance, he said an automatic "A" would result if we could recite the articles word for word). The second midterm was more constructive. However, despite my grumbling, I almost guarantee that I did better on the midterm which require recitation, despite my poor didactic memory.
And now, a couple pictures from Cairo for you to enjoy. I promise that I will be more diligent on my updates from here on out.
-Friday (today) is the Muslim world's Sunday, and so most shops are closed until the late afternoon as it is obligatory for Muslim men to attend prayers at the mosque. As I write this from the comfort of an air-conditioned cafe which is loudly blasting the Soundscapes albums you can buy at Hallmark and Target, about one hundred Muslim men are praying across the street, sprawled out on carpets outside a flower store which obscures the small neighborhood mosque. There is something overwhelmingly sensual about Islam; hearing their prayers and chants (loud enough to permeate the glass walls and the obnoxious music here in the cafe) and to witness the men rising and falling in tandem is in itself a religious experience. As I stated before, the men are on a street, yet they are universally undistracted by the cars, women, nd Westerners strolling by. Some of the men are on-duty police officers, evident by their all-white uniforms, presenting the odd juxtaposition of praying (and rising and falling onto the prayer carpets) with an AK-47 slung over their shoulder. Clerks and bagboys from the market (Seoudi) across the street still wear their aprons during the service. Not being very religious myself, I am tremendously aware of the devotion of almost every Muslim I have met and observed. As I write this, the service has ended, the men fold up their ornate prayer rugs, and the street scene quickly returns to normal, with only a few stragglers remaining to pray on the sidewalk. The end of the prayers consequently bring a return of the Cairene din of taxi cab horns, meowing feral cats (who suspiciously also respect the prayers), and the shouts of the Egyptians.
-The past two days not only coincided with the departure of my parents, but also with me being the sickest since I arrived in Cairo and, perhaps since I came to college. Yesterday consisted of the consumption of some seven liters of water to replenish all of the liquid I was perpetually losing, as well as a diet of strictly plain corn flakes, bananas, and anise tea. I also ran a fever of 101 F, and, according to my roommate, mumbled and shouted in my sleep as I fluctuated between shivering and sweating profusely. On the upside, I got to skip class and instead went to go see the film Stardust, complete with Arabic subtitles and an Egypt Ministry of Culture-added intermission i.e. cigarette break.
-I very much enjoyed my parents' time in Cairo, and I think/hope they had a good time. They also spent a week traveling between Cairo and Abu Simbel, which is near the Sudanese border, visiting literally everything of note in between. A particular highlight was a visit to the Grand Hyatt (I know...) Rotating Restaurant, which at the 41st floor, offered an incredible view of Cairo as well as the Pyramids of Giza as well as a pretty fantastic French meal.
-I took two midterms this week in class. One had absolutely no pedagogical utility, for it consisted of two essay questions: "What does Samuel Huntington's 'Clash of Civilizations' article say?" and "What does Raymond Hinnebush's article say?" Yes, between the 400-some pages we've read for the course, we simply had to recall the intricate details of these two particular authors. The more we could remember, the better our grade (for instance, he said an automatic "A" would result if we could recite the articles word for word). The second midterm was more constructive. However, despite my grumbling, I almost guarantee that I did better on the midterm which require recitation, despite my poor didactic memory.
And now, a couple pictures from Cairo for you to enjoy. I promise that I will be more diligent on my updates from here on out.
10/29/2007
Out of the Office
Don't you go worrying now, I'm not intentionally letting this blog wither away. And it's not that my time in Egypt has reached some sort of stasis either. Rather, the reason for my absence can be summarized in the following picture:
Yes, my parents have taken Cairo by storm, single-handedly supporting the city's economy through the purchase of informative guides, overpriced bottled water, and a suitcase worth of trinkets, jewelry, spices, and books.
Also, I have a new camera (my other one broke). Hopefully it's dividends will be evident.
Yes, my parents have taken Cairo by storm, single-handedly supporting the city's economy through the purchase of informative guides, overpriced bottled water, and a suitcase worth of trinkets, jewelry, spices, and books.
Also, I have a new camera (my other one broke). Hopefully it's dividends will be evident.
10/24/2007
The Hammer Falls: Isploration Day Three
I hope you're enjoying your Egyptian respite, since I'm only halfway through recollecting my almost-romantic affair with Istanbul (it was a five-night stand, but I hope to be back in its arms this summer). So, sit yourself in a (comfy) chair to brace yourself, for here, like it or not, is the next chapter in Istanbul Isplorations.
Waking up a bit groggy from the first full night on the floor, we quietly exited our apartment near dawn (so Halley would say--it was probably close to 9 AM) only to discover that it was pouring rain outside. Now, Western readers may not be fazed by the previous sentence. However, I currently live in a desert. Deciduous plants, rain, and temperature temperatures do not exist here; at first the chilling droplets splashing onto my muddled mess of hair, I was convinced that I was standing under a dripping air conditioning unit. When I realized it was rain, I began to melt.
Rendezvousing (in the rain) with two of our friends staying at the Orient Hostel, which, according to Lonely Planet, is known for its partying clientele that go out to drink every night with the sole expectation that they will get laid upon their return to the hostel (shame on you, Lonely Planet), we did the whole Turkish breakfast thing (which is astonishingly similar to the Egyptian breakfast) of Nescafe, cheese, tomatoes, and, best of all, leavened bread. In hindsight, I carb-loaded to return for Egypt, where the majority of the population (and the majority of the restaurants) subsists on subsidized whole-wheat pita bread (80% flour and 20% sand) from the government ovens. I have found fingernail clippings, a hunk of sea salt, and a spool of thread in my Egyptian bread. Thus, Turkish bread rivaled or even (on my relative scale) surpassed the quality of the Italian and French staple.
Over brunch, we scoured our guidebooks to look for indoor attractions given the glorious rain that was falling (in fact, Istanbul hadn't received rain for two months either, and the city's three reservoirs were dried up), and soon found ourselves on a tram to a bus station, where we would board a crowded vehicle bound for the old Istanbul city walls (think Roman empire old) and, god-willing, find the Chora Church. Chora is translated to "country" in Turkish, and can be explained by the Byzantines' intention that this church remain outside the city of Istanbul. Now, however, it is very much in a densely-packed, non-tourist neighborhood. Which was a good thing, since most tourists hate other tourists, and there's nothing more that people in non-tourist neighborhoods enjoy than camera-touting American tourists.
I'm glad that we went though; the photos speak for themselves. The Chora Church's mosaics were, like the Aya Sofya's, plastered over when the building was converted to a mosque. However, they are poignant and startling in this more intimate setting, as are the frescoes.
The exterior of Chora.
Jesus Christ.
In a vaguely Egyptian fashion, Jesus summons Adam & Eve from their sarcophagi.
Part of the Church's interior--note the mosaic on the left.
Chora Church was so magnificent that my camera committed suicide, convinced that it had reached the apogee of its career. So pictures from the remainder of the trip will be sparse and, let's be honest, not of the same indescribable quality (since I didn't take them). Don't fret, however: I have purchased a new camera, and will be posting photographs once the following two conditions are simultaneously met: a) There is something worthy of me taking my camera out of its case and b) I have my camera. Nine times out of ten, "b" is the absent condition.
It was only 2:30 PM in the afternoon as we left Chora, and we were once again at a loss for things to do in the rain. It was completely natural, then, when one of the girls suggested that we board a boat bound for Asia so we could explore the other side. I reluctantly conceded, forcing myself to realize (and prepare) that I would inevitably get wet, either from the boat or from the rain.
However, upon arrival at the docks, the girls seemed uninterested in actually purchasing a ticket, preferring to stand exclusively in a triangle and exchange information (but not gossip). So, playing the heroic male role, I went in search of a ticket booth, a difficult task given the sheer amount of crowds.
Here begins my BREAKDOWN. A tinge upset at the girls' diffidence and surrounded by touts selling me a scenic (synonym for expensive) trip up the Bosporus or a sandwich or a hotel room or a pair of shoes at least three sizes too small for my gigantic feet, I got increasingly frustrated at the lack of order (This was Europe goddamnit! Not Egypt!), and began to use my one physical asset--my mass--to push through the crowds and escape the salesmen which had attached themselves to me in a fashion reminiscent of burrs in a forest.
Things may or may not have gotten violent (they didn't. Really). I did not, however, locate a ticket booth. They were closed as it was Sunday. What I needed was to be alone, which hadn't happened since Wednesday afternoon, and a mind-altering substance, either a stimulant (caffeine) or a depressant (alcohol). So I told the girls "peace out," high-tailed it back to Beyoglu, bought an English book on modern Turkish history, and drank a 12 YTL glass of red wine in a warm (both in terms of temperature and atmosphere) cafe. Am I bound to become a yuppie?
Never fear for my lashing out, however. We reunited for dinner at a traditional Turkish mezze restaurant called a meyhane, which was incredibly awkward due to drama between the girls I was with and other AUC students occupying the meyhane, drama that I was not privy to (explains the earlier triangle). So I enjoyed my small plates in peace, and especially enjoyed the ruki, a pungently anise Turkish alcoholic spirit which came with the meal.
So, it was only natural that we went out to the bars after dinner. Aside from the notable 1980s music and the size of the chalices of beer, I do not remember much about the bar.
What's to look forward to in the next Istanbul intry [sic]? More rain, a boat ride, another vegan meal, and yet another rendezvous. Stay tuned.
Waking up a bit groggy from the first full night on the floor, we quietly exited our apartment near dawn (so Halley would say--it was probably close to 9 AM) only to discover that it was pouring rain outside. Now, Western readers may not be fazed by the previous sentence. However, I currently live in a desert. Deciduous plants, rain, and temperature temperatures do not exist here; at first the chilling droplets splashing onto my muddled mess of hair, I was convinced that I was standing under a dripping air conditioning unit. When I realized it was rain, I began to melt.
Rendezvousing (in the rain) with two of our friends staying at the Orient Hostel, which, according to Lonely Planet, is known for its partying clientele that go out to drink every night with the sole expectation that they will get laid upon their return to the hostel (shame on you, Lonely Planet), we did the whole Turkish breakfast thing (which is astonishingly similar to the Egyptian breakfast) of Nescafe, cheese, tomatoes, and, best of all, leavened bread. In hindsight, I carb-loaded to return for Egypt, where the majority of the population (and the majority of the restaurants) subsists on subsidized whole-wheat pita bread (80% flour and 20% sand) from the government ovens. I have found fingernail clippings, a hunk of sea salt, and a spool of thread in my Egyptian bread. Thus, Turkish bread rivaled or even (on my relative scale) surpassed the quality of the Italian and French staple.
Over brunch, we scoured our guidebooks to look for indoor attractions given the glorious rain that was falling (in fact, Istanbul hadn't received rain for two months either, and the city's three reservoirs were dried up), and soon found ourselves on a tram to a bus station, where we would board a crowded vehicle bound for the old Istanbul city walls (think Roman empire old) and, god-willing, find the Chora Church. Chora is translated to "country" in Turkish, and can be explained by the Byzantines' intention that this church remain outside the city of Istanbul. Now, however, it is very much in a densely-packed, non-tourist neighborhood. Which was a good thing, since most tourists hate other tourists, and there's nothing more that people in non-tourist neighborhoods enjoy than camera-touting American tourists.
I'm glad that we went though; the photos speak for themselves. The Chora Church's mosaics were, like the Aya Sofya's, plastered over when the building was converted to a mosque. However, they are poignant and startling in this more intimate setting, as are the frescoes.
The exterior of Chora.
Jesus Christ.
In a vaguely Egyptian fashion, Jesus summons Adam & Eve from their sarcophagi.
Part of the Church's interior--note the mosaic on the left.
Chora Church was so magnificent that my camera committed suicide, convinced that it had reached the apogee of its career. So pictures from the remainder of the trip will be sparse and, let's be honest, not of the same indescribable quality (since I didn't take them). Don't fret, however: I have purchased a new camera, and will be posting photographs once the following two conditions are simultaneously met: a) There is something worthy of me taking my camera out of its case and b) I have my camera. Nine times out of ten, "b" is the absent condition.
It was only 2:30 PM in the afternoon as we left Chora, and we were once again at a loss for things to do in the rain. It was completely natural, then, when one of the girls suggested that we board a boat bound for Asia so we could explore the other side. I reluctantly conceded, forcing myself to realize (and prepare) that I would inevitably get wet, either from the boat or from the rain.
However, upon arrival at the docks, the girls seemed uninterested in actually purchasing a ticket, preferring to stand exclusively in a triangle and exchange information (but not gossip). So, playing the heroic male role, I went in search of a ticket booth, a difficult task given the sheer amount of crowds.
Here begins my BREAKDOWN. A tinge upset at the girls' diffidence and surrounded by touts selling me a scenic (synonym for expensive) trip up the Bosporus or a sandwich or a hotel room or a pair of shoes at least three sizes too small for my gigantic feet, I got increasingly frustrated at the lack of order (This was Europe goddamnit! Not Egypt!), and began to use my one physical asset--my mass--to push through the crowds and escape the salesmen which had attached themselves to me in a fashion reminiscent of burrs in a forest.
Things may or may not have gotten violent (they didn't. Really). I did not, however, locate a ticket booth. They were closed as it was Sunday. What I needed was to be alone, which hadn't happened since Wednesday afternoon, and a mind-altering substance, either a stimulant (caffeine) or a depressant (alcohol). So I told the girls "peace out," high-tailed it back to Beyoglu, bought an English book on modern Turkish history, and drank a 12 YTL glass of red wine in a warm (both in terms of temperature and atmosphere) cafe. Am I bound to become a yuppie?
Never fear for my lashing out, however. We reunited for dinner at a traditional Turkish mezze restaurant called a meyhane, which was incredibly awkward due to drama between the girls I was with and other AUC students occupying the meyhane, drama that I was not privy to (explains the earlier triangle). So I enjoyed my small plates in peace, and especially enjoyed the ruki, a pungently anise Turkish alcoholic spirit which came with the meal.
So, it was only natural that we went out to the bars after dinner. Aside from the notable 1980s music and the size of the chalices of beer, I do not remember much about the bar.
What's to look forward to in the next Istanbul intry [sic]? More rain, a boat ride, another vegan meal, and yet another rendezvous. Stay tuned.
10/20/2007
Yes, It's Another Post About Istanbul!
With an overwhelming amount of people reading and commenting about my previous post about Istanbul (OK, who am I lying to? This blog is more for historical preservation (and apparently my family) than for the consumption by any of my peers. I don't want to waste their time or anything by forcing them to read about my time in Egypt. And I'm not bitter.), here's the next installment of Istanbul Isplorations (Day 2).
It was 3 AM. I was disoriented. Not only had I not fully adjusted to my surroundings in the two bedroom flat overlooking Taksim Square, but something wasn't physically right. As I drifted out of sleep, I thought I may be sick--my head felt so heavy. Yes, I felt seasick. And this feeling was confirmed by me as I peeked open my eyes and ascertained that, indeed, my feet were a good half-yard above my head. Our air mattress was deflating, slow enough to avoid exposing its intentions by emitting the characteristic hiss which indicates that something's wrong. So I did the first thing which came to mind in my current state (fight or flight, you could say): I rolled off the bed slowly, hoping to keep Halley in a deep sleep (she continually attests that she needs eight hours of sleep a night, which is ridiculous). This desired effect, however, was idealism at its best, for it violated the laws of physics, which are relatively the same between the United States, Egypt, and Turkey. The air mattress, adjusting to my missing weight, sent Halley plummeting to the floor, promptly waking her too. We slept on the ground the rest of our time in Istanbul.
As stated in the previous Istanbul post, few Egyptian cell phones functioned in Turkey, mine being one of the exceptions. Needless to say, it was difficult to rendezvous with our other friends who had traveled to Turkey for El-Eid, the post-Ramadan holiday. But, being the smart travelers which we are, we had agreed on a meeting point in the off-chance that our cell phones were non-functional: 10:30 AM at the entrance gates to Tokapi Palace. So, bright and early at 9:30 AM, Halley & I as well as Brian, the vegan chef from Portland, were on a public bus bound for the Sultanahmet, so we could meet our friends.
I don't think we could have picked a worse rendezvous point. First of all, Tokapi Palace is huge, with about seven or eight entrances. Second of all, it was closed until 1 PM because of the Eid holiday. None of our friends could be sighted. What now? There was no Plan C. Was I stuck with Halley (and Brian) for the rest of the vacation (Not a bad thing, I would come to realize, but I had agreed to meet up with other friends.)?
With nothing scheduled, the three of us decided to wander over to see the Grand Bazaar, an acres-sized covered market which lures in tourists like those buzzing bright lights attract insects (and then kills them). Though Tokapi was closed, surely commerce couldn't be stopped by a simple religious holiday (actually, in the secular state of Turkey, it's a non-religious holiday called Bairum, which means candy or sweet, that consistently corresponds with Eid), especially when the city was rife with tourists in need of a suckering.
Yes, even the stores were closed for the next three days. What were we to do in Turkey without shopping for three days?
We proceeded to wander throughout the Eminonu district (again), stopping by a shady restaurant for pilav (rice and garbanzo beans) and a doner (sandwich) near Istanbul University, with the intention of killing time before going back to Tokapi at 1 PM to look for our friends and tour the home of the Ottoman sultans.
Prominently placed on the lawn in front of the palace as to be sighted by our friends, Brian and I had an engaging dialogue about the merits of Obama's presidential candidacy, and I revealed to him Matt Kirby's (of Carleton '07 fame) secret plan to take over Washington (don't worry, I later "took care of" Brian to prevent the secret from being revealed). However, the lack of friends evolved into a photo shoot, of which only a couple shots turned out. It also, however, led to a dinner invitation from Brian (he was, after all, a vegan chef) who promised us delicious vegetables back at the apartment at 8:30 PM. All we had to do was furnish the wine (not true, actually we offered to bring it).
Really the only good photo.
So we went our separate ways--Brian back to Beyoglu and Halley & I through the entrance gates of the palace. The palace was OK...not too interesting as we were not just cheap in our decision to NOT tour the harem (a big mistake, but it was another 10 YTL in addition to the 10 YTL we paid to simply enter the palace), but the room displaying the Holiest of Holies (AKA the Relics Room), including a tooth and a beard hair of Muhammad and the arm of John the Baptist (encrusted in jewels), was closed for renovation. So, after gazing at the entire collection of the Palace's china and tapestries, we settled for the scenic views the palace offers from its strategic location at the tip of a peninsula.
A mosque near the back of the Palace.
The Bosporus-spanning Ataturk Bridge, which holds the European and Asian continents together, in the background.
Beyoglu in the background.
Also, we ventured into the Circumcision Room, which had beautiful tiles that I failed to capture on camera. What I DID capture, albeit blurrily (not a real word), is the circumcision DEVICE! Yes, I'm still quite immature.
That ends my pictures for the day. But NOT my story-telling. After peacing out from the Palace, we went on a search for wine, dessert, and TopShop, a pricey clothing outlet. (Read: I bought the former two while Halley searched the bargain racks at the latter).
Dinner was amazing. I have rarely had something seasoned so well with so little, and I also have rarely enjoyed cabbage to the degree which I did that night. We decided to call it an early night, for we had made plans to seek out two of our friends staying at a hostel early the next morning. And we were full of delicious carbs, cheap Turkish merlot, and baklava.
So, what's next? How can I entice you to check back tomorrow--OK, I'll be honest with you--the next three days? Well, stories of my first rain since Cairo (it's a big deal, OK), mosaic sightings, and my BREAKDOWN will be prominently featured in the next post. And a couple of my pictures, pre-camera breakage. Get excited!
A quick point as well. Turkey and Egypt are on entirely different tracks of development. However, they are not too different. Both have around 70 million people. Both have Sunni Muslim majorities. Both possess supposedly (but not actually) secular states. Though Turkey possesses more arable land, much of it is unused (whereas the small bit of Nile-spanning agricultural land is maximized in Egypt). Egypt at the turn of the 20th Century was much more developed than Turkey, though both were under Ottoman rule (though Egypt was semi-autonomous). Both have a viable shipping industry and access to the coast. So why are they seemingly so different? Is it Turkey's turn toward Europe? Or is it something more fundamental? Can it be that Turkey is actually a viable democracy? Does democracy drive development? Or is it Turkey's economic reforms under Prime Minister Ozul, an economist who implemented structural adjustment programs in the 1980's? And can Cairo become a city like Istanbul over the next 20 years? It's more of a thought exercise, but one I have been considering much since encountering Turkey.
It was 3 AM. I was disoriented. Not only had I not fully adjusted to my surroundings in the two bedroom flat overlooking Taksim Square, but something wasn't physically right. As I drifted out of sleep, I thought I may be sick--my head felt so heavy. Yes, I felt seasick. And this feeling was confirmed by me as I peeked open my eyes and ascertained that, indeed, my feet were a good half-yard above my head. Our air mattress was deflating, slow enough to avoid exposing its intentions by emitting the characteristic hiss which indicates that something's wrong. So I did the first thing which came to mind in my current state (fight or flight, you could say): I rolled off the bed slowly, hoping to keep Halley in a deep sleep (she continually attests that she needs eight hours of sleep a night, which is ridiculous). This desired effect, however, was idealism at its best, for it violated the laws of physics, which are relatively the same between the United States, Egypt, and Turkey. The air mattress, adjusting to my missing weight, sent Halley plummeting to the floor, promptly waking her too. We slept on the ground the rest of our time in Istanbul.
As stated in the previous Istanbul post, few Egyptian cell phones functioned in Turkey, mine being one of the exceptions. Needless to say, it was difficult to rendezvous with our other friends who had traveled to Turkey for El-Eid, the post-Ramadan holiday. But, being the smart travelers which we are, we had agreed on a meeting point in the off-chance that our cell phones were non-functional: 10:30 AM at the entrance gates to Tokapi Palace. So, bright and early at 9:30 AM, Halley & I as well as Brian, the vegan chef from Portland, were on a public bus bound for the Sultanahmet, so we could meet our friends.
I don't think we could have picked a worse rendezvous point. First of all, Tokapi Palace is huge, with about seven or eight entrances. Second of all, it was closed until 1 PM because of the Eid holiday. None of our friends could be sighted. What now? There was no Plan C. Was I stuck with Halley (and Brian) for the rest of the vacation (Not a bad thing, I would come to realize, but I had agreed to meet up with other friends.)?
With nothing scheduled, the three of us decided to wander over to see the Grand Bazaar, an acres-sized covered market which lures in tourists like those buzzing bright lights attract insects (and then kills them). Though Tokapi was closed, surely commerce couldn't be stopped by a simple religious holiday (actually, in the secular state of Turkey, it's a non-religious holiday called Bairum, which means candy or sweet, that consistently corresponds with Eid), especially when the city was rife with tourists in need of a suckering.
Yes, even the stores were closed for the next three days. What were we to do in Turkey without shopping for three days?
We proceeded to wander throughout the Eminonu district (again), stopping by a shady restaurant for pilav (rice and garbanzo beans) and a doner (sandwich) near Istanbul University, with the intention of killing time before going back to Tokapi at 1 PM to look for our friends and tour the home of the Ottoman sultans.
Prominently placed on the lawn in front of the palace as to be sighted by our friends, Brian and I had an engaging dialogue about the merits of Obama's presidential candidacy, and I revealed to him Matt Kirby's (of Carleton '07 fame) secret plan to take over Washington (don't worry, I later "took care of" Brian to prevent the secret from being revealed). However, the lack of friends evolved into a photo shoot, of which only a couple shots turned out. It also, however, led to a dinner invitation from Brian (he was, after all, a vegan chef) who promised us delicious vegetables back at the apartment at 8:30 PM. All we had to do was furnish the wine (not true, actually we offered to bring it).
Really the only good photo.
So we went our separate ways--Brian back to Beyoglu and Halley & I through the entrance gates of the palace. The palace was OK...not too interesting as we were not just cheap in our decision to NOT tour the harem (a big mistake, but it was another 10 YTL in addition to the 10 YTL we paid to simply enter the palace), but the room displaying the Holiest of Holies (AKA the Relics Room), including a tooth and a beard hair of Muhammad and the arm of John the Baptist (encrusted in jewels), was closed for renovation. So, after gazing at the entire collection of the Palace's china and tapestries, we settled for the scenic views the palace offers from its strategic location at the tip of a peninsula.
A mosque near the back of the Palace.
The Bosporus-spanning Ataturk Bridge, which holds the European and Asian continents together, in the background.
Beyoglu in the background.
Also, we ventured into the Circumcision Room, which had beautiful tiles that I failed to capture on camera. What I DID capture, albeit blurrily (not a real word), is the circumcision DEVICE! Yes, I'm still quite immature.
That ends my pictures for the day. But NOT my story-telling. After peacing out from the Palace, we went on a search for wine, dessert, and TopShop, a pricey clothing outlet. (Read: I bought the former two while Halley searched the bargain racks at the latter).
Dinner was amazing. I have rarely had something seasoned so well with so little, and I also have rarely enjoyed cabbage to the degree which I did that night. We decided to call it an early night, for we had made plans to seek out two of our friends staying at a hostel early the next morning. And we were full of delicious carbs, cheap Turkish merlot, and baklava.
So, what's next? How can I entice you to check back tomorrow--OK, I'll be honest with you--the next three days? Well, stories of my first rain since Cairo (it's a big deal, OK), mosaic sightings, and my BREAKDOWN will be prominently featured in the next post. And a couple of my pictures, pre-camera breakage. Get excited!
A quick point as well. Turkey and Egypt are on entirely different tracks of development. However, they are not too different. Both have around 70 million people. Both have Sunni Muslim majorities. Both possess supposedly (but not actually) secular states. Though Turkey possesses more arable land, much of it is unused (whereas the small bit of Nile-spanning agricultural land is maximized in Egypt). Egypt at the turn of the 20th Century was much more developed than Turkey, though both were under Ottoman rule (though Egypt was semi-autonomous). Both have a viable shipping industry and access to the coast. So why are they seemingly so different? Is it Turkey's turn toward Europe? Or is it something more fundamental? Can it be that Turkey is actually a viable democracy? Does democracy drive development? Or is it Turkey's economic reforms under Prime Minister Ozul, an economist who implemented structural adjustment programs in the 1980's? And can Cairo become a city like Istanbul over the next 20 years? It's more of a thought exercise, but one I have been considering much since encountering Turkey.
Security Points & Bad Music
Brace yourselves, for here's the next (and brief!) release of When in Egypt... as a prelude to Istanbul Isplorations Day 2. My, my, two recurring series in a row, what have you done to deserve this?
As I'm sure you've heard, Egypt is the land of the Pharaohs. Yes, we have pyramids here. And a few mosques. The Nile scenery ain't so bad, and some of the desert-scapes can be quite nice. However, what the liberal media/travel guides omit from their accounts of Egypt is the variety of security checks that have been installed in just about every establishment to stoke fear into your soul and prevent you from doing anything insidious. You think you may get annoyed by walking through some 50 metal detectors and having 30 different Egyptian men rifle through your personal items, but the lack of any sort of standard procedure on these security checks, however, guarantee them to be entertaining and surprising, for "you never know whatcha gonna get" (yes, Egyptian security checks ARE like a box of chocolates, Forrest). Here are some typical encounters at security checks:
1) The sleeper. I, a white male, walk through the metal detector, prompting a piercing tone for I did not remove my cell phone (or my gun/explosives). The security guard is asleep, and, though a little disgruntled, seems thoroughly annoyed to be awoken by someone who is clearly not a security threat. Sneering at you for your presence, he proceeds to immediately fall asleep.
2) The magic touch. Arriving at the entrance to AUC, I'm asked to hand over my bag, which the guards search as I walk through the metal detectors (which have never, ever beeped). Usually, the guards will take a cursory glance at the contents of my bag as they check for cameras (BAD! The government cannot know about the bastion of liberalism which lies beyond these privacy hedges!), a kitchen knife (WORSE! Yes, I had one confiscated.), or whiskey (UNSPEAKABLE!). Sometimes, an overzealous new employee will actually empty the contents of your bag to examine your belongings before they are chided by a seasoned veteran of security. These veterans have been at it so long that they don't even need to search your bag. They have bomb-sniffing, whiskey-detecting, magnetic hands which allow them to gracefully touch your bag to determine its contents, usually while it's still on your person.
3) The anti-American attitude. I've met very few people in Egypt who dislike Americans, almost as few as the people who haven't told me that they dislike George Bush. However, you have the occasional checkpoint guard, usually in the middle of the Egyptian desert, who just doesn't care for Americans. He's fine with EU or Australian passports, and even gives you the benefit of the doubt until you reveal your crisp blue book (my new one apparently has sensitive electronics in it, which prevents me from putting it through the wash). The guard, aghast at the neoimperialists who are touring the countryside, then forces the entire car/bus/caravan to line up outside as he personally inspects our possessions and inquires about the particular nature of our business in this tourist area (I mean, spies have to relax too). If one of your compadres lacks a passport (this never fails to happen), expect a detainment of two to five hours.
4) The oblivious music-lover. My personal favorite checkpoint would probably be the entrance to my dorm. From Ehmet, the bag checker that claims that the bite wounds on his arm are from his wife and who personally asks my friends about the presence of whiskey in their backpacks, to the large figure sitting by the computer whose name I do not know. This particular figure, however, has a penchant for shirt/tie combinations of the same color (blue tie on blue shirt, red tie on red shirt, etc.) and 80's music. Yesterday, looking particularly ominous after busting out the black/black combination (He should do it more often. It's rather slimming.), this forty-something supervisor was blasting Survivor's Eye of the Tiger (the Rocky theme) so the entire lobby could rock out with him. And boy, was he rocking out. He had the air guitar strung and prepared for the solo. He wasn't just lip syncing--he was singing. Loudly. And he really didn't seem to care that the constant stream of students entering the building were staring. I guess you can't fight the music. I've got to figure out his name.
As I'm sure you've heard, Egypt is the land of the Pharaohs. Yes, we have pyramids here. And a few mosques. The Nile scenery ain't so bad, and some of the desert-scapes can be quite nice. However, what the liberal media/travel guides omit from their accounts of Egypt is the variety of security checks that have been installed in just about every establishment to stoke fear into your soul and prevent you from doing anything insidious. You think you may get annoyed by walking through some 50 metal detectors and having 30 different Egyptian men rifle through your personal items, but the lack of any sort of standard procedure on these security checks, however, guarantee them to be entertaining and surprising, for "you never know whatcha gonna get" (yes, Egyptian security checks ARE like a box of chocolates, Forrest). Here are some typical encounters at security checks:
1) The sleeper. I, a white male, walk through the metal detector, prompting a piercing tone for I did not remove my cell phone (or my gun/explosives). The security guard is asleep, and, though a little disgruntled, seems thoroughly annoyed to be awoken by someone who is clearly not a security threat. Sneering at you for your presence, he proceeds to immediately fall asleep.
2) The magic touch. Arriving at the entrance to AUC, I'm asked to hand over my bag, which the guards search as I walk through the metal detectors (which have never, ever beeped). Usually, the guards will take a cursory glance at the contents of my bag as they check for cameras (BAD! The government cannot know about the bastion of liberalism which lies beyond these privacy hedges!), a kitchen knife (WORSE! Yes, I had one confiscated.), or whiskey (UNSPEAKABLE!). Sometimes, an overzealous new employee will actually empty the contents of your bag to examine your belongings before they are chided by a seasoned veteran of security. These veterans have been at it so long that they don't even need to search your bag. They have bomb-sniffing, whiskey-detecting, magnetic hands which allow them to gracefully touch your bag to determine its contents, usually while it's still on your person.
3) The anti-American attitude. I've met very few people in Egypt who dislike Americans, almost as few as the people who haven't told me that they dislike George Bush. However, you have the occasional checkpoint guard, usually in the middle of the Egyptian desert, who just doesn't care for Americans. He's fine with EU or Australian passports, and even gives you the benefit of the doubt until you reveal your crisp blue book (my new one apparently has sensitive electronics in it, which prevents me from putting it through the wash). The guard, aghast at the neoimperialists who are touring the countryside, then forces the entire car/bus/caravan to line up outside as he personally inspects our possessions and inquires about the particular nature of our business in this tourist area (I mean, spies have to relax too). If one of your compadres lacks a passport (this never fails to happen), expect a detainment of two to five hours.
4) The oblivious music-lover. My personal favorite checkpoint would probably be the entrance to my dorm. From Ehmet, the bag checker that claims that the bite wounds on his arm are from his wife and who personally asks my friends about the presence of whiskey in their backpacks, to the large figure sitting by the computer whose name I do not know. This particular figure, however, has a penchant for shirt/tie combinations of the same color (blue tie on blue shirt, red tie on red shirt, etc.) and 80's music. Yesterday, looking particularly ominous after busting out the black/black combination (He should do it more often. It's rather slimming.), this forty-something supervisor was blasting Survivor's Eye of the Tiger (the Rocky theme) so the entire lobby could rock out with him. And boy, was he rocking out. He had the air guitar strung and prepared for the solo. He wasn't just lip syncing--he was singing. Loudly. And he really didn't seem to care that the constant stream of students entering the building were staring. I guess you can't fight the music. I've got to figure out his name.
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