Ahlawy vs Bawwabeen

Yesterday was the Ahly-Zamalek derby. Ahly fans are FIERCE. Zamalek fans are called "bawwabeen" or doormen, since, inexplicably, a lot of bawwabs are Zamalek fans (Can you tell I'm biased?). The two teams have a serious rivalry and police were gearing up for post-match violence. They banned lasers, lighters and flag posts, which meant that I was unable to take my cat's favourite laser pen and use its incredible range to distract the goalkeeper. Which of course, someone else was doing to the Zamalek goalie. We arrived at Cairo International stadium two hours early, and even then the amount of people was astounding. Shocking, if only because nothing happens on time in Egypt. Because we were a group of foreigners and girls, we cut through a giant pushing, shoving, and hissing line, went straight to the front, skipped all security checks, and were inside in a flash. Though I wouldn't have wanted to be crushed in line, it's kind of sad that we got preferential treatment while everyone else had to wait their turn. There were scores of riot police (sans shields) outside, and inside the stadium (avec shields), instead of facing the crowd, they were facing the players... watching the game. For security, kids dressed in kitschy sailor suits sat 20 meters apart on the track between the players and the seats, facing the supporters. Yet more riot police were stationed on the stairs in general seating, separating blocks of Ahly fans from each other, and a huge gap was left between Zamalek and Ahly fans. Obviously peace is the optimal state, but the academic researcher inside me was hoping to see some riot action later on. A couple of us had purchased some fine Ahly "Clup of the Centry" gear and almost everyone we passed commented on it with pride, yelling "Ahlawy!!!" at us and getting really excited that "people from abroad are Ahly fans!" As we walked to our seats, the call to prayer sounded out, and a smattering of men took to the corridors to pray. While we were ushered on by the police and overexcited fans, I was too timid to take the ultimate photograph - three men kneeling devoutly on an Ahly flag. Once inside, all I could see was a sea of screaming red; hand-held flags and flailing arms looking like the noodly appendages of epileptic millipedes, the chic-chic-chic of cellphone cameras capturing young men with their shirts off, little boys with Ahly headbands and red war painted faces dangling their feet next to overweight daddies in Man U, FCB and Ahly gear. The cheering had a distinctly Arab flavour, with balloon batons sounding out dabke rhythms. In between the instrumental versions of Toni Braxton love ballads, everyone chanted Ahly slogans, booed the Zamalek fans (Egypt has the greatest form of booing ever - "yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeee!!!!!") and sang for football nation.

The atmosphere was hyped and I couldn't help but get carried away with all the excitement, so much so that I might have accidentally smacked P in the face with a flag a few times mid-jump. Unfortunately the match was boring as all hell, with an incompetent referee who missed ALL the fouls, and there were only six (piteous) attempts on the goal. Here are some pictures of the action:

Dysfunction

So a frantic post on Cairo Scholars today listed a $500 reward for a lost cat. The email was titled "Emergency Plea: Delta Airlines Lost My Cat!"
Apparently Delta/Cairo Airports have topped themselves, losing a cat that was enclosed securely in an IATA approved cage. I have a similar cage, so I know there is no way the cat could have escaped unless someone let it out. I can only imagine what the poor owner was going through, but I am gobsmacked at the utter incompetence of Delta and the airport staff. Another tragic only in Egypt moment.

Best Egypt Week

After our whirlwind Thanksgiving trip I was kind of bummed out for a few days. But I think that had a lot to do with the fact that I was sleeping until 4pm every day and going to bed at 3am. After I finally got back in the rhythm of things, I ended up having an INCREDIBLE week. Highlights included zero harassment, hour long walks by the Nile early in the morning (during which I once saw a weasel!) and a series of lovely evenings out, including a ragey house night with DJ Alexkid at the French Cultural Center. By far the best night out was a dance performance at El-Sawy Culture Wheel in Zamalek. It was called "Dancepiration" and despite the name and the tacky host of the evening, the dancers were phenomenal. There was a good bit of bboying and some amazing hip-hop moves, as well as an Egyptian comedian - even though he did his routine in Arabic and I'm sure I lost half the nuances, he still had me in splits. One of the dancers had adopted a stray cat and left it in the care of my housemate during the show, so I spent the two hours with a tiny kitten on my lap. Cairo's glitterati and teenage snobs were out in full force, and the evening left me with a subtler understanding of some of the quirks and joys of Egyptian society. There are things here that I'd prefer to live without, but it's still an amazing place.

Out of Africa

After a certain amount of time in Cairo, you get a "pollution cough." I'm pretty sure I have the black lung now, after the unbelievable amounts of dust, tar and smog I've inhaled. In order to keep loving Cairo, you have to leave periodically. So this week we spontaneously decided to head to the US and the UK for thanksgiving.

As soon as we arrived in London I had to outfit myself with boots and gloves. We returned to all our favourite haunts, caught up with friends, indulge in cider and were happy to be 'home' for a few days. In NYC, we went to Duane Reade probably every day, watched too many episodes of Top Chef, went out too much in Brooklyn and spent time with the fam. Then we headed to New Hampshire, and stuffed ourselves silly with green vegetables, turducken, and pumpkin desserts. P is used to eating meat all day every day, but I can't really handle that, and Egypt is particularly hard in that respect. I kind of just grabbed every single green vegetable I could see on this trip, to make up for the lack of fresh produce one is forced to suffer through in Egypt. When we got back to London it was snowing (eek) and miserably cold. We had just enough time to see the Christmas decorations up in Carnaby street before we left for home. I was kind of sad to leave, but I was so relieved to arrive in a warm climate. Here's hoping that our little break will give me renewed patience to deal with al-shawar'3a, aka the mean streets of Cairo.

Israel and Occupied Palestine

This week we traveled to Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories. Needless to say, the trip brought up many complex emotions, and confirmed what I already knew about the injustice of the situation. However, we found everyone we came across to be warm and friendly, and I would highly recommend a visit if you can swing it.

We crossed the Egyptian border at Taba, managing to avoid both the Egyptian and Israeli passport stamps. Being brown, I was questioned - nay, interrogated - by Israeli border police for 15 minutes, until they were satisfied that I had no connections to Pakistan.

Since we missed the bus to Jerusalem, we hopped on one going to Tel Aviv, where we had the best breakfast ever at Benedicte, and walked around for a few hours, noticing how eery and European the city felt. The next morning we took a sheroot (shared taxi) to Jaylem. P and I both hate sightseeing, so our version is just incredibly whirlwind stop-offs and one picture at the "must-see" sights, then off to the more leisurely and enjoyable activities of exploring and spending all day eating. We ate hummous every meal for 5 days straight - that's how good it was, and stayed in the Eastern quarter. It was incredible to see the mashup of people in the holy city - an interesting place for us atheists - the tourists (mostly Polish), Armenians, Greeks, Palestinian Muslims and Christians, orthodox and not-so-orthodox Jews. After a day and a half of Jerusalem, we went to Ramallah, where the Palestinian Authority is based. Pete got a haircut and we went to Yasser Arafat's tomb. Eid was just around the corner, so the streets were full of people shopping. The contrast between the Israeli side (green) and Palestinian side (dry and brown) was ridiculous. As we left, two soldiers, armed to the teeth with gigantic machine guns, inspected our bus and our passports.

Given our personal experience, I would like to urge everyone to join me in a consumer boycott of Israeli Settlement produce. I'm sure most of you are familiar with the conflict and the situation: Palestinians are being forced into smaller and smaller areas while their land and resources are confiscated, routinely denied freedom of movement, and separated by a growing "security fence" which is 8 meters high (twice the height of the Berlin wall) that is referred to as the Apartheid wall. Israelis claim it is necessary for security, but it's built in a way that cuts off Palestinian areas from each other and from access to resources that are rightfully theirs according to international law. What we saw was disturbing and unsettling. P and I had no problem getting through ominous checkpoints at the wall that look like high security prisons, but it's not so simple for Palestinians. At the Bethlehem foot passenger checkpoint you have to walk 200 metres enclosed by grates to arrive in a holding area that looks like a warehouse, go through a turnstile, pass through security, put your bags through xray machines and walk through a detector, go through another turnstile and wait in line to show your documents. It took us almost an hour to get through, but lines can last much longer. We saw a group of schoolchildren being hassled. Imagine having to go through airport security every single day on your way to work, or on your way to the hospital for an emergency, or to go to school. This is the reality for Palestinians. Palestinian people engage in non-violent resistance every single day just by going about their daily activities; activities like work and going to school that the occupying forces make incredibly difficult.

While I realize it's not possible to boycott all the products listed, and all the companies that contribute to human rights abuses in Palestinian territories, there are a few significant ones. Such boycotts have been instrumental in weakening support for the apartheid regime in South Africa and I hope they will eventually have a positive influence in destroying Israeli apartheid. Boycotts generate bad reputations and apply economic pressure for change.

Please take a moment to read how your individual actions can help:
http://www.endtheoccupation.org/article.php?list=type&type=203
http://bdsmovement.net/?q=node/9#cont2

Products you may be most familiar with are Intel, Motorola, Caterpillar, Estee Lauder, Jaffa oranges, Coca Cola and Ahava Dead Sea cosmetics. Produce that starts with the barcode 729 denotes Israeli origin.

The full call to boycott can be read here:
http://bdsmovement.net/?q=node/52

Pictures to follow!

Social Media Win; VBS Fail

I've recently discovered the joy of twitter. I was once loathe to use it, but now that I know I can use it for amazing, activisty purposes..... all bets are off. Today I called @VBS_UK out on this horrifyingly offensive "documentary". The poor, ignorant host Sarah Harris reduces India to a "land of contrasts" and talks matter-of-factly about "fat, blue-skinned, gold bikini wearing Gods." All this in addition to misrepresenting sex workers and having absolutely no knowledge of trans issues. I'm shocked that VBS couldn't (wouldn't?) see how almost every aspect of this film is thoroughly problematic.

The bright side of this is that almost anyone can use new media to fight back or have their voices heard. In a brilliant response video, the subjects of Harris' film reject the reductive, misrepresenting, racist and disdainful portrayal of their lives and realities and call her out for not using informed consent forms.

An open letter to VBS by AWID (Association for Women's Rights in Development) aims to counter such inaccurate representations and prevent VBS from spreading such a fallacious and offensive film. Women in such situations are often just the object of an often uninformed Western gaze and are unable to put forth accurate self-representations due to the dominance of Western media, but now have seized the opportunity to speak up for themselves! Sign the petition!

At-Tahharrush, or, Daily Harassment in Cairo

Cairo is an amazing hustle-bustle and I am always invigorated by its speedy, raucous, neon-bright pleasures.

But, there is one thing I can't stand. I can bear the pollution, the dry heat, the simultaneously gross and refreshing droplets of water from high up air-conditioning units, the traffic, the incessant beeping, being ripped off occasionally (hey, it happens everywhere) and waking up with cotton-mouth from dehydration. But the harassment on the streets drives me crazy. Literally. I become a madwoman, overcome by indignation at the fact that women have to put up with this. Not just in Cairo, but anywhere.

Despite covering from wrist to ankle, sitting in the backseats of taxis, making sure everyone knows I'm married, and avoiding long walks alone, I still get my fair share of harassment. It's usually just men saying things like "ya mozza, 3asal, sukkar" - calling me "honey" or "sexy girl," but sometimes men will follow me, expose themselves, start masturbating next to me, drive accident-distance close, or be more threatening. I've kind of learned to tune most of it out, but there are times when it's terrifying, and I have to do something.

A few days ago I threw rocks at two guys zooming dangerously close to me on their motorcycle and screaming obscenities at me. Effective, but my aim wasn't good enough. Yesterday I kind of lost it and lashed out at a group of guys who were saying unpleasant things and had surrounded me. The minute I hit two of them (extremely hard) they kind of scurried off, but I don't think this is always the best way to manage, particularly if there are larger groups. The most enraging thing is that usually when a woman reacts, the harasser laughs, as though he's kind of won. I have yet to figure out a way that actually gets the message across, but for now knowing that I have ways to protect myself helps me to be calmer and less scared.

Loads of people living here (expats and Egyptians) have suggested some strategies beyond the basic covering-up and avoiding isolated areas - research actually shows that most women harassed in Egypt wear the niqab or face-veil.
- Put on your game face. Walk confidently and act like no one can harm you. Wear headphones and sunglasses.
- SPEAK UP!! Make a scene in public. Scream in Arabic or in English. Supposedly very effective - Egyptians rate their honour and hate to be embarrassed in public.
- Carry a rape whistle or mace spray (illegal in Egypt, but then again, so is sexual assault)
- Trust your instincts and never make eye contact with anyone.
- Duck into a shop or pharmacy for help. The police aren't always effective and usually just make the problem worse. For stalker cases or worse though, I'd definitely recommend filing a report.

I've found that I'm typically harassed in non-neighbourhood areas, e.g. shopping areas, larger streets that don't have a community feel, etc. People are less likely to harass in mahally/local areas where everyone knows them, or where they can be held accountable, as opposed to crowded places where they are just passing through. I feel completely safe and protected in my neighbourhood and have never had a problem - everyone sees me every day, knows me, and I'm pretty sure they would stand up for me. It's just bigger streets (like Ahmed Orabi or Gamaat Al Dowal), bridges, and groups of policemen that are the worst places.

An NGO is currently working on a project called Harassmap that will allow women to report incidents via sms and work towards changing the perception of sexual harassment in Egypt.

Stay safe!

Blanket Sky

Last weekend we finally made it to the White Desert. A six hour trip from Cairo Turgoman to Bawiti in the Bahariyya Oasis (with obligatory blaring film on bus) followed by a three hour drive in a landrover leads to my favourite place on earth bar none: a moonscape under perforated skies, watching foxes shamelessly court your attention with their pretty eyes.

This was a repeat trip for me, and some guy from the village actually recognized me from when I was in Bawiti in 2006, staying at the now (thankfully) defunct Paradise Hotel. Lonely Planet had described it as the cheapest night in town with the bare basics, but it was nothing but dusty mattresses and three waterless, flush-less toilets. That trip was memorable for many reasons, one of the main ones being that my two fellow travelers didn't use the facilities for the duration of our three day trip. I, on the other hand, shamelessly used a different bathroom each day. I went by to check it the Paradise in its current iteration as the village mosque. We slept overnight in the desert, awoken periodically by cheeky foxes licking the kettle and trying to find food a few feet away from our heads.

Having not planned in advance, as per usual, we piggybacked on a tour that included a lovely French Canadian couple, two sun-scarred girls from Scotland and Ireland working in Sharm, a really old agricultural expert from New Zealand and his Thai lover, who brought and cooked her own food, applied metallic pink lipstick under the desert sun, and sweetly laughed loudly at anything remotely funny.

P and I escaped in the evening for a long walk alone over some dunes, then lay back watching shooting stars.

PICS coming soon.

Alexandria

I was super psyched to go to the white desert last weekend, until we got to the bus station and there was only one seat left on the last bus. So, we headed to Alexandria instead. I got a raging migraine on the way, thanks to the excessively loud movies played on the bus. That, coupled with the heat, forewarned me that this was not to be the best day trip ever. Alex has tons of ruins and beautiful things to see, but most of them are underwater. We skipped Pompei's Pillar (an average, unimpressive stump) and checked out the equally lacklustre catacombs of Khoms el Shefaa before backtracking to the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, which is a gorgeous example of modern architecture. Still, we had a great time walking around, ghost-town style, and taking pictures.

BLOG YOUR HEARTS OUT

Turkey is no youtube land but this is outrageous:

Fellow SOAS-ian and pioneer of Persian blogging receives 19.5 years in prison:

http://www.iranhumanrights.org/2010/09/iranian-blogger-hossein-derakhshan-receives-19-5-years-in-prison/

Yemen Win

Back in college there was a Fulbright Scholar from Oman who was the TA for my Arabic class. I remember this guy very clearly because he smelled really, really good. Like a weird mixture of incense and musky wood. I've come across that smell a few times since, and it's always on men from Oman or Yemen. Weird... yes. Awesome? Definitely.
When I went to the Mugamma to pick up my passport, it was heatstroke weather outside, as always, so I decided to wait in the marginally less hot corridors of the Immigration department. Suddenly I smell something familiar. Wood. Incense. Hermes Terre d'homme. Whatever. I'm thinking to myself... "Smells like Yemenis!" I lift my head and there are two Yemeni men on my right, two on my left. Smelling really good. It was like a gust of relief came to save me from all the sweaty grossness of that crowded hall. I spent all afternoon being puzzled about how they all manage to smell like that, until I saw a snippet of Egyptian TV that showed me how. It's a spritz of perfumed oil behind each ear, followed by absorbing incense smoke under and around the robes and headdress. Whatever they do, that shit lingers. Must patent.

The USSR's curse on Egypt

You know how countries give presents to each other, like France giving the Statue of Liberty to the US, or Norway giving the UK the Trafalgar Square Christmas Tree? Well, the USSR gave Egypt the Mugamma, the ugliest building of all. It's not much better inside, because it's where bureaucratic efficiency goes to die.

Yesterday I had a little day trip there to get my visa renewed. On arrival, I went straight to the second floor, passports, photocopies of initial and entry visa pages, and mini-photographs in hand. Of course I went to the window that said "non-Arab nations tourist visa" i.e., exactly what I needed. Of course it wasn't the right place to be. I waited in line while people thrust their passports around me, over my head, under my arms, in front of my face, etc. to get to the window first. India schooled me in the art of steely elbows, so I managed to retain my spot, only to be told that I needed to see a Mr. Hytham. 3 dudes later, I found the security table, ill-equipped to process the tens of refugees, immigrants, students, and tourists pouring in from all corners. I was ushered to one window, P to another (Poles have to get security clearance), and after handing in a completed form I was sent to another window to get stamps and bring them back. In theory, fairly straightforward, in practice, everything that could possibly complicate the process is done. The person who processes the (paper) applications puts 4 different stamps on each one - we're talking postage stamps here - when it would be so simple to use one. Or a sticker. Or a printer. Or an actual ink stamp!

My application miraculously took only 2 hours, but then I had to go back today and wait for-EVER. The plastic chairs weren't conducive to napping, so I just sat back and watched everyone. There really were people from everywhere - from Lebanese with Bangladeshi passports to Turkish women studying Shari'a at an Egyptian university and Filipina domestic workers. The process was easy for me, but I shudder to think of what it's like for refugees in limbo, always dealing with paperwork and legalities, with residence laws that change from one place to another, constant uncertainty, and the challenge of being forced involuntarily into a new environment.

Ordering food

So Cairo has an amazing food delivery service. Or should I say HAD. Otlob.com was the bee's knees about 4 years ago, particularly because of the bomb brazilian restaurant O Negrao which has, to my chagrin, since closed. The service is now spotty and orders often get cancelled... but sometimes I still need my food-fixes. (For the record Yemeksepeti of Istanbul beats out Otlob and GrubHub as best food delivery site) Par example, I was craving some sweet stuff. I ate a bunch of dates but it didn't really satisfy me so I bought a box of Egyptian brownie mix, and it was AWFUL. Then I made brownies from scratch, and was happy. Anyway, today P wanted some sushi, so we ordered from Otlob and had to wait forever until we finally found out the order was cancelled (twice). This is my chat with online customer service:

PTO:
i have no order status on my food. whats up with that?

Welcome PTO! Your request has been directed to the Otlob.Com Customer Service department. Please wait for our operator to answer your call.

Call accepted by operator Otlob. Currently in room: Otlob, PTO.

Otlob:
Hello MIss PTO
Otlob:
Welcome to otlob.com
Otlob:
This is Talal from Otlob customer service team
Otlob:
Can you kindly give me your order number?
PTO:
one sec
PTO:
5431789
PTO:
i'm really hungry!
Otlob:
Can you kindly hold on with me till we check please?
Otlob:
we are trying to reach the restaurant but it's no answer there
Otlob:
and we are not able to reached you as your mobile was switched off
Otlob:
would you like to try again with them ?
PTO:
yes i would but i already ordered twice
PTO:
my number is ******
PTO:
im super hungry and don't know where to get my food from now
Otlob:
well miss we will try to reach them for another 5 minutes and we will call you back if we couldn't reach them
Otlob:
if you would like to place another order from anywhere else we are at your service
PTO:
ok so is the restaurant closed?
PTO:
or can you just not reach them
Otlob:
we are not able to reach them
Otlob:
it's no answer there
PTO:
ok
PTO:
could you please let me know if bob sushi is open?
Otlob:
Can you kindly hold on with me till we check please?
PTO:
nevermind I just ordered from Bob. Hopefully they will deliver asap
PTO:
I'm really hungry!
PTO:
my order status on the order from sheboya never changed
Otlob:
well miss your order has been routed successfully
PTO:
great. my stomach will appreciate it

(Otlob calls me on the phone and tells me that the price on my order has changed in the last minute. I tell them politely that I'm not thrilled with their service. I get a lot of ssorry's and bleases.)

PTO:
please let your manager know about my complaints
Otlob:
and we will forward your complaint to otlob management and the restaurant management so that they can take it into their consideration.
Otlob:
We are so sorry sir for this problem, and we promise we will do our best to make sure that such problems not to be repeated again in the future
PTO:
i think you meant miss
Otlob:
Your comments help us improve
Otlob:
It is pleasure to serve you
PTO:
great. thanks for your help.
Otlob:
You are most welcome anytime and thank you for using Otlob.com
Otlob:
We are always at your service anytime Miss

My food is finally on the way. Insha'allah it will arrive any minute now!!

Getting dem shower pipes: Made in China

Our landlord isn't the most helpful guy on the planet, and has yet to deliver on many of his promises, one of them being bathroom repairs. Today our shower set-up broke. P and I went out in search of a new pipe and shower head, and took the old one with us, since I had no idea what the arabic word was. We went round the corner to the convenience store we frequent - there are three in a row, and they all sell pretty much the same thing, but we always buy our water from the same guy, and he's always happy to see us. After a little game of pointing and a few words of broken arabic, he gave us directions to a shop called "subbak." We walked a couple of minute and nearly missed what was pretty much a locked cabinet on the side of the street, full of pipes, hoses and shower heads. No one was in sight so we kept walking. We asked at a couple more shops but found nothing, but then came upon a gift store with a photocopy service outside (exactly what it sounds like - a copy machine on the sidewalk!) who pointed us to the next "subbak." We walked through a few more alleyways until some lady called out at us, grabbed me by the hand, and unlocked a door in the wall to reveal a whole panel of shower heads. She proceeded to wax eloquent about the Turkish and Chinese-made ones, and $5 later we were all set. I later found out that "subbak" means plumber...

So goes life in Cairo, slowly but surely, with our vocabulary increasing daily. People in our hood still aren't quite used to us. P is as white as they get, and it doesn't help that we're a mixed couple. It always goes like this in a shop we haven't been to before (in Arabic)
Guy: (Looking at P curiously) Where are you from?
Me: He's from Polanda. Bolanda.
Guy: (Huge grin) Ahh!! Holanda, holanda! Football! Good team!
Me: No... no.. Bolanda.
Guy: (Mildly disappointed) Oh... BOLANDAAA. (To me) Are you Egyptian?
Me: No. I'm from India.
Guy: Yes yes! Amitabh Bachchan! Very nice country!

I was wearing a long tunic I picked up in India (sooo useful in Egybt). I guess it had kind of an ethnic print on it... but it elicited a couple of ni-haos from some young girls on the street. There's a first for everything!

We also found a Kushary joint quite close to us: a full meal for 2LE (35 cents!). Giant win!

Unempty sidewalks

Last night was our first night in the new flat. Of course, like almost every other flat we saw in Cairo, it has chandeliers and looks like it walked out of the 70's.
We woke up starving and went on a food mission, having decided that the baladi supermarket is a cheaper and better bet than the fancy C-mart across the way. While buying some limes from a toothy old guy with a giant prayer bump, we noticed a shop that sold eggs. Not various types of eggs or different kinds of eggs, just one kind of egg. An egg shop. We stood still for a moment among all the beeps and screeches and donkey carts and sooty children running about and just marvelled at it. I'm personally delighted by this and plan to be overzealous in making all kinds of egg breakfasts now.

I'm in love with this neighbourhood. It reminds me of the market streets in the town I grew up in in India. The tailor spins away, old luggage stacked up next to him, while the apprentice at the male coiffeur next door sprawls out alone in the salon on a barbers chair. The faded photo studio with portraits taken in the 90's pinned up outside lies next to a laundry operation; if you peer carefully you can see dark hands moving a heavy old iron on white sheets, the kind that's just a black block of metal with but one switch. The sidewalks give birth as easily to movement as stillness: the photo shop owner sits lazily on a stool far too small for him, cigarette dangling out of one hand, belly drooping over his thighs, the tailors work spills out on to the pavement, three men stand outside yelling into the laundry, one has a leisurely conversation with a man on a rooftop above him, dogs, cats and children dart in between everyone. The dust settles and is swept away with dirty water and a broom made of thin sticks. P and I tiptoe over the sudsy brown muck that flows out of the inside and is left on the street, and duck into our building, hands full of groceries, limes, and a baked sweet potato from a wandering oven-cart.

Flat Hunting in Cairo: Fi Sha'a Fadya Hena?

Unfortunately I write to you from one of the few pet-friendly hotels in Cairo to have open rooms - the Lotus. I think pet friendly here means that they just don't clean your room because you have a pet in it. Glowing internet reviews about the friendliness of this place convinced us to stay, but in reality, the disagreeable porter and ancient furnishings make it a less than salubrious habitation. Even our cat is displeased. However, the bare bones room is still a good place to get to Dokki and Mohandiseen where we have been looking for flats. Maadi is a bit of an American outpost and Zamalek is similarly full of foreigners and accordingly priced flats. Mohandiseen is also an upscale neighbourhood, but there are some less posh areas there and in Dokki and Agouza, which is sandwiched between Zamalek and Mohandiseen. I didn't come to Cairo to live amongst foreigners, so we've been pretty choosy about where to rent, much to the bewilderment of our brokers, who can't understand why we would want to live in a "sha3bi" or popular area.

I originally tried to locate a flat through the listserv Cairo Scholars (now open only to those with .edu addresses) which proved to be a better bet for those looking for a flat share or individual rooms. I saw a couple of flats off the list which weren't all that, but were in supposedly nice areas (not really). So we tried a two-pronged approach - craigslist, and neighbourhood flat hunting expeditions. We managed to find three brokers off craigslist (and another contacted us off CairoScholars, but was a complete bust). Most of the listings are obscenely priced or dubious, though. The first broker was unprofessional and made us foot the bill for transport to the various flats, the second one looked like a yeti and brought his girlfriend to work with him, and the third was luckily, a decent dude.

We also walked around different areas where we wanted to live, asking the bowwabs (doormen) and corner grocery shop owners - basically anyone plugged into the neighbourhood - whether they knew of any empty flats in the area. If you can speak a little arabic, this is a good way to go, but almost all the flats you'll see are decorated Egyptian-style - i.e. major carpeting everywhere, excessive (and often tacky and bulky) furniture, grand old curtains, and so on. Brokers are more likely to have flats that may appeal to non-Egyptian sensibilities, but also more likely to overcharge for the privilege, typically half a month's rent for a 6 month to year long lease. I've heard that simsars or brokers are meant to charge the landlord only and NOT the client, but in practice most tend to double dip. For the amount of flats and effort that the last broker put in, I felt that it was worth the half month fee, but not more. Negotiate!

We saw about 20 flats all told - big flats, small flats, unoccupied flats, flats occupied by old people, tenement flats, stinky flats, tacky flats, passable flats, renewed flats.... most of them were overpriced because of the area (Mohandiseen) and some of them were just awful. We did see a couple of decent ones, mostly shown by the last broker. One of them was beautiful, but the second bedroom was unusable, and the bowwab fee was far too much. So, we've settled on a gorgeous flat at the edge of Mohandiseen and Agouza. The building doesn't have a bowwab or nice entrance and it's a 4th floor walk up, but the kitchen is the size of a living room and the living room is the size of a yoga studio. There are loads of bakeries on our street, in addition to the various 'ahwas (coffeehouses)... Sha3bi chic, innit! Plus, it's a 3 bedroom and every room has its own balcony. Tonight we meet the owner to negotiate removal of tacky furniture and all the curtains and carpeting so we can see the lovely hardwood (real! not laminate!) floors and hopefully convince her to give us a new fridge....

Queens Boulevard to Cairo Airport

The past week was a whirlwind of action - driving from DC to NYC with my bengal cat Glue in tow, catching up with friends in the city, and packing for my year away in Cairo.

New York was gloriously hot. I stayed at my parents in Forest Hills, Queens. Brooklyn has its fair share of organic coffee shops and artsy hipster joints, but nothing beats the mix-up that is Queens. FH is fairly affluent, with private garden streets and a couple of fancy stores, but you can always find more interesting places too. Like the gritty diner on Austin Street. Or the amazing bakery run by a Gujarati family from Uganda (best arugulas ever).

I collapsed on Saturday night, and spent Sunday night at an unexpected birthday tribute to MJ at Habana Outpost with their special corn and six point Brooklyn brewed beer. Yum.

Sunday morning I got lost on the way to the vet to get kitty's travel docs. I went to the Vinegar Hill Vet Group, possibly the best practice I've ever been to with a pet. The vet (Sara Neuman) was amazing, really gentle, thorough, and extremely helpful. Not to mention hilarious. The techs did a star job on my almost-feral baby, and rather than being stressed out, as is usually the case at the vet's office, both Glue and I were pretty relaxed. The vet is USDA accredited, and great for anyone leaving with a pet from JFK. After a 1 hour drive (that should have taken 15 minutes) the next day, I finally located the USDA office. $35 and 1 minute later, the health certificate was endorsed and I was all set to go. Glue got a little liquid xanax for the plane ride and for the most part was quiet under the seat in front of me. I was relieved to not have to subject him to the stress of travelling cargo, and it was much nicer - and also cheaper - to have him with me.

I flew Delta to Cairo, and all I can say is: BUDGET.
The JFK terminals were under construction, there were hardly any ground staff, and no one knew where to direct any of the passengers. The check-in staff were grumpy and the Delta terminal was pretty grim looking, with almost no facilities. The flight was understaffed and there wasn't enough food or overhead cabins for luggage. There were about 10+ babies on the flight, all concentrated near me, all screaming for 8 out of 10 hours of the flight. One of the flight attendants was particularly sassy, and had far too many unwanted snarky comments (disguised as a jovial manner). One of the snack services was DIY - you had to get up and go to the galley to get what you wanted, which led to massive jams near the loo. The only advantage was their pet policy, otherwise I would have stayed away. A far cry from the polished service of Virgin, BA, or even Turkish Airlines (a pleasant surprise, by the way, with excellent airplane food).

Wine tasting in Bozcaada/Tenedos

Today's mission was to attend a wine tasting on Bozcaada. It only took an hour to get there on the ferry from Canakkale (20TL, once a day, 9am departure, 9pm return. The other option is to take a 45 minute bus to Geyikli, where there are ferries almost every hour and a round trip costs 4TL) but on arrival we discovered that the wine tastings were mostly held at the vineyards out of town. Rather than rent a scooter (50 TL for 12 hours, available at the Polente cafe - you can also rent bikes at the harbour) we headed to the public beach at Ayazma. The beach was crowded, but the water was crystal clear and gorgeous - and absolutely freezing! The island has its own varieties of grapes, and a fair amount of wineries, which is why we decided to visit. Since we couldn't get to the vineyards, we basically went from one bar/restaurant to another trying products from each winery. We tried the Cabernet Sauvignon Special Reserve from Camlibag, which tasted like a kick in the face with a biker boot, and a Kuntra wine that was also far too young and fresh. The Talay Cabernet Sauvignon was full of wet leather, and none of the wines we tasted left anything behind once swallowed. I'm hoping for better things from the Corvus Karga 2008 (Vasilaki and Cavus grapes) that we picked up. Overall I'd say Cunda Island is a better place to visit; things are expensive in Bozcaada and it isn't as pretty, but on the flip side, you can dive and do all kinds of windsports. The highlight of my day was our delicious breakfast with the apparently-famous-in-Turkey island jams (tomato and grape) and cheeses and that a kind fruit seller gave us free grapes after a little banter. We only had time for a day trip, otherwise I'd have stayed at the 9 Oda boutique hotel. This excellent website has all the information you could need about the island.

pictures coming soon


Update: The Corvus Karga 2008 was worth the 4 hours we spent tasting bad wines. It's an excellent, refreshing mineral-y white with citrus flavours and a hint of vanilla. Super smooth; P describes it as taking a shower with citrus herbal essences shampoo, without the sting in the eyes.

Canakkale

After taking the 9am ferry from Lesvos to Ayvalik we had a satisfying Ayvalik tost at the bus station and started asking around about buses to various cities on the way to Istanbul. The earliest bus available was to Canakkale, so that's where we went. The 3 hour ride turned into a 5 hour one, but we were dropped off in the main square just in front of the ferry terminal. The heavy tourist traffic from down under means that there is plenty of decent accommodation around the centre. You might want to book a hotel way in advance if you're coming around ANZAC day though. We checked out most of the hotels in town, and almost all were in the 100-120 TL range with a few for 70-80 (for a double room), and after looking at a couple of rooms eventually settled on Hotel Helen Park, which had the cleanest and prettiest rooms. Hotel Temizay, Hotel Helen, Hotel Anafartalar (someone should tell them this name is a total stitch-up), and the Boutique hotel in the side street across from Anafartalar are also safe bets. For a budget place, the ANZAC hostel on the main street is alright but doesn't have ensuite bathrooms (40 TL for a double, less for a bed in a shared room).

Canakkale seems, on the whole, a chill and livable place, but it's not much to look at. The city was the site of a bloody battle in 1915 between the England/France and the Ottoman Empire for control of Constantinople (now Istanbul). It's an historically rich area for military and ancient history buffs, with all the archaeological and battlefield sites nearby and the giant guns and cannons displayed around the city.

After a brief once-over of the restaurants and bars in harbour area - where, incidentally, the giant horse used in the movie Troy is displayed - we walked through the whole city to find the archaeological museum. It's mildly interesting, small and unimpressive, but still, seeing the ancient ruins discovered in the area makes you ruminate on the nature of time. It's worth a quick visit, if only to get a sense of the layout of the city on the way there. We tasted the famous and absolutely delicious "Peynirli Helvasi" or cheese halva (which doesn't really taste like cheese) that is unique to the region and of course ate the best Turkish food ever, Lahmacun. It's kind of like a thin Turkish pizza, covered with tomato sauce, chillies, and ground up meat and served with lettuce, parsley, lemon wedges, and tomatoes. Always cheap and always delicious!

Lahmacun!


Peynir Helvasi


By the canal


Canakkale by night


Trojan Horse from 'Troy'


Statue of Emperor Hadrian at Arkeoloji Muzesi

For tomorrow, we've decided to avoid that tourist traps of Gallipoli and Troy and head to Bozcaada, Turkey's second largest Aegean Island and one of the larger producers of Turkish wine. For those who do want to go to Troy or Gallipoli, there are frequent buses and minibuses from the otogar, or you can take a tour from one of the many agencies near the ferry terminal.

Watermelon Daiquiris and Johnny Cash

Today we rented a scooter and headed to Gavathas beach, which was almost completely empty. It felt a bit like Cunda Island - wild and natural, no one in sight if you know where to go. Lesvos' beaches have clear water, but almost all of them are pebbled, which is quite annoying, but still doesn't detract from its charm. On the way back we ate at the Lucky Horseshoe (we were put off by the name but convinced by the chalkboard menu) where I tasted some of the best fish I've had North of the Andamans.

Molyvos town was super quiet during the day (all shops close between 2 and 5pm) but was buzzing by 8pm. Surprisingly though, it wasn't grating, as it can be in some vacation spots. Everyone was dressed beautifully and and the vibe was more 'relax and live it up' rather than 'stag weekend binge'. It seemed like a quieter version of the glitzy South of France, without the price tag. We indulged in 4 Eu watermelon daiquiris at a bar overlooking the harbour and listened to covers of Johnny Cash. Total win. I really didn't want to leave, but for the fact that we have a flight out of Istanbul in a couple of days.



Gavatha Beach

Molivos town

Interesting fact - Lesvos was ruled by Turks for centuries after the Byzantines until it was "liberated" by the Greeks in 1912. After an unspectacular but amusing night in the de facto capital city of Mytilini, we took a morning bus to Molyvos (also called Mythimna), a resort-y town on the North coast of the island. The 2 hour journey allowed us to take in some spectacular views of the scenery - olive groves, charred mountainside, grassy knolls, impressive rock formations. We'd tried to book a place to stay, but all the guesthouse websites we found only had reservation/inquiry places, which isn't really helpful if you want to know nightly rates. Nevertheless, we sent off a few emails, and since we failed to receive any responses we had no choice but to wing it. On arrival though, our bus was greeted by a lady from the local tourism office, who ushered us into her airconditioned office, called around, and arranged accommodation for everyone. 10 points to Molivos just for that! Our spartan but clean room had a tiny kitchen and a balcony with a sea and castle view (double whammy!). We were really excited to watch the sun set over the sea with a bottle of wine and a gentle breeze... but as soon as we'd unpacked a nice Minnesotan couple from our bus ride came up to ask us if we would please switch rooms with them. Apparently it was the girlfriend's birthday and she was in tears over the fact that we had managed to snag the last room with a balcony in town. Of course we switched rooms, had a pleasant lunch with them, then saw them later on at the beach strumming a ukulele (really?). P notes that he would give them much more credit if the birthday was not actually real. He's still not convinced.


The view from our balcony


Figs drying in the sun

On to Greece

After a long day wandering around and nearly getting sunstroke we took the 6 pm ferry from Ayvalik to Mytilini. As always, we'd planned on finding a place for the night on arrival, but by the time we arrived all of the hotels and pensions appeared to be full. Unwilling to shell out 100 Euros for one night, we looked around for 'rooms to rent' signs and pensions. We asked around in shops and quizzed random passers by, but no one seemed to know anything and despite exploring the whole town, we only saw a few places, all of which were fully booked for the night. After 2 hours of walking around with heavy bags we finally found a place that had a free room. Instead of looking any further, we gave up and settled on the Porto Lesvos 2, which smelled like stale bread and cigarettes and looked like it hadn't been redecorated since Nixon was in office. Our spirits were still up from managing to find a place without cracking under pressure and the weight of our luggage, so we went out for a couple of drinks. Mytilini seems like it gets its fair share of tourists, though most are probably just passing through to other, better parts of the island. The harbour was beautiful at night, and everyone looked super chic, making us feel pretty glamorous.

The (Stolen) Ruins of Bergama/Pergamon

Today we had a little adventure getting from Ayvalik to Bergama. After sorting out our ferry tickets to Lesvos we hopped on the Ayvalik-Dikilli-Bergama local bus (6.5 TL), which deposited us at the Bergama Otogar after 1.5 hours. On the way we saw endless sunflower fields, pine forests, and advertisements for thermal springs. At the otogar we were swamped by taxi drivers immediately, all of them offering to take us around the Bergama ruins for about 50-60 TL. There seemed to be no other options, and the ruins were too far to walk to, but luckily the station restaurant attendant pointed us in the direction of free dolmus services to Bergama center. There's a helpful and actually useful (so many aren't) tourism information booth right off the main square, where we got a map and headed off to explore.

There are three main ruin sites - the Red Temple, Asklepion (or the hospital complex - 15TL) and Akropol (the Acropolis complex - 20TL), in addition to the Bergama Museum. Since we have a low ruins/museum tolerance and a low budget, we opted for the Acropolis complex and decided to walk there - despite the warning that this was the only site that we needed a taxi to get to. Bergama is meh. There's not much to see, aside from a functional 16th century Turkish bathhouse. After a middling food experience at Bergama Sofrasi, which still appeared to be one of the best options available, we picked up some sesame halva and ramadan sweets at the excellent Salepcioglu Helvalari just up the road from the baths. Then we began the long walk up the hill to the Akropol, following the signs on the carpet-shop road. The first monument appeared within minutes, leading us to believe our map was to scale. Map fail! Another kilometre in the expletive-inducing heat resulted in a reckless icecream purchase and a desperate plea for directions. "The acropolis is a 2 hour walk from here! It's a one hour walk from here! You can't possibly walk there!" Finally, at the invitation of a kindly gentleman sitting beside his shop, we took a break in the shade. He promised to stop his friends and get us a ride. By this point I'd consumed copious amounts of water and was dying for the loo, and another old lady that had joined us (out of curiosity, naturally) generously allowed me to use the bathroom in her house and offered us cold water. I was secretly hoping for a tractor lift, but it didn't work out as planned and we ended up in a taxi. For those who want an even more scenic route, there is also cable car type thing that goes from the bottom of the hill to the ruins, but this was out of commission today. The best part about the acropolis site was that it was nearly empty. This could be because it was a Monday, or because of Ramadan, or because we were there in the midday heat, but it gave us a great view - the surrounding countryside on one side, and a huge reservoir on the other. The German pilfering of Turkish archaeological goodies (which are mostly in the Pergamon Museum in Berlin) has left the site pretty bare, but it was still impressive. When we were just about done three bus loads of Polish tourists poured in, so we left post haste. The heat hadn't abated at all and we ran out of shady road space so we tried to hitch hike back into town. Eventually a family from Malatya picked us up, gave us sultanas, and took us all the way back to the main street. Turkish hospitality to the rescue once again!

Tintype images on Cunda Island

This morning we took a dolmus (shared taxi, 2 TL per person) from Ayvalik Main Square to Cunda Island. The fish restaurants at the harbour have lines of olive oil bottles, the regional speciality, and freshly caught fish on display. We chose to eat at a restaurant further inland, but be warned that you should negotiate prices beforehand to avoid being hit by an excessively large bill. The unbearable midday heat led us to set out on a search for the best beach, and after walking past a shipyard, olive groves and grassy plains with farm animals we found a tiny plantation of beach umbrellas and decided to take a dip. Unfortunately the water was shallow, with some treacherous rocks underfoot, so we only swam for a few minutes to cool down. We subsequently found out that it was a private beach, with a swimming pool and a 20 TL cover charge to get in, but if you act fabulous (or swim and sneak away, as we did), it's unlikely that anyone will hassle you. Disappointingly, we didn't see any fishing cats, but a few locals confirmed that the rumour was true, and that they had seen cats catching eels and small fish.

Cunda Island is beautiful, with dry grassy fields that look like they came straight out of cowboy tintype photographs. The beaches aren't all that, but the raw beauty more than makes up for the painfully saline water. Further inland are some crumbling churches and Ottoman houses, all of which have been inspected and catalogued by the Turkish government. The cobbled footpaths and slowly decaying stone houses on the approach to the top of the hill make you feel like you're in an old black and white film, and once at the top you get a 360 degree view of the island and the bluer than blue Aegean water. Turks have intensifiers for all colours, (for example, mavi is blue, but masmavi is extremely blue) and the view here makes the reason for that obvious.

The local cuisine is mainly fish and vegetables cooked with herbs and olive oil, apparently prepared in a way that is unique to the region. After peeking into a couple of places, we ate at the excellent Ayna, a bright, charming slow-food restaurant. We shared the Balik Sahanaki - Cubed Mediterranean white fish cooked with vegetables and tomato sauce. I haven't eaten fish in a while, so it was a lovely surprise.

Istanbul to Ayvalik

We packed up our whole flat into our snail-bags yesterday, dropped off our suitcase at a friend's place and set off for Yenikapi to take a ferry to Bandirma. Sadly our spur-of-the-moment "plans" didn't quite work out as the 12:30 ferry was full. Instead of opting for the 8 hour bus to Ayvalik we decided to wait for the 6:30 ferry and catch a movie while we waited. Given my penchant for big-budget action films and the fact that "Salt" was out with Turkish subtitles, this worked out perfectly.

The ferry to Bandirma took about 2 hours. Sadly, we didn't take any pictures as our energy was focused on getting non-sleazy accommodation for the night. We did walk around a bit later on after getting a pile of fasulye (beans) and pilav (rice). Surprisingly, Bandirma's center is quite well planned, with a large square and Ataturk statue (of course!) and a lit up bridge linking two parts of the harbour that provided a pretty cool vantage point for the sea as well as the city. There's not much to see in the city, but that's exactly what was nice about being there. That it was just a normal place.

After an uneventful night we took the bus to Ayvalik, sleeping most of the 4 hours. The countryside looked more and more arid, but absolutely gorgeous - stretches of nothing but olive groves on one side, a smattering of buildings and the sea on the other.

As always, we managed to find a delightful guesthouse in the center of old Ayvalik, surrounded by crumbling Ottoman era houses. We finally found what was eluding us in Istanbul - the opportunity to swim. It was awful to be surrounded by water and yet not be able to take a dip in the scorching weather. The beaches of Sarimsakli are only a 15 minute (gorgeous) bus ride away from Ayvalik.

So far, so good. There aren't even any bugs here. Tomorrow we head to Alibey/Cunda Island, where there are apparently fishing cats. We will report on this soon.

Eyup and Santralistanbul

If I had more time in Istanbul, I'd repeatedly visit SantralIstanbul museum and the Energy Museum on the campus of Istanbul Bilgi University in Eyup. The Energy Museum is basically a disused power plant (and I do love derelict factories) and the parking lot has breathtaking views of surrounding Eyup and the Golden Horn. We were able to catch the tail end of one of the free jazz performances from the Istanbul Jazz Festival, while P's frisbee team played nearby. Eyup is one of the more interesting areas in Istanbul, packed with colourful hillside houses, a beautiful cemetery, one of Istanbul's 2 cable car transport systems, and a bizarre carnival park. You can take the ferry from Uskudar or get there by bus/Bilgi's free shuttles from Taksim.

Eat: Tamirane, a converted warehouse, has delicious (though pricey) cocktails and a well thought out menu. Has the added bonus of live music.

Galata and Around

The area behind the Galata Kulesi is one of my favourite parts of Istanbul. Right next to the tower there are, of course, a fair amount of souvenir/trinket shops and tourist restaurants, one of which is the excellent Kiva Han, which serves specialties from the South East like tomato sweets and walnut fig compote. Getting away from the souvenir tack is easy enough, though. The newly-installed but ancient-seeming cobbled street leading away from Galata to the famous Dogan apartments has been transforming quite quickly, and is now home to a photography school and various independent Turkish designers. The buildings are old and gorgeous, and aside from all the well dressed and in-the-know Istanbullu, you're definitely aware that something creative and amazing is happening in this place. The end of the street is full of ceramic studios and antique shops. Though I'm not a huge fan of jewelry, Aida Pekin's workshop on the corner of Serdar Ekrem Cikmaz has the most whimsical collection inspired by Istanbul. There are little necklaces moulded into ships, stray cats, and the Istanbul skyline. Next doors ceramic showpieces are designed in house - we were lucky enough to get a peek at the process. The neighborhood behind Galata on the hillside that leads down to Tophane is a buzzing residential area with a few grocery stores and kiraathanes, coffee/tea houses traditionally frequented only by men with Turk kasis (Turkish bellies!). We found some delicious bal kaymak here - a type of creamy yoghurt with honey. Yum! Apparently there is a really old and famous kaymakci in Besiktas, but unfortunately we haven't managed to find him yet.

Sultanahmet and Pazarlik

Most tourists in Istanbul don't venture much further than Sultanahmet, which is a shame because all of Istanbul is breathtaking, and Sultanahmet is hardly representative of Turkey . In the two months I've been in this beautiful city I've only made it out there twice, once for train tickets to Europe at Sirkeci and once to show P's family around. We went to the Blue Mosque and the Yeni Camii (the New Mosque in Eminonu, which isn't new at all) and waited while the fam visited the Hagia Sofia since we didn't want to drop 20TL again.


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Then we went to Misir Carsisi (The Egyptian Market or Spice Market) to check out the smells and the leeches - there are a few shops outside Misir Carsisi advertising them as the cure for all ills.



After a short apple tea break we went to Kapali Carsi (the Grand Bazaar and the world's largest covered mall) to bargain for tea cups and other exciting goods.

Kapitan Andreeevo

A couple of weeks ago we ventured across the border. The Turkish authorities reduced the time for Polish passports from 90 to 30 days, so we have to leave and re-enter every month. We took a two hour bus from Istanbul to Edirne, then crossed the border to Bulgaria at Kapikule/Kapitan Andrevo. Like any immigration experience, this one was time-consuming and tiring, but worsened by the fact that we had to endure the searing heat at 2 am. Worse, the Bulgarian border control "office" was swarming with flying roach-ants. That, coupled with the unbelievable stench on our bus, made for a pretty awful 8 hours. Budget travel, I can't wait to forsake you! Nevertheless, our time on both sides of the border was fairly enjoyable.

Things Edirne has:

Amazing old mosques, delicious lokum, a fun main street, kokorec (a supposedly tasty, haggis-like, turkish specialty that I do not have the guts to try), and other yummy-looking street food. And super friendly people!







Things Plovdiv has:

Budget ruins, a pretty old town, old ladies with blue hair, scandalously dressed helmet-haired women, and a penchant for body-builders (both male and female)






Apparently a friend of a friend in Plovdiv (the turkish "mis" tense would be so handy here) discovered ruins while excavating for the foundation of a house and decided not to declare the find to the government. Also, one can attend concerts in a roman amphitheatre... on the regular. Oh, and did I mention that Bulgarians shake their heads from side to side to say yes, and nod yes, up and down, to say no? VERY CONFUSING. Oh, Bulgaria, I don't think we'll be back anytime soon....