Trust in Palestine
I held up my red Trader Joe's bag and mimed putting produce in the bag. The shop owner nodded to affirm that I could use my cloth bag as a shopping basket at the produce store near the city center of Ramallah. After I'd filled my bag with Romaine lettuce, apples, passionfruit, pears, oranges, and a pineapple, I brought it to the back of the shop where the cashier stood. One by one, I set my selections on the counter, reaching deep into the bag to make sure that there was nothing left in there.
"Is your bag empty?" the cashier asked with a friendly smile.
"Yes. I think so." I picked up the bag from the bottom and flipped it over, shaking to make sure no fruits were hiding in the corners.
"No. Don't do that," the man said darkly and with a small cringe.
"Shaking the bag? Is it bad luck?" I asked.
"No… it's a mistake. You think I don't trust you."
"Oh, no, I said. "I shook it for me, for me to make sure there was nothing left. For me."
"Okay. If it's for you, it's okay."
Trust. It seems to be a delicate and tender subject here in Palestine. I've had more than one encounter like the above. Proof offered too bluntly, as if in a hurry to show that one can be trusted is embarrassing in this culture. Perhaps in the U.S., we too feel some sense of slight embarrassment if we ask for evidence that the bag is empty, that we aren't dealing with a shoplifter. Yet here there's a stronger sense of affront, perhaps to a thicker sense of honor, if someone provides too fast a proof of their own honestly. It's almost as if the other person is saying "Seriously, stop trying to prove yourself! I don't doubt your honestly. By thinking I doubt you, you are basically calling me a suspicious miser, and that is highly offensive."
In a similar vein, I've often paid for something with a bill that is too large. When I first arrived, if the change was tiny (1/2 shekel, or the equivalent of 13 cents) I might say "keep the change," only to be meet with a vehement "no, no" and to find the change thrust upon me.
The positive side of this cultural element is generously given trust. Yesterday morning I went down to a martial arts studio-gym that recently opened up not far from our apartment. They offer personal training and gym membership. I had emailed earlier about setting up a personal training appointment, but when I arrived, I discovered that the gym didn't take credit cards, which was the only payment method I brought. The manager of the gym, who had met me only once before, said "That's alright. You can pay next time. Shall we start with some cardio?"
As I relate this incident, another one comes to mind. A shop owner is telling me, "you can pay next time." Since I don't remember anything else about the incident, I'm not sure if I went back and paid him. I hope I did.
Although this extensive trust in customers seems to my American entrepreneurial mind like poor business practice, it does warm my heart to a culture that I haven't always felt warmly towards.
Another heart-warmer is walking around town with our new puppy, Jelly. I was afraid people would be fearful or antagonistic towards her, since it's not a culture that is big on dogs. Instead, some simply ignore her, and others are downright friendly. I took her on her first car trip since the one that brought her from the shelter to our apartment, and when we got out, a group of young men began whistling and making kissing sounds in our direction. Instead of my usual sense of annoyance at young men making kissing sounds at me, I thought "they are talking to Jelly," and they were.
They asked what her name was, and then called her name, "Jelly Jelly Jelly." I went and did my errand, and when I passed by them again, they said "Jelly Jelly Jelly!" They seemed totally absorbed in her charms, and not in my perceived charms, and I was grateful. It occurred to me that this dog is going to change my relationship to men in Palestine. She is my protector (she seems to bark at people who I'm afraid of and to be friendly to people I like) and she is also a friendly diplomat - a sort of buffer zone - who will ease gender relations for me. Yes, it also occurred to me that men here (some, always some, not all) treat dogs the same as they treat women...
But that is another blog post for another time.
Many of you have been worried about me and Prince Charming with the escalating violence here. Thanks for your care, and to those of you who have sent messages our way. We feel safe here, but we are taking precautions to stay away from protests. Charming has been working very hard, and his NGO has been an important voice for peace in the media lately. He's had a vital role in managing the emergency response, and I'm very proud of him. He's helped save lives and will help save many more. If things escalate much further, we may have to evacuate. But for now, we seem to be as safe as we were in Los Angeles.
Finally, for those of you who are excited about my book Minimalism for Grandparents: Decluttering for Health, Happiness, and Connection in the Golden Years, you can like the Facebook page here. I think that those of grandparent age, as well as youngsters, will get value out of it if they have an interest in living a simplified, meaningful life.
Peacefully yours,
Genevieve
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.
My Writing Rules
I'm deep in the thickets of drafting my first bookMinimalism for Grandparents: Decluttering for Health, Happiness, and Connection During the Golden Years, and some of you may be wondering just how I manage to write with such prolificacy while also traveling the world. At least my writer friend Jared was. So for Jared and anyone else who may be wondering, the answer (besides that I'm lucky enough to be able to design my life this way) is that I'm easily bored and possibly just a touch ADD. Therefore, having multiple projects going at once is a must for me. I don't seem to be capable of working on one project until it's done and then picking up another one. In the same vein, I'm currently reading (hang on, let me count them) seven books. Probably more, but I stopped counting at seven since I thought it was a suitably impressive number. That's useful for me since whatever I'm reading tends to come out in pure form when I converse. If I was just reading one book, it could get tiring to hear about revolutionary Iran in the 80's over and over. With my brain in seven books, however, I can talk about how Nabokov appears to have been read by students at Tehran university who were not exactly fifty shades of Zionism which came during and after Audrey Hepburn's early film career. I often internally mourn that my brain is fond of boxes. However, I think this reading of unrelated subject matter fights my waffle-headed tendencies and helps me make creative new connections.
Back to my writing, which is as connected to my reading as Levi's are to blue thread. I've learned through the years that I need some sort of schedule for myself. Writing is solitary and there's no boss looking over my shoulder, making sure I've done pages for the day. I've experimented with many different tactics:
- Writing in the morning
- Writing at night
- Writing in the afternoon
- Writing every day
- Wearing a special hat to write
- Writing only when inspired late at night on caffeine
- Writing for eight hours a day on weekdays
- Writing on my lunch break at an office job
- Asking friends to ask me about my writing regularly
- Promising people completed scripts upon certain deadlines
- Writing carefully
- Writing heedlessly
- Setting yearly writing goals
- Setting monthly writing goals
- Scheduling out each day down to the minute
- Setting a timer and writing until it goes off
Whew. I've learned a few things in general about how to make myself write. For me, the earlier in the day that I write, the more likely I am to a) write that day and b) write more that day. Writing at the beginning of the day seems to set a tone of creative production for the whole day and to keep my muse happy and coming back for more.
The muse shows up unannounced and usually at the most inconvenient times. The best writing comes from the muse: what you can also think of as the holy spirit, or the creative subconscious. The ability to write when the muse shows up takes the same kind of discipline that waking up early - the moment your alarm goes off-- takes. It's hard and I rarely do it. But I'm glad when I do. The best feeling when writing, and when the best writing comes, is when the creative subconscious gets though in kind of a sly way. I'm relaxed, well fed, and not worried about the well-being of any of my loved ones. There's quiet around me - no music or conversation or fear of interruption. I'm not trying too hard; it's flow. Time passes without my awareness of how much has gone by.
However, most times, I'm trying hard. Because in an almost cruel reality, the muse is somehow summoned and nourished by my trying hard -- by thinking a lot about the writing and the topics. I can relate it to something I heard in an interview with actor James Franco. He prepares and prepares very hard, then when the cameras roll, he just relaxes and lets whatever comes out come out.
What has worked for me to get my writing done every day while still leaving time to experience where I am, is daily goals. Also, I have more time to write now than I did in LA. I have fewer friends here to hang out with, and I don't have another job to take any of my creative energy (as much as I liked faerie princess-ing).
After trying to schedule my days, I found out that one of my big values is freedom. I won't stick to a schedule because it can feel like a tyrant boss.
So I have simple two rules for myself:
- Write every day.
- Write for at least an hour, five days a week. Usually I end up writing for more than one hour, but it's kind of like telling yourself before a morning jog that you are just going to run for five minutes. Once you get out there, feel the wind in your nose and see the birds fluttering by, you'll be enjoying it and you'll probably run for the whole thirty minutes.
On top of my writing rules, at the beginning of the year I had a couple of big writing goals. One was to write six first drafts (feature-length scripts) this year. Another was to write and publish my first book. I have other smaller projects too, but those are in addition to my major goals.
So that I keep my projects straight and work on each project enough to complete my goals on time, I created one goal for each remaining work day of 2012. I did this a couple months ago, and this system is working for me so far. It allows me to focus on one project a day, to trust that they will all get done because I can see it on the schedule, and to not get bored because I can see ahead that I will get to work on a different project soon.
For example, here is what my first ten days looked like:
Day 1 Blogsville -- book project ask for help and weekend trip
Day 2 Character work on script #3.
Day 3 Plot work on script #3.
Day 4 Character work on script #3
Day 5 Research details for the script.
Day 6 Blogsville
Day 7 Outline #3 in Final Draft
Day 8 New script idea generating
Day 9 Outline #3 in Final Draft
Day 10 Go to script: Write 10 pages today on script #3.
It goes on until the end of the year...
I don't add a date to when I should be doing each goal because sometimes I move them around or work on a weekend or maybe I took a mental health day or a sick day. (I have a great boss who lets me take off whenever I want.) Life is bigger than writing. And that's the way I like it.
If you are trying to write (or paint, or whatever) and you are also working a full-time job or have some other major drain on your time, my only advice is to write first thing in the morning. I didn't have the willpower to do it regularly when I had a full-time job, but if I had one now, I'd find a way to make it work. I'd reward myself with ice cream of something, anything, but I would make it work.
If you are trying to write while traveling, the advice is the same. Bring a small laptop computer or a notebook, and do it early. You never know what the day will bring, and you have most control over you time and willpower in the morning.
I think each writer (or any person who wants to create something without an office and a boss) must experiment and figure out what works for him or her. Let me know if this helped you.
If you have felt for a long time that you want to write, that you have something to say, you are weakening the tender fabric of your soul with each day that you do not write.
Please leave any helpful tips that have worked for you in the area of self-motivated creative work in the comments below. I trust you guys to give me some good tips that will help me write more and better, and that will help anyone who reads this post.
Istanbul
Where There is No Such Thing as Typical.
That's what I loved about Istanbul. There's no such thing as typical there. For every woman wearing a headscarf there was one in a miniskirt. It is a diverse, stunning city that that feels as free and energetic and beautiful as Paris or New York.
The Grand Bazaar was immense, a place to enjoy getting lost in. I wasn't sure if I should look forward to going, as Cairo's huge, famous market was disappointingly full of items ordered from a factory in China. One vendor's goods looked much the same as the last. Everything needed dusting.
Charming had been to Istanbul before, so it was fun for us to revisit some of his favorite places to eat and people watch. We easily and quickly got used to the culture of sitting in a street café, sipping beer and watching the crowds roll, prance, crawl, meander, and sell their way by us.
We saw the majestic Hagia Sophia which today is a museum. It's been both a church and a mosque in it's time, and there were signs of both religions in the interior, which I thought was cool.
Santorini, Greece
Where Nothing Bothers You
You are in for a treat. Charming took eight hundred and eighty photos in Greece with his digital SLR which he hasn't been able to use on this trip up until this point. As I write this he is editing a few to fit here on the blog.There isn't much to say about Santorini except that it was everything it should be. Stunningly beautiful, refreshing, and relaxing. We ate and slept a lot. We swam in the crystal clear azure waters. I think the word "azure" was invented to describe the waters around Santorini. We drank lots of local white wine. I took one of the best naps of my life. I could write a lot about that, but you'd get too jealous and stop reading this blog.
We went for a long catamaran ride around the island.
Nothing bothers you on Santorini. We didn't worry that some claim Santorini is the fabled Atlantis that sank into the sea. We didn't worry that it's the "most active volcanic center in the South Aegean Volcanic Arc."
Santorini was so exquisite that it inspired me to set my next screenplay there. I'm working on a story called Santorini Mermaid right now. I feel like I've come full circle, because my first script was calledMermaids in Venice. Five years and nine scripts later, I'm writing Santorini Mermaid. Maybe this script will make Hollywood realize THE WORLD NEEDS ANOTHER MERMAID MOVIE! Splash was too long ago. (Are you reading, studio executive? Your hair looks nice today.)
It's time for some photo decadence. Just don't get too jealous and stop reading this blog.
Treats: Top 6 Out of 880
Magic in Greece
We aren't finished with Greece, but I wanted to do a short entry about Athens. I will try to add to it after we've left Santorini, where we landed yesterday.
Athens was a relief compared to Cairo. You can drink the water. It was beautiful when we arrived on Saturday; if the weather had been artificially created by a perfect weather machine, it could not have been more ideal. Spotless blue sky. Warm air, with a cool breeze coming along every two minutes. The light humidity in the air was welcome after so much time in the desert-dry of Palestine.
Our taxi driver from the Athens airport to our hotel near the Acropolis was named Giorji. He was so cool he even did a magic trick for us. After de-planing, we'd withdrawn cash from the ATM. 200 Euros. The problem was, the machine gave us four 50 Euro bills. When we arrived, we wanted to give the taxi driver a tip, although our grand total on the meter was almost exactly 50 Euros. Charming handed over a 50, and we began whispering about the need for a tip and to check our bags for spare change. Well, sometime between handing the fifty Euro bill to Giorji and his hand receiving it, it turned into a ten! Amazing! He held it out for us, embarassed-looking. "This is a ten," he said, his expression that of an indulgent parent who has caught his child making a mistake on their homework.
Well, we knew we hadn't given him a ten. In fact, our whole problem of the moment was that we didn't have any small bills. We politely thanked him for his display of magic and left the car.
Just kidding. Shaken and distressed at his attempt to rip us off so convincingly, we got out of the car, cursing him under our breath and eager to put some distance between him and us. When we refused to give him more money, he said "are you sure?" and accepted our "ten," possibly cursing us under his breath. Later, we found out it should have been a flat rate of 35 Euros from the airport. He wasn't even supposed to use his meter.
I know you guys like to hear about the rather annoying things that happen to us when we travel, so I share that little moment.
That little moment, however, was overshadowed by a jubilant trip to the Acropolis. Visiting the Parthenon was another life dream for me. The density of life dreams being fulfilled on this trip is dizzying.
There were a ton of people at the Acropolis. The stream of people was like water constantly running over rocks in a river. But there were also lots of dogs. Happy, well-fed dogs. The Acropolis may be dog heaven; the marble keeps cool, even in the summer heat, creating sunny yet cool places for old dogs to sleep. The dogs were all sleeping, and they seemed happy to be part of the human pack. I thought of my family's dog Lando who just passed away as I was petting this guy (or girl, I didn't check):
The ladies of Athens are beautiful and vivacious. The extra bounce in their step may come from living in a place named after a goddess. It seems good for the men too. The atmosphere sure felt different to me than the West Bank, where it's so weird to be a woman. All the hang-ups people have there about seeing hair, cleavage... to cover, not to cover. All that angst was absent in Athens.
The photo quality on this trip so far as been less than what you are used to because Charming forgot a vital piece of his camera. After an Epic search, he finally found a place that sold the battery grip he needed right before we bounced out of Athens to Santorini. So you can look forward to some art-quality photos from his camera very soon. In the meantime... here's a sneak preview of Santorini from my pocket camera. See you later, I'm off to explore the island!
Pack With Style
Your Basic Wardrobe
You may also enjoy my Pinterest board, What to Pack to Travel the World.
Clothes
- Little Black Skirt
- Little Black Tank
Together, they create an LBD look
- Trench Coat - great for wearing with the above LBD look. The classic trench coat is not meant to handle rain, but if you can get one that doubles as a rain coat, all the better.
- Cream V-neck Tee
- Classic Button up shirt - white is the standard color, but you can also pick any solid neutral color that flatters you: think grey, tan, gold, cream, etc. Pick a color that looks nice with your trench coat, as the trench and the collared button-up are a classic combo.
- Medium or Dark rinse jeans that make you look and feel great. Keep embellishments and trendy details to minimum.
- Jacket - Probably in black. find one that emphasizes your waist and makes you feel amazing. Style can be lapel, tuxedo, double-breasted, mandarin collar, whatever style suits you. I have a light black jacket in thick cotton. I can roll up the sleeve a little for a warmer day.
- "Business in the front, Party every where else" top - this is a top that can look modest in the front for wearing with a jacket in conservative parts of the world. It doubles as a cute flattering top for going out without the jacket. Maybe a silky backless halter top, a tee with cut outs, or an embellished tank?
- Black cotton yoga pants - for lounging and sleeping in - and doing yoga after a long day of tourism.
- Soft tee for sleeping. PJ preferences vary widely, but bring something super soft and comfy that is reserved for bedtime.
- Soft, long sleeved, high neckline shirt. For wearing in the cold or conservative religious areas.
I recommend one of the following, depending on your destination:
- Long, comfy skirt that goes with everything. - better in conservative places.
- Day dress - a super comfy mini dress, probably in cotton, that is easy to throw on for shopping, hitting the beach, or touring on a hot day. Can be worn with heels and jewelry for a night out. Ideally, it goes with your jacket and your trench coat. This is better for destinations where it is acceptable for women to show their legs.
If you are a runner or like to exercise, add:
- Long pants for running (shorts are not frequently seen in many parts of the world)
- Sports bra
- Running shoes
- Quick drying tank or tee.
Accessories
- Scarf - in almost any color or pattern. It should look good next to your face. Since most of your clothes are neutral tones, almost any kind of scarf should go. I like a pretty big scarf for doubling as a swimsuit cover up.
- Swim suits - two. Interchangeable bikinis are my favorite.
- Jewelry - I like to bring inexpensive, colorful statement jewelry, plus a couple of special delicate things that add a little shimmer.
- Cap - keep your heat in your head on those cold nights. Consider a sunhat for desert and beach locations.
- Big sunglasses - big, dark sunglasses are a great for so many reasons. They protect your eyes, and the skin on your face from wrinkles and sun damage. They provide privacy from staring eyes in parts of the world where ladies that look like you are a rare sight.
- Optional for rainy locations: Umbrella or rain poncho.
Foundation Wear
- 1 black bra
- 1 skin-toned bra
- As many pairs of clean socks as you want. (This is a personal pet peeve of me and Prince Charming's we both like to have clean, dry socks to change into anytime. If your feet are happy, the rest of you is happy.)
- 1 black thong
- 1 skin toned thong
- 1 black underwear
- 1 skin-toned underwear
Get your underwear in in quick-drying material (hanky panky is the is the best brand - quick drying, long-lasting, and very comfortable). I recommend thongs because they dry even faster (overnight) and you can do a quick sink wash and have clean, dry knickers in the morning.
Shoes
1. One pair of calf high or knee high boots (for walking in cool weather). You should be able to wear them with a skirt, dress, or jeans. No heel for comfort (unless you are one of those rare people who can do everything in heels - in which case, go ahead!)
2. One pair of beach-appropriate sandals - I have a pair of gold flip flops that I feel comfortable walking around a city in, and also getting wet and sandy on the beach. A better option would probably be something that stays closer to my foot (to keep rocks and dirt further from my feet). Something like a gladiator sandal or Birkenstocks or Tivvas. However, I haven't been able to find anything that has met my aesthetic sensibilities as well as my gold flip flops.
3. One pair of going out shoes. You'll be able to go out at night to casual venues in any of your shoes (except your running shoes) but optionally, pack a special pair with a heel. Anything you want.
Options:
- Classic black heels
- Eye-catching Red heels
- Strappy gold heels
- Turqoise Peep-toes with a kitten-heel
- Espadrilles (a super summery option)
4. One pair of cute walking shoes. I saved the most challenging for last. My style-friendly pick would be a sturdy ballet flat. Make sure there is a good buffer between your soles and the hard, rocky street.
Other options:
- a classic sneaker, from Converse or Puma, for example.
- A flat, lace up ankle boot.
- Comfy leather sandals.
- Peep-toe flats (especially in a hot climate).
For versatility, this shoe should look good with a skirt, dress, and jeans. Your choice will depend on your body type and personal style.
I hope this helps you have fun with fashion while having a light bag.
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!
Tel Aviv with Exclamation Points!!!
Happy Dance!!!
Tel Aviv!!! After a run on the beach this weekend, I returned to the hotel and did a happy dance that Prince Charming was mocking/enjoying all day. I can't believe we waited this long, but the stars finally aligned, and we went to Tel Aviv twice in one week. This weekend to come we will leave for our long-awaited, full-length honeymoon(we previously had a "mini-moon.") But that didn't stop us from acting like this Tel Aviv trip was also our honeymoon. Charming booked our honeymoon, and got such great travel deals that with the leftovers we were able to splurge this weekend on a hotel in Tel Aviv that was less than one block from the beach, and even had a little view of the water:
Fack You in the Mooth
Hummus Loving Babes
Things I Said I Would Do
- A larger-than-Texas sesame bagel smeared with cream cheese and pesto and stuffed with tomatoes, olives, sweet corn, and a hard-boiled egg, then toasted in a panini press. Here it is.
- Sushi rolls topped with cold quail eggs and washed down with hot saki.
- Chewy french style bread ribbed with olives, topped with toasted pumpkin and sesame seeds, and spread with blue-veined cambazola.
- Foccacia and fresh penne pasta salad with bright green broccoli, vivid red tomatoes, and peppers the color of sunshine. It was topped by a snowpile of curly shredded parmesan and washed down with local white wine.
- The creamiest, richest tiramisu of my life.
- Passion fruit sorbet laced with the fruit's crunchy black seeds.
- Chocolate in bar and cake form.
Are you hungry yet? I am and I just finished eating a massive meal. I'm so thankful for good food. I think enjoying food is one of the reasons we are here on Earth, so go out or stay in and cook something AMAZING today!
Another thing I said I would do after the wedding - or rather, would not do, is cut my hair. Why do lots of women cut their hair after getting married? I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I love long hair, and I swore I'd leave it long because I like it that way. But once we got to the West Bank, it felt heavy in the humidity and heat. I was ready for a change. Transitions go together, maybe. The heat and my need for an outer change to reflect the big life changes happening led me to steadily cut my hair off bit by bit, culminating in this final chop I had done at a Tel Aviv salon:
Eggplants
