i am sitting at Costa and the setting-sun has left a gloomy depressing tinge of grey outside the windows. A mix of 80's love songs and spicy-sultry tango music is playing and I’ve got FionaApple playing on repeat...It might be the melancholy overcast and chilly temperatures, but something about this weekend has made me think of Philadelphia. I really want to be in Philadelphia. My mind seems really far away from Cairo. In fact, my mind seems far away generally. Small moments of triumph in my otherwise underproductive weekend:

I ventured onto Otlob.com and had a McArabia, fries, and carmel Sunday delivered to Amanda and Ali’s door. Only in Egypt with McDonald’s deliver….

I sorted, deleted, and replied to almost 2000 emails that were clogging my gmail account and now have an empty inbox.

I reacquainted myself with Luc Poignet and Maxwell Garb, the only two protagonists I’ve written that show any promise to transform themselves into works of polish fiction.

I've added a counter to this blog so that I can be reassured people do indeed visit it and it is not merely a tool of procrastination.

Last night I tagged along with Sameh to run his errands in masrGedidah. Given the recent revelation that dating and engagement are practically interchangeable in Egypt, we were having a pretty heated little conversation of difference…amidst the conversational frenzy and, of course, the reckless drivers, we passed a routine check-point and noticed the policeman in the rear-view shouting “iowa” and flagging Sameh’s car. Sameh looked around to see what could have prompted it and then whispered, “effff… seatbelt” – “I’m the one always going wearing my seatbelt but the onnnnne time- ” he clinched his teeth and rolled down the window. His face lit up and he instantly began wordsmithing the officer, making him laugh and look mischievously to the side. The officer took his ID card and walked away for a moment. The shine in Sameh’s face faded and he started digging through his wallet … “I need money – not that much money –ah money money money” he fished into his pockets while I asked him “how much will it cost you?” and he shuffled out a few twenty and five pound notes from his pocket. “It will cost me my license,” he kept a 20note and tossed the other bills towards me, “now you keep this. OooooK,” his game face was on again. The men stood at the corner, dancing in conversation, looking from the ID card to one another to the car to the ID card... I’ve seen so many Arab men of all ages and nationalities participate in this elaborate demonstration of group negotiation so many times that I feel comfortable stereotyping the situation: If a decision must be made among the group at hand, first everyone (usually the divers of each car but sometimes all the men in the group) must exit their vehicle in order to discuss the issue in neutral territory. Preferably this area should be visible by each car and the remaining audience. Next each participant must initiate the lengthy Arabesque introductions: SalamwaAlaikum waAlaikum salam(indecipherable)Barakat…ezzayak? Akhbarak ay? Kulutamam. Enta 3ml ay? alHamdulila, alHamdulila…Following the requisite greetings, the men begin outlining the decisions to the made, this point in the conversation is characterized by contemplative glances towards each car, troubled looks at their watches, and needless scrolling through their cell phone contacts. At this point, by-standers can tell that the first possible solution has presented itself. Tasks are delegated and a few of the men begin speaking on their mobile phones (Note: their phone conversations repeat the greetings and inductions of the preceding conversation). The remaining men in the group put themselves at ease and begin light conversation of life generally. When the mobile-delegates finish their phone calls they will momentarily tangent away from the task at hand in order to acquaint themselves with these conversations. If stagnation ensues, any men remaining in the cars join the mission at the negotiation area as if they are a reserve army of decision-makers. In efficient situations, this prompts the initial decision-makers to disperse the plan to each car immediately. In a less effective situation, this prompts the greetings and introductions again and then requires a full briefing of what solutions are being considered. Eventually someone receives a phone call and the decision appears to be made. The men disperse back to their cars, save the two primary decision-makers in the negotioation, but none show any expression of triumph or clarity. Everyone waits in the cars until the two decision-makers still in the field shake one another’s hands, laugh loudly, or receive a phone call. At this point they will proudly inform everyone, yallah. I have given this distinct social practice of ‘male-domincated group negotiation’ a nifty nickname to facilitate its use in daily conversation: Comparing penis-length.

When Sameh returned to the car, he fastened his seatbelt, tucked his ID safely into his wallet, turned to me and laughed “twenty pounds.” Aaaaaaaaaah, so that’s how corruption works, I thought. “It doesn’t always work…” he said. Mmm… fil mish mish, I thought.

Two very disappointing moments of this week:

1. I feel foolish for laughing at the posh AUC students who wore peacoats and boots last week, as I am currently feening for my winter clothes packed tightly in boxes an ocean away. Forget the misconcept of a "chilly" season, it's flat out crisp by MidAtlantic standards and COLD from my southernCalifornian mentality.
2. FusHa is not only relatively useless, but theoretically impossible. In class yesterday Dr.Tonsi says, "you know when I read in Arabic there are dozens of words I don't know...this is why we have to memorize the reticles, so we can guess." Remind me again, why I should have any hope of learning Arabic when a native speaker and language teacher can't even be sure of the meanings? Bizopt! It's hopeless.

On a more uplifting note: Minor faux-pas and inevitable quirks aside, our new apartment is exactly what I had hoped for and imagined when I thought about myself living in Cairo. It is just very... right.
This weekend will be filled with homework and studying and research papers and a valliant attempt to decipher Arabic reticles and verb forms because the following adventures decorate the not-so-distant horizon:
The ancient Roman ruins at Petra. Located convinently in the Middle of Nowhere in Southern Jordan, we're plotting a visit via Nuweiba during Thansgiving break. We'll take the ferry from Nuweiba and manage dirty-backpack style to a hostel near Petra and then thank God for the cooler weather as we make a 3-mile hike into the gorgeous canyon the ruins are situated in.

A quick visit to Israel&Palestine to meet up with some AU folk and permanently taint my US passport with an Israeli stamp...Looks like Lebanon and Saudi won't be on my travel itinerary anytime soon, but the Dome of the Rock and Jerusalem will be.

The actual logistics of getting to and from these places is still a bit hazy and will undoubtedly provide hidden underestimated visa fees and very long, uncomfortable bus rides. prende la vie comme il vient... and pack lightly, i suppose.

This was one of the nicest weekends I have had in Cairo. A weekend full of firsts and new things.

The highlight, of course, a new apartment! Everything just seems more right with this apartment than the last, and it is literally a 3-minute walk from AUC campus. mmmm. high ceilings. balconies. a functioning shower and windows and floors that -inshaAllah - will remain entact. Also, the bowab is discrete and unintrusive and we have a very good repoire with the owner. I will have to work really hard about being quiet in the hallways, though, as my laughter while hauling luggage upstairs yesterday drew old Egyptian woman from their flats crying "fiii aay?" (what's going on?). It's my goal for Sasha and I to be known to our new neighbots as "those lovely American girls we never see or hear" and NOT as "those scandelous American ladies bring boys over late at night and laughing like they're drunken at 10am". Long-term life viablity in Egypt is seriously compromised by the sheer volume of my voice and laughter, a fact that I will adjust accordingly but refuse to change. Also, my bed (aka: wood frame with thin pseudo-cotton mat upon it) is awful in comparison my blissfully-comfortable bed at the AbdelHamidSaid place. Nothing an investment in a comforter can't solve.

This weekend was my first time to ride a motorcycle, but more impressively, a motorcycle on crazy cairene streets. Traffic is one of the things that makes Cairo distinctly Cairo, and even though I have already mentioned this repeatedly, I can’t pass up the opportunity to exaggerate the point again. My feelings about traffic, traffic police, and the general idea of traversing the city has been expanded since having the opportunity to maneuver through cars seated on a motorcycle, instead of safely and ignorantly in the backseat of a taksi. On a motorcycle you function both as a pedestrian and an automobile, more on that in a moment….

Unemployment is not high in Egypt, but then again, some of the “employed” people don’t seem to do much in terms of employment. Traffic police are my prime proof of this observation as they seem to stand unbeknownst of the driving no-nos and traffic pandemonium that ensues most streets of Cairo most hours of the day. My observations can be broken into three basic principles:

1. Speed is relative. It seems each driver is outfitted with their own personal speed limit depending on how fast it is possible for them to go at any given moment. Thus, while driving from Cairo to Alexandria, or any long distance from Cairo, an average of 140-180km/hr is not abnormal: Roads are straight, relatively uncrowded, and there is no reason (ie: traffic jams, police, or checkpoints) to suggest anything less than peak speed. Inner-city driving applies to this same principle, too. Many drivers I have been with seem to see any space between themselves and the car in front of them as a sign that they are not going as fast as possible. Should space be available, it must be taken. Sometimes I think space is a currency and people here are simultaneous greedy and giving. Greedy because traffic is a constant battle for space, yet giving because no one seems uncomfortable or unwilling to let other eagerly encroach upon theirs.
2. Rules are also relative and do not apply more often then they do apply. One-way streets are only one-way when it is impossible to traverse them in the prohibited direction. Traffic lights (rare) are secondary signals of when to go and when not to stop, as the ability to go is more important than if you are allowed to or not.
3. Pedestrians are crazier than drivers. I now return to the feeling of being both a pedestrian and a driver while on a motorcycle… You have the flexibility of a pedestrian to wade between cars, but the luxury of doing at a fast pace like the cars. Sidewalks are irrelevant. Pedestrians have free reign of any space not occupied by a car. In a motorcycle, the same rule applies: if you can fit, you can go. The public buses have no official stops, as far as I can tell, but instead when traffic forces them to slow down men jump to and from the doors. It is not uncommon to see a man dash between cars to hop aboard a public bus, nor for a man to appear spontaneously infront of your car, having just exited a bus mid-traffic.

Last rule: you cannot just be seen, but you must also be heard. This requires any driver to be well-versed in the multiplicity of honks used on the street. I sometimes think pedestrians should be outfitted with their own horns. Honking is not limited to cars, however, as deliverymen use wrenches to clank the tanks of milk perched on their bicycles as “horns” and the men and women who wade through traffic with large crates of balady bread upon their heads use their voice as a “horn” too.

Well, where to begin?? I think this post will be far too long for one sitting, so I’ve provided handy subtitles to facilitate re-visits in case you become bored, distracted, or short on time.

diving & theFeast. Dahab is a former Beduoin fishing village situated on the south-eastern coast of the Sinai across the Red Sea from Saudi Arabia. The town is still obviously Bedouin and seems exude the word CHILL. Even the architecture seems to whisper 'ease'. It felt sinful to be anything less than carefree and content. As one of Sinai’s most treasured diving destinations, it is no surprise that diving atDahab was excellent. The Canyon was probably the highlight, although a few moments near the surface of the Blue Hole also stand out in my mind. The Canyon is mind-blowingly beautiful! The dive begins with a 25m decent down a pseudo-tunnel (imagine: one of those glass elevators in hotels, except sides made of rock and under the sea), then you tour a gorgeous wall reef, and pop into this opening between rocks and find yourself in a HUGE open area, hence the “canyon” the site is named for, evantually popping you out at 14 meters. Amaaazzzzing. I should never have started diving, hah! This trip prompted the long-term viability of my scuba obsession of late. I am thinking about getting my own equiptment and have already researched the diving near DC. FYI: kickin’ wreck dives near Anapolis...

In Sharm I stayed with a friend-of-a-friend, Eloise. She’s Welsh and has been living in Egypt as a scuba instructor for nearly two years. She is absolutely crazy, and therefore inherently interesting and enlightening. I can’t express just how much of a pleasure it was to sit and speak sophisticated English, too!!! Using four-syllable words and idiom nearly induced linguistic orgasm.

AUCness. A series of events - utter saddness that there is no VaginaMonologues at AUC, a fabulous group project for my political economy class, overflowing class discussions -have led me to venture into AUC as if I am actually a student here and not just a girl who wanders into and out of buildings with textbooks. I have my interview for the Model United Nations council next week and have buddied up with the ladies of the Bussy Project - a feminist group on campus - with hopes of planning a pseudo-VaginaMonologues shindig later in the spring. Suprising and appreciated.

Also, I was talking with an Austian girl in my anthro class and she had the most refreshingly-jaded way of talking about travel and study. She has short spikey hair and seems always to look like she has just rolled out of bed or is coming straight from a night-long rock concert. Once in response Dr.Zaki’s inquiry about her abscent she replied in her thick Austia accent, “asifa I was in court for the day”. Nevertheless, during break from the epic 3-hour class today she was talking about how people tend to get stuck in Egypt. I laughed and said I think I currently am! After further chitchat I learned that she had previously “gotten stuck” in Columbia, Costa Rica and the greater part of the Carribbean. I love how the combination of travel and study creates such ambiguity about where you’re from or where you live or even where you are going. I was impressed by her, like Greg’s, indifference towards orthodox living and the arbitrary framework of 4-year stints in schooling, physical mailing addresses, and societal expectations (I am brave and seize any opportunity to deviate from the boring 4-year plan norm , but not this brave). Travel and study lately has brewed several mini-diatribes about politics and democracy and America and Islam and a whole slew of pseudo-intellectual thoughts. An update on those when they are more ripe.

the Talat Harb hassasment incidents.

"Hey Sash ," I called from the light-less bathroom, "what do you miss most about the States?"
"Hmmm..." she said from her bedroom, which has a floor in revolt of the glue that holds it down by the way, "being able to be secular..."
"aOaw" (<-- this is a disconcernable sound made in Egyptian Arabic that is kind of an AW and kind of an OW and entirely unpleasant sounding so matter how agreeable it is intended to sound) "...and walking down the streets without men talking to me" she continued "hah. yea" "You think i am kidding but really, I miss being able to walk around unbothered... what about you?" "privacy" "hah. yea"

And now for an unavoidable that seems to have been pretty well avoided. There was… for lack of a better phrase… a rape riot downtown the first day of Eid when I was out of town. If you want to know what "rape riot" or "harrassment incidents" means it’s a tricky situation. Arab (not just Egyptian) news media refuses to cover the ordeal from last week, and the Egyptian police have crafted a story of indifference, leaving first-hand accounts from bloggers and questionable hearsay as the only sources of information…. Neither of which cant be trusted entirely. Basically, a large group of men became angry at a movie theater downtown and proceeded to take their anger out on the cinema and then every female within a 2-block radius. The riot lasted, unabated by the police - who are always present and plenty in number - for nearly 5 hours. I don't want to write about this - perhaps I am in shock or just hopeless disgust - but please read about it for yourself if you are interested. The point is, Cairo, and perhaps Egypt or the Arab world as a whole, is a sexually frustrated society with patriarchal norms. Some event occurred within this catalyst that led to an infringement on people's safety and women’s privacy. Regardless of the extent to which it was “serious” or “normal” no one – save the Cairene elites, concerned foreigners, and independent journalists – is talking about it! Ay da?! This blogger puts my thoughts better than I can, so I'll leave it to him.

On a slightly happier note: Sasha and I move into our new apartment on Saturday morning and many exciting travels dance along the horizon.

"When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive - to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love."

Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor and exquisite philosopher, has long held a special place in my psyche for that quote alone, but after delving into some of his other tidbits this evening i am driven to share:

Adapt yourself to the things among which your lot has been cast and love sincerely the fellow creatures with whom destiny has ordained that you shall live.

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.

How much time he saves who does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks.

It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.

Look back over the past, with its changing empires that rose and fell, and you can foresee the future, too.

Men exist for the sake of one another.

Nowhere can man find a quieter or more untroubled retreat than in his own soul.

The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.

The sexual embrace can only be compared with music and with prayer.

Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.

This weekend reminded me of Thanksgiving. Usually during Thanksgiving break all my friends scatter off to be with family and I stay in the District to enjoy a few responsibility-free days of unplanned pleasure to catch up on school work and simply feel time pass. That is exactly what I’ve been doing. Thursday night I went to my friend Amirah’s house for iftar and enjoyed grilled, stuffed pigeons for the second time. While I was waiting for 3li to pick me up for Taraweeh I was sitting outside her building and an old man with an apartment on the 1^st floor leaned out his window and offered me tea. After a little persuasion and broken conversation in arabic I agreed, he disappeared into his house, returned a few minutes later and handed me a cup of well-sugared tea, wished me a happy Ramadan and disappeared back into his home. Before I left he introduced his beautiful grandchildren to me and took back the cup. It is moments like this that make me really, really love Egypt and its quirky people....

Friday I spent all day in bed flipping thru travel guides between naps. And then in the evening met up with Sameh and we chilled felucca-style on the Nile with Noura and their friend Yasser.

Today’s challenge was supposed to finding a new apartment but I failed at that. It's stressing me out, but weather is too nice and the city's atmosphere too joyful for me to genuinely feel discouraged. Perhaps after 'Eid I'll have a refreshed perspective and will to find something. On a happier note: I’ve gotten all my post-midterm textbooks and am enthusiastically nusring the academic flame that was rekindled last week. Perhaps I won't taint my transcript with mediocrity afterall, inshaAllah.

Tomorrow I leave for Dahab, in the Sinai across the gulf of Aqaba from Saudia Arabia, and I couldn't be happier. I have to work in the evening, so I won't be able to take the bus with the other divers *feigned innocent disappointment* and instead I get to be co-pilot and drive with Sameh. Hopefully a detour to Sharm elSheik or St. Catherine's Monastary will decorate the drive?

I am repeatedly impressed by AUC students ability to sit in the most incontinent of locations. It is not uncommon to have a dozen girls sitting at the foot of a stair case simply chilling, usually with sourpuss looks on their faces and cigarettes in hand. Other times, it is a girl and her boyfriend sitting just far enough a part and centered on the stair so perfectly that it is infuckingpossible to continue up the stairs without some awkward moment where you interrupt their conversation and they make you feel invasive for – heaven forbid – going to class. The quirks of AUC campus bring me an odd comfort, but should I have not been blessed with such a lazy temperament and easily-entertained sense of humor, they would inspire nothing short of insanity. Nevertheless, the first rounds of mid-term exams has passed with far better results that expected (alHamdulila) and just one nominal day of classes (as nearly all international students are leaving tonite… Greg to Palestine, Amanda and Ali to Israel and Turkey, Sasha to Lebanon and Jordan…) stands between me and Eid alFitr break. Mmmm…

Well, it has officially reached that point in the academic semester where all those brief moments of mediocrity accumulate into massive moments of anxiety. It seems midterm exams wreak the same havoc on both sides of the atlantic…luckily, the end of Ramadan brings with it the end of the Islamic calendar and a much appreciated opportunity to makes some “new years” resolutions. Returning from a lovely 8-day vacation will be like turning a whole new page. Highlights include:

A re-discovered ambition to actually engage myself in my classes and coursework at AUC.

Last week our Arabic professor gave this long shpeal about how silly it was to study Arabic unless you wanted to master the language, not just talk showyya showyya. After he finished, I realized the same idea could go for all my classes: It seems that if my academic life is a baseball game, I’ve gotten four balls at bat and walked. I now have the choice to run for home or get tagged out. Home base, baby. Unfortunately two all-nighters, a paper, two midterms, and a realllllllllllly poorly-timed quiz are between me and this hopeful dash. Which means the remainder of this post will be short and lacking in any real wit or style, heh.

Sasha and I’s strategically-improved hunt for a new apartment...

Yes, shari3 abdel 7amid said has been lovely. But we are relocating in search of something far more ideal, slightly less invasive, and overall more structurally sound. AlHamdulila. I will wish the shisha-smoking, job-lacking, patriarchial-yet-respectful men that basically live outside our apartment goodbye with light-hearted enthusiasm. The toothless and eternally grateful bowab will be genuinely missed. Unfortunately, the comedy of errors blossomed into full and total chaos as our house is literally falling apart. We have decided to be exquisitely picky about our new abode: We’re looking for a gorgeous old European-style building and spacious balcony. We will have fully-functioning appliances and light fixtures that are securely fixed to the wall. A landlord that has some appreciation for written monthly bills rather than ball-parked estimates about the water and gas. We will remain in noisy-polluted-sketchy wistr alBalady (downtown) because the ease of rolling out of bed twenty minutes before class and not being late is too good to pass up, and the local falafel and ful shops are priceless. We’re also hoping to find another place up high in the building since our air is relatively fresh up there… but maybe this time around we will find something with a fire escape, hah. I am excited to wish the tempestuous bitch of a washing machine we have and the burden of handwashing our clothes ma3salama, too.

‘Eid and the mental-emotional feast that will come with it!

I’ll be heading to Marsa 3lam for the week to enjoy the Red Sea, daily diving, and the sweet company of Sameh and the other diving folks. Sameh (who may very easily be my divine complement) has become an inexhaustible source of joy to me! He might be a 6-year old boy trapped in the body of a grown man, but he also has some moments of insight that make me doubt any perceived childishness. The best part is when we hang out we frolic in our imagination; we’ve plotted the most amazing two-year world trek from San Fransisco to Sydney that deserves an entire post of its own. Eitherway, i splurged at the AUC bookstore for a colloquial egyptian text book, really fascinating Islamic gender thoery book called "Gender Jihad" and travel guide to Morrocco (hem, hem: chere Melyn in February!), so ‘Eid will be a week of sunshine and salt water, diving both into books and under the sea, punctuated by naps, good food, and whatever else finds me.

Some photos and my best wishes to anyone who reads this.

Not exactlty sure why, but this image to me sums up what walking around downtown at night feels like.

The aforementioned team sokar&shai, imagination-syle globetrotting extrodinaires.






Ali, Amanda' flatemate, who continues to impress me everyday with her mad organizational skills and passion for STAR Women's Classes and the amazing women we are teaching from Sudan, Ethiopia, Morrocco, and Iraq. Photos of them to come soon, momkin!









The Citadel from the corniche at Alexandria. Mmmmm.










This is my flatemate Sasha. If you see her, tell her to come home, I miss her. She has made aquaintance with a sweet-talking Palestinian-Jordanian guy who holds her hostage in his company mansion in Masr Gedidah. He will be her escort to Lebanon and Jordan while I am enjoying the serenity of the Red Sea. Which is more appealing: Touring war-torn Levantine countries versus sunsets and scuba diving...why is this decision so much harder than it sounds?

I am sitting in a Chili’s in Alexandria studying for the second of a long line of mid-term exams but instead decided to take this opportunity to enlighten my beloved blog-enthusiasts. Life as of late has been overwhelming but blissful. Last week Moodi tried to express to me that two key factors to the Egyptian psyche are high emotions and religiousity. Both of have which are growing more and more apparent as Ramadan reaches is height and a intimate friendships blossom with the fabulous Egyptians I’ve met.

Ben asked me to explain to him what it is like to be in a city where people are hungrary all day, and this is my attempt to describe the idiosyncracies of Ramadan and the month-long fast that comes with it. I’ve felt weird about writing about it, as if it had to finish before I could truly start to digest it, but here’s a first stab at it, if nothing else…

[ coming soon ]

This is Moodi. He works at the hostel Sasha stayed at when she arrived and has proved to be our local life-saver, see post about the shaming of the local grochery boy. He is from a village in the Nile Delta called Mufriyya, or something similar that I can't accurately pronounce, and it is where most of the Egyptian politicans come from. He invited me to his village last week for Iftar and I met his mother, who cooked for me the most amazing food! I think I liked meeting his youngest cousin best... I forgot his name, but his dad used to smoke his water pipe allllllll the time and would have him get the coals for him, so the poor little boy has been given the life-long nickname Shisha. Adorable, no? Check out my other blog for video clips of driving thru his village. I literally just held my camera out the window, so they are very poor quality and depict nothing in particular, but you can play "Only-in-Egypt 'I Spy'" with them... bonus points if you can accurately count the coffee/shisha places or spot the horse-drawn wagons amongst city buses and taksis.

Our lovely Amanda celebrated her 21st birthday on Greg's pimp rooftop apartment last week, too. The gathering was a soooooo nice, even though I was only there for a few minutes. It was cool to see the different clusters of people we know in the same spot at once: AUC graduate students, Aladin, Walid, Ramy and the rest of the Imbaba gang, our CairoUniversity boys, several of the SCUBAdivers, and even a tolken British guy (Greg's landlords extremely attractive son) to make the event truley cosmopolitian. Perhaps the happiest moment was the two seconds after we sang "Happy Birthday" to Amanda when the Egyptians began singing it in Arabic..."Sana helwa, ya gameela, sana helwa ya gameela...". Please note, Amanda is terrifically picky and in place of a proper cake, Ali is holding a tray of peanut-buttered apples with candles in the photo.

This is a verrrrrrrry blurry picture of Karim, Osama's buddy, and his Bulgarian ladyfriend and her beautiful daughter. I'm posting this photo just because Cafe Pasqua, Osama's local favorite and where this pic was taken, makes me feel like I am back in the Davenport back at AU... They play jazzy music and have chess boards and books lying around. There's also live Arabic music at night, to ensure I am indeed still inCairo.



It's getting chilly in Cairo!! In fact, at 4am when this photo was taken, I was actually COLD! When we were learning weather-related words in Arabic this week and I responded to a question about DC weather right now with words like HOT and HUMID I realized I was forgetting that time is passing back home too... It's deep into autumn there. I'm curious if depressing DC wintertime will be missed?





These are photos of the church I teach at on Monday nights... I still trip on how beautiful and odd Coptic Cairo is everytime I go there. I repeat what I said about florescent lighting and its intricate connection to all things religious here in Egypt.... Funny phrases from my classes this past week.

"Miss Aminah - I have a problem. When you speak, you're Ds sound like Ss, your Ls sound like Rs, and I do not hear your Rs at all. Bishwaaaaaysh, min fadlik!"

Student: "So, you mean it's a modifcation of the verb" Me: "uh...I guess so?" to be continued....