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Uncategorized

Reservations? Ay da?

We are in the process of making arrangements to visit Asia for a couple weeks over Christmas/New Years holiday.

Well, that is a popular time to travel. Especially for one of our destinations, Phuket. We are going to use that for a base for some diving. We are looking at a live aboard.

So we looked at all the boats and the available dates and email and asked for cabin.

We were told “Sorry, that boat is all booked for those dates.”

Oh.

Ok, so we went with our second choice.

Nope, all booked as well.

Booked? 2 months in advance? We clearly aren’t in Egypt anymore. You mean I can’t just show up and expect to be admitted? What kind of country runs like that? I mean, really.

So, we juggled our schedule and got a cabin on our desired boat, just different dates.

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Uncategorized

The monkeys on the internets have nothing on these guys…..

We have always had a problem in this apartment with not getting hot water.

We would have to let it run for 10 minutes or more before it got “hot”. And it never got HOT. By HOT, I mean hot enough that you have to turn on the cold water faucet to blend the water so that it doesn’t burn.

I never gets that hot.

But we adapted.

But the water stopped coming out of the hot faucet entirely. Or it would spurt out and stop. and spurt and stop.

We had the staff of the apartment building look at it several times. And when they were here it was fine.

We finally had to play bad cop, good cop. We went down stairs and kaddee, very rationally, tried to explain the problem. I interrupted and railed and generally “made a scene”.

The next day we had no less than 6 workmen in our bathrooms. (might have had a peak of 7 at one point, with them all coming and going, I kinda lost track).

I tried to explain the problems:

1. The water pressure is erratic to the point of getting no water, followed by enough pressure to knock a pigeon off a garbage truck.

2. When we had water, it wasn’t hot.

So they turned on the water and let it run for a couple of minutes and determined it was hot enough. I assured them in no uncertain terms “uh, no. that’s not hot. I want STEAM”.

They (and I am not making this up) banged on the pipes with a wrench. and tested it again. “See hot”.

Me: “no, no steam? do you see steam? call me when you see steam”

As I was leaving the bathroom, problem #1 reared its ugly head. [we had never been able to repro problem while they were here].

“AHA! LOOK! MAFISH MAYA” (no water)

There was much muttering and they sent off one of the junior workmen. I understood enough to know where they sent him:

They sent him off for a new hose for the shower head. The thinking being that the hose was clogged.

I tried to explain to them why their reasoning was faulty:

the cold water behaves fine. Great water pressure. The cold water comes through the same hose that the hot water comes through, ergo….

“uh. Wait 1 minute. new hose.”

I shrug and wait.

They replace the hose and turn on the water and (thank god!) no hot water….. They turn on the cold water, plenty of water. Turn on hot no water.

Hmm, fancy that. It wasn’t the hose. [Once I lost the “it aint the hose because the cold water works fine” battle, I never even bothered to ask why it was the same in the sink (no hose) and the other shower. I figured it was faster and easier to allow them to figure it out then to try to save them time and effort]

More people were called up. A man in “nice” clothes came up to see what the problem was. [The rest of the men had on overalls]

They went down to the apartment below to check his water pressure.

And came back up. Apparently it was localized to this apartment.

Except for the hose, nothing was replaced. But they (again, no joking) banged on the pipes and joints and valves for about 2 hours.

Then they called me into the bathroom to see.

Very good water pressure, tons of grit in the sinks and shower (that came out of the faucets) and HOT-ish water. [hot enough to shower comfortably, but not HOT enough to need cold water added].

Apparently, the hot water pipe was clogged with grind/sand. [I clean the aerator/screens on the faucets about once per month to get rid of the build up]. The banging broke up enough of it and flushed it from the pipes.

Since then the water pressure and temperature are far better than they ever have been in this apartment.

It still is poor enough that if this were my house in the states, I would be replacing the water heater or looking for another cause.

But it is as good as it is going to get here, I am afraid.

Apparently the old saying of putting enough monkeys[1] in a room with typewriters, and you will get the combined works of Shakespeare holds true.

Just substitute “wrenches” for “typewriters” and “hot water” for “works of Shakespeare”.

And you need 7 of them.

[1] Which is not to say I am comparing Egyptians to monkeys.

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.

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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.

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Uncategorized

My face is all aglow…..

I am celebrating Ramadan by listening to Warren Zevon’s “Mohammed’s Radio”

Makes me wanna rock and roll all night long…..

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
Out and about

Taming the lizard brain

The “lizard brain” is a term I use to describe the “old” part of the brain. The part that triggers the four “F”s of the limbic system

  • fight
  • flight
  • feeding
  • reproduction

An example:

Take a large human male, wrap him in neoprene, stick a big metal tank full of air on his back, slap a bunch of weight on him, cram a hunk of rubber, plastic and metal into his mouth, connected to said tank by a TEENY TINY RUBBER HOSE, submerge him in sea water and tell him

BREATHE NORMALLY

The lizard brain is the part of you brain that says

BREATHE NORMALLY? BREATHING NORMALLY does NOT involve all this equipment and it CERTAINLY doesn’t involve breathing UNDERWATER. GET TO THE SURFACE YOU MORON!! NOW!!

Heh.

I received PADI’s Open Water Diver certification about 11 years ago.

I never used it after that.

About 1.5 years ago, we went to Dahab, on the Gulf of Aqaba (part of the Red Sea) in Egypt.

I did a dive.

I did not particularly enjoy it.

My lizard brain was kicking and screaming.

I kept looking at my gauges and wondering “can I go back on shore now?”

I was pretty bummed out about it. Cause I “wanted” to enjoy diving. But it just wasn’t working for me. I did a few more dives and was never really happy about it.

Time goes by.

Another trip to Dahab. Another dive. This time was better, but still not really enjoyable. It was OK.

Another trip to Dahab. Another dive. I had a good time on this dive and actually enjoyed myself. While it would be a great stretch to say that I was “comfortable”, I was more relaxed and not fixated on the fact that

ALL MY AIR IS COMING THROUGH THIS LITTLE HOSE AND THERE ARE ABOUT A MILLION THINGS THAT CAN GO WRONG.

Hardly thought about that part of it all.

After that dive I realized I had conquered my fears and enjoyed myself. I had gotten back on the horse camel that had thrown me and proved to myself that I could do it.

So what’s next?

One thought that went through my mind was

Ok, you can do it. You conquered your fear. It is no longer bugging you. Declare victory and pull out.

In other words, I had nothing left to prove. I could retire from diving on a high note.

I mean it is a hassle.

It is a lot of heavy gear. It requires expensive equipment. Suiting up is a laborious process. And there is an undeniable amount of danger involved

If I want inconvenience, expense and danger, I can go motorcycling.

(It is a lot of heavy gear. It requires expensive equipment. Suiting up is a laborious process. And there is an undeniable amount of danger involved.)

Right? I don’t need scuba.

Snorkeling is fun too. Cheaper, less dangerous, much less gear required.

When we left Dahab last time (in July) that was my thinking: I am done. khallas.

We are back in Dahab for the month of August. We have a little apartment with a view of the sea and Wi-Fi. I am working and generally just enjoying living 2 blocks from the beach.

What have I been doing in my spare time?

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

I am now a certified Advance Open Water Diver.

A big thank you to Kasia, Pritesh, Shadi, Khaled and all the other great people at Sinai Divers, Backpackers Dahab.

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Uncategorized

The grass is always greener

I, apparently, made a comment some time ago when someone asked me about how I enjoy living in Egypt and asked if I will miss it.

My reply was

I look forward to the time when I miss living in Egypt.

Now this was really an off-the-cuff, throw-away kind of line.

But my wife was there and she remembered [She remembers everything].

She reminded me of it a while back, and it is now my standard reply when people ask me “what do you think of living in Egypt.”

I think it sums it up.

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NSTIW

A minor mystery solved

I have noticed, on several occasions a scene on the streets of Cairo, for which I had no explanation.

[Well, ok. There are MANY scenes on the streets of Cairo for which I have no explanation. I am going to talk about just this one, for right now]

The scene involves a man on bicycle.

This man is usually, but not always, dressed in coverall, usually green. Well under the grime and muck, it looks like it might have, at one time, been green.

And the grime and muck on this man is of epic proportions. One, if one cares to look, will see much grime and muck in Cairo. On the streets. On the cars. On some people.

There is a background level of muck and grime one expects to see everyday, and it becomes the everyday norm.

This muck, this grime….

It is truly a sight to behold. Enough that makes one cross the street to the other side when you see this guy pedaling your way.

In addition to this grime and muck, there are strapped to his bicycle a dozen or so, 2 meter long rods. With knobbly bits on the end.

At first I thought they were welding rods. But that did not explain the knobbly bits. Nor the level of grime involved.

Today, while walking the mean streets of Dahab, I saw this man in action.

He is the ROTO ROUTER man!

Those rods fit together to form a somewhat flexible “snake”.

I was walking down an alley and all the sewer covers were off and several guys were laying out these rods in anticipation of giving the sewers a good old snaking.

I stopped for a second to watch them assemble the tools of their craft. And then I realized

“Um. In a minute or two all that grime and muck I usually see on the bicycle rider is going to be right there in front of me, nice and fresh like. Time to move on”

So I hastily left the scene happy in the knowledge of another mystery of life in Egypt solved.

I celebrated with a milk shake on the beach.

And tried REALLY REALLY hard to not think of the muck-man on his bicycle.

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Uncategorized

Catalunya GP

Just a quick page with a small handful of shots of riders we were able to get in the paddock at Catalunya.

More to come, as soon as I get that load of round tuits I ordered.