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.

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

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.

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