grab a snickers

so my internet's been a bit slow lately... actually, all the internet around here has been a bit slow lately... in fact 70% of Egypt's internet has been severely "degraded" after an underwater fiber optic cable in the Mediterranean was severed Wednesday morning...

it took me almost an hour to get this loaded and do this post, so I'll be taking a break on it until things are back to normal. also, my email and facebook aren't loading so if anyone's tried to get a hold of me that way, you'll have to hang tight for a few.

Peace

forget about washing vegetables, this is serious

I'll have to get a picture of traffic some time soon. It's been cloudy and drizzly and not-so-conducive to photography. However, I'd like to take a break from all the talk about food and forms to discuss a serious issue. There seems to be a widespread psychological epidemic affecting Egyptian drivers today. It may be the smog. It may be the old cars. But here I'm going to argue that this obsessive compulsive honking disorder runs deeper into the urban Egyptian psyche. Just imagine...

You are out automobubbling... three lane roads packed five across... people crossing the street everywhere, car by car; they might just walk right in front of you, but you can't hit them. Because if you do, you will always be to blame... And so you honk. You honk long and often.
And it doesn't stop there.

+Suppose someone in front of you is not going fast enough, despite any, umm, how do you say..."speed limit." Just give 'em a little honk.
+Suppose you are a dirty cabdriver and there is an attractive woman on the side of the road. Why not give a little honk just to see if she looks?
+Suppose traffic has stopped at least three cars in front of you. There's no hope of you moving. You might as well lay on the horn.
+Better yet, Parliament has just let out and the guards have stopped traffic around the House (and my apartment). You know this happens nearly every weekday, and you cannot go anywhere until the guards allow you. Why not show your frustration by laying on the horn? And when traffic finally starts moving again, why not honk again to show your approval?
+And when your favorite Cairo football team wins, you'll find your best percussive instrument right in the middle of your steering wheel.
+So what happens when you're on the road all alone? Traffic has suddenly subsided leaving you with a wide open peaceful road on which to command as many lanes as you like. You haven't honked in at least 30 seconds. Your right hand is getting twitchy, sweaty with anticipation. Soon anxiety sets in. "What is my purpose? Have I become obsolete, simply sharing this wheel with Do-Nothing Lefty over there?"

It'll be ok. Go ahead, just give it a quick little beep beep. Ahhhh. That's better. And look, you've finally hit some traffic to calm you down.

...and I still got the wrong key

Just got back from the AUC Registration Egyptian Bureaucracy Expo.

"Hi, I need my health card."
"What's your first name?"
"Phillip."
"No sorry we won't have yours until noon."
"mmm, ok."

"Hi, I need to apply for my student visa."
"Ok do you have this form?"
"Well there's one in this book."
"Oh they don't accept that version. You'll need to print off this form."
"Where can I do that?"
"At the library."
"Do I need my student ID for that?"
"No. Your student ID and AUC ID are separate You need your AUC ID."
"Where can I get that?"
"The student services tent is outside."
"Hi I need an AUC ID."
"Please take a number."

"Hi, I need to use a printer."
"Do you have your login information?"
"Well here's my card."
"No you need to apply for your computer access on the 5th floor of Hill House."

"Why won't my wireless work? I just signed up for the computer code."
"Oh well you need an AUC Webmail account to use this wireless."
"Can I do that here?"
"No you'll need to do it online."
"..."

"Hi I need to finish registering for classes."
"Do you have this form?"
"Yes I've emailed it in three or for times."
"Do you have a hard copy?"
"No."
"Well you'll have to print one out."
"I'll just fill this one in by hand, thank you."

"Hi, I need a key for my apartment."
"Ok, you'll need to see Mr. Yousef on the right."
"Hi, Mr Yousef? I need a key for my apartment."
"What's your name?"
"Phillip Leslie."
"Ok you'll need to see Mr Bakhry down the hall."
"Hi, Mr Bakhry? I need a key for my apartment."
"Ok, do you have this form?"
"No..."

the apartment

Welcome to apartment 18 of 24 Hussein Hegazy St.

Inhabitants: yours truly, 7 other Americans.

Shall we?


Family/Dining room. Front door is down the hallway at the upper left.
Points of interest: Two lamps on the end table with one plug.
















Ghorfatii. Inhabitants: Me, Sherif (whose desk, bed, and closet are to the right).
Points of interest: junk already laying around, two outlets per room.


Night view from the window above my pillow. (the other two views are building sides and garbage.)

Bathroom one. (Most frequently used by myself, minus the broken shower.)
Points of interest: Dryer to the right of the toilet, hand-held bidet to the left (FRESH!).


Matbakh!
Points of interest: three big squeegees for cleaning out the kitchen and beating stray cats, ironing board?, door to fire escape and Ibn Lahab's Ill-Tempered Feline Brigade.


THE GOODS!

Sorry about the slightly out of focus photos; I'm still working on getting the hang of this camera. (Apologies for any viewing frustrations, Chris.)

Felinery vs lentilry

A flood! A flood!
It rained this morning...for not more than a couple hours. Yet, you can tell this city does not like and is not meant for rain. The drainage system consists mainly of guys with big squeegees pushing the water out to the streets. I've also decided that when it comes to water, people here have much in common with all the stray cats the roam the dumpsters and our fire escape. They made bridges with boxes across some of the really bad side streets, but for most of the big puddles they'll walk a quarter block or so to avoid, or hang off the side rails at Tahrir Sq. to avoid getting their feet wet. And this is if they decide to come outside at all. Though I don't blame anyone a bit once I notice the puddles are more brown sludge than water.

Speaking of cats though, our kitchen has a door to the fire escape. Last night I made some tea and just felt like stepping outside for a few, 1am or so. Upon opening the door I was greeted quite impolitely by three stray cats standing right at the door, the rear one hissing. I'm sure they heard me slam the door at least 6 floors up. My concern was, if they were all waiting at the door (probably after hearing me in the kitchen) why were they so offended when I opened it? ...Mangy little buggers.

Anyway, let's get back to the food. I made it through the market (Souq Mansour) somewhat successfully (with the help of a translator, who of course led me to his papyrus shop afterwards, but I got my rice and veggies so I was happy). Today's adventure was finding a pot to cook the rice in which ended in success after 20 minutes of wandering. But alas, finally some home cookin' to remind of the days of yore:














Brown lentils, veggies, 'n rice. (I suppose you'd have had to lived with me last semester to understand that this is all I ate for a semester between occasional PB&Js)
(Also, Liz & John: I forgot to take a picture of the fresh market veggies beforehand; you would've appreciated it. I'll get to it next time.)

In other news, Egypt just beat Sudan in the African Cup tournament. All the sheesha cafes were in good spirit.

Here.

Turns out this blogging deal will be a bit more difficult than expected, as the internet is a bit less than reliable and loading anything is going to take some patience.

Travel was long, including the four-hour layover on the JFK runway. (They blamed it on Boston.) I was bummed I'd forgotten my Abdel Halim cd, but luckily EgyptAir came with an all Abdel Halim station, as well as Mohammad Abdel Wahab.

I don't want to bore anyone with big general statements about Cairo, but I'll say the big city aspect is one thing getting me. People people and people. Standing, eating, smoking, drinking tea, selling, smoking, chasing buses, smoking. "Like New York City, but without white people." I'm almost used to the traffic by now. "Just close your eyes," is probably the best advice I've received on that note. Somebody was creative enough to put white lines going down all the streets for all the drivers to completely disregard.
Here it's more openly about what you can than what you should, and I mean that as a practical statement, not moral lapse or anything. For example, if you can run and jump on the back of the bus while it's moving, you've just gotten yourself a bus ride. If you can charge a tourist three times the going price of something (that still may be lower than what he'd pay back home), you've just made a satisfying transaction.

I'll get some good pictures for ya'll later. But right now this is the most important one:














Koshari...
Tasty tasty Egyptian slop. Tasty cheap Egyptian slop. Our first dinner here was at Koshari Al-Tahrir, widely recognized as the best in Cairo. Five pounds. (A little over $1.)

My Arabic as well as my roommates' Arabic (particularly our colloquial, as Egyptian is quite a bit different from standard Arabic) is like "speaking mashed potatoes," according to one hotel/restaurant owner. So I've been spending some time indoors re-learning everything I've forgotten over the past months, which is pretty much everything.

More coming regarding my apartment, flatmates, university, cooking, and hip-hop.
(This post was written yesterday, but due to internet constraints, it is being posted now. Hang tight.)
Leave comments and ask questions, eh?