Category: The Ordinary

Categories
Being home The Ordinary

Closing a circle

It was seems like a lifetime ago, I posted this.

The woman who took our cats when we went to Cairo, recently moved back to the east cost. Roscoe was up for adoption again. The woman wanted us to just house sit him long enough for her to get settled. But there was no way we (cough I cough) could take him back and give him up again.

So he came “home” to end his days with us. He is 15 or so years old now. He was a feral kitten that was abandoned and not even weaned when KD found him.

He has far outlived his expected life span. But he is ours again.

And even though he prefers The Good Doctor’s lap, I no longer go to the bathroom alone.

Categories
The Ordinary Uncategorized

Gonna buy 5 copies for my mother!

It ain’t exactly Rolling Stone….

and we aren’t on the cover….

and it ain’t photos of us,but…

Allow us to toot our own horns for a moment.

So a friend of ours asked if we had any good pictures from our trip to Zanzibar.
She was doing an article for “Horus” magazine, the on-board magazine of Egypt Air.

We sent her a bunch and she picked 4.

2 of Kaddee’s and 2 of mine.

Our photos will be in the June/July issue of Egypt Air’s Horus magazine!!

The pictures are here.

The first 2 are Kaddee’s, the 2nd 2 are mine.

The mag isn’t online, but I have been promised a .pdf of the article. I will probably put that up after the issue goes to print.

We will have to fly somewhere to get hard copies.

This is our stepping stone to greatness!<snork>

Categories
NSTIW The Ordinary

Ta-Ta-Ta-Ta-Taxi

More fun with taxis!

I go out to Giza 2 days a week. I do some volunteer computer-type-thingies for one of the Egyptology groups that work near the pyramids.

From Zamalek, the easiest way to get there is by taxi.

Getting a taxi to Giza is pretty easy. I flag down a taxi and tell them “Giza” and the driver’s eyes light up with (the local equivalent of) dollar signs. They figure they have a rich tourist on their hands.

I then tell them, in very rough Arabic, that I want to go _near_ the pyramids but not _to_ the pyramids. And that I want them to take the ring road. That makes them unhappy because

  • it means I probably am not a tourist and I speak at least a little Arabic, so it means I am going to be a little hard to bilk
  • it means that they cannot drive the surface road route to the pyramids
  • it means that they cannot take me down what I lovingly refer to as, “tout alley”.

This is the main street leading from Giza to the Pyramid entrance. (or one of them, anyway).

Along this street will be young men who will, quite literally, run into traffic when they see a taxi with a khwaga (foreigner)  in it. They usually congregate around the intersections where taxis have to slow down or stop.

It will be several minutes of:

“Hello! Where you from? You go pyramids? I take you. I take you horse ride” etc etc

My favourite experience along those lines is when I told the driver to take the ring road, and he did not. (I wasn’t paying attention. I was listening to music and day dreaming. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late to make the turn off.)

I let him know that I was not happy that he did not take the ring road. And I let him know that I was not interested in going to the pyramids, or a horse ride, or a guide.

As we approached tout alley, he was waving people off in an attempt to placate the angry khwaga. One fellow ran along side the taxi and managed to get the front, passenger-side door open. He was attempting to get in the taxi to “be my friend”

I told the driver: “La-a. Mish aiz, yalla yalla.” (No. I no want. Step on it).

He accelerated. My new-wanna-be-friend was doing a pretty good job keeping pace. He was able to keep even with the taxi. But he was only even with the rear door.

The front door, which is still open at this point, mind you, is juuuuuuust out of his reach. He can keep up, but can’t gain the extra couple of feet needed to jump into the front seat.

The only thing that would have made this a perfect comedy is if he had run into the back of one of the mini-buses that was stopped along the side of the road or tripped and fallen.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wish harm on the young man. He is just trying to earn a living (granted, by being a nuisance and a leech, but still).

I would have laughed my ass off if there had been a harmless pratfall though. As it was, I got a chuckle out of waving out the window to him as he tried to keep pace.

It made up for the extra time required to take the surface roads.

But anyway, that isn’t what this post is about.

This post is about getting home _from_ Giza.

There are a lot fewer taxis available going from Giza at the time I want to leave. (between 5 and 7 pm).

Yesterday I had to wait for over 5 minutes (if you lived or even visited here, you would understand the magnitude of this statement) before any taxi came by. And it was full. It was probably 10 minutes before I got a taxi.

I got in the taxi. It was a pretty nice taxi, as Cairo taxis go. The seats were brand new.

Of course, they didn’t actually fit the taxi and were made for some sort of mutant that had a 36″ inseam and a 10″ torso (the “head” rest was low, between my shoulder blades).

But the taxi wouldn’t stay running. When ever he put the clutch in, it would sttttttutter. About half the time, the driver was able to give it gas and keep it from stalling. About half the time not.

Nor was it a lack of fuel issue. It was something else.

Normally this wouldn’t concern me for a couple of reasons

  • it is rather common for a taxi to die, either out of gas, or to stall and then fail to restart because of a dead battery.
  • taxis are usually a dime a dozen. If this one died, I would simply hop out and flag another

But this time was different.

I had waited a long time for a taxi. Getting out now would mean a long wait for another.

And we were going on the ring road. Where traffic would be wizzing by at anywhere from 50 to 150 kph.

So a breakdown on the ring road is a little hairier.

Oh, did I mention the wind was blowing and the sky grew dark?

So the taxi dies a couple more times. The last time right on the on ramp to the ring road. I analyzed the situation and figured

this is my last chance to get out before we get on the ring road.

He got it started again without even slowing down. And I chose poorly. I stayed in the taxi.

We get on the ring road. Traffic is moving fast today. (sometimes it is at a crawl).

Taxi stalls.

He pops the clutch.

Taxi stutters and starts. We drive on.

Taxi bogs down.

At this point I am actually a little nervous about a semi ploughing into the back of us as we crawl along at about 20kph.

He limps it to the side of the road.

Ok, time to get out and try to grab another taxi.

I am texting back and forth with the good doctor at this point keeping her apprised of my situation (“remember, I want to be cremated and my ashes flown back to seattle”)

So, NSTIW:

standing on the side of the highway

in the whipping wind

trying to hail a taxi

nobody is stopping

It was kind of amusing and I was actually chuckling about it.  To sum it up I will cut-n-paste from a message I sent my wife as I was standing on the side of the highway

Could be worse. Oh wait. It is raining.

It was only another 5 or 10 minutes before I was able to flag another taxi.

Good times…

Categories
The Ordinary

Change

This happened quite some time ago, but I can find no post about it, so ….

I am in a taxi downtown, sitting shotgun.

We are winding our way through Midan Tahrir on our way north. This is one of the larger cluster f*cks traffic wise in this area.

We are dodging buses, mini-buses, micro-buses, other taxis, car, motorcycles, scooters and the occasional intrepid pedestrian.

A taxi pulls up next to us on my side of the car and the driver is holding out a 50LE note and yells “fi fakka?” (got change).

My driver says “ay” (what?). I repeat what the other driver says.

My taxi driver replies that yes he has change.

The other taxi driver hands me the 50LE. We are still driving mind you. We are through the traffic circle and are heading north at this time.

I hand the 50 to my driver. The taxis part like, well, the red sea, to go around some tourists trying to run across the road to the Egyptian Museum.

My taxi driver rummages through his pockets and makes change for the 50. Which he hands to me.

I wave to the taxi driver, he pulls his taxi close and I hand over the change. A chorus of “shokrun” and “ma salema” ensues.

We go our separate ways.

Another ordinary taxi ride in Cairo.

Categories
The Ordinary Uncategorized

Happy Thanksgiving from Egypt

In one’s day to day life, it is easy for one (or at least this one) to bemoan the myriad slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Holiday’s like this are important touchstones to sit back and look at the big picture. As a dear departed friend once said:

I am dry, warm and no one is shooting at me. It is a good day.

So today, Thanksgiving, is supposed to about appreciating what ya got. And I got lots. More than most. And I do appreciate it. I am not a public person when it comes to demonstrating my feelings, but to all my friends and loved ones:

Thanks for putting up with me for another year. I know it ain’t easy. I appreciate it.

Today is shopping and a quiet dinner of take out with Kaddee’s mom and aunt who are visiting. Tomorrow is the big dinner with about 16-20 of our friends (and a few strangers) here in Cairo. An eclectic grouping of people. And food. Trying to find “the traditional” staples has been a challenge. It will be interesting to see what people can assemble.

I wish you all all the best.

Categories
The Ordinary

Kickin’ it.

I was reminded recently of jumping in a pile of leaves.

This time of year, back where I grew up, was leaf kicking time. Didn’t matter how old I was, if there were leaves on the ground (in the gutter, on the sidewalk, in the park) I would have to walk through them and rustle them.

The colors on the leaves in the NE were so vibrant, the noise the dry leaves made seemed so loud and somehow comforting, and the feeling of the leaves swirling around my legs just felt so good. If you were lucky and the leaves were dry enough and there was just a bit of wind and you kicked you could get them to swirl around your head, which was always an extra bonus.

Combining the 3 sensual inputs of color, sound and motion touched (and still does) some part of my brain that makes me smile and feel like a child again.

Living in Seattle has seriously curtailed my leaf kicking. For the most part, if there are leaves on the ground, they are wet. And kicking wet leaves is not only less satisfactory, but is also likely to land you on your ass.

But there are plenty of leaf kicking opportunities here in Cairo, believe it or not. The mango trees shed their leaves once or so a year.

In addition, people will “trim” trees here at least twice a year. They are “trimmed” usually by men in gallabeyas climbing and bouncing on the branches that are to be removed until they snap off.

Then, a few days later, men in trucks come by to collect the branches.

So during that time there are all these leaves on the ground just begging to be kicked.

There are 2 minor nit pics:

  • They are not all that colorful. They are either dead leaves and they are a uniform yellowish brown, or they are recently pruned green leaves. Not quite the same.
  • They are filthy. They are covered in sand/dust/dirt.

So walking through them doesn’t quite conjure up the same colorful swirling magic that happens in the NE, and your shoes and slacks are then covered in dust and dirt.

But I do it anyway, cause it still puts a silly grin on my face.

Especially when I do it down the street in front of the art school. All the students stop their incessant mobile phone conversations to stop and stare at the crazy OLD khwaga kicking leaves.

Heh. They don’t know what they’re missing.

Categories
The Ordinary

Windows

It is that time of year again when we have the windows open. It is cool enough to not need the air conditioning. The breezes from the north are refreshing.

Some days, the windows still have to be closed because of the smell of burning fields in the distance. It carries a looongg way and files the air with a nasty smoke that stings the eyes and bothers the throat.

But today is not one of those days. It is a partly cloudy day, with a cool breeze.

I think fall is one of my favorite times of the year here.

Gotta enjoy it while you can.

Categories
Cultural Differences The Ordinary

Fulfilling a promise

(not one of mine)

A Egyptian Coptic friend of ours invited us to attend the baptism of his son Bishoy. We were delighted.

He told us he would pick us up in his car and drive with us to where the bus would pick us up.

A bus? It turns out he had arranged a bus for all his family and friends and we all rode up together to the monastery.

The monastery in question is is St. Bishoy’s monastery about 1.5 hours outside of Cairo.

We had expected to go to a local church for the baptism, but ma’lesh.

We rode up to the monastery and we disgorged from the bus. This was on Friday. In Egypt, many Coptic churches have their services on Friday. Since Friday is the Muslim Sabbath, many businesses are closed (at least in the morning) and it is just easier to have the services the same day that the rest of the country is “down” for Sabbath.

The monastery is set a little way out of the near by town. It is walled in and has one main large church and at least one other side chapel that, apparently, used for baptisms.

We sat in on the big main service, which seemed to be one continuous service. Every time we peaked our heads in, it was still going on. We were there for about 4 or 5 hours.

The baptism was fairly short. They stripped the baby, dunked him, fished him out and dressed him in some snazzy duds.

baby bishoy

Afterwards one of the English speaking priests chatted with us and we got a short tour of the place. We had a nice picnic lunch.

The interesting part, to me anyway is this:

As we were sitting around after eating I was talking to Samah, father of Bishoy, about the day. I said

This is kind of far from Cairo to go to a baptism. I realize that your son is named Bishoy and this is the monastery of St. Bishoy, do most families go to the church or monastery of their child’s namesake for the baptism?

He replied:

Well, no. For 2 years we try and no baby come. So I make a prayer to Saint Bishoy, that if he gives us a baby, I will name him Bishoy and have the baptism here with all my family. So….

and he shrugged. He was beaming, like he is in that photo. Proud, happy, tired, relieved and grateful to his God and Saint Bishoy. It was completely unaffected.

Sometimes, I envy faith like that.

Categories
The Ordinary

Back in Cairo.

Refreshed and exhausted (both?) from a month in Dahab. Spent the time working, diving, swimming, getting my Advanced Open Water ™ and Enriched Air Diver(tm) certifications.

I brought all my CatalunyaGP/Barcelone/Rome photos with me to Dahab.

Ya know, in case I had spare time to edit photos and put up a webpage. Snork.

As you can see (or rather, can’t see) I didn’t do so.

Dahab has a strange affect (or is it effect? I can never remember nor care enough to look it up) on us.

We refer to Dahab as a “high gravity zone”. We have been there 5 or 6 times now, and have never managed to get out of Dahab, despite all the plans to go to Nuweiba, or St. Catherines, or ….

It just doesn’t happen.

So to bring the photos in the hopes I would rather spend the time in front of my computer working on them in my spare time instead of sitting by the ocean or diving was an exercise is the most optimistic of thinking.

So, no photo updates.

I haven’t even touched my camera since we got back from Spain/Italy.

It is now Ramadan. The streets are deserted prior to Iftar. Surreally so. It would be a great time to take the camera and get photos of empty streets and other scenes unique to Ramadan in this densely populated metropolis.

But I find I have a lack of desire to make photos these days. I don’t know if it is laziness (which is always a strong possibility) or if I am jaded to Cairo and don’t *see* photos anymore.

Who knows.

Categories
The Ordinary

Eating seasonally

One of the things that one learns to do here, is eat seasonally. Grab what is fresh and enjoy, for it may be gone tomorrow.

It is May here in Cairo. (It is probably May elsewhere, as well)

The days are almost hot, the nights are very comfortable and tomatoes
are ripe and beautiful. And the garlic is coming in, in force.

Driving on the ring road through agricultural areas is a treat for
the eyes and nose.

Large trucks full of the reddest, firmest tomatoes imaginable.

Trucks full of garlic.

Trucks full of onions and leeks.

On a good day, the smell of garlic and onions on the ring road is
enough to overpower the smell of burning garbage.
(It is an unfortunate juxtaposition of farming land and garbage dumps)

I was riding out to Giza the other day and was watching the trucks of
tomatoes etc go by and thought

“Hmm, I would love some of that mexican soup…”

So I dug out the
“Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home”
cookbook and flipped to the
Mexican Tomato Lime Soup
recipe.

see http://wetleather.com/recipes/show-858 for details.

A yummy soup, hot or cold.

Great with a rose or white Rioja.

[digression]
Yes, yes I know: “a rose? ick”.
We used to think the same thing. Then we attended a wine tasting
at The Spanish Table in Seattle (http://www.spanishtable.com).

They were pouring a rose.
We turned up our noses, but the nice woman doing the tasting
insisted we try it. It was only a small taste, and we weren’t paying for
it. She assured us she would not be offended if we tasted and dumped
it in the bucket.

It was quite nice. A perfect summer afternoon or evening wine, lightly
chilled.

If only we had some here in Egypt 🙁

Alas.
[/digression]

Anyway, I know that the tomatoes probably are not in season yet where you are, nor is it likely to be warm enough for a cold soup, but tuck this one away for future reference.