...is what Jim and I say at the end of each vacation as we exit the plane on our last leg home. This trip to the Middle East was more than I hoped for. We were lucky to be mostly out of the tourist bubble. In Beirut, first my hotel "family" of new friends with whom I waited out the eerily quiet days of the election, and then the riveting and exciting, though exhausting, Beirut Exchange experiences with such an impressive and dynamic group of international students made that time so special. I'm talking about all of you, and still carrying on conversations with you in my head.
Then, Egypt, where my new and newer friends, AbdulMawgoud and his family, Mustafa and Ahmad Mustafa, Sondos, Ahmed, and Sondo's whole family just folded us into their lives with their warmth and joyful hospitality. I loved meeting my Soliya partner Somaia, and visiting the Soliya office in Cairo to meet those I knew online, in person.
I got tired of traveling, of living out of a suitcase, but I never once felt too "foreign", or without roots. In fact, I was so rooted to the enjoyment of the people, that there are many, many sights that we simply didn't visit in Cairo or Luxor. Two hours in Khan al Khalili is pathetic! But between the heat, and needing to get back to meet someone for something -- the sightseeing had to go. It was worth the tradeoff.
Thank you everyone, all of you who read this blog, and cheered us on. You were with us too. I can report to you that we are one with Middle Easterners. They aren't "them" to our "us". We are all one.
With peace and love,
Ginney
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Peace Bracelets and Grab Bags
Way back in Beirut, before the Beirut Exchange program started, Ute and I created the peace bracelet. She had been to the Saifi Street Fair the previous Saturday and bought some handcrafted jewelry of silver charms. Since Ute was leaving before the next fair, she invited the artist/vendor, Silva -- who, since sectarian identity is so significant in Lebanon, is Christian Armenian -- to the hotel. Ute was playing with the charms, arranging several on the table, and I joined her to create a peace bracelet. We found a crescent for Islam, a Christian cross, a 60's-era peace symbol, the Lebanese Cedar with a heart cutout (to remember the bracelet's genesis, and our meeting in Beirut), and a spiral-inscribed palm-up hand for Buddhism. I wasn't thinking when I asked loudly, do you have a Jewish star? Silva jolted to attention, and I quickly realized my faux pas, which in another location could have potentially endangered my life. One is barred from entering Lebanon if there is evidence in one's passport of having been to Israel next door. It would be impossible for Silva to have such an item in her inventory at a Lebanese street fair. I felt foolish and was grateful I was in a safe environment. We started to refer to my requested object as "nejmeh", the Arabic word for star, and carefully discussed what it should look like to compliment the other charms. Silva said she thought she could have it made and delivered to us with the completed bracelet. Ute and I ordered identical peace bracelets and loved the idea that we'd be wearing them in different parts of the (albeit Western) world.
About an hour later Ute received a call from Silva. Her craftsmen refused to make such a charm. We conferred and decided to take the incomplete bracelets anyway. We now had the challenge to complete them. We liked the idea that our peace bracelets had a "story", and that we had to collaborate to find new charms to keep them identical. We discussed the idea of seeking out multiple new charms that represented additional world religions and other images of peace.
The importance of culturally aware vigilance was heightened the next day when the Beirut Exchange started and we were given the safety briefing. Lebanon has nearly zero petty crime, but it is a zone of civil conflict and war. We were told that there is suspicion about the taking of photographs, and to always ask permission. There are a lot of military-type men on the streets. Those in green Army uniforms are respected and viewed as reliable by citizens, and better to approach than those in gray camouflage who are local cops or internal security. We were told that people would know who our group of 14 foreigners was, and to identify ourselves as students with BE if necessary.
Then we were told to pack a "grab bag". The first BE group a year earlier had come during a time of unrest, and they had to use it. It was to include our passports and other vital papers, a small bottle of water, a book (for reading at interminable checkpoint waits) a change of clothing, and an extra layer for warmth. My roommate Carolina and I did as instructed. About 12 days into the program, both of us were looking for clothing we couldn't understand how we had lost. We had forgotten about our grab bags -- and there were the missing things.
I loved Lebanon, and I was lucky that my time there was unmarked by civil unrest. It is a chaotic place in a chaotic region, and I would agree with the prevailing opinion I heard that future violence is inevitable, unfortunately. I want to return with Jim for a visit at Christmastime some year. Inshallah.
An article by Rob Nordland in today's New York Times, "Now It's a Census That Could Rip Iraq Apart" referred to the "Lebanese solution" of doing nothing in the face of severe sectarian factions vying for power in the northern Iraqi area of Kirkuk. I would love to see peace in the Middle East, but one huge obstacle to it is such strong sectarian and tribal identities willing to go to war for power.
About an hour later Ute received a call from Silva. Her craftsmen refused to make such a charm. We conferred and decided to take the incomplete bracelets anyway. We now had the challenge to complete them. We liked the idea that our peace bracelets had a "story", and that we had to collaborate to find new charms to keep them identical. We discussed the idea of seeking out multiple new charms that represented additional world religions and other images of peace.
The importance of culturally aware vigilance was heightened the next day when the Beirut Exchange started and we were given the safety briefing. Lebanon has nearly zero petty crime, but it is a zone of civil conflict and war. We were told that there is suspicion about the taking of photographs, and to always ask permission. There are a lot of military-type men on the streets. Those in green Army uniforms are respected and viewed as reliable by citizens, and better to approach than those in gray camouflage who are local cops or internal security. We were told that people would know who our group of 14 foreigners was, and to identify ourselves as students with BE if necessary.
Then we were told to pack a "grab bag". The first BE group a year earlier had come during a time of unrest, and they had to use it. It was to include our passports and other vital papers, a small bottle of water, a book (for reading at interminable checkpoint waits) a change of clothing, and an extra layer for warmth. My roommate Carolina and I did as instructed. About 12 days into the program, both of us were looking for clothing we couldn't understand how we had lost. We had forgotten about our grab bags -- and there were the missing things.
I loved Lebanon, and I was lucky that my time there was unmarked by civil unrest. It is a chaotic place in a chaotic region, and I would agree with the prevailing opinion I heard that future violence is inevitable, unfortunately. I want to return with Jim for a visit at Christmastime some year. Inshallah.
An article by Rob Nordland in today's New York Times, "Now It's a Census That Could Rip Iraq Apart" referred to the "Lebanese solution" of doing nothing in the face of severe sectarian factions vying for power in the northern Iraqi area of Kirkuk. I would love to see peace in the Middle East, but one huge obstacle to it is such strong sectarian and tribal identities willing to go to war for power.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Fast Friendships, Inshallah
We arrived back at Hotel Longchamps in Cairo around noon on Friday 3 July. Sondos sent a taxi to take us to her family home that night -- which is the Muslim equivalent of Saturday night. It is maybe 10 miles from Zamalek , but the traffic is so bad it took 45 minutes to get there. This suburb was built in the 60s and central Cairo has grown out to meet it. There are big wide boulevards with large median strips, and parallel access streets along side. Large facades of 8-10 story buildings line the frontage streets, and our driver pointed out the correct address. We walked in and the doorman accompanied us in the elevator to the floor he selected. All the lights were off in the hallway as we stepped out of the elevator. He fumbled around a bit and then knocked on a door. We were hoping we got the building right, and that Sondos' last name was the same as her family. It was the right door.
I mentioned the Middle Eastern formal interior design aesthetic among the upper middle class after visiting homes in Beirut. It is Louis IV inspired, and Sondos ' family home is decorated in the same vein, however, her mother has added a lot of wonderful twists of bright color and interesting pattern in her rugs and lamp shades. The typical layout is a great room with a dining section, two seating areas, and in this case a home office area as well.
Sondos had prevailed on her whole busy family, plus her fiance, to be present -- her younger brothers even managed to say hello to us and pose for pictures before they were off to their own events. Her lively maternal grandmother and I kidded non-verbally with each other, since we didn't speak a common tongue. She "dared" me to tackle the universal gym at one end of their large balcony, after which I defeated her at arm wrestling.
Sondo's parents are educated vibrant people. Her father is a book publisher, and her mother a college professor with a Ph.D in communications. Middle Eastern hospitality -- we've seen this with our own American friends from the Middle East too, is lavish. It is easy to fill up on all that is offered, long before sitting down to dinner, and if you have a sweet tooth you are sunk, between the juices, fruits, candy, and sweet honeyed pastries.
I was surprised at the revealing depth of our conversations with Egyptian friends because they are all new friendships -- mostly begun online. We quickly moved into meaningful discussions about politics, religion, and our cultural experiences. It was refreshing to be objects of interest. Jim and I have noticed over the years, that frequently we will meet new people who do not ask us a single question about ourselves. That can be true with family members too. Here, our Egyptian friends, Sondos, Mustafa and their families and friends were very interested in our views on American politics, their Muslim religion, our own faith lives and particularly the subject of democracy.
We were served another Egyptian favorite, fiteer. Starting with a wonderful lemon broth vegetable soup we then dug into plates with slices of both savory and sweet filled fiteer, which are layers of stuffed pastry. Apparently fiteer is challenging to make -- the dough gets shaped by being tossed into the air -- and challenging to the waistline as well. I loved it.
After dinner they threw open the double doors to their huge balcony facing the broad street below. It was cool and comfortable and we all went out and just visited and hung out. We felt so welcome. There was no music, no television, nothing more then their undivided attention and rich conversation as we shared our lives and tea and sweets.
Sondos, her sister and their mother all dress with a flair. Her mother, Manar, pulled out a new hijab -- my guess is she bought it for herself -- and they proceeded to teach me how to wrap it. I am always game to wear local dress -- last summer when Jim and I went to Bangladesh-in-the-Bronx, I wore the sari my friends dressed me in on the three-train subway ride back to Manhattan. So, I wore the beautiful mauve hijab Sondos and Marwa pinned on me. It worked well with the olive green I was wearing. They all agreed that I looked younger -- a refreshing description, since in student situations, I'm usually the oldest person in the room by a long shot. They probably had a point since the gray in my hair and my 57 year old neck were both covered. Their compliments, however, did not appeal to my vanity enough to get me to accessorize with a hijab. Walking around in 100+ degree heat for days, I had continually wondered if it wasn't stiflingly hot to dress so modestly, although I saw the wisdom of protecting one's skin from the sun. The women all agreed that they are used to their wardrobes in the heat. They will not have the sun damage I do from spending pre-sunscreen days as a teenager on Southern California beaches. As we left, Manar handed me another new brown scarf, shot through with silver -- exactly what I would have bought for myself. I have already worn it a bunch and love it, and the memory of that evening. She gave me two books she wrote on cognitive response to media. I plan to take Arabic lessons, and will use them for practice when I get proficient enough to read. It was easy to feel like we had known our Egyptian friends for a long time. I hope we can convince them to visit us in California at some point. Inshallah.
I mentioned the Middle Eastern formal interior design aesthetic among the upper middle class after visiting homes in Beirut. It is Louis IV inspired, and Sondos ' family home is decorated in the same vein, however, her mother has added a lot of wonderful twists of bright color and interesting pattern in her rugs and lamp shades. The typical layout is a great room with a dining section, two seating areas, and in this case a home office area as well.
Sondos had prevailed on her whole busy family, plus her fiance, to be present -- her younger brothers even managed to say hello to us and pose for pictures before they were off to their own events. Her lively maternal grandmother and I kidded non-verbally with each other, since we didn't speak a common tongue. She "dared" me to tackle the universal gym at one end of their large balcony, after which I defeated her at arm wrestling.
Sondo's parents are educated vibrant people. Her father is a book publisher, and her mother a college professor with a Ph.D in communications. Middle Eastern hospitality -- we've seen this with our own American friends from the Middle East too, is lavish. It is easy to fill up on all that is offered, long before sitting down to dinner, and if you have a sweet tooth you are sunk, between the juices, fruits, candy, and sweet honeyed pastries.
I was surprised at the revealing depth of our conversations with Egyptian friends because they are all new friendships -- mostly begun online. We quickly moved into meaningful discussions about politics, religion, and our cultural experiences. It was refreshing to be objects of interest. Jim and I have noticed over the years, that frequently we will meet new people who do not ask us a single question about ourselves. That can be true with family members too. Here, our Egyptian friends, Sondos, Mustafa and their families and friends were very interested in our views on American politics, their Muslim religion, our own faith lives and particularly the subject of democracy.
We were served another Egyptian favorite, fiteer. Starting with a wonderful lemon broth vegetable soup we then dug into plates with slices of both savory and sweet filled fiteer, which are layers of stuffed pastry. Apparently fiteer is challenging to make -- the dough gets shaped by being tossed into the air -- and challenging to the waistline as well. I loved it.
After dinner they threw open the double doors to their huge balcony facing the broad street below. It was cool and comfortable and we all went out and just visited and hung out. We felt so welcome. There was no music, no television, nothing more then their undivided attention and rich conversation as we shared our lives and tea and sweets.
Sondos, her sister and their mother all dress with a flair. Her mother, Manar, pulled out a new hijab -- my guess is she bought it for herself -- and they proceeded to teach me how to wrap it. I am always game to wear local dress -- last summer when Jim and I went to Bangladesh-in-the-Bronx, I wore the sari my friends dressed me in on the three-train subway ride back to Manhattan. So, I wore the beautiful mauve hijab Sondos and Marwa pinned on me. It worked well with the olive green I was wearing. They all agreed that I looked younger -- a refreshing description, since in student situations, I'm usually the oldest person in the room by a long shot. They probably had a point since the gray in my hair and my 57 year old neck were both covered. Their compliments, however, did not appeal to my vanity enough to get me to accessorize with a hijab. Walking around in 100+ degree heat for days, I had continually wondered if it wasn't stiflingly hot to dress so modestly, although I saw the wisdom of protecting one's skin from the sun. The women all agreed that they are used to their wardrobes in the heat. They will not have the sun damage I do from spending pre-sunscreen days as a teenager on Southern California beaches. As we left, Manar handed me another new brown scarf, shot through with silver -- exactly what I would have bought for myself. I have already worn it a bunch and love it, and the memory of that evening. She gave me two books she wrote on cognitive response to media. I plan to take Arabic lessons, and will use them for practice when I get proficient enough to read. It was easy to feel like we had known our Egyptian friends for a long time. I hope we can convince them to visit us in California at some point. Inshallah.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tombs, Touts and Art School
There are a few more stories to tell from this trip. I've been back in the US for more than 2 weeks and have even taken another trip in between. All that travel finally overwhelmed my immune system and I'm battling a sinus infection and a cold. Here are a few more stories. Keep reading the blog. I'll let you know when the last "bag" appears on the conveyor belt.
On our last full day in Luxor, Thursday 2 July, Mamdouth arrived at 9 AM to take us to the Valley of the Kings. We knew we'd be out late with AbdulMawgoud the night before, so we didn't start at a more comfortably temperate 7 AM. The tout situation at the Valley of the Kings is as bad as at the pyramids, but it does not diminish the value of seeing the kings' tombs. The peddler problem, however, is tedious and we became progressively more critical of the government's allowing of it. We don't blame the vendors/beggars because it is their only way of surviving, so we play along with the best humor we can maintain.
AbdulMawgoud had relayed a recent statistic, that this summer's tourism on a scale of 1-10 is at minus 3. That means each tourist has to generate income normally generated by 3. The Egyptians really hustle, but they have a sense of pride and are aware of our wealth vs their vulnerability. Walking down to the public ferry after midnight for a 2 EP ride, a private motor boat driver appealed to us to take his boat for 5 EP (less than $1). It wasn't an unreasonable offer. The ferry is probably a government run enterprise, and the boatman needs to make a living too. As Jim said, however, getting into some one's boat after midnight to cross the Nile in the dark might cost a lot more than 5 EP -- remember the total cost of our carriage ride with "Jusef"! :-) More than once, when we have rejected their appeals with a slight edge of irritation, saying "laa, laa, laa (no, no, no)", they chide us..."one no is enough". We have carefully tried to respond to their plight with dignity. Imagine how we look walking around their town, blending with few other tourists , tall white people in clean, Western clothing, one carrying a huge orange purse they just know is full of money! We are well qualified prospects.
Back to the Valley of the Kings. The desert valley is barren without a single stem of plant life in the ochre sand. It is orders of magnitude more desolately barren than the Sonoran Desert with its blooming cacti, in Arizona where my mother grew up. The Egyptian royal tombs are open on a rotating basis to preserve them from the sweat and breath of visitors. We entered four of them, numbered in order of their discovery: Rameses 14 - tomb 2, ThutmoseIII - tomb 34, Horemheb - tomb 57, and Tutankamun, tomb 62. They are breathtaking, well preserved, and richly and densely covered with illustrations of The Book of the Dead, and other texts, in situ right before our eyes! King Tut's bones, sans mummy swaddling, were on view in his tomb -- getting ready, we were told, to leave soon for a road show. One beauty of traveling off-season is the lack of crowds. Those tombs would be stiflingly claustrophobic if loaded with tourists. Instead, we had the hot dry heat. To get to Tuthmose III's tomb we had to climb stairs and walk down into the tomb, which was humid and hot. Emerging back up out of the tomb, glazed in sweat, we actually felt cool(er) in the 100-degree breeze.
Those four tombs, in that weather, sated our curiosity, although the valleys of the queens and workers are also supposed to be worth the trip. Mamdouth has a friend who works at the alabaster factories along the road to the antiquities. Playing the commission pyramid scheme game, we insisted we stop at the appropriate shop. After much haggling, we bought a large alabaster bowl that we hoped would fit in the overhead compartments of our multiple upcoming plane trips. After a perfect lunch of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, Feta cheese and the other half of our watermelon at the hotel, we napped in the AC to ride the afternoon out.
That evening, AbdulMawgoud took us to visit the Luxor Fine Arts College. His daughter, Taqwa, was with us as translator, although most all young Egyptians I've encountered speak passable English, to my non-existent Arabic. The school felt like all art schools, although Cal OSHA (Occupational Safety Health Admin) would have shut the place down -- little ventilation, lots of solvent fumes. We arrived around 7:30 pm. It was still hot, and everyone was cramming to finish work for grading in 2 days. This was my only chance the entire trip to engage with artists, and I loved touring the school, especially when it was such a pulsing hive of activity. Their work was similar to undergrad work at SJSU, and their canteen had the same food -- soda and junk food.
We then went to dinner at an unfortunately turistic restaurant on the Nile with AbdulMawgoud and his daughters. It sounded like a good idea to sit outside, but it was hot and the idling floating hotel cruise ships tied on the quay spewed diesel fumes into the air. We paid US prices for mediocre food. But the company was perfect.
Abrar gave us a poignant account of her experience of September 11, 2001. She was a hijab-wearing (muhajaba) 8th grader who lost her sense of security along with the rest of the US. The entire experience in Pittsburgh terrified her -- because the plane that crashed in Shanksville, PA was quiet close, and for some time there was fear of another headed their way. In one definitive disaster, Abrar went from a happy-go-lucky native born normal American kid to an Arab-American, to whom people, including friends, were unfriendly and cruel, for reasons she didn't understand. Until that point, she had not seen herself as any different. After 9/11, she had to learn about her ancestral culture so that she could defend herself against some disgusting discrimination.
AbdulMawgoud and his family will be returning to Minnesota in August. The girls, Taqwa and Abrar, and Jim and I are lobbying for their whole family to take a road trip to California for Christmas. Insha'Allah.
On our last full day in Luxor, Thursday 2 July, Mamdouth arrived at 9 AM to take us to the Valley of the Kings. We knew we'd be out late with AbdulMawgoud the night before, so we didn't start at a more comfortably temperate 7 AM. The tout situation at the Valley of the Kings is as bad as at the pyramids, but it does not diminish the value of seeing the kings' tombs. The peddler problem, however, is tedious and we became progressively more critical of the government's allowing of it. We don't blame the vendors/beggars because it is their only way of surviving, so we play along with the best humor we can maintain.
AbdulMawgoud had relayed a recent statistic, that this summer's tourism on a scale of 1-10 is at minus 3. That means each tourist has to generate income normally generated by 3. The Egyptians really hustle, but they have a sense of pride and are aware of our wealth vs their vulnerability. Walking down to the public ferry after midnight for a 2 EP ride, a private motor boat driver appealed to us to take his boat for 5 EP (less than $1). It wasn't an unreasonable offer. The ferry is probably a government run enterprise, and the boatman needs to make a living too. As Jim said, however, getting into some one's boat after midnight to cross the Nile in the dark might cost a lot more than 5 EP -- remember the total cost of our carriage ride with "Jusef"! :-) More than once, when we have rejected their appeals with a slight edge of irritation, saying "laa, laa, laa (no, no, no)", they chide us..."one no is enough". We have carefully tried to respond to their plight with dignity. Imagine how we look walking around their town, blending with few other tourists , tall white people in clean, Western clothing, one carrying a huge orange purse they just know is full of money! We are well qualified prospects.
Back to the Valley of the Kings. The desert valley is barren without a single stem of plant life in the ochre sand. It is orders of magnitude more desolately barren than the Sonoran Desert with its blooming cacti, in Arizona where my mother grew up. The Egyptian royal tombs are open on a rotating basis to preserve them from the sweat and breath of visitors. We entered four of them, numbered in order of their discovery: Rameses 14 - tomb 2, ThutmoseIII - tomb 34, Horemheb - tomb 57, and Tutankamun, tomb 62. They are breathtaking, well preserved, and richly and densely covered with illustrations of The Book of the Dead, and other texts, in situ right before our eyes! King Tut's bones, sans mummy swaddling, were on view in his tomb -- getting ready, we were told, to leave soon for a road show. One beauty of traveling off-season is the lack of crowds. Those tombs would be stiflingly claustrophobic if loaded with tourists. Instead, we had the hot dry heat. To get to Tuthmose III's tomb we had to climb stairs and walk down into the tomb, which was humid and hot. Emerging back up out of the tomb, glazed in sweat, we actually felt cool(er) in the 100-degree breeze.
Those four tombs, in that weather, sated our curiosity, although the valleys of the queens and workers are also supposed to be worth the trip. Mamdouth has a friend who works at the alabaster factories along the road to the antiquities. Playing the commission pyramid scheme game, we insisted we stop at the appropriate shop. After much haggling, we bought a large alabaster bowl that we hoped would fit in the overhead compartments of our multiple upcoming plane trips. After a perfect lunch of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, Feta cheese and the other half of our watermelon at the hotel, we napped in the AC to ride the afternoon out.
That evening, AbdulMawgoud took us to visit the Luxor Fine Arts College. His daughter, Taqwa, was with us as translator, although most all young Egyptians I've encountered speak passable English, to my non-existent Arabic. The school felt like all art schools, although Cal OSHA (Occupational Safety Health Admin) would have shut the place down -- little ventilation, lots of solvent fumes. We arrived around 7:30 pm. It was still hot, and everyone was cramming to finish work for grading in 2 days. This was my only chance the entire trip to engage with artists, and I loved touring the school, especially when it was such a pulsing hive of activity. Their work was similar to undergrad work at SJSU, and their canteen had the same food -- soda and junk food.
We then went to dinner at an unfortunately turistic restaurant on the Nile with AbdulMawgoud and his daughters. It sounded like a good idea to sit outside, but it was hot and the idling floating hotel cruise ships tied on the quay spewed diesel fumes into the air. We paid US prices for mediocre food. But the company was perfect.
Abrar gave us a poignant account of her experience of September 11, 2001. She was a hijab-wearing (muhajaba) 8th grader who lost her sense of security along with the rest of the US. The entire experience in Pittsburgh terrified her -- because the plane that crashed in Shanksville, PA was quiet close, and for some time there was fear of another headed their way. In one definitive disaster, Abrar went from a happy-go-lucky native born normal American kid to an Arab-American, to whom people, including friends, were unfriendly and cruel, for reasons she didn't understand. Until that point, she had not seen herself as any different. After 9/11, she had to learn about her ancestral culture so that she could defend herself against some disgusting discrimination.
AbdulMawgoud and his family will be returning to Minnesota in August. The girls, Taqwa and Abrar, and Jim and I are lobbying for their whole family to take a road trip to California for Christmas. Insha'Allah.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
AbdulMawgoud, Pied Piper
2 July.
There was a breeze on Wednesday night (1 July), and the felucca's sails caught enough wind to move upstream slightly faster than the current. AbdulMawgoud was like a snowball rolling down hill, his gathering of people growing every moment. This felucca ride included the young American Arabic students from the prior night, the Fulbrighters and four young teachers from a neighboring town whom they had met with that day, and us. We overflowed the boat, and the water authorities saw an opportunity for baksheesh, so came after us in a Zodiac. Our captain paid them off.
I've concluded that AbdulMawgoud arranged the felucca rides for two reasons. First, they are iconic and a good way to enjoy the Nile, but also because he likes to pray at sunset on the water. The felucca was run aground a small island at prayer time and a group got off and prayed.
Back at the dock, we piled off the felucca and walked as a group on the Corniche along the water. AbdulMawgoud said that the authorities might assume we were an unlawful assembly, which is another way the government controls the people. He told us to keep walking and he jumped into to his parked ochre colored, 1980s vintage Mercedes sedan, which Jacqueline (also known as Jacq-leen as they call her here, and my former professor who introduced me to AbdulMawgoud in the first place) named "the gift" (I'd love to tie it with a huge red bow -- the contrast with its paint color would be so wonderful!). Driving a few blocks, he commandeered a couple of public microbuses to drive us all to a party on his roof deck near the Karnak Temple.
There were his wife and daughters and her sisters who had been cooking all day, and even more family and guests. We had a Kocherie party -- the typical Egyptian pasta/rice dish we had shared with Sondos and Ahmed. AbdulMawgoud's Egyptian-American children are poised and lovely. His daughter Abrar spoke movingly about enjoying her second home in Egypt, and his young son led a song in English about the blessing of being Muslim. Other young female guests sang an Arabic pop song, helped along by AbdulMawgoud's brother. It was a warm intimate multigenerational family party, to which all of us American visitors were invited.
It was after midnight when we headed back to the ferry in a bus. Children were playing; families were sitting on the park grass as though it were noon on a Sunday. As we walked to the ferry landing, one beautiful young preteen girl was chasing a big yellow balloon that was bouncing along in the wind. We stopped it, and she looked at us and said "merci". The hot wind was welcome because it was cooling, but it carried a lot of pollution and desert dust and made my eyes burn.
There was a breeze on Wednesday night (1 July), and the felucca's sails caught enough wind to move upstream slightly faster than the current. AbdulMawgoud was like a snowball rolling down hill, his gathering of people growing every moment. This felucca ride included the young American Arabic students from the prior night, the Fulbrighters and four young teachers from a neighboring town whom they had met with that day, and us. We overflowed the boat, and the water authorities saw an opportunity for baksheesh, so came after us in a Zodiac. Our captain paid them off.
I've concluded that AbdulMawgoud arranged the felucca rides for two reasons. First, they are iconic and a good way to enjoy the Nile, but also because he likes to pray at sunset on the water. The felucca was run aground a small island at prayer time and a group got off and prayed.
Back at the dock, we piled off the felucca and walked as a group on the Corniche along the water. AbdulMawgoud said that the authorities might assume we were an unlawful assembly, which is another way the government controls the people. He told us to keep walking and he jumped into to his parked ochre colored, 1980s vintage Mercedes sedan, which Jacqueline (also known as Jacq-leen as they call her here, and my former professor who introduced me to AbdulMawgoud in the first place) named "the gift" (I'd love to tie it with a huge red bow -- the contrast with its paint color would be so wonderful!). Driving a few blocks, he commandeered a couple of public microbuses to drive us all to a party on his roof deck near the Karnak Temple.
There were his wife and daughters and her sisters who had been cooking all day, and even more family and guests. We had a Kocherie party -- the typical Egyptian pasta/rice dish we had shared with Sondos and Ahmed. AbdulMawgoud's Egyptian-American children are poised and lovely. His daughter Abrar spoke movingly about enjoying her second home in Egypt, and his young son led a song in English about the blessing of being Muslim. Other young female guests sang an Arabic pop song, helped along by AbdulMawgoud's brother. It was a warm intimate multigenerational family party, to which all of us American visitors were invited.
It was after midnight when we headed back to the ferry in a bus. Children were playing; families were sitting on the park grass as though it were noon on a Sunday. As we walked to the ferry landing, one beautiful young preteen girl was chasing a big yellow balloon that was bouncing along in the wind. We stopped it, and she looked at us and said "merci". The hot wind was welcome because it was cooling, but it carried a lot of pollution and desert dust and made my eyes burn.
TT Economics
2 July.
We are staying on the west bank of the Nile River, opposite the town of Luxor where the tourist infrastructure is. Jacqueline stayed here, in the Amon Hotel and recommended it to us. We like it, but it requires a willingness to walk through the somewhat rough village to get to the ferry across the river. The other option is to take a taxi, traveling about 15 minutes up river to cross a bridge then back down to reach Luxor. The ferry takes 10 minutes, but the total time is about the same by the time we walk to it, sit on it until it fills and then sails. Jim and I love ferries, and it is a pleasurable commute which we share with a cross section of locals. It costs 1 EP per person each way, about 18 cents. The hotel is quite new, comfortable and spacious, and quiet. We hear a braying mule, wild turkeys and birds. It is centered on a lovely garden, but in this 100-105 degree heat, we retreat to the AC. In season it would be nice, it has ceiling fans and window screens -- our normal preference for climate control. The outdoor dining room also has ceiling fans, which didn't prevent butter from liquifying in its container. No one is around this off season. The staff makes us food whenever we want it -- we didn't make it to breakfast today until 11:30.
It was our laziest day ever. We joke about typically being out by the "crack of noon", when we are on vacation. We crossed the river, arriving in Luxor at 3pm yesterday. We headed for the Luxor Museum, a 5 minute walk from the ferry stop.
All tourists are keen prospects for those making their living "serving" visitors, and they all congregate on the Corniche to greet folks stepping of the floating hotels that ply the Nile between Luxor and Aswan. There are felucca sails, horse-drawn carriage rides, drinks and tchotchkes -- with scads of vendors in every category. As we stepped off the ferry, "Jusef", his tourist name, offered us an hour long carriage ride for 5 Egyptian pounds, less than one dollar. The people are very poor, but not stupid nor without pride. A face-saving way of saying no is "maybe later". Asking us where we were headed, Jusef told us the museum was closed, a common ruse the world 'round to capture a tourist for one's own uses. We walked in the 105 degree heat to the museum, to find it closed between 3-5 as Jusef had said. He had followed us, with his one-eared horse Cinderella, so we climbed in. The carriage's bimini top allowed us to cover some territory in the shade, at least.
Most of the tourist vendors speak limited English they have learned from their charges. As we've seen in other places, once a driver has you in his vehicle, he'll eventually take you where you want to go, via the retail establishments that pay him a commission. Jusef was upfront about his, telling us where he would park Cinderella, how much he would earn from taking us to the "Government Store" that was -- lucky us -- only open on Wednesdays, and where all things were 1/2 price. Since we knew the game, and it was too hot to do anything else, and the store had AC, we played along. We have a drawer of little things we've bought in similar situations over the years -- in fact as we rode behind Jusef and Cinderella, knowing we were going to be adding to the stash, I had an idea to create big sculptural book entitled TT (for tourist trap) to store the pile in. Pat and Jerry have taught us on earlier trips that even TTs can yield treasures, so we are generally game.
The Government Store was selling Egyptian images on "real" papyrus (as opposed to banana leaves). We saw a demonstration of how to make "real" papyrus, and I hung out in front of a cooling fan, and drank my "free" coke. We took our time to choose, settling on our Egyptian TT entry for 50 EP. These professionals are not to be underestimated. In their enthusiasm over our selection they steered us over to the "cartouche" section, where we chose another typical Egyptian illustration of goddess Isis (of magic) standing behind her man Osiris, god of the afterworld, which also included OUR VERY OWN names hand painted in Egyptian hieroglyphics for only 40 more EP -- which they conveniently converted for us as less than $8. Jim thought it was cool, so now our selections totaled 90 EP. You can see it coming...we were ripe for a nice little image for 10 EP more, from a selection they happened to have at the cash register. So, the TT gets 3 entries from this trip, plus the little scarab beads Jusef gave to us later. 100 EP is about $18, and Jusef earned 20 EP (less than $4, but 4x our price for the carriage ride.)
Jim and I wanted to see an old souk we'd read about in the guidebook -- it was a real market, not a TT. As we were at the whim of Jusef and Cinderella, we ended up at a souk alright, but one of his choosing. We took the opportunity to buy gifts and Jusef benefited, counseling us to also tip the assistant who wrapped our purchases. We directed Jusef to the Sheraton on the water -- Jacqueline had said to see the view of the Nile from there -- and we needed to eat something before our second sunset felucca ride with AbdulMawgoud. By now we were wise to the local schedule, and knew it would be 10pm before we ate dinner. The Sheraton was a long run for Cinderella, and Jusef was in a good mood, so had her galloping. It was 42 degrees centigrade, and I felt sorry for her, so we stopped at a closer spot, the Isis Hotel, where AbdulMawgoud was a receptionist during his undergrad days. We were the only people in the pizza restaurant at 6pm. Jusef took us back to the Corniche to meet the felucca and told us his real name, Ahmed. We gave him a $10 tip; he had a good day. So did we.
We are staying on the west bank of the Nile River, opposite the town of Luxor where the tourist infrastructure is. Jacqueline stayed here, in the Amon Hotel and recommended it to us. We like it, but it requires a willingness to walk through the somewhat rough village to get to the ferry across the river. The other option is to take a taxi, traveling about 15 minutes up river to cross a bridge then back down to reach Luxor. The ferry takes 10 minutes, but the total time is about the same by the time we walk to it, sit on it until it fills and then sails. Jim and I love ferries, and it is a pleasurable commute which we share with a cross section of locals. It costs 1 EP per person each way, about 18 cents. The hotel is quite new, comfortable and spacious, and quiet. We hear a braying mule, wild turkeys and birds. It is centered on a lovely garden, but in this 100-105 degree heat, we retreat to the AC. In season it would be nice, it has ceiling fans and window screens -- our normal preference for climate control. The outdoor dining room also has ceiling fans, which didn't prevent butter from liquifying in its container. No one is around this off season. The staff makes us food whenever we want it -- we didn't make it to breakfast today until 11:30.
It was our laziest day ever. We joke about typically being out by the "crack of noon", when we are on vacation. We crossed the river, arriving in Luxor at 3pm yesterday. We headed for the Luxor Museum, a 5 minute walk from the ferry stop.
All tourists are keen prospects for those making their living "serving" visitors, and they all congregate on the Corniche to greet folks stepping of the floating hotels that ply the Nile between Luxor and Aswan. There are felucca sails, horse-drawn carriage rides, drinks and tchotchkes -- with scads of vendors in every category. As we stepped off the ferry, "Jusef", his tourist name, offered us an hour long carriage ride for 5 Egyptian pounds, less than one dollar. The people are very poor, but not stupid nor without pride. A face-saving way of saying no is "maybe later". Asking us where we were headed, Jusef told us the museum was closed, a common ruse the world 'round to capture a tourist for one's own uses. We walked in the 105 degree heat to the museum, to find it closed between 3-5 as Jusef had said. He had followed us, with his one-eared horse Cinderella, so we climbed in. The carriage's bimini top allowed us to cover some territory in the shade, at least.
Most of the tourist vendors speak limited English they have learned from their charges. As we've seen in other places, once a driver has you in his vehicle, he'll eventually take you where you want to go, via the retail establishments that pay him a commission. Jusef was upfront about his, telling us where he would park Cinderella, how much he would earn from taking us to the "Government Store" that was -- lucky us -- only open on Wednesdays, and where all things were 1/2 price. Since we knew the game, and it was too hot to do anything else, and the store had AC, we played along. We have a drawer of little things we've bought in similar situations over the years -- in fact as we rode behind Jusef and Cinderella, knowing we were going to be adding to the stash, I had an idea to create big sculptural book entitled TT (for tourist trap) to store the pile in. Pat and Jerry have taught us on earlier trips that even TTs can yield treasures, so we are generally game.
The Government Store was selling Egyptian images on "real" papyrus (as opposed to banana leaves). We saw a demonstration of how to make "real" papyrus, and I hung out in front of a cooling fan, and drank my "free" coke. We took our time to choose, settling on our Egyptian TT entry for 50 EP. These professionals are not to be underestimated. In their enthusiasm over our selection they steered us over to the "cartouche" section, where we chose another typical Egyptian illustration of goddess Isis (of magic) standing behind her man Osiris, god of the afterworld, which also included OUR VERY OWN names hand painted in Egyptian hieroglyphics for only 40 more EP -- which they conveniently converted for us as less than $8. Jim thought it was cool, so now our selections totaled 90 EP. You can see it coming...we were ripe for a nice little image for 10 EP more, from a selection they happened to have at the cash register. So, the TT gets 3 entries from this trip, plus the little scarab beads Jusef gave to us later. 100 EP is about $18, and Jusef earned 20 EP (less than $4, but 4x our price for the carriage ride.)
Jim and I wanted to see an old souk we'd read about in the guidebook -- it was a real market, not a TT. As we were at the whim of Jusef and Cinderella, we ended up at a souk alright, but one of his choosing. We took the opportunity to buy gifts and Jusef benefited, counseling us to also tip the assistant who wrapped our purchases. We directed Jusef to the Sheraton on the water -- Jacqueline had said to see the view of the Nile from there -- and we needed to eat something before our second sunset felucca ride with AbdulMawgoud. By now we were wise to the local schedule, and knew it would be 10pm before we ate dinner. The Sheraton was a long run for Cinderella, and Jusef was in a good mood, so had her galloping. It was 42 degrees centigrade, and I felt sorry for her, so we stopped at a closer spot, the Isis Hotel, where AbdulMawgoud was a receptionist during his undergrad days. We were the only people in the pizza restaurant at 6pm. Jusef took us back to the Corniche to meet the felucca and told us his real name, Ahmed. We gave him a $10 tip; he had a good day. So did we.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Luxurious Luxor
I am now posting this from the US. It is very nice to be home, whatever that means. I want to catch up on this blog -- post those things I have stored in my computer and finish capturing my memories from the last days of the trip before they disappear. I was adding some Facebook friends addresses and Mustafa's friend Ahmad popped up for a chat. He was headed for his scuba diving lesson, and will scope out the great spots on the Red Sea for when we go there again. Jim is determined to dive on our next trip to Egypt.
PS. It is an urban myth that Napoleon shot off the Sphinx's nose.
30 June.
Sondos and Ahmed had joked that between my art history flash cards and our guidebooks we were the more capable guides. They saw things anew through our "strangers" eyes. We craned our necks at the cyclist balancing a 3 x 5 foot pallet of baked pita pillows (before they deflate into cello-bagged pancakes we find at Trader Joe's) as he pedaled along the traffic choked Sharia 26 July in Zamalek, and again at the entire family of four squished on a small motorbike in Luxor.
After rising in Cairo at 5am, we hid from the heat, slept and read our first afternoon in Luxor. At a still roasting 5:30 pm, we crossed the Nile to meet AbdulMawgoud, his wife Nadia, their daughter Abrar, and two of Nadia's sisters for a sunset felucca sail on the river. Google "felucca" for an image of the picturesque old style sailboat.
We had been waiting to meet AbdulMawgoud's family. We are fond of him, but had only seen him on his trips to the Bay Area. He played hard to get, making us travel all the way to Luxor to finally meet the rest of the family. He is a university professor in Egypt who lives between there and the US, where his wife and six children live and work. She and four of the kids are in Luxor for the summer. His daughter Taqwa, a junior in college, was walking in town and smiled at a bunch of tourists, mostly hijab wearing women. They were a diverse group of about six Americans, with ancestries from Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Vietnam -- and Colorado; all traveling prior to starting two months of Arabic classes in Cairo.
Working his mobile, Abdul Mawgoud found the kids on a nearby felucca. None of us were actually sailing on the becalmed river, we and another boat were being towed on a y-shaped line by a motor skiff, and AbdulMawgoud convinced the driver to detour and straddle alongside the students' felucca so they could clamber onto ours. The skiff dropped us at Banana Island in the center of the river, and AbdulMawgoud recruited a local 8 year old guide to lead us around the cultivated area of banana trees, a common herb, fig trees and growing corn. Then he showed off the captive crocodile whom he prodded with a stick and fed one kilo of fish a day. I was on the croc's side, and unsuccessfully lobbied for his release into the Nile. It was now sundown prayer time and all, except one of the young Americans, went into a field to pray. Watching from the boat, we could see them moving, standing kneeling and sitting. They had invited us to watch them up close, but it was too hot and buggy in that field. It was a magical adventure, assembled on the fly. With no breeze, the two young men "sailing" the felucca had to row back using long poles without blades -- just nailing a disc on the end of each of those poles would have made their job a lot easier. The kids and even Nadia's adult sister took turns oscillating the inefficient oars as we rode the current back to the dock. Afterward, walking along the Corniche, we ran into the fourteen American Fulbright scholars AbdulMawgoud has been hosting for the last two weeks. Jim and I had dinner alone with Nadia and AbdulMawgoud in a favorite restaurant of theirs, and then caught the ferry back to the west bank after midnight. We had only just met Nadia, but it felt like the four of us had been friends for a long time.
PS. It is an urban myth that Napoleon shot off the Sphinx's nose.
30 June.
Sondos and Ahmed had joked that between my art history flash cards and our guidebooks we were the more capable guides. They saw things anew through our "strangers" eyes. We craned our necks at the cyclist balancing a 3 x 5 foot pallet of baked pita pillows (before they deflate into cello-bagged pancakes we find at Trader Joe's) as he pedaled along the traffic choked Sharia 26 July in Zamalek, and again at the entire family of four squished on a small motorbike in Luxor.
After rising in Cairo at 5am, we hid from the heat, slept and read our first afternoon in Luxor. At a still roasting 5:30 pm, we crossed the Nile to meet AbdulMawgoud, his wife Nadia, their daughter Abrar, and two of Nadia's sisters for a sunset felucca sail on the river. Google "felucca" for an image of the picturesque old style sailboat.
We had been waiting to meet AbdulMawgoud's family. We are fond of him, but had only seen him on his trips to the Bay Area. He played hard to get, making us travel all the way to Luxor to finally meet the rest of the family. He is a university professor in Egypt who lives between there and the US, where his wife and six children live and work. She and four of the kids are in Luxor for the summer. His daughter Taqwa, a junior in college, was walking in town and smiled at a bunch of tourists, mostly hijab wearing women. They were a diverse group of about six Americans, with ancestries from Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Vietnam -- and Colorado; all traveling prior to starting two months of Arabic classes in Cairo.
Working his mobile, Abdul Mawgoud found the kids on a nearby felucca. None of us were actually sailing on the becalmed river, we and another boat were being towed on a y-shaped line by a motor skiff, and AbdulMawgoud convinced the driver to detour and straddle alongside the students' felucca so they could clamber onto ours. The skiff dropped us at Banana Island in the center of the river, and AbdulMawgoud recruited a local 8 year old guide to lead us around the cultivated area of banana trees, a common herb, fig trees and growing corn. Then he showed off the captive crocodile whom he prodded with a stick and fed one kilo of fish a day. I was on the croc's side, and unsuccessfully lobbied for his release into the Nile. It was now sundown prayer time and all, except one of the young Americans, went into a field to pray. Watching from the boat, we could see them moving, standing kneeling and sitting. They had invited us to watch them up close, but it was too hot and buggy in that field. It was a magical adventure, assembled on the fly. With no breeze, the two young men "sailing" the felucca had to row back using long poles without blades -- just nailing a disc on the end of each of those poles would have made their job a lot easier. The kids and even Nadia's adult sister took turns oscillating the inefficient oars as we rode the current back to the dock. Afterward, walking along the Corniche, we ran into the fourteen American Fulbright scholars AbdulMawgoud has been hosting for the last two weeks. Jim and I had dinner alone with Nadia and AbdulMawgoud in a favorite restaurant of theirs, and then caught the ferry back to the west bank after midnight. We had only just met Nadia, but it felt like the four of us had been friends for a long time.
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