Riding the bus

As I sat on the bus from campus the other day, I mused on riding the bus. I never ride buses in the U.S.; heck, I have a nice car of my own. But in Cairo, I have no car (nor would I!) and either get driven by Emad or take the AUC bus to and from campus in New Cairo. Or walk. The ride from Ma’adi to campus is about 25 kilometers, and can take from 45 minutes to 3 hours depending on traffic, though it’s usually an hour or so. Reading makes me woozy and I don’t bother with an iPod, so I look out of the window to pass the time. I figure I will have spent somewhere between 180-200 hours on the AUC bus by the time we depart. That does not include our many bus rides for AUC-sponsored or Fulbright trips.

Ready to walk to the bus stop

The AUC bus stop in Ma'adi

At AUC, we go through security to get on campus

Getting off the AUC bus in Ma'adi

View from the bus

Bold pedestrian crosses the Ring Road

Vendors on the side of the road

So round, so firm, so fully packed...but you will never see an ad for women's underwear!

Lately, the roads scenes have changed thanks to billboards and posters for presidential candidates. There are 11 at this writing, with three of them considered front-runners in the press. Amr Moussa, former head of the Arab League and a secularist; Mohamed Mursi , the Islamist candidate of the Muslim Brotherhood; and Abdel Aboul Fatouh, an ex-Brotherhood member who is either a secularist or Islamist, depending who’s asking. The ultra-conservative Salafists are supporting him, so I can’t tell.   

Abdoul Fatouh supporters

Moussa posters in Cairo

Mursi posters

Each candidate beams from his posters, promising progress and prosperity, and each is also represented by a symbol (like a chair or ladder) so illiterates can mark their choice on ballots.

Who is missing? I see  no women anywhere running for office. Moussa has said he would consider a female (or Coptic) VP.

Through the bus window, another presidential candidate billboard

And another. Note the umbrella symbol, the image so illiterate voters can identify this candidate

Back to the bus. I love watching the scenes roll by. Highways are a loose term here. They all have speed bumps so if you get up to 70 kilometers an hour, you have to slow down for the bumps, so riding means a lot of starting and stopping. Cars break down all the time, and are stopped wherever they may be on the road. Young men stand on the side and try to flag down rides. Stands offering everything from water pipes for sheesha to snacks take up a lane or two. I am fascinated by the stickers in taxi and van windows (if you read the blog, you’ve seen lots of them), the garbage, the daring pedestrians dashing through traffic (reminds me of Dodge Ball), the carts pulled by donkeys and horses sharing the highway with massive trucks, and, alas, the all-too-frequent accidents

Trust me. The stickers are the name of Allah, with "Cowboy Up" below, and then decals for DVD,  etc.

Donkey cart with onions on the highway

I gave a workshop on what I’ve learned as an American teaching Egyptians at AUC’s Center for Teaching and Learning. Boiled down, it comes to: speak slowly; explain your words and ideas; let students know it’s okay to laugh; learn their names even though Arabic names don’t have English cognates.

We boarded another bus on Thursday for a three day, two night conference in Ain Soukna, a resort town on the northern Red Sea, where the senior Fulbrighters sang for their suppers and presented their work. Our first stop was the amazing monastery of Saint Anthony, the founder of the monastic tradition in Christianity. It is Coptic, with about 120 brothers, and we were given a VIP tour by the abbot, Father Maximous Elantony. He was amazing—educated with multiple degrees, an archaeologist, very tech-savvy, and a social force for good in Egypt. Not exactly the retiring meditating type, though his life is, of course, centered on faith.

Saint Anthony's exterior

Ranya Rashad of Fulbright introduces Father Maximous

The monastery's cell tower. They live in the 21st century!

The monastery dates from the 3^rd century, with walls built by Emperor Justinian in the 6^th century, along with a keep to defend the site from raids by Bedouins. The most fascinating place for us was the church. It is a palimpsest of the ages, with parts dating from the 16^th century down to excavations of the original monks’ cells from the 6^th century. Its paintings are beautiful, in the Coptic style, and Father Maximous told us that a team of Italian painting restorers help uncover the earliest paintings. After telling us about the services the monks conduct every day, he sang us a traditional prayer, accompanied delicately on cymbals, and it was transporting.

Exterior of the entry to the church

Monks' cells exterior

Door to the church

Church interior

Basket for bringing supplies into the keep or giving food to the Bedouins

Keep exterior with bridge that is lifted away when threatened

Father Maximous

Original refectory table and benches

Of course, all I can recall about my conference presentation were my mistakes but I understand it was very good; I talked briefly about my teaching, and more extensively on my research on advertising for multi-national beauty products in the U.S. and Egypt. Sociologists have already found that the classic fair beauty of someone like Catherine Deneuve or Nicole Kidman is the reigning and preferred type in India, Japan, China, Singapore, and Taiwan. Sadly, this fair ideal is also true here, even when the model or “face” of a product is from north Africa.

I stand and deliver for Fulbright

Fulbright bus

The conference also marked our last time getting together with other Fulbrighters, at least under the aegis of the Fulbright commission. It reinforced our increasing sense of bittersweet emotion at leaving. It’s been one heck of a year.

I taught my last classes today (huzzah!), which means I only have two more bus rides to AUC (to pick up final work). My students were lovely and many asked if I were staying and could they take more courses from me? Maybe we will come back, but in the meantime, we are watching the upcoming presidential elections with great interest.

At China Winds with the owner

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

The play we just saw at AUC, directed by our friend Mark Mineart, seemed like a good title for this blog entry since we are feeling a little crazed ourselves.

The play, which we saw on opening night, was amazing, moving, beautifully produced and well-acted. Of course, the direction was superb. The set, the music, and most of all, the AUC students who performed knocked us out. They used American accents and diction (and I know these kids, that is not how they talk), hit their marks, and all in all, it was wonderful. We were so proud for Mark. I bet once the run is over, Sarah will be very happy to have her spouse back.

AUC poster for the play

Pivotal moment in the play

On Thursday, we went to a potluck dinner in honor of Bruce and Annemarie Lohof, who are retiring from directing the Binational Fulbright Commission in Egypt after steering it for seven years. Talk about bittersweet. Bruce has done so much for all the Fulbrighters and I feel especially lucky to know him.

Harris and Bruce yukking it up

Fulbrighters enjoying dinner

Fulbright student Heather Hunt and me (intensive Arabic!)

I got a horrible piece of news in class on Sunday. One of my favorite students, Heba Hamza, was not in class; her friend Nour told me that was because Heba’s father had been hit by a car and killed the day before. That was bad enough—I know Heba has siblings, including a 9-year-old; but her father was president of Ains Shams University and a highly distinguished professor of medicine with specialties in liver transplants and pediatrics. It was not just a loss for a family, but for Egypt. My heart breaks for my beautiful and talented student and her family.

Heba Hamza in class

Last time, I listed things I’ll miss and things I won’t miss. One of the latter category loudly announced itself the other day. Below our flat, just under where we have our office, is a nursery school and a music school. I’m pretty good at tuning out kids plinking out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” but it is impossible to tune out the nursery school kids hollering on their playground. Particularly every two weeks, when the school hosts a party for parents at which the kids sing along to Arabic pop amplified to the volume of a 747 taking off. For 3 hours. Every two weeks. Think about it, and I hope you can imagine my frustration the first time it happened when I was ready to go down and give them what-for. Happily, Harris pointed out that we were guests here, it was a party, and we just had to live with it. We have learned since then to move ourselves to the living room on party days and shut all doors and windows.

View from our back porch; nursery school gathering at end of green strip

Add very loud Arabic pop for three hours....

American entrepreneurs, here’s an idea from Egyptian culture: tissues here are usually sold in soft packs and then transferred to permanent holders. It saves on cardboard packaging, looks nicer (my example is a handmade paper box with ribbon ties—but they range from fake fur to embroidered silks), and the reusable boxes provide jobs for their makers, and pleasure for their owners.

I love the tissue boxes here, and think the concept is environmentally clever

Ironically, when we return to Connecticut, I am certain it will seem preternaturally quiet! Honking, vendor hollering and beating drums for their ware, the nursery school kids, the calls to prayer—life in Cairo is lived out loud. 

Gearing Down

We are more aware every day that our time here is drawing to a close. On 3 June, we should be in our house in New Haven by mid-evening. We all have our ways of dealing with anxiety. Mine is making lists and knocking off things; Harris’s is to work even harder on his manuscript. For example, we have lots of stuff to ship back (the alabaster lamp collection in particular) and lots of stuff to give our buddies Sarah and Mark and Emad. So I’ve written a Word document with everything on it to sell, give, or trash. It gives the illusion of control.

I have also filed my final report for Fulbright/IIE, and have written my conference paper for the 10 May Fulbright conference. Graded everything I have to grade, and am working on the last classes for the term. Next comes a round of Skype calls for everything we need to have done once we return (from the dentist to taxes).

A peep from our front balcony at Road 200. Spring has sprung, leaves are out.

Harris gave another brilliant talk on Monday at AUC, a lecture called “Are You Popular? Dating, Gender, and the Double-Coding of Rock and Roll.” It’s based on an article coming out in December, ISA, and Harris the techie embedded musical examples and films into his PowerPoint. He also registers an official sneer at PowerPoint since it kept losing his links; as one friend, Dave Tawfik, put it, “I bet Bill Gates sits around and tries to think of ways to make speakers even more anxious before talks” (put it in a British accent and it’s funnier!).

The poster for Harris's talk

We had a wonderful dinner at the gorgeous house in Giza where Tarek and Hend Swelim live. Our buddies Sarah Mineart and Chris Evens came along (poor Mark is mired in directing the soon-to-open “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” at AUC, and Katherine is traveling). Tarek and Hend live in a compound they built years ago with their extended family, when north Giza was very quiet (it’s a lot busier now). Their house combines wonderful furniture and rugs with gorgeous woodwork from Hend’s factory (which makes inlaid and decorative wood for the best hotels, and some lucky homeowners). Drinks and hors d’oeuvres by the pool began an evening that lasted until way past our usual bedtimes!

Chris Evens, Harris, and Sarah strike a pose by the pool at Tarek and Hend's

Tarek, Sarah, Harris, Farida (Tarek and Hend's daughter), and Chris  at dinner

Tarek, Harris, Farida, Hend, and Chris

The two dudes, Harris and Chris

The two hens, Mel and Sarah

Four happy guests!

Tarek and Hend's house at night; add scents of flowers and a soft breeze

Speaking of lists, here’s a couple:

Things I will miss                                              Things I won’t miss

The Arab Spring                                                The Arab Summer

The calls to prayer                                              The loud, really early calls to prayer

Koshery and kefta                                              Having to wash produce with Clorox

Sunshine                                                             Sandstorms

Hanging out laundry                                           Hanging out laundry

Walking everywhere                                           Filthy shoes from walking everywhere

Housekeeper who cooks                                     I really will miss Nagat!

Everything delivered                                           Gonna really miss this, too

Driver                                                                  Not ever driving

How different everything is                                 Being Other; patriarchy; feeling isolated

Amazing freshly squeezed juice                          Gonna really miss this, too

My students                                                         Lazy entitled students (not many but a few)

Europe’s proximity                                              Europe’s prices

Diving in the Red Sea                                          Freezing while diving the Red Sea

Lively streets                                                        Constant honking, fear of getting run over

Seeing the Pyramids while at the gym                 Nothing even comes close

Arabic                                                                  Arabic

Nifty-looking scarves                                           Having to cover up since I’m female

Learning the money                                             Carrying a zipped bag to hold lotsa bills

Paying attention to politics                                   Reading about fundamentalist candidates

Witnessing history                                               Witnessing some tragic history

Bargaining for stuff                                              Students bargaining for grades

Not fretting too hard if I run late                           Everyone runs late

Luxor XXX beer                                                 The calories from Luxor XXX

Our beautiful objects in the flat                            Living in a noisy flat

Food at China Winds                                           No comparison

There’s a chance we will come back, but time (and politics) will tell. The political situation here changes every day. We are hopeful that the elections will place someone moderate in the Presidential chair, but there’s no guarantee.

In filling out my Fulbright questionnaire, I thought hard about this past 9 months. It’s been great for us as a couple—I’ve been so proud of Harris, and we got to spend a lot of time together—and it’s made us want to do more academic travel to unusual places. I also am very proud of being a Fulbrighter, and hope that my work here has reflected well on the United States. I am even proud of just doing this, taking a flyer and going to a famously unstable country in transition, where life is different in pretty much every respect, and not just doing it but thriving. Thank you, Fulbright, for opening this door and allowing both of us to learn and grow and thank you, AUC. It has not been a bowl of cherries every minute but I would not trade it for anything.

Dinner tonight at the Winds with Chris as part of our mission to eat everything there. Grading, class prep; and our best to everyone.

Malesh

Arabic, from what we can tell, is exceptionally expressive. One word we’ve picked up with multiple uses is malesh. Like the many meanings of “forget about it” (or in Donnie Brasco’s vernacular, fuggetaboutit), malesh can mean “too bad,” “I’m so sorry,” “my bad,”  or even something ruder like “ask me if I care?” In this case, our past week was malesh as in “too bad.”

There’s a bumper sticker we see sometimes in the U.S. that says “A bad day diving is better than a good day at work.” It’s not true. I’d rather have a good day at work than the dive trip we went on during the 3^rd week in April. It was a disappointment, and not the farewell to the Red Sea that we had hoped to have. As they say here, malesh.

After a flight to Hurghada and a 3.5 hour bumpy crowded ride from there to Marsa Alam in southern Egypt, we boarded the M.V. Emperor Elite, a liveaboard dive boat, and moved into our stateroom.

M.V. Emperor Elite (internet photo)

The boat was reasonably comfortable, and the other divers an interesting and surprising mix, representing South Africa, Switzerland, Poland, Russia, the U.K., and us. The common language was English, excepting one diver who seemed to be a monoglot Russian. The two dive guides were excellent, Daniela (from Venezuela) and her husband Cseba (from Hungary). Our itinerary took us from Marsa Gahlib south to the Saint Johns reefs, just north of the Sudanese border. Why, you might ask, was this trip disappointing?

Southern Egyptian Red Sea dive sites (internet photo)

Our fellow divers and the hard-working staff of M.V. Emperor Elite

Blame it on the weather and the food. Egypt, like Europe, had had a very cold winter, and the waters of the Red Sea were far colder than normal—from 71-74 degrees F—exceeding the ability of 14 mm of neoprene to keep us warm enough. Being cold underwater is a form of torture for us, and being cold when visibility was low was even worse. Every dive was a challenge even when rewarded with the occasional manta ray or shark. Out of 21 possible dives, we could only manage 13. Again, malesh. What can anyone do about the weather? If you can, let me know!

The food on the boat was quite poor, bland and over-cooked. Most liveaboards don’t have great food but this was particularly bland. Again, malesh. At least we didn’t return having gained weight.

Dinner time

But we did enjoy wine with dinner and socializing with the United Nations of divers. And we made friends, particularly with a couple from South Africa, Celeste and Rocco, and have an invitation to visit their farm there!

Cocktails on the upper deck

There were even some special sightings on this trip: a pod of dolphins that hung around the boat a while; a view of a manatee or dugong from the surface; and several shark and manta ray sightings.

Two views of sportive dolphins

Since this is our last dive trip on the Red Sea, we were sorry it didn’t leave us with the kind of dazzling memories that the Maldives did. Returning home, we found that there had been another sandstorm, so the porches and clotheslines were covered with dust. It’s now beautiful spring weather, and we have retired all warm clothing. I resume teaching, and Harris gives a big talk on Monday on rock and roll, gender, and the economy of dating. I’m starting to make inventories of stuff in preparation for leaving, preparing my talk for Fulbright and final report, and generally feeling melancholy about rolling things up. It’s been a very eventful time here, and the coming bruhaha about the elections and constitution promise more drama for Egypt.