Most of the Time, I'm Confused

A few days ago, I received a phone call. It was my neighbor from upstairs. Between her limited English and my limited Arabic, I deduced she was inviting me upstairs.

I packed up Sophie, a sippy cup, and my English-Arabic dictionary and went up. When I got there, she invited me in and the scurried around putting on her Abya and Tarha. This confused me a little, but I thought maybe she was expecting someone to deliver something at the door and needed to be covered.

But when she was finished, she said “We go down.”

“Down where?” I asked, a little mystified at this turn of events.

She talked in Arabic to me and again the words I could understand were: “We are going down.”

“Ok” I said, thinking, I’m here now. Might as well see what adventure she is planning. Never an adventure for her, but always for me because she takes me places I couldn’t go by myself.

And down we went. When we got to the bottom of our building and out on the street she looked at me again. “Where will we go?” She asked.

I guess I was supposed to have a plan. It is possible, while we were on the phone she said all this to me, I just didn’t understand it initially. Its possible. She says a lot of things in Arabic and I catch words now and then. Enough to make me think I can agree without knowing exactly what I have agreed to. Obviously, I don’t catch everything.

“I don’t know,” I said. She looked at me and I’m sure she was thinking, “Crazy American. Doesn’t she understand what I am saying? Why would she agree to something she didn’t understand?”

“What do you want to pay?” She asked. “Buy, do you mean what do you want to buy?” “Yes, what do you want to buy?” (There is no “p” sound in Arabic)

(At this point, I am thinking to myself: “I don’t want to buy anything. I really want to be upstairs, in my pajama’s snuggled up next to my husband, drinking tea, like I typically do at 9:00 at night. I thought I was just coming upstairs to hang out in your apartment. What in the world would I want to buy at 9:00 at night?”)

What I said was, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

Much Arabic followed, maybe she was frustrated with me. But we were saved by her little sister joining us, begging for “coke and snacks”.

The little sister assured us that she knew of a market “right around the corner” which translated into English means at least 3 long blocks away! I was intrigued. I love to see what markets majority friends go to. They are never the ones I frequent and I love to see what they buy.

Our weather has cooled down and become breezy so evening walks are awesome and I rarely get to be out at this time because my babies are usually in route to bed by way of the bathtub or already in bed by this time.

The walk was lovely and my friend and her sister chatted and I listened, catching a word every now and again and even a phrase here and there. I interjected as I could with my vocabulary.

We walked down streets and around corners with which I was familiar, but then we turned down a side street that was new to me. And there was the market. It looked as if it were built along the side of the man’s house, almost nothing more than an alleyway. But he was well stocked with drinks, snacks, laundry detergent, odds and ends of things and a small selection of vegetables.

My friends stocked up on Pepsi, chips, KitKat bars, a new smoothie drink I had never tried and a juice box for Sophie.

We walked home, munching on our snacks and then sharing them with the other brother and sisters when we got home.

When Sophie got fussy, I brought her home. Full of funny stories to tell Brian about my friends, the words I understood, the things I didn’t and the new things I ate.

Emily gets a hair cut!

In my last post, I mentioned that Emily and I had recently gotten hair cuts. Here are a couple of pictures from the adventure.

 We had quite the talk about how she wanted it cut because for awhile she had been telling me that she wanted it long like Savannah's. However, when I mentioned I was going for a cut, she asked if she could come with me and get her hair cut too. I told her she was the boss of her own hair and she could choose if she wanted it cut or not. I can't remember all of the conversation about who was the boss of what, but I remember laughing at her interpretation of being the boss of her own hair.

Savannah was adamant about not having her hair cut. She wanted to come and watch. But in no way was she letting scissors near her hair. "Hair grows" she kept insisting. Brian pointed out to her that if she didn't ever cut it, it would grow down to the floor. Then, she conceded, "we will have a trim. But hair grows."

She was quite happy with the way it turned out. And when we left, she kept swishing her hair back and forth.

My little girl is growing up. It makes me happy and sad.

Customer Service

Overall, the customer service in Egypt cannot be complained about. I love the fact that about twice a week a man shows up at my door, takes all our wrinkled shirts and returns them a day or so later for about 0.20 per shirt.

I’ve had the best dentist experiences here than I ever had in the States. I walk in, they take my name. It is a mere formality that they tell me to sit in the waiting room. Within minutes, they will call my name and begin work. The shots even have hurt less here.

If I go to one of our local souks or market, a man on a bicycle will typically cart my purchases home for the grand tip of $1.00. Most of them will put it in my kitchen for me! Score for Egypt. 0 for Wal-Mart.

And everyone will deliver food to my door, typically within an hour. I don’t even have to pick up the phone for this miracle to occur. Score 2 for Egypt. 0 for Curb-Side Pick-up.

Yesterday Emily, a friend and I went to get our hair cut. Again, there was no long wait in the waiting room for our turn. Instead, we explained what we wanted and we started taking turns to get our hair washed. Hair cutting began immediately. However, the woman used cold water to wash my hair. Cold water. She would have never gotten away with that back home. And we still tipped her.

I find that I am more comfortable about inconvenience here than I am in the States. We lived in our flat for almost a week without warm water working in the kitchen. We are currently on day 5 without air conditioner in the master bedroom. We ride taxi’s, bleach our vegetables and live without convenient, pre-made food. And the majority of the time, I’m totally ok with it.

I’ve wondered about it. Do I appreciate ironing so much that Kraft has no power over me here? Am I just so grateful I have running hot water that I don’t mind that white chocolate chips have to be shipped in? Am I so happy I have a washer and dryer that I don’t mind that it takes 5 hours to wash and dry one load of laundry? Will this wear off eventually?

Now, please don’t misunderstand. I have moments here and there that I would give my right hand to have a shopping spree in Target. Or lunch at my mother-in-law’s kitchen table (crawfish etouffee, anyone?). Or a tub of Blue Bell in one hand and slab of bacon in the other. And I may have had a day or two when I would have immediately taken a plane ticket back to the Land of the Free without a second thought.

But mostly, I’m happy to be here.

And that makes the inconvenience a little less uncomfortable.

My First Hena

A couple of days ago one of my new friends knocked on the door and invited me to "draw hena" with her. Between her very little English and my very little Arabic, I told her I would be up soon. Sophie and I got our things together and went upstairs. This time I took my Arabic/English Dictionary with me just in case we got stuck....

When the girl arrived, the drawing began. She mixed the dye together and scooped it into a small paper triangle with a tiny point at the end. Then she free-handed beautiful designs on each of the women who were present.

After the hena is applied, we had to wait for it to dry. We chatted, we looked at family pictures on the computer, we danced. Well, they danced. And they laughed at my attempts. Because I am totally uncoordinated and I just can't shake anything that fast, nor gracefully, and I think they have extra joints in their hips.


We did some hena on Emily, but poor girl, she didn't realize how long it took it to dry and so she accidentally smeared hers over and over. Then she went crying to Daddy and when he asked to see it, she didn't want him too because "it wasn't beautiful."

It was a very fun new cultural experience.

Adventure at the Khan: the Mosques

Well, actually, adventure is a bit of a misnomer.... it was more the combination of a long ramble, 4 mosque tours, one grumpy 3 year old and a trouper of a 6 year old and angel of a baby. But it was fun.


The Khan al Khalili is a maze of mosques, shops and streets. Plenty of opportunities for pictures:

 

 

I snapped this picture... and then I fussed at Savannah to climb down. I have no idea what the significance is of the gazebo in the middle of the courtyard in the middle of the Mosque. However, I am sure they don't want a three-year-old climbing in it. No matter how cute she may be.

The last Mosque we visited was a bit off the beaten trail and for 20 pounds we got to go upon the top of it. Our tour guide, who spoke very little English, took this picture for us. I think he also had trouble with his eyesight... after he took the picture he looked at the screen about 2 centimeters from his face. So, I forgive him for everything I see wrong in this picture :)