rock 'n roll ain't noise pollution

So maybe this blog won't die. I'm not sure what I want to do with it, but until I grow the balls to delete it, it's gonna stick around for a bit. To celebrate this... survival? I thought I'd share this with the Internet. WARNING: more soppy Egypt-loving ahead. But in better news, this phase probably will only last as long as el-Baradei's political campaign.

PRI's The World ran a three-and-something minute segment on noise pollution, specifically in Cairo. As Ashraf Ismail points out at the end, "ad-dowsha fi al-qahira heyya al-qahira nafsaha." Basically, the loud noise in Cairo is the essence of Cairo itself. That's pretty much true in Egypt everywhere, unless you're talking Ramadan, in which case the streets are more or less silent until about four or five in the afternoon. Then, the party don't stop until four or five AM, which explains why you can't buy anything ever during Ramadan between normal business hours.

The call to prayer is mentioned as one of those things that just adds to the noise, but I feel sort of nostalgic for it. I mean, whoever did it in Shatby in Alexandria was just plain awful, but you got some quite remarkable voices, too. Admittedly, that link is to the call to prayer in Istanbul (at the Blue Mosque), but my point is still valid. I assume the pay/prestige difference would be kinda big between a major tourist attraction and the neighborhood mosque down the street, which explains why one fellow has a pleasant voice and the other, uh, did not.

I think our presenter, Daniel, misinterpreted "downtown" -- places like Zamalek are a lot quieter than, say, the Corniche, or 6th of October bridge. It's like highways and suburbs everywhere (although Zamalek is, of course, not really a suburb). Re7ab was damn quiet, too, considering it was half an hour outside of the city and constituted an almost-gated community. In retrospect, that was one weird-ass place.

I'm not gonna lie, Cairo is fucking loud. But you get used to it. We all did -- honestly, I even stopped waking up totally at 0400 when the mosque belted out its absolutely horrid recording. The difference between the hustle and bustle of Egyptian cities compared to small places like my college campus is startling -- I almost miss the sounds of cabs and weddings racing under my window at night. Now all I get is the occasional drunk lax bro and ambulances.

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a look back

Oh hello blog. I haven't seen you in months. Now that the weather outside is sunny and crisp, with birds chirping and a Japanese Spring Festival planned for this afternoon, I feel obligated to catch up on all my schoolwork due in the next two weeks (20 page paper; 1 Arabic paper; 1 Arabic quiz; 1 Arabic final exam; 2 8 page papers; 1 final "assessment"). But, of course, not before I close up this chronicle.

I miss Egypt. This is not to say I regret coming home in December. I am, in fact, very happy that I returned. But at the same time, I find myself sort of disconnected back in the States. I'll catch myself missing the streets, missing the food and the people and the frustration that came with living in Alexandria. Walking up to breakfast yesterday (seven in the morning, with no one else around) I had nostalgic flashbacks to walking to class in Egypt. Looking around I saw no trash, and the little traffic that came by obeyed traffic laws and stopped for me to cross the street. Our buildings are all nice and orderly, old stone structures that give off the quaint New England vibe that Midd so enthusiastically markets. Everything functions the way it should.

It's so different. I miss that difference.

I still feel a little confused about my time overseas. I'm not like Chelsea -- I don't dwell on it. There were some pretty dark moments there, and I'm not proud of everything, but it's a life-shaping experience and I think I walked away from it in a good way. My thoughts are nebulous, bemused, and probably not too coherent, so I'm not going to try and write them out.

Next stop, however, might be Afghanistan. I've asked S and Bilal for some advice. We'll see if it pans out. Otherwise, I might go back to Turkey.

As a closing note, Eman Khader is coming to be Midd's Arabic TA next year. W'allahe, she will be in for a big surprise.

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another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW

the tragedy of islam

I honestly don't mean to offend anyone by the title -- it's not the "Tragedy of Islam" in the sense that Islam's presence is a tragedy. Quite the opposite, as you shall see. Rather, it is a tragedy in the sense that bad things have happened to this particular religion, things which are in reality unavoidable in the grand scheme of things. To give you some background into this post, Internet, let me tell you that I have left my one-on-one lecture feeling increasingly troubled in the last week and a half. I am troubled not by the impending due date of my paper (only half of which is finished, ha) but instead by the topic we have been studying (which I wish we'd studied earlier and more in depth): the treatment of non-Muslims as required by Islamic law.

Non-Muslims are, contrary to what you might believe and what the pundits on FOX tell you, remarkably protected under Islamic Shari3a (Shari'ah, or religious law). For starters, it says outright in the Qur'an, "لا اكراه في الدين," which translates to, "There is no compulsion in religion." This has been interpreted by virtually all religious scholars to mean that it is forbidden to force someone to join Islam. And to be honest, this is a good point -- if you're trying to build a cohesive community founded on particular principles, having someone who is just along for the ride because they were forced into it is neither productive nor conducive to said cohesion. Not to mention, Muslims are required to believe both the Torah and the Christian Bible in order to actually be Muslim. So, no forcing people to convert, and then the next point: leave to the others what is theirs.

It is forbidden for Muslims to steal, take things from, cheat, or lie to non-Muslims; it is forbidden to treat non-Muslims violently; all non-Muslims who come peacefully to Islamic lands (whether to live, work, visit, or pass through) must be given protection from aggression of all kinds; all non-Muslims have the right to justice; all non-Muslims have the right to life. There are many stories found in the Sunna (Muhammad's life story, basically) and the Hadith (vignettes about Muhammad and the four first Caliphs) that blatantly indicate the above is mandated by Islam. All humans were created equal, according to the Qur'an. Moreover, if God demanded that everyone follow one religion he would have made it so without any further comment -- the mere fact that not everyone believes the same thing is proof that variety is tolerated amongst the most favored creations of God.

There is also quite a bit on women's rights in the Qur'an, all of which requires Muslims to treat women with respect and dignity -- I have some issue with the exact wording, but let's face it, women in the Qur'an are treated better than women in the Bible. That's fact, and if you want to debate it then I challenge you to find me feminist passages in the Bible. You won't. I promise.

All of this, and yet Islamic radicalism is one of the biggest threats to security in the world. Why? Why are the Islamic countries lagging so far behind the rest of the world when it comes to democracy, human rights, and the status of women? It can't just be a widespread pandemic of misinterpretation -- that's too simple an answer. Why hasn't Islam undergone a massive reformation like Protestantism? Why, why, why -- the questions just go around in circles, and I can't figure it out. There is nothing inherently bad about Islam as a religion -- no more so than Christianity, which demands that all nonbelievers be killed. I don't know enough about Judaism to make that call, but since the Old Testament comes from the Torah, I highly doubt God got any less vengeful by going backwards in time. Women in Christianity are equated to animals, and rape is widely accepted and practiced. How is it that the Islamic world is so... behind?

I'm convinced the answer lies in the lack of reformation and perhaps partly in the current methods of governance found in the Arab states, since people often find refuge from oppression in religion and the presence of God (the belief that a divine being will mete out punishment at the end of time).

But I don't really know. It's bothering me. I hate not knowing things.

In other news, I typed this post using an empty bottle box of Juhayna as lumbar support, because absolutely nothing in Egypt offers back support of any kind, and I'm really starting to feel the effects.

EDIT: this article is helpful for further reading on the rights of non-Muslims in Islam: http://www.islamreligion.com/articles/374/viewall/

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another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW

i'm the type that will pop the clip in

Okay, kids. Time for some Learning With mk3a2, otherwise titled: the Trials and Tribulations of Life in Egypt as a Woman Who Takes Shit from No One Except Murray Dry.

To give a little background as to this post, I will say this: two of my colleagues have posted entries to their respective blogs that quite honestly degrade their fellow students' experiences by broad-sweeping, generic generalizations about our feelings concerning life in Egypt. This emphasis is important. To paraphrase what has been said, these two fellows (and they are both males, another important thing to note) believe that we, the rest of the students, are "angry at Egyptian culture," and unable to adjust to a way of life that is so very different from what we are used to. One of the in particular stated, "I DO NOT believe some of them should be going into this [international] field of work." Now, kids, I'd like to think we're all a bunch of moderately intelligent beings: what would be the problem here?

Let's start at the beginning. The above mentioned posters are, as I stated, boys. They are able to make statements regarding their own experiences and to a certain extent, they are allowed to expand their views to their own group, namely the other males in the program. If this was the United States -- if this was Europe -- the generalization could theoretically include the women, as well. But this is Egypt. Here, our experiences of life and culture are fundamentally different, and in many ways, infinitely more difficult. No matter what my professor insists about the Qur'an and gender equality, the fact of the matter remains that Egyptian society is not gender equal. It is very, very painfully obvious. I appreciate the fact that the boys get stared at wherever they go for being foreigners and so not-the-status-quo that they stick out like sore thumbs for curious passers-by. But their staring is not the same as ours. The best I can describe it is thus: nearly every man I walk past will stare at me. I am not averse to catcalls (I flaunted that shit in Istanbul) but in an appreciative way. In Egypt, it is not appreciative so much as it is leering, creepy, and sometimes crude and cruel. Many men who stare at us do it in such a way as to deliberately make us uncomfortable, and you can tell they are not thinking kind thoughts. "Undressing you with their eyes" may seem somewhat poetic, but this is the type of undressing that, say, a visual rapist does as opposed to a poet. Mind you, I have no illusions that this sort of thing happens in the US, too -- men there are just able to hide it better.

What perhaps irks me the most is that one of the boys mentioned that he hasn't talked to any of us (the women) about our lives in Egypt. Unfortunately, neither of them has ever asked any of us, so the blame for their heavily male-dominated viewpoints probably lies somewhere in that shortcoming.

I will never be able to see my experiences in Egypt without the lens of my gender. It is impossible. Virtually everything here is tied to which version of genitalia one possesses -- for example, it is a very bad idea for women to be out on the streets without a male figure past eleven o'clock at night. I was standing on the street last night waiting for Karim to pick me up at eight forty and I was propositioned twice by men passing by in cars who just figured I was a prostitute because I was alone. One car even stopped a few feet down the road and idled there for a few minutes, waiting for me to walk over and get in. This does not happen to men.

Moreover, I feel personally slighted by the accusations of my colleagues because they have so blatantly mistaken my grudge against the academic program here as a deep rooted hatred for Egyptian culture. I dislike things about specific people here in Egypt. I don't like the lack of personal space, the seemingly pervasive attitude of "me first," and the fact that someone in the medina stole my sweater off the drying rack two days ago. But I don't think all Egyptians can't respect personal space, or put others before them, or are all thieves. These are things you can find the world over. I can even live with the harassment. This is not the place where I want to live the rest of my days, but it is not hell and I am not angry at Egyptian culture. Those who know me know that when I get mad at something, I get really fucking pissed and I know exactly what set me off and why. I do not like losing control of the personal details of my life as I have here in the dorms -- but it's temporary, and I wholeheartedly believe that should I be living in an apartment instead, I would be so very much happier.

My issues here in Egypt stem 98% from the quality of the academic program. I honestly feel as if I have wasted an entire semester to half-assed teaching and a complete lack of any interesting, engrossing, or important topics. I despise going to class. I have never really hated an academic setting before -- I have disliked several of my American classes to a great extent, but there was never any real struggle over whether or not I wanted to go to class (for the most part). Here, however, it doesn't matter -- the fact of the matter is that I do not want to go to class, and there is nothing in the world save the desire to not fail this semester that is driving me to complete my studies. I want to learn Arabic. I want to learn Egyptian colloquial. I want engaging, thoughtful classes on politics and religion. I find nothing of good quality here.

If I did not have to go to class, and if I was out of this shithole they call the women's dorms, I would be fine. If I was working in Egypt and living in an apartment with friends, I would be fine. I have absolutely nothing against Egyptian culture. I will honestly confess that there are many issues of society that need to be addressed, not least of all the status of women and basic health/sanitation problems, but these are things that every country on Earth has had to deal with at one time or another, and will continue to deal with for ages to come. Why, not fifty years ago, women were still earning fifty cents to every dollar a man earned in the United States -- we're not the bastion of moral good that we like to play.

I am debating whether or not to sit down with these two boys and have it out with them. I don't like thinking that they believe I am incompetent, biased, and inflexible. I also find naivete exceedingly obnoxious (as you can probably guess, I am a political realist through and through). I am not stupid and I believe that I am by far more ruthless coldly calculating than either of them (and I'm not going to lie, as of right now I feel I am also more inclusive of others' viewpoints and experiences), and there is no reason to lump everyone together in the "YOU ARE TOO NEOCON TO DO THE WORLD GOOD" group. Sorry, colleagues. You have failed me in this respect. So much for liberal arts colleges teaching you to view the world from every angle before making a judgment.

(and yes, the use of "boys" rather than "men" when referring to said colleagues was an intentional vocabulary choice)

another truckstop on the way another game that I can play another word I learn to say

another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW

eid al-shukr

On 3 December, we finally celebrated Thanksgiving here in Egypt, or in the colloquial, 3id al-shukr (the Holiday of Thanks/Gratitude). A bunch of students from our program cooked a turkey and the other assorted requirements for such a meal feast, including sweet potatoes with marshmallows, mashed potatoes, green beans, stuffing, apple sauce (and apple cider!), and pumpkin and apple pies. It was a marvelous banquet, but since my culinary ability stops at quesadillas (poor ones, at that) I merely sat back and became the Useless Couch Asshole. I also have no money left, so I was unable to pay M for the groceries used for the food, to which I received a dirty look. But he never paid me for my efforts a month ago, either, so while I actually will fork over the ten guinea I doubt he ever will pay me back, and I'm out fifty over his ten.

We blasted the Christmas music and a rap song recently created by some students back at our college (about our college) and reminisced in Arabic about Ye Olde Days. We also hosted some of the Egyptian boys for dinner, and it was interesting (and funny) to hear about how they thought Thanksgiving was a religious holiday for Americans (because all Americans are Christians). More than once I've had to dispel the notion that this Day of Glorious Overeating has much to do with religion, at least anymore. The original story is hard to tell in Arabic, though, because I don't know how to form the term "Native American" without using a weird grammatical construction that amounts basically to "the Americans who lived in America originally," which still makes no sense if they didn't know the history of the continent and o hai I'm babbling now.

And that's about it. No news is good news, right? This weekend is the beginning of finals period, and while I have a shitload of homework to do I have no time and even less motivation, so we'll see how it all turns out.

another truckstop on the way another game that I can play another word I learn to say

another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW

big fucking fans of ataturk

For Thanksgiving, while everyone and their mother was happily stuffing their faces full of turkey and stuffing and potatoes and other various autumnal foods, I was on a plane headed for Turkey the Country to make the most out of the five day weekend we were so graciously given by the program (the Egyptian students get a whole week off for Eid al-Adha). To be honest, no one actually remembered it was Thanksgiving until about nine o'clock that night -- I blame it mostly on the lack of anything resembling seasons in Egypt. Without crisp mornings and golden leaves fluttering down from the trees it's hard to recall that on the other side of the globe (and a few northernly degrees of latitude) it's actually nearing winter. In that respect, I feel like I've been hovering in some sort of bizarre summer camp limbo -- I hear about this miraculous thing called "snow" from my family and I while a part of my brain accepts its existence and knows it to be true, the rest of me can't quite make the connection that HELLO IT IS DECEMBER NOW.

So let me briefly recount my Turkish adventure for you all. I will begin with this simple fact: I love Istanbul. I have only found two cities in my entire life that I would happily, willingly, relocate to (the first being Vienna, Austria) and considering how picky I am about these sorts of things it's rather amazing that Istanbul comes into second place. It was quite a shock to step off the metro and not see trash littering the real sidewalks. Also, I must add that I love the colder weather -- fifty degrees Fahrenheit is just about right for a nice jacket and some boots (I had no boots). Take note, Egyptians: seventy degrees is not appropriate winter sweater weather.

We stayed in a tiny hole-in-the-wall place called the Hotel Sultan's Inn, in Sultanahmet. It was just about the most adorable little cosy place on earth, complete with flushing toilet, TP, a shower with a door, and a mattress. Oh, and the rooftop terrace with stunning views of the Blue Mosque (and let's not forget the continental breakfast!). Our digs were walking distance to nearly everything touristy -- the Blue Mosque, the Aya Sofia, Topkapi (it's not really an i) Palace, the metro. Yes, we played tourist (in English!) and literally walked nine or ten hours a day, lost exploring the city largely thanks to the incredibly unhelpful and out-of-scale maps that Lonely Planet provides in their otherwise handy guidebooks.

Comparing the Blue Mosque and the Aya Sofia is something everyone who visits Istanbul does, and I guess I'm not interested in playing the exception, so: Blue Mosque looks like a cathedral, inside. As Lonely Planet puts it, the dome is held up by four giant "elephant's feet" pillars, and really, that's kind of what they look like. The architecture is amazing and the painting/details are breathtaking, inside and outside. In contrast, the Aya Sofia looks dumpy from the outside, with its faded paint and less striking minarets. But inside, there's no competition. Aya Sofia, with its dome supported by pillars internal to the walls, wins hands down in terms of sheer beauty. The paintings and mosaics of the Holy Family and other assorted Christian divine figures are gorgeous, and while it's impossible to miss the fact that somewhere along the line it was converted into a mosque, you can still see the obvious Christian influence on the structure. I liked the Blue Mosque on the outside -- on the inside, I prefer the Aya Sofia.

We also headed up across the Galata Bridge to seek out nourishment and other sights, one night of which culminated with our meeting Istanbul's oldest hippie on a side street at eleven at night. He makes necklaces and miniature paintings (sometimes both at the same time!) and listens to Pink Floyd, and buys nice American girls freshly squeeze green apple juice from a nearby fruit vendor. He also had about eight or nine books of Larousse stacked up on his shelves, and a part of me wonders if I spoke French he could have explained what he meant by "I am everyone's mother" and "I feel something here, in my chest" better than he did in English.

One sad thing was that because of the Eid, the Grand Bazaar was closed for three days. So no overly cheap shopping! That didn't stop us from spending copious amounts of money on parachute pants, apple tea, jewelry, ceramics, and chocolate baklava in other corners of Istanbul. Also, Chelsea and I got happily lost in the rain around the Grand Bazaar, so while we never got lost inside as most tourists do, we certainly did wander around the narrow alleyways of the outskirts, eventually making our way in a complete circle and finding Istanbul University by sheer chance.

Gotta say, getting back on that plane to Egypt was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Three more weeks of this shit* and then it's time for Vienna.

* By "this shit" I really just mean the (appallingly horrendous) academics. If I didn't have to write five papers in two weeks I would be okay.

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another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW

how we get along

So I guess everyone probably knows by now that Egypt lost the World Cup qualifier on Wednesday. Watching the game, I saw it coming. That was Algeria's game, not Egypt's. Both teams played badly -- Algeria just happened to play less badly. Driving back to the medina was a sad experience -- all the mobs of people who would otherwise have been celebrating were sort of just hanging around, moping, and for sure I saw tears in the eyes of a few old men riding back to their houses in microbuses. That was the quietest night I've seen here in Alexandria in months.

And now, to top it all off, they've gone and turned it into an international incident. Egypt recalled their ambassador to Algeria and everyone's raising a huge stink about it. I noted how I loved the passion Egyptians had for their national football team, but holy shit man, everything in moderation. Seriously. No need for a war or anything (although I would like to be in Egypt during a war).

Anyway. Kholy took three of us out to dinner and to an ahwa last night, to sit around and shoot the breeze. We ended up having a rather deep conversation about Egyptian society and life, eventually turning to death and weird existential commentary. The way he puts it, we were sort of dropped here without a proper introduction to Egyptian society and culture. He is of the opinion that the places we go to/have been taken to/have been advised to go to are the less-than-savory districts of Alexandria and if we actually wanted to go a day without getting harassed by the locals then we'd have to pick our hangouts more carefully. I would agree with him in some respects -- while yes, we tend to get a lot of mo3kasaat (harassment) in the places we go, we go to those areas because they happen to give us a better picture of ordinary Egyptian life. I could theoretically only spend time in wealthy, upperclass areas, but the upper class doesn't represent the majority of society, obviously.

He also had some thoughts on the girls in the dorms, mostly on how they think, or rather, how they don't think for themselves. This is true. Some girls are more open than others, some are more progressive, and some are willing to just sort of laugh off the silly antics of those naughty American girls, but a large number of them are really quite conservative and difficult to relate to. But then again -- what's the larger percentage in Egypt: the cultured, open-minded, accepting type, or the poorer, uneducated type, quick to condemn anything unfamiliar?

But it was an interesting conversation, for sure. We even talked to him about sex, which is a new topic I had yet to broach with a male Egyptian here. It was also highly entertaining, as we spoke in English and he in Arabic. Mixing of cultures, indeed!

another truckstop on the way another game that I can play another word I learn to say

another blasted customs post another bloody foreign coast another set of scars to boast

WE ARE THE ROAD CREW