I’m not sure if unconditional love exists in the Arab world. Most sub-par societal relations (especially between men and women) are mistakenly attributed to Islam, but this is one that may actually ring true. I haven’t fully gathered my thoughts on the matter, but the concept of conditionality and companionship seem intimately intertwined based on my experiences here. I base my observations from the Qu’ran, person experience, and stories from the lovely ladies in my life who have “been there and done that” along the Arab/Muslim dating scene in a particularly jaded or cynical fashion. All I can safely conclude is unconditional feelings are far more natural in a modern secular society than a society infused with one main religious dogma. Is this because humans may actually be incapable of unconditional feelings? Is this because society is more stable and predictable with conditions and expectations? Is this because conditions ensure obedient behavior? Obedience, to me, is a tricky word - along with submission and conditions. There is some point at which these words become, what D.H Lawrence would consider, anti-Life (Lawrence, a deeply spititual dude, argues there is no sin, simply things we do that limit life and things we do that enhance life). At what point does obedience to each other become dominance over one another? At what point does submission change from an act of humility to an act of idiocy? At what point do conditions terrify us out of being ourselves? These thoughts need not be entertained more than momentarily, but still seemed worth noting. I am only stuck on this “unconditional feelings” idea because I learned a new word in Arabic this week عميق, ameeq. It means ‘deep’, like deeeeeeeeeep. And I think it is these unconditional feelings (rooted somewhere deeeeeeep in our souls) that lead us to what the Greeks refered to as ‘human eudaimonia’, or human flourishing, which – no matter where you’re from or how you identify yourself – is probably the point of all our little efforts on this planet. So here’s to human flourishing and unconditional feelings and a weekend-much-needed….alHamdulila, It’s Thursday! And almost TGIF, for my readers across the Atlantic.

Although I am well passed the "withdrawl/lonliness" stage of "cultural adjustment", according to the official diagram i am currently suffering "culture shock". neat.

"culture shock" is characterized by, but as i will argue momentarily, not limited to

- homesickness - boredom - lethargy - withdrawal

- irritability - hostility toward local people - irrational anger - excessive sleeping

i am craving crisp sidewalk strolls along a logical street in some bustling, american metropolis...with the sweet sound of english whispering into my ears and the approximation of fresh air nipping at my nose.

impending due dates and mounting responsibilities can't shake the veil of boredom i view my academic days through. thoughts of european adventures and my parents visiting still spice up the day generally, though.

i torment the men who look at me while i walk down the street by staring straight back. i get offended when people talk to me in english if i speak in arabic. and i also get offended when they speak entirely in arabic or tell me my arabic is good, for no reason at all. so by process of elimination, that might mean every unfamilliar person who speaks to me in arabic or english frustrates me. at least its only the unfamiliar ones.

i am not angry (probably due to fatigue, eternal optimism, and a deeply-seated desire to not be a violent person) but i did spend 2/3 of last Thursday in bed and most of the weekend in a sedentary state, so i think that covers the rest of the bases.

so, you figure any advice offered from a culture-shock-ridden mind is bound to be the most cynical and unforgiving advice possible? thus, my readers venturing to cairo this week or next semester, take this with a very large spoonful of sugar...cairene culture shock is distinct in the following ways,

you may experience an internal conflict about the concept of Egypt being in Africa. Political instability, widespread disease, and government corruption aside, Africa (not that I’ve really experienced it or anything) represents to me a society based on something deeper. A society where people still group together by something more meaningful than political views or religious dogma. A society of people with a more enlightened appreciation for time..and earth… and a lack-of-clothing. Sometimes I think the concept of Africa simultaneously brings forth ideas of true justice and injustice. I am listening to Angelique Kido so it is possible my entire view of Africa at the moment is informed by tranquil acoustic guitar, naturalistic percussion and bluesy-folk-lyrics… the point is, any evidence that Egypt is the richest (or second richest if I have underestimated South Africa) country in Africa doesn’t seem to nudge Egypt into, I dunno, fixing what the western colonial powers effed up about its continent for anyone other than itself. Egypt, the mother of the civilization, is seeming a little more like a selfish little child.

another internal conflict you might encounter is that about clothing.

“… it’s because people like to be able to judge a person by the way they look here…. It’s not like that in the US. I mean, you could be a really religious person in America and wear a tank top.”

Indeed, the US has a unchallenged monopoly on superficiality (I think of the line from Before Sunset when Celine says, “I miss the overall happiness of people in the States, even if it’s bullshit sometimes, “How are you today? Great! Great! Have a great day!””) but at least we spare appearance or dress any judgemental superficiality. I guarantee you - give it a week, give it a month, give it an hour – you will critically ask yourself when you get dressed in the morning, “do I want to look nice today, or do I want to be respected”. But be warned, the days you opt for ugliness, an even lower level of social-worth may ensue.

[ continuation pending ]

Well, Hello, Sunday. You’ve finally crawled out of the mess of introspection, girly talk, and procrastination that decorated the weekend. In the last 12 hours, I maganged to pull together a fairly logical major-life-decisions flow chart, a critical evaluation of the possibility of Islamic states in the late 21st century using sudan, iran, and egypt as case studie, a critical review of 7th century texts detailing the shi'i versus sunni stance on legitimate succession of the caliphate, correct more than half my exams for LAMB, and pleasure write whenever I felt inclined to do so. There is indeed a God, who is indeed merciful, and may have slowed the spinning of the moon a bit for me tonight. I am slowly growing used to the idea of “painful Sunday mornings” and “alhamduilia It’s Thursday”s as opposed to the “Pancake Sundays,” and TGIF’s

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…