Seriously, Why Isn't This a Bigger Deal?
Named by more than one media outlet as the the toughest sporting event in the world, Race Across America (RAAM) is one thousand miles longer than the Tour de France.
It's completed non-stop, with minimum breaks. It's generally completed in half the time.
Just like the in Tour de France, racers push themselves to their limits, but unlike the Tour, they aren't allowed to draft (ride behind each other) and there are no regulations on when they must stop and sleep.
It's an event that can savage an athlete like no other.
And my mommy is competing this year. Tomorrow I'll be flying from Tel Aviv to Fayetteville, NC, and from Fayetteville to Oceanside, CA after that.
There's bound to be drama, emotion, exhaustion, elation, and instagram photos of the three thousand mile bicycle ride across the country. I'll be there, crewing as part of the 3000 miles to a cure team for my mom, Maria Parker.
Part of my role is to help update the race fans all over the world, so I will make sure you get updates. However, I won't be updating Packing Lust for another two weeks (Charming might, but we aren't sure yet).
Therefore, please SIGN UP for race updates here if you want to hear about the highs and lows of the race. It's going to be the experience of a lifetime for Maria and the crew.
Here's Maria talking about her secret weapon - her Vendetta Cruzbike.
Jordan: Amman and Petra
I was reminiscing recently about how fun our 2013 trip to Jordan was. Then I looked here on the blog and found nothing. I remember blogging the trip, so that means the post must have disappeared when I changed blogging platforms later that year. What a shame.
Here we are two years later on May 1, 2015. I'm going to backdate this to May 1, 2013 since I know our trip to Amman and Petra, Jordan happened around that time. It'll be interesting to see what details I remember (or misremember) two years later. I don't think I'll remember much so this post will mostly be photos taken by Prince Charming.
In some of the photos (like the one above taken in Amman) I appear to be bursting with Spring-induced ebullience. That was probably true, but it was also true that I'd recently been inspired by this photo series to dance in as many photographs as possible. Thus the leaping, the arabesques, and the generally whimsical feel of many of these pictures, like this one:
We took this trip with Prince Charming's dear friend Eric:
Amman
One of the first places we went was the lovingly restored ancient Roman Amphitheater in Amman. Although it was built over 2000 years ago, the acoustics are so good you can hear everyone on the "stage" from the very top row. I remember that it was funny to sit in the seats and hear everything uttered by every tourist who wandered in the front entrance. We also tested the acoustics by reciting some Shakespeare. ("To be or not to be...")
Next we went to see some ruins. Hold a moment while I try to find out the name of the ruins.
Okay, got it. The area is called the Citadel. Wikipedia says:
The Amman Citadel is a national historic site at the center of downtown Amman, Jordan. Known in Arabic as Jabal al-Qal'a, (جبل القلعة), the L-shaped hill is one of the seven jabals that originally made up Amman. Evidence of occupation since the potteryNeolithic period[1] has been found, making it among the world's oldest continuously inhabited places.
The Citadel is considered an important site because it has had a long history of occupation by many great civilizations
Petra
After 1 or 2 days in Amman, we went to Petra for a day and a night. Wow. Two years later, that visit stands out as one of favorite my travel experiences of all time.
After the trip I went back to Ramallah, Palestine and Eric and Charming continued on together to visit Beirut, Lebanon.
Bulldozer on the Beach
Also, a real live Scot.
So with two Americans in the front, a Scottish lass named Kate, and a Palestinian habibti in the back, we set off for a beach we'd never been to called Herzaliya.
Now, normally, I'm prepared with my realism and slight cynicism about traveling to and fro between Palestine and Israel. It's always hard. We always get lost. There's always traffic. Checkpoints suck. Blah, blah, blah.
But lately, things have been easier. We've been making local friends who've helped us through the more difficult parts of life here. We sort of know where things are, and when we need to avoid certain checkpoints. It's about time, since we are just a few months away from the one year mark.
So as we rolled up to the checkpoint, I made a swaggering comment about how I'd bet money that the guard would just wave us through. I was willing to put money on it. Seriously.
No ma'am. They asked for all our paperwork, and our Palestinian friend pulled out her I.D. and her special card from the UN giving her permission to enter Israel.
Holding our passports hostage, they told us to pull the car over, and open its cavities.
Then we had to get out, and put our bags through the x-ray machine. We had to pull out water bottles and for some reason, our Kindles had to get scanned multiple times.
Then they pulled aside our Palestinian friend to get her alone to interrogate her. In the end, they told her she couldn't pass through this checkpoint.
What was so frustrating for me is that I'm pretty good at negotiating with the teenagers who run the entry points to Israel. (Yes, it helps that I'm a white American female.) I realize that negotiating with teenagers is always a delicate and unpredictable process. And I'm aware that negotiating with teenagers who are CARRYING FIREARMS is a delicate, unpredictable, and dangerous endeavor. However, I've done it before. with success and the help of an adorable puppy.
So I asked the soldiers what was up, and where our friend could get the information that said she couldn't pass. Turns out, she needed to find out from the DCO (which stands for District Control Office or something) to find out which checkpoints she is able to pass through. At that point, I was thinking of trying the puppy method, which I'm pretty sure would have worked.
However, as I talked to the guards, the other members of my party were giving me "let's get out of here," looks, so I didn't continue to negotiate with the guards. However, I think that, given another year of experience here, I will have the confidence to negotiate more effectively with the guards. It's all about confidence, whiteness, and having a few phone numbers of U.N. representatives in one's pocket. We seriously needed to get to the beach, and I was and will be willing to negotiate with armed and brainwashed teenagers both now and in the future.
But the story doesn’t end there. We turned around and drove maybe three more hours, getting lost and irritated as our planned time in the sun dwindled. We finally made it to another checkpoint where we had to get out again, and went through the same x-ray process, right down to having to scan our Kindles twice.
This time, they let all of us through.
But then we got lost again. Charming simply gave up, his foot cramping from driving so long. Our normally bubbly and outgoing Palestinian friend felt so humiliated that she stopped talking. That left me and Kate to figure out how to get to the beach. We pulled over, and thankfully, Kate offered to ask some nearby people for help.
They gave us directions, which matched Charming's suddenly operating phone GPS directions.
We finally made it to Herzeliya beach, with just a few hours left to enjoy.
But we did enjoy them, filling up on sushi overlooking a marina.
Seriously.
This was a huge beach, and the bulldozer was just a few feet away. You can see from my body language how pissed off I am.
(Charming has decided to appear photographically on this blog. I'm so happy! This is a rather mundane photo for him to be making his first appearance in, but I'll try to add more shots that show his good looks later.)
But this was Israel, where if someone wants to plant a pole on the beach on Sunday afternoon, they are going to do it.
And fly a kite.
2012 In Review
2012 was the year that love won.
I'm writing this post in January 2014, but I plan to backdate it to January 2013. I wrote it so belatedly because the idea to write a year in review only came to me after 2013. Once I wrote that year's review post, I thought it would be fitting to write one for 2012. I think the distance will probably lend a slightly different tone to my recollections.
2012 was such a rich year that I created a memory book, similar to a scrapbook, and something I hadn't done in years.
I didn't start Packing Lust until June 2012, so I'll have to sum up the first five months of the year without the help of this blog. Due to some date mix-ups during the transfer of my blog from Weebly to Wordpress, I'm not sure which was my first official post in June. Was it this one about my pre-adventure giddiness?
But before we get into what I was blogging about, let's backtrack and cover those exciting first 5 months of 2012, when I married the love of my life, twice.
January
I started off the month with annual get together of some of my oldest college friends in Raleigh, North Carolina. We sat around in our PJ's, snacking, laughing, and lavishing each other with handmade gifts. Julie arranged a bridal gown shopping trip for me at a nearby boutique, and I had a great time trying on gowns that cost thousands of dollars. If I remember correctly, I had already purchased the gown that I would get married in for $50 from a discount shop called JR's. After wedding dress shopping, we ate cupcakes at The Cupcake Shop in downtown Raleigh.
February
I remember a day in February when Charming called me outside our apartment for help unloading the groceries. When I emerged, he pressed play on the music player in his car and blasted one of my favorite songs out the windows What a Wonderful Life/Somewhere over the Rainbow by IZ. He got out and started dancing with me, and the beautiful West Hollywood sky above took on a new beauty, the palms bursting like stars into the blue. I felt so grateful to be with him on a beautiful day in February. That memory reminds me of the romance of our engagement. He'd asked me to marry him during an early morning hike in November, 2011- completely surprising me with a proposal out in nature.
That day in February, it felt like we had finally won. We had won each other and we'd won our joy. When we started dating, some of my close friends and mentors had communicated their disappointment and disapproval, all because Charming and I don't share the same spiritual beliefs. The lack of support among some of my friends made me doubt the romance. All this difficulty was something I didn't expect or dream I would encounter at the same time as I was falling in love. Thankfully, we both had our family's support. I doubt we could have moved forward as smoothly as we did without that. I also had a few friends who were supportive the whole way through. And I made new friends who supported my interfaith relationship and the influence Charming had on me. And some of my Christian friends were growing in the same direction as I was - toward a more progressive, tolerant faith - and that helped tremendously, and still does. But the sifting process - trying to separate the helpful advice from the harmful advice - was exhausting. It felt like a test. Would I listen to my heart or did I believe my heart was "deceitful above all things," like some of my Christians friends would've quoted from Jeremiah 17:9? I knew that I could trust my heart on this matter. My Prince Charming is a good man, and his love is the greatest gift I have ever received. My heart was right.
That February night, we hosted a Valentine's Celebration of Love and Friendship. Our friends dressed in pink and red, and we gave away some of our possessions, lightening our load in preparation for living abroad. We laughed with our friends and celebrated our community in Los Angeles.
March
I felt completely spoiled in March. My mom and sister flew out to LA and treated me to an amazing spa day. My sister organized one heavenly bachelorette party.
April
We got married! I walked down the "aisle" - the dirt path to the cliff's edge where we got married - to that song we danced to in February. Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I wore the $50 dress I bought with my mom on the trip to JRs.
Charming and I were and are so thankful to our friends and family who attended both of our weddings and provided so much love on our celebration days.
In May my family threw us another wedding, one that was easier for all our East Coast friends and family to attend. It was a sparkling, rustic, elegant affair held in a reclaimed historic building that used to be a mule barn (that sounds odd, but I promise, it's beautiful.) The evening was travel-themed, with cake in the shape of a suitcase, and vintage style maps on the walls.
Later that month, I proudly watched as my brother graduated from the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. President Obama shook his hand for a job well done!
And that brings us up to June! I moved to Palestine, following Charming who'd already been there for several weeks getting adjusted to his new job. June and July were adjustment months of figuring out how things worked in a third world country. We traveled up to Akko, and out to Taybeh in July, and I spent my birthday with Charming at a Dead Sea resort.
August
August brought a joyful trip to Tel Aviv, which was very welcome since it was a summer of adjustment blues. We also went to Egypt, where we saw our first Pyramids and I rode my first camel.
September was honeymoon month. Not that I was feeling travel deprived, but it was so nice to lounge around someplace that wasn't third world or a conflict zone. More than that, the sunsets! The seafood! The jumping off boats!
If you're wondering why Charming doesn't appear in these early Packing Lust photos, it was for his privacy. We lifted the ban on Charming's face appearing here in 2013.
In October, I traveled to England to visit my dear friend Caroline and to help her move from Norwich to London. Sadly, this was also the month when my Aunt Jenny was diagnosed with brain cancer.
In November, we rescued an adorable puppy we named Jelly Bean. She became a permanent member of our family. A short time later, another puppy showed up on our doorstep and I went through quite a lot to help her get Israeli puppyship so that she could have access to doggie rights like health care and the chip.
December
The last month of 2012 was very full. I took my first trips to Gaza City (I'm sorry - my Gaza post seems to have disappeared!) and Hebron, two cities in Palestine particularly ruptured by the occupation. We spent Christmas Eve at Manger Square in Bethlehem. Charming's birthday we celebrated in Tel Aviv.
Packing Advice
I managed to pack in plenty of my own packing angst, along with what hopefully amounted to some helpful guidance for other travelers.
Packing Solutions for Easy Jet's One Bag Rule
My Fashion Guidelines for Minimalist Packing
A Post about Minimalist Makeup
Underoos and Everything - My Complete List
A Decent Travel the World Indefinitely Working List
What I Learned
What a year! It was a rich, full, beautiful year of adventures. My big lesson this year was learning to really listen to my heart so that love can win. It's a lesson I'm still working on, a constant challenge I'm glad to embrace!
May love always win,
There is No Cure
With huge warm thanks,
Genevieve
Puppies and Soldiers
They might be able to sling guns and yell at elderly Palestinians all day, but when a puppy this cute was involved, it was a bit of a different story.
Usually I go in a car or taxi, but my taxi didn't have clearance to go through Qalandia. However, I was very motivated because this puppy had cried throughout two nights and I was worried he might be sick.
I waited and waited at the first of several prison-like turnstiles, where they have people walk through one by one, yelling, occasionally, through loudspeakers in Hebrew. I'm was holding the puppy in a box because I was afraid that he would poop or throw up in the taxi. It was cold and rainy, and the atmosphere at the checkpoint was filled with a mixture of fear and boredom. A young well-dressed woman translated for me and to asked the soldiers to open the handicap door so I could go through with my box, which was too big to pass through the turnstile. As she went through the tiny turnstile, which was only meant for one person at a time, an older man tried to squeeze in behind her. He had thick yellow fingernails and was playing with his cell phone, as if oblivious to what he was doing. What he was doing was pressing his body against that of the woman who had helped me. I watched as she turned around and spoke some harsh words in Arabic which had him backing up and apologizing for his obviously feigned non-attention.
Finally after several people who'd arrived after me had passed through the turnstile and a brief interrogation, I got to go through.
"What's in the box?" said the boy soldier, who looked like he was around 17. I opened it, and he said. "You are not allowed to bring dogs with you."
So I hold this tiny puppy...
The puppy shivered. The two teenagers tilted their heads, thenconsulted each other quietly. The boy turned to me.
"You can't technically bring a dog with you. But," he smiled, "If the puppy followed you across the border, then why would anyone care?"
I sighed with relief. "Put the puppy on the ground, take your box, and just call to her," he whispered quickly.
After they looked at my passport, I set the puppy down and he pranced right across the border with me.
This is the kind of thing that makes me happy, sad and angry. I'm happy because I had a human-canine moment with the guards. But the other emotions are because this event demonstrates the kind of inconvenience and arbitrariness that most people here experience constantly. The Israeli military is filled with teenagers because it's mandatory to give two years of service at that time. Few volunteer to be in the army. They have to. And they really are young... sometimes they seem like kids. They have dangerous, stressful jobs, and they don't know what they are doing. They really don't. At the vet, the manager said that if you simply have a letter saying, "this dog needs health care at this clinic," they let you bring the dog across without a problem.
The happy ending to this puppy story is that, after he spent some time playing with Jelly…
Things We Yell From Cars
I was reading Half the Sky, the 2009 book about the state of women in the world earlier this year. When I read the part about maternal mortality, and exactly how preventable these deaths are and how many happen, I put the book down, squeezed me eyes shut, and said a silent prayer that some day, one day, I could do something to help the lonely women ostracized by their communities, curled up in their shacks, soaking in their own urine and feces and waiting - perhaps praying - to die.
Well, that day has come. I can do something small, which is to urge you to buy and watch the Half the Sky documentary DVD when it is released by Amazon on October 20th. Two respected journalists and authors - Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn - have selected oppression of women worldwide as the single most important issue of the 21st century. What's exciting is that the book and the documentary are so well done in terms of production quality and research that there's a lot of positive attention on this issue and I think we as a world can make amazing progress within our lifetimes.
Curious about some statistics?
Here you go:
- 99 percent of all maternal deaths occur in the developing world.
- The U.S. ratio of maternal deaths is higher than 40 other countries, despite spending more per capita on maternal care than any other country.
- More than 1 million children a year are left motherless due to maternal mortality.
- 135 million girls living today have undergone female genital mutilation, greatly increasing their risk of maternal mortality.
Source: http://www.halftheskymovement.org/page/-/fastfacts.pdf
So you see that this isn't just an issue "abroad," but at home in the U.S. too. Maternal mortality is just one cause of many highlighted in the book - there are other issues we can help with, mostly by talking about them and being aware of them, although giving money helps to0 , as does writing letters.
When I was a little girl, and I'd complain about how "unfair" something was, my dad would smile and say "You know what? Life isn't fair. If it was, you'd probably be sitting on the ground in Africa with no legs because an old landmine blew them off."
In addition to being a man who can create an unsettling image with just a few words and a knowing smile, Dad was right. Life isn't fair. He'd seen enough as a doctor to know that. But I didn't really understand what he meant by what he said. How could I? I had never seen anyone who was very poor, injured, or oppressed.
Here, I've witnessed it for myself. I've seen children joyfully gathered around what gives them life - yellow dirty plastic jugs of clean-ish drinking water. I've see women who haven't had the opportunity, freedom, education, or diversity of experience to know they don't have to put up with polygamy or body shrouding. Perhaps saddest of all, I've seen men who don't have the blessing of free, spirited, educated, irrepressible women in their lives. Every day that I walk in Palestine, I see them, men on whose faces there's a story written about their hunger - their hunger for the other half of the sky. Of course there are many enlightened, egalitarian men here in the Middle East, and I'm thankful for them. They will teach their sons and daughters and continue the progress that is happening here.
I'm writing this blog because there's so much beyond where our eyes can touch, and I want to help others - and myself - see these far away things and wake up. I write about lust - wanderlust, lust for life, lust for a better world. Lust is not a bad or sinful thing, and there's no evil in the human heart - just reactions that either hurt or help people. All that's necessary to live a good life is to wake up (also known as learn, be present, be enlightened, be aware, be here) in this present moment and to form each action so that, whenever possible, we are helping ourselves and others- not hurting either party. In fact, people should party more. More parties, and less explosions, is my prescription for the Middle East and for humankind.
I was trying to party through the pain here this weekend. Charming and I were taking a trip to Tel Aviv to celebrate our six month wedding anniversary (I know, I can't believe it's been six months either). We were stuck in traffic on our way to an infamous checkpoint. I was driving, and decided, perhaps unwisely, that to express my frustration I was going to yell. I announced to my Prince that I was going to yell in the style of men who yell barely intelligible things to women from the safety and comfort of their cars. "Uooo Lips!" I yelled to one man in a car as he cut me off. "Uck my Deeee!" I yelled to another. Charming was rather entertained, and so was I. I continued, with an "OO you so beautiful!" to a man walking on the side of the road. I felt I had pushed it a little far. Yelling at cars was one thing, but yelling at some poor car-less soul breathing the traffic fumes? It was a little much. I stopped.
We arrived at the bottleneck that is Qalandia checkpoint. Very quickly, we realized the lane I was in was behind a massive bus. It would take forever for the soldiers to check every single passport in the slow and ponderous way they go about that task. So I tried to switch to the next lane over. I made eye contact with a car with two men in it. They motioned to the spot in front of them with a smile that seemed to say "Go head." I fluttered my eyelashes in thanks. As soon as there was a gap in front of them, they gunned it and took up the space, almost hitting my car. Undeterred, I tried the car behind them, making eye contact with the female driver of a white car packed full of veiled women. They gestured angrily, making it clear that I was not going to get into their lane. Well, at least they weren't effing with me like the last car.
I tried a few more times, until the cars behind me were getting angry at the space growing in front of me. I zoomed ahead, only to wait and wait while the soldiers made everyone on the bus ahead of us get off and walk through the checkpoint. Soon the white car full of women passed us. In my frustration, I stuck my hand, palm up, out of the window and yelled, "You are so beautiful!"
I couldn't help but smile as realized how silly I was acting - and how silly the moment was. I saw their faces go from bored and frustrated, to confused, to broadly smiling - even the grandmother in the back gave me the most twinkly and crinkly of grins.
Suddenly, they were all so very beautiful. They waved, and all of us were laughing together.
The pain and frustration of oppressed women - whether it's traffic that's oppressing them or the patriarchy - can shift. It can turn into something positive.
I'm really lucky to be married to someone who helps the less fortunate of the world in a very active, full-time way. However, he can only do that through the support of people who live comfortably far away and donate a little money to organizations like his. So there's no hierarchy of who is helping the world more - someone on the ground in Gaza, giving a tank of clean water to people trapped there, or someone who donates a few bucks a month to a high quality charity that helps out. If everyone on Earth would take one, small, tiny action, then we could solve all the problems described in Half the Sky.
What action do you want to take right now?
Probably you want to turn on a mindless TV show and eat chocolate, and try to forget about the poor women and children of the world. Me too. That's normal and fine, actually. Just donate your ten bucksbefore the chocolate fest, and you can feel good (extra special good) about the world while you watchModern Family.
One last note - if you liked this post and think it could inspire anyone, you can take the action of reposting it to your blog or facebook or twitter.
Thank you darling friend!
YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL.
Cairo and Giza: Crying Over Pyramids
So I intentionally dampened down my expectations on Saturday, preparing myself to be disappointed at the real thing. The flights from Tel-Aviv to Amman and from Amman to Cairo were a humbuggery of the normal indignitities and inconveniences with some beautiful desert views thrown in:
Pyramids
But as the plane descended at sunset into the Cairo airport, Charming nudged me. "The pyramids are out there somewhere." I pulled myself out of whatever daydream I was in, and searched out the window. It was all gold and dust. I looked and looked, blocking out the sun with the shade to get a better view of the ground.
Suddenly, there they were.
One big, and two small pyramids on the outskirts of the thick city.
I gasped. They are real. The sight of the pyramids from the air set up an emotional chain reaction that took me back to childhood and awakened a deep sense of awe and gratitude. Out of this happy well of emotion and exhaustion from the long day of travel, I began to sob. I turned to Prince Charming. "Why do I get to be here? I'm the luckiest. My whole life, I've dreamed of seeing the pyramids. I thought one day I would. I imagined it, but I never really, really, thought I would get to see the pyramids." I cried happy tears again, and nothing bothered me for the rest of the day. Almost.
We Raised Eyebrows
Until a little bump in the road. It wasn't exactly a rip off, but when we arrived at the Cairo airport, we first had to purchase visas for 15 USD each from the Bank of Cairo booth that comes before passport control. The Bank of Cairo there gave us an old fifty dollar bill as change. We raised our eyebrows as high as we could. We hadn't seen an old-style bill in the US like that in a long time. But the bank workers assured us the money was good. It would be accepted. It was good. It was good. They were a little too insistent.
Upon arrival at our hotel, we tried to pay for the taxi the hotel had sent to pick us up at the airport. They took USD, so Charming gave them the fifty dollar bill. They took it to the Bank of Cairo booth in the hotel which looked just like the booth at the airport. Ten minutes later, they found us in the lobby, returning the fifty dollar bill to us. They wouldn't take the bill. It was too old. I couldn't believe it. The bank of Cairo had stopped accepting the old bills. "It will work in your country, but it won't work in this country." So the dudes at the airport bank were unloading old currency on us that we couldn't use until we are back in the U.S. I've never heard of a bank giving out currency that it won't accept back the same day. I'm guessing this is an example of what happens in a country with weak or corrupt infrastructure.
A Welcoming Culture
A man named Peter, the store guard at Vodafone in Cairo says "You are most welcome. You are German?" "American," I tell him. "Ah, good. USA. Very Good!" He gives a wide, warm smile. Of all the palces we've visited in the Middle East, Cairo is where I've felt the most welcomed by residents who seems almost star-struck. Maybe that term is too strong.
Struck with profit-potential may be more accurate. We find that often, when money changes hands, a little bit extra is kept by the vendor. Especially taxi drivers. The consistency of this short-changing is striking. After only three days here we've learned to count change carefully and inspect restaurant bills line by line. Here's a receipt from a recent meal out with some of Charming's co-attendees at his work conference here:
What's a cover charge? Is that not the same as a entrance tax? In the U.S., those fees are usually charged upon entrance to a club, not at the end of the night. But this was a restaurant, not a club. Or, was it? What's the difference? The 12% service charge (tip) is fine, but the 10% sales tax seems kind of steep. Don't worry, the total is in Egyptian Pounds, not in USD.
The restaurant, Sequoia, was on the Nile, which glimmered and added magic to the otherwise hot and uncomfortable atmosphere.
Street Life
As I walk down the street, the smog is so thick I can taste the air -- it has a grainy texture as it goes in my mouth and down my throat. A particle went into my eye yesterday, partially blinding me for a few steps. It felt like ash from a charcoal grill.
Sidewalks are rare, often broken up with potholes and crowded with parked cars, scooters, and abandoned bags of soggy food. Most of the roads are four lanes, but people drive for miles right on top of the painted divider lines; traffic is therefore serpentine. The lack of sidewalks forces people to walk in the street, adding more chaos to the congestion. Yesterday I saw two cars parked in the middle of a the road for repairs, their hoods open like dead birds' beaks. I walk in a long skirt and long sleeves, despite the heat. I wear my thickest, ugliest shoes.
Cats so malnourished they never lose their kittenish looks roam the streets. The opposite has happened to the street children. Life begging all day on the hot street has made them lose their kittenish playfulness too soon. Nothing curious or sparkling appeared in the eyes of the little girl asking me to buy her new clothes on Sunday. Instead, I saw the same dull, hardened look I usually see in the grown men trying to hustle us into overpriced taxis. (Security advisors say not to give anything to children here, as they are sometimes part of a long con. It's hard to imagine what the con could be, and heartbreaking to see these kids.) Thinking of that girl, I'm reminded of Egypt's shameful superlative, that of all the countries in the Middle East, it has the lowest literacy rate for women.
On the few streets where there are continuous sidewalks, every few meters, cold, dirty water splashes down on me from the window air conditioner units stacked up for stories above on the dingy high rise apartment buildings. One of them on a nearby building fell down. What caught my eye was the man they sent up to investigate. We took photos from our hotel on the eighth floor:
Sights Yet to See
Due to the dubious nature of paying for anything and the exhausting nature of being a female walking alone (Charming is in a conference all day) on the street, I haven't yet seen the pyramids up close. They are far away from the city center. I haven't seen much of anything. When I do, if I have any good photos or sights to report, I'll be sure to update the "bright spots" section of this post below.
I have been doing some guidebook reading, and following suggestions not to make eye contact when walking on the street. Although it's not natural to me, since to me eye contact is a way to offer respect and friendliness, I've tried it here in Cairo, and it's been a helpful way to avoid harassment. Just as I was thinking that very thought yesterday, two men walked by me. One said looked at me and said "So cute." The other said "Milf." It's possible the second man was talking on his cell phones, and "Milf" is a word in Arabic. Very likely.
Bright Spots
As is often the case in the Middle East, the hospitality and kindness of the locals shine. Most people here in the city speak English and some French, which means I get called "Madame," and "Madmoiselle," which I find charming. The housekeeper who cleaned our hotel room yesterday chatted and laughed with me warmly and then said "All finished, Madame!" And left without pausing for a tip. In fact, all the service at our hotel, Safir, has been wonderful. This is a great hotel, and although it's expensive, the prices seem fair and no one has tried to rip us off . We've spent some nice times hunkered down in the cool hotel. There's a grand lobby that has beautiful flower arrangements and a piano lounge. There are also a lot of good shark shows on the TV.
I'd like to feel compassion and gratitude towards Egypt because their government situation is so delicate right now and their revolution was mostly peaceful. I'm glad that there isn't open battle taking place on the streets of Cairo. However, I can't deny that deep inside, I feel sad for this culture that peaked so long ago. I hope that democracy and the protection of human rights and civil liberties will be secured and will lead to Cairo's renewal.
*UPDATE*
Cairo got a lot better after a lovely evening of seeing the Pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx with a light show dramatizing some of the history of those structures. In real life, they are JUST AS AMAZING AND HUGE AS THEY SEEM TO BE IN PICTURES.
I also got to fulfill yet another life dream of riding a camel. Woot!
Nine Ways to Skip (or Minimize) the Travel Adjustment Blues
1. Don't expect anything to be the way you expect it.
2. Don't start a new diet at the same time as moving.
3. Don't start a new medication before leaving.
4. Go easy on yourself.
5. Go easy on your travel buddy.
6. Go easy on everyone.
7. Rely on the kindness of strangers.
8. Establish a Routine.
9. Journal, Photograph, Blog, Email, and Skype.
Even though transitions can be more stressful when they come in batches - getting married and then moving immediately, for example - I don't regret our decision to start our marriage off in this way. This is priceless time together. It's incredible to be able to share each new challenge. It's exhilarating to be able to laugh off all the pressure we put on ourselves each day.
Thank you for allowing me to share my happy and challenging moments with you on this blog.