Today I went to the Cemetery of the Dead, which oddly enough has become home to thousands of very much alive locals. They are a mix of low income families and the homeless who first took up residency here more than five centuries ago. It is also a place many families choose to live so they can be close to their dead relatives’ graves. My friend Amuda and his friend Mahmood (an archeologist and a tour guide for the cemetery) gave me a full-day tour, which included everything from a visit to the royal tombs to tea with some of the families who live there. I enjoyed talking the locals and trying to understand them and their mentalities. All of them are extremely religious and have many children (which of course is not unique to this area but true of the poor globally). The poor look to God/Allah for inner peace and support in dealing with the harsh experiences life throws their way. I found the community at this cemetery to be one of the poorest I have ever visited, and yet their attitudes were very positive.

I asked some of the locals questions such as what they would like to change about their lives, if they had one wish what would it be, how did they imagine the afterlife, had they ever really been in love and if so, to tell me their love story, and so on. The overall responses were that they felt very lucky in their lives and that Allah has blessed them with much love. They didn’t have money but they had family and close friends, and a huge support group among their neighbors in the cemetery. They had enough food to eat, albeit simple (beans, rice, water and tea are their staples). When they finished expressing themselves they would kiss their palms, then the backs of their hands, and then their palms again while saying insha’allah, meaning God willing they would continue to have a good life.

Today was my last Arabic lesson. I am so sad about that. No more conjugating verbs, memorizing adjectives and greetings and learning Idalfa construction. The time passed so quickly and I feel like I had just begun to get a strong taste of the language and now it’s time to leave. I was getting one “aha!” after another today. Oh well, I will just have to discipline myself when I get back to the states to study every day! I was told by several people here that it takes about one year of full-time study to be able to read and write the language on a basic level and another year, full-time, to really get it on a deeper level and be able to speak comfortably. I am happy with my results and would love to study in the States for six months and then return and take another crash course here for a month.

I am really being forced to walk my talk here, and it’s a good opportunity for me to do the reframing that I teach my clients. There are so many daily challenges to deal with – beginning with the fact that nothing seems to be done completely correctly here. For example:

1. I still have no hot water, a weeks after the hotel manager promised me he would fix the problem. My reframe: In Asian cultures it is considered healthy to take a cold shower. It wakes your body up and gives you good circulation.

2. I did a video shoot and interviewed people here and the Egyptian cameraman was dreadful. His hands were shaking and the camera never stopped moving and the framing was all off. Reframe: I get an opportunity to do it over again with this learning experience behind me and interview the even more interesting people I have met since the shoot.

3. The elevator at my hotel is moody. In the morning it may work, but at night perhaps not. If it works today, tomorrow is no guarantee. It is very frustrating, especially since I’m on the sixth floor and climbing all those stairs, several times a day, while carrying my computer on one shoulder and a bag full of heavy books on my other shoulder is no fun. Reframe: It’s good aerobic exercise! I get an opportunity to build my strengthen my heart and increase my endurance.

Lecture and Party:

Tonight was fantastic! I met up with a woman originally from Texas (a mutual friend had hooked us up). She is so wonderfully global, intelligent, funny and beautiful – a real inspiration. Victoria has been living alternately in France, the States and Cairo for over a decade. She does consulting work (she has worked with several prime ministers) and is a psychologist in addition to many other things. She has the skills to get a variety of different jobs here freelancing. She invited me to a lecture at the AUC (American University in Cairo), where Anne Lamont was speaking. I loved her book, Bird by Bird. Several times I had tried to hear her speak in the States but the timing was always off, so I was thrilled to be able to hear her here in Cairo. She was inspirational. Her main topic theme is inspiring others to write, something that greatly interests me.

She said the main thing that stops people from succeeding, especially in writing, is that they burden themselves with pointless challenges. We create those challenges so we don’t have to deal with reality and life. We decide that we need to go to the gym every day to have thin thighs, and suddenly we don’t have the time to write or whatever else we claim is important to us.

She said to be a good writer, whether in fiction or non-fiction, people want to know how to survive, and what life is about. Laughter, she said, is “carbonated holiness.”

One thing I found funny about what she shared from her trip to Cairo was, “Someone forgot crosswalks and street lights here. It was shocking and hilarious trying to cross the street for the first time – like a Woody Allen movie. I asked my local friend if people get hit and she shrugged nonchalantly and said, ‘Sure.”

I couldn’t agree more.

After the lecture we went to a party on the rooftop of an apartment building. Victoria’s friend’s apartment was sparsely decorated but the pieces she did have were beautiful. Everything was top quality – interesting paintings and furniture that was very Middle Eastern, which I love.

There were people from all over the world there, and I had a great time sharing stories with them about the joys and challenges of living in a foreign country. Everyone was interesting open in that way that comes from feeling global and able to relate to anyone from anywhere. I spent most of my time talking with a fabulous couple from Australia who had been living in Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan and Cairo over the past six years. We traded anecdotes and a few good laughs before Victoria, her husband Nabil and I slipped out around midnight – which was just before the night really kicked in! Parties here don’t start rocking until at around 1 or 2am.

No one celebrates Halloween here but I decided in honor of the occasion to wear a hegeb and abeyya yesterday and today.

It was an interesting experiment. I got strange looks from newly arrived tourists, along with a few giggles and rude comments. One woman said, “You’re setting women people back fifteen years! Move into the twentieth century!” To men, I felt virtually invisible. I don’t believe even one man looked at me. When I am in my regular clothes – jeans and top – I am approached constantly and bombarded with questions: “Where are you from?” “Can we have a cup of tea?” “Are you from France?” (I rarely get American for some reason.) “England?” “You look Egyptian. You have Egyptian eyes.” “How long are you staying here?”

I realized I had also begun judging others. In the same way that, when I was in my own clothes, I felt negative towards women wearing the full hegeb and abeyya, when I was covered up I felt self-righteous and more pure. If only for a moment, I looked at women in tank tops and without head scarves as disrespectful. It was as if I had become a character in my own movie.

I asked many men why they became so sexually aggressive when they saw a woman’s bare shoulders, arms or hair. Almost all of them said it was because they had been segregated from women from at a young age, so women to them were like a different species – they got really horny really fast! They also don’t have sexy ads with half naked women advertising anything and everything, the way we do, so they’re not used to seeing bare female skin. Many men mentioned that. The ones who have traveled outside the Middle East said they were astonished to see all the sexy ads in Europe.

Today I am scheduled to go to the Sultan Hassan mosque (reputed to be one of the most beautiful in Cairo), as well as a Christian church. The mosque lived up to its billing: exquisite! It boasts an expansive white marble entrance that is cleaned hourly and was the only place I found in Cairo that was so spotless I felt I could eat off the ground. It was also a reprieve from the chaotic hustle and bustle of the city streets.

Before you enter any mosque you must take off your shoes at the entrance, and if you are female you must wear a headscarf and have your shoulders, arms, and legs covered. Then you arrive at two large rooms – one for women and one for men. I first stepped into the men’s side and saw a vast empty room covered with a maroon carpet. This had small prayer rug images designed into it so that each individual could pray while conserving as much space as possible when the mosque is crowded. But only a few men were in this room reading the Koran, napping, studying or talking quietly with friends. It seemed to me to be a place of refuge for the poor and homeless, as well as a magnet to the pious. I was told that some of these people are here everyday, all day, praying. They are either retired or unemployed.

On the women’s side, I witnessed the same scene, except for two women who were alone and weeping, and a social circle of about twenty that included lots of little kids running around playing while waiting for their mothers. Some of the kids saw me and my camera and got excited. They asked me to take their pictures so they could see themselves. They were astonished at their images and asked me to take more photos of them and then of their entire families until I finally had to say, sorry, I have to go. I gave them some chocolate and left behind lots of smiling little children and mothers.

My friends introduced me to a few of their friends after prayers. It turns out one of my new friends is part of a prayer circle. I asked him to pray for my family and friends and I wrote the names of a few people I felt really needed Allah’s help right now. After talking with his friends and handing them the names of my selected friends and family he told me their names had been added to the “prayer circle” where all Muslim’s prayers supposedly go towards helping those who are in need. They knew my friends and family and I are not Muslims but they said it doesn’t matter. Muslims care for everybody and love everybody.

Next stop was a beautiful Christian church. We took a moment there to say a prayer.

I feel good knowing that thousands of people are now praying five times a day for a few family members and friends of mine who are in need of a miracle.

Interviews:

Today I interviewed my Arabic teacher and the other female teachers at my school. It was fun learning about Cairene culture through them. They are all very sweet and enjoyed sharing their points of view and being given a voice for a much wider than ordinary audience. It was the first interview for all four of them, and I believe they felt good that someone cared about their opinions. This is what I learned from the female teachers:

1. They are not embarrassed about their bodies but they are embarrassed talking about their bodies.

2. They are ashamed of taking about sex, but when they are married the women feel free because the Koran says sex is a positive thing if married. However, they aren’t comfortable doing things in the bedroom that are out of the norm from making babies, if you know what I mean …

3. None of them would even have a coffee with a man unless they were still a students in school and it was on campus, with a friend. But as an adult (all four of these women are between the ages of 23 and 36), they cannot meet with a man even for a coffee because people would talk and it would ruin their chances for marriage.

4. Marriage is very difficult now because of the economy. The women want a man who can support them and a man wants money to support his wife. So, men have to work hard in their twenties and marry well into their thirties so they can save enough money for the wedding and married life afterwards.

5. There are twice as many women as men at the marrying age, so it is much more difficult for a women to get married than a man.

6. Some women (two of teachers and others I interviewed) feel that they are more beautiful wearing a hegeb (headscarf). The hegeb makes them feel more feminine.

7. Underneath their hegebs and arrabiya (similar to a long fancy cotton nightgown) they wear nice clothes and jewelry (if they have money) to share only with their husbands, immediate family and female friends.

8. They don’t feel lack of freedom here because they agree with and like the rules for women here. They say that even if they were to move to America alone and could do whatever they wanted, they would choose to live within the same boundaries– wearing the hegeb, not dating, not having male friends and being home before dark.

9. Islamic women in general don’t get plastic surgery because Allah gave them the body and face he wanted them to have. But some rich and not-so-religious women do have such surgery.

10. Religion is used as a force for violence but it should really be a force for peace.

11. Israel is the tail of the U.S. (one woman’s opinion)

12. The U.S. is the tail of Israel. (another woman’s opinion)

Every time I go on a trip something seems to go wrong, and it’s interesting to see how creative I can be in solving a problem that would be easy back at home. Below is the drama of the day:

Every morning at the same time I walk to my Arabic class and pass many of the same people. Today, one of the local shopkeepers said his typical “hello” and replied with the same and continued on my way. But this time he called after me, “Miss, miss!” Thinking he wanted to sell me something I ignored him and pressed on through the crowds and the crazy traffic with its non-stop honking horns. A moment later he had his hand on my back, saying something in Arabic. Startled, I told him emphatically that I was in a hurry and turned to keep going. But then he grabbed my arm and pointed to the skirt that I had just bought the day before, and now I noticed the zipper was down, revealing a slice of my left hip and a peak at my pink underwear. Embarrassed, I thanked him and continued down the sidewalk, pulling my top over the zipper area and switching my large bag to my left side. I made it to school and told my teacher Angy about my problem. She said it was typical with the clothes here and that she knew of a local shop that could fix it.

At the tailor that Angy recommended, a man named Ahmed greeted me. I showed him my skirt, which I had pinned together, and he called a colleague (also named Ahmed) over to help figure out what to do with this dilemma – because I was wearing the skirt. After debating the issue, Ahmed left and returned with yet another Ahmed and a large white bed sheet. “Here, put this around you and take off your skirt.” Oy vey! I’m supposed to take off my skirt in a small room in front of three Ahmeds?!

I found a small adjoining room – basically a closet filled with scraps of material, light bulbs, and broken pipes – took off my skirt and wrapped the sheet around my waist. While I was in the room, the three Ahmeds made the decision to add another button to the skirt to tighten the gap from the broken zipper — a temporary fix since I couldn’t leave the skirt there. Fine, I agreed with the plan.

I sat in a chair and waited as the three Ahmeds argued about which button to put on and where exactly to add the button. One Ahmed was getting very frustrated and told the other two to let him handle it. He ended up adding an additional button next the original so the zipper wouldn’t look broken. It worked for a quick fix and I was able to at least get back to my hotel.

I’m sitting at breakfast enjoying my very average breakfast when I see a waiter carrying a plate of pita bread to a table with four Arab men. When the waiter has almost reached their table, three feet away, he trips on the carpet and drops the plate of bread on the filthy carpet – blackened and frayed from probably two decades of use – and the waiter picks up the fallen pitas and places them back on the plate and continues to the jovial group enjoying their coffee, who saw what happened, and sets the plate on their table. Then men smile, “Shukran.” The waiter smiles back and walks away. No problem. The men enjoy their bread and neither party thinks anything of it. What a country!

Oct. 28^th, — Pyramids of Giza – 1pm

I’m sitting in front of the Pyramids. They are amazing! Too bad there are so many busloads of tourists, but other than that it is breathtaking. I am waiting for my friend Smiley to pay our entry fees and negotiate bringing a camera in. Video cameras are not allowed here for security reasons.

Oct. 28^th, — Pottery Café – 8pm

Back at my favorite café, I’m eating dinner and regrouping. I have school tomorrow and must do my homework, which I am finding hard to focus on after such an exhausting and exciting day. I got to experience the Pyramids all day in 90 degree weather! I rode a camel around and got to have a picnic lunch there. I took lots of photos and learned a lot of facts about the place, but of course just remember a few main things like:

1. The Pyramid of Khufu is the largest in Giza.

2. The pyramid is made from about 2.3 million limestone blocks that weigh about 2 tons each.

3. Over the centuries, this limestone has been stripped away and used to build palaces and mosques, exposing the softer inner stones.

The coolest part of this trip was going inside on of the Pyramids. Although it was severely claustrophobic, it was an incredible feeling being inside such an ancient royal place. I meditated and just listened … waiting to hear messages from the gods … but nothing. ;0

I also saw the Sphinx, which has a woman’s head and a lion’s body. According to Greek legend, the Sphinx posed riddles to passers-by and killed anyone who was unable to solve them. The creature is known in Arabic as Abu al-Hol (Father of terror). They say the Sphinx, like everything else in Cairo is suffering from a lack of maintenance, that it has the equivalent of cancer because it is being eaten away from the inside. That is a shame because it is truly extraordinary.

Gotta study now … more later …

I checked out the Nile Hilton today. I was so excited in the cab, thinking about this move. I would have clean sheets, decent food in the many choices of restaurants, a fresh smelling room, a clean shower and toilet that work. Wow! What luxury. The taxi driver stopped about two blocks from the hotel and explained to me that for security reasons no cars were allowed within two blocks of the hotel. I paid him and walked the rest of the way. Once at the hotel, I had to walk another two blocks to the back entrance (since I’m not a guest staying there) and then I had to walk down a corridor lined with shop after shop after café after shop – I felt like I had just landed at LAX. When I finally made it to the reception desk I was feeling strange. Maybe it was culture shock! There were a few people before me in line, and as I waited patiently I observed my surroundings, perhaps soon to be my new home.

I noticed a wealthy-looking Kuwati family wearing their traditional garb, wealthy Europeans, middle-aged people who reeked of “tourist” instead of “traveler.” They were waiting for a tour bus to take a tour somewhere. By the time it was my turn at the reservation desk, I was already homesick for Cairo! I missed the craziness. I missed my twelve block walk to school in the mornings, soaking in the hustle and bustle of the city, my fellow students studying Arabic in my hotel and hanging at the business center with its broken computers and no fax, printer, or copier. I missed my tiny dilapidated room with all its problems. I missed Ahmad, the man who cleaned my room. (He gets so excited when he sees me because I gave him a US$3 tip for delivering my laundry, and that is a day’s salary for him.) I also missed the silly guard, Mohammed, outside my hotel who always flashes a big smile and a “Salaam aleikim” anytime I enter or exit my building. I missed the receptionist Mohammed who makes fun of me each day with my various struggles. Every morning he says, with a charming smile, “What problems can I help you solve today?” Then I relate all my problems of the previous day: “Well, today, the noise on the street was very bad. I heard a bomb-like sound several times around 2 am, which woke me up.”

“Kids in the street playing with firecrackers. They are bored.”

“Then I heard banging on metal at 4 am.”

“Oh, we are making plates, beautiful metal plates. I can show you later when they are finished.”

“At 4am you make metal plates?”

“It’s Cairo.” He shrugs.

I even missed my fuul and bread, and the awful-tasting kasha breakfast.

The Nile Hilton receptionist looked at me. “Hello. How can I help you?” Perfect English, no accent. I said, “I’m sorry. I’m fine, thanks,” and left. Walked out again through the polished-looking, decadent mall and back to the crazy street of honking cars, bumper to bumper traffic and smog, and I was much happier. I had a new appreciation for Cairo. I’m starting to get this city! I’m finally finding my groove!

Back in my hotel, I say hello to Mohammed, the guard and pass through the metal detector to the lobby. I tell the female manager my story and that I write for a travel guidebook and I am not happy with my room because of this, this, and that and it’s my second change of rooms. She seems empathetic and says, “You are breaking my heart. Just a moment.” She hands keys to a bellboy and he leads me to check out a new room: 601. It is much better than my two previous ones – though still a dump – but it’s in the back so there’s little noise, and a decent bathroom with water pressure and a toilet that works. The only problem is that I will have to keep the shower running for about ten to fifteen minutes in the morning if I want hot water because the water has to make its way up to the sixth floor. Whatever. I tell Samiah, the manager, that it’s excellent. “I’ll take it.”

“Please write something positive about us. I will do everything for you. Last time the travel guidebooks aren’t so good to us. They said that we recycle our food from one customer to another.” I laughed and said, “You do! I’ve seen it several times already.”

Today on my walk to Arabic class, a shop merchant pleaded with me to stop (which is typical – with every ten steps another person is always calling for you). I usually stay focused on my task of “walking to school” because I learned by experience (a little over a week now) that once you look anyone in the eye or engage them you’re screwed, unless you want to waste fifteen minutes on a sales pitch or story. You’re either stuck listening or forced to be rude.

This particular salesman said, “My name is Oscar, not Ali Baba. No worries – for you, good price.” I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Then as I kept moving along another gentleman said, “Come into my shop, it’s free, free for looking.” Then he cracked up. Another street merchant a few more doors down said, “Walk like an Egyptian…you know, like the song in America! Walk like an Egyptian into my store.” And then he started doing the Walk like an Egyptian dance. The Egyptians love their humor.

Tonight, after days of not having a functional shower (low water pressure, cold water) I again felt like leaving Cairo and its 80-degree temperatures, sleepless nights, bad food, etc. It wasn’t fun anymore. Then I was invited to join some Europeans at a restaurant on the Nile. From this scenic, fancy restaurant I spotted the Hilton Nile Hotel standing strong and beautiful in the distance and I got an idea: “I will move to the Hilton Hotel and solve all my problems. I will splurge! I will have a clean fresh smelling room with a toilet AND shower that function properly and perhaps a room that is not facing a street that never sleeps. I will have a view of the Nile AND a swimming pool.” I decided to check it out the next day.

Today I also discovered a fabulous European café across the street from the American University of Cairo (AUC). They serve lattes, pizza, pasta, sandwiches, and salads. This is a major coup for me. I will now have a great place to study and make foreign friends. It is much better than Groppi, because this is like a European café as opposed to a Middle Eastern one, so their menu is far better and they play fabulous music and have wonderful art on the walls.

Most of the people here are from Europe, UAE or Russia, learning Arabic and/or studying Islam. The women are dressed in casual clothes and actually show their arms and some of their shoulders – gasp! The best outfit I witnessed was in a group of four Muslim women who were wearing the hijabs and the blousy shirts and baggy pants/skirts, but one of them was wearing her hijab with a tight-fitting Playboy bunny shirt and jeans. I could imagine her leaving her house in proper clothes, saying good-bye to her parents and then changing for school and back again when she returned home in the evening! I enjoyed my second decent meal in ten days – penne carbonara. The menu actually says, “Get the taste of home.” Which was true. It was delicious! It is triple the price compared to the Arabic restaurants but it’s worth it ( penne carbonara lunch US$7.00). I even had one of the waiters help me with my homework, conjugating verbs and making simple sentences out of six adjectives. ;0

There are about five tables downstairs and twenty upstairs, almost all of them filled with students studying and socializing. I love it! This is will be my new hang out.

Driving today was crazy. I learned that the signs for the exit off-ramps are positioned after the exit, so unless you’re familiar with the streets you’re inevitably going to miss your exit, perhaps several times. I was told that one of the most famous driving sayings here is, “Son-of-a-bitch!” – usually uttered right after you’ve passed your exit ramp.

Crossing the street feels as if you’re caught in the middle of a video game! It’s a true Egyptian baptism by fire – once you make it across in one piece you feel like you can take on anything this city throws your way.

I missed Ramadan by one week. During Ramadan, the religious fast that goes from dawn to dusk, nothing passes Egyptians lips – not even romance. But I was told by many that once the sun sets they go crazy! People stay up all night drinking, eating and smoking. They compare it to New Years Eve, except it’s every day for a full month. Before learning about Ramadan from my new friends here, I had thought it was a spiritual time for self-reflection and taken very seriously – a time for sacrifice. Was I ever wrong! They do sacrifice for Allah by not eating or drinking anything for about eight hours, but then at night they indulge like never before. It’s their favorite time of year. (Other Islamic countries, like Saudi Arabia, Afghanistan and Sudan, are apparently much more conservative and don’t stay out all night partying). I am just perplexed as to how these people can function with such little sleep for such long periods of time. I guess they’re used to it.

The truth is, Ramadan or not, Egyptians stay up all night. Most have two jobs: a day job for eight hours, then a night job for six or seven more. Then they catch a few hours of rest and do it all over again (for a mere $80.00 - $150.00 per month)! I learned this from the man who manages the business center, after I caught him sleeping several times and asked him if he was okay. We started talking and he told me his story, then brought in other hotel employees and they also told me about their second jobs and salaries. Now I know why there is so much incompetence among the workers here. They are all exhausted and don’t really care about their jobs, since their pay is so paltry. Nothing is done right and when you ask for something – even room service – half the time they forget and never show up, and then later apologize. But now that I understand I have far more compassion for them. No soap in my room, no clean sheets or clean towels, television broken, bedside lamp flickers, no problem!

I switched rooms again at my three-star hotel and the new room (#301) also has a strong air of Cairo’s once-upon-a-time glamour. Unfortunately for me, it’s now 2007 and the place is crumbling. The view from my balcony is of the crazy city below that never sleeps. The Egyptians party all night long – smoking their water pipes and drinking tea until at least 4am every night. Cairo nightlife puts LA and NY to shame.

My new room has a corroded showerhead that is temporarily held together by three large band-aids, but at least the toilet doesn’t leak. This room is noisy, but the other room was much smaller. So, I traded one set of challenges for another.

On the street I learn that everyone is responsible for themselves when driving or crossing the street, unless it’s a fatal accident. If it’s fatal, the government pays the victim’s family and the person who killed the other will owe the government the money until he has paid it off – which means forever. My taxi driver insists there are few accidents. I find this hard to believe, because there are no streetlights or apparent rules for driving. But who knows? Apparently, in that rare case where you do hit someone, my driver says the two parties involved start off by saying strong words to each other, then scream at each other, then go their own way.

Later that same evening, my driver hits a pedestrian. The pedestrian (a man about 35 years old) waves his arms and says something in Arabic, and my driver responds with an equally strong retort. Then the pedestrian continues across the street, and that’s that. No cops, no ambulances, no lawyers. Simple!