Masreya

Sindbad--an iconic cartoon we watched as kids

I wonder why is it that I can never find T-shirts that are totally Egyptian and/or Arab? The closest I’ve come to what I have in mind are Zafir’s T-shirts (right) and they’re not exactly great quality, selection, or prints.

I’d love a T-shirt with UmKalthoum on it for instance, things that when you see you think “Egypt” or “Arab” (and not a camel or pyramid, please). I’m so tired of seeing everyone walking around with Rolling Stones T-shirts, or things that are iconic to non-Arabs or Egyptians. Business Idea right there!

My Flaws

Thanks to a very nice comment from J. Allen I’ve decided to come up with a list of my major flaws, arranged in order of importance. Because even though this blog should be my space to present myself in the way I like, apparently some people have gotten the idea that I think I’m absolutely flawless. Far from it. I ruthlessly scrutinize my character flaws and failings as ruthlessly as I scrutinize a menu in a new restaurant.

One of my favorite authors, Osama Gharib, wrote in his book “Aftookaliso*:” “Do you notice how when you ask people for character flaws they give you things that are really accomplishments? Such as ‘I care too much for people’ or ‘I’m a perfectionist.’” So, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to give you real, humongous flaws: So, without further ado:

• I have a healthier-than-normal ego and a less-than-healthy sense of humility. As this e-card goes:
  It’s annoying me like crazy that I can’t share the details of my successes with complete strangers (aka you), who won’t even really care about them or know what they mean to me because you don’t really know me.
• I don’t take criticism. Even if I know I deserve it, if I’ve done something wrong, I will try and explain it away. It’s very, very hard for me to swallow my pride and admit I’m wrong. On the other hand:
• I love to critique others. Or actually, I don’t love it but I’m convinced positive critique will help the person get better.
• I think my way is usually the right way. I will try and argue and debate with you till the cows come home to pick holes in your way and why my way is better. And thanks to years of arguing with my father, I’ve learnt to argue for hours without ever losing my:
• Temper. Thankfully this has gone way down since those angst-filled teen years, but I also know that other than hormones, a reason it’s gone down is because more or less I now get to do when I want. But when I don’t, I will be in a horrible mood. My temper isn’t manifested in tantrums and shouting, but in:
• Verbal Thrashing. I will flay the unfortunate person with brutal comments, bringing up old history without thinking before I react and then:
• Usually not apologize. Again, I find it hard to admit I was wrong so my apologizes are few and often not very sincere, especially since I’m convinced I was in the right.
• Cynicism and sarcasm. Whenever anyone says something really positive I point out the downside, and whenever they say anything slightly stupid I respond sarcastically/
• Complaining. I do it often and with gusto. I have to make the person in front of me feel the weight of all the things I have to do and how much effort I put into everything. All so they’ll praise how I’m handling it, of course.
• I monopolize conversations. Sometimes about myself, other times because I think my insights/ opinions have more value.
• I’m highly competitive. I love to win win win and I’m a sore loser.
• I hate delegating. If I ask someone to do something, I’ll probably find fault with it/ think I could have done a better job myself.

Do you hate me now?

* Aftookalisoo: They gave you fatwas (religious edicts) that are lies. Fatwas have become so absurd here in Egypt the verb ifty is now used for anyone who is giving you their opinion.

Do not Twitter

Hilarious!

If there is a fire... Do not Twitter!

Tanning

So my mom gave me a lecture today on tanning. Her argument isn’t that I’d get skin cancer, but goes something like this:

Europeans like to tan because they’re all white. Dark skin isn’t common there so it’s nice when you have it. Here, it’s the opposite. We don’t have a lot of white people, so white is good and dark is bad. You are nice and white, why would you want to be dark? Just because “they” like to do it doesn’t mean you should.

Other than the fact I know Egyptians are unfortunately racist, and those with dark skin are considered somehow inferior (Case in point: I have a hijabi friend who makes sure to tan her entire body while covering her face so she doesn’t look “Sudanese”), my mom did make one pertinent point: Am I tanning just because it’s ingrained in me through being exposed to ‘western’ culture than tanning is good?

Personally, I love the feeling of the sun on my skin. I love how it seeps into my bones, kind of like how I love the feel of clothes that are hung out to dry in the sun till they dry. I love jumping in the pool and then drying in a second when I lie on the pool chair.

When oh when will the stupid mangoes ripen?

Comfort and Bliss

Yesterday was a day that was everything I love about being here. It began with breakfast at 3pm, where, joy oh joy be still my beating heart, we had feteer and teen barshoomy (figs).

Now, feteer is an Egyptian institution. It’s kind of like Egyptian pie—layers of pastry baked in an oven with honey and cream, and then you dip it in molasses or sugar. I love it when lots of layers are used, and it’s called mewara’ (literally ‘paper-y’) because I love the inside layers and not the crisp outer layers. I haven’t had nice feteer in ages and this was feteer right out of the oven. Mmmmmmmmmmm.

And then we had figs! I’ve been craving them for months and months and they weren’t available yet so my first bite into a juicy fig was divine.

In case you didn’t realize, food makes me happy.

And then I spent the rest of the day ba2anta7′ (bumming around) with my family. We each lie on a sofa on the terrace basically doing nothing.

My brother and I had a blast listening to old old songs (Think Backstreet Boys’ “Everybody” and Christina Augulera’s “Genie in a Bottle”). It reminded me of ‘The’ Pizza Hut CD—the very first CD we’d ever listened to which was a present from Pizza Hut and which we replayed over and over for months. My dad amused himself by swatting flies while reading a mountain of newspapers. I convinced my mom to play pool with me. And then we’d flop back on the sofas and drink tea with milk.

I wasn’t in the mood to swim, but I did have a go on the humongous trampoline my dad just had installed. And I know I must have looked silly, but it was sooooo much fun. Pure, unfettered joy. The hair in your face, the sun beating down, and jumping up and down like I did when I was a kid. Vairy vairy fun.

Around 9:30pm we went to Porto Marina, which is like a mini outdoor mall right along the coast with outdoor restaurants. We went to see Adel Imam’s new movie Bobos, which wasn’t as horrendous as I expected. There are tons of really good Egyptian movies out now, but most are serious ones dealing with problems in Egyptian society, so we went to see Bobos because it was a comedy.

But even though it was funny, there was a very serious message in it I appreciated—the contrast between the rich Egyptian millionaires and the average Egyptians who struggle to make a living.

The movie ended around midnight and then we went to eat. We settled on Johnny Carino’s and had to wait 10 mins for a table, it was that crowded and the summer hasn’t even really begun! We stuffed ourselves with food while listening to the DJ play songs like “Matchy catchy combo, ya caa chicky chicky chicky chicky cha” (what is the name of that song?!). A turtle cheese cake at the end made the day perfect. Went home, straight to bed, and woke up today at noon. And now I’m off to swim. Bliss.

Football and Chivalry

Yesterday I drove back to Cairo for a friend’s wedding. Unfortunately for her, yesterday was the day Egypt was going to be facing off Italy in a football match all of Egypt was going to watch (WE WON!!!!) It started at 9:30pm and ended at 11pm so she knew that everyone would watch the match and then come to the wedding, therefore missing the zaffa.*

So, smart bride that she is, she hired a ballroom adjacent to the one she had her wedding in, and installed a TV in it just so the guests could watch the football match! Only in Egypt would you find over 100 men dressed in suits and a couple of dozen women in gowns and elaborate hairdos watching a football match at a wedding. It was hilarious! The cherry on top was the tant** sitting behind me going “ostor ya rab! Ya hadary! Ostor ya rab***” Look how hilarious:

Still can’t believe we won though. Soooo happy. Even when Hisham Abbas (a singer) arrived instead of going “Mabrouk lel 3arees wel 3arousa” (congrats to the bride and groom) went “Mabrouk lel masreyeen!” (mabrouk to the Egyptians!) I, of course, was more focused on the bread and butter and visiting the chocolate fountain rather than singing along, but all in all it was a pretty fun wedding.

I left pretty early-ish so I could head straight back to the north coast, but there was no way I was going to sit in a car for three and a half hours in a lung-crushing corset, high heels, and a dress. So I made my driver stop at the Burger King right before the bawaba (the gate leading to the highway) and got out to change with every guy in the nearby vicinity eyeing me. You’d think they’d never see a woman in an evening gown before, ughhh.

Walking out of the bathroom carrying my dress and scarf in my arms I dropped my scarf and didn’t notice. And chivalry is indeed dead because none of the guys (no girls at 2am) in the entire restaurant bothered to even let me know I’d dropped it! I only found out when I got to the car then went back to retrieve it. Sigh.

I stopped on the way to buy lots and lots of mangoes, and I’m sitting right now staring at the afas (crate) willing them to ripen. Didn’t fall asleep because I was worried I’d snore and the driver would hear me, but thankfully it didn’t take too long to get here. And now I’m back, it’s bright and early, and I can hear the birds chirping.

The chirping is pretty annoying though. And then I get annoyed at myself for getting annoyed at cute birds.

* This is basically the procession of the bride and groom into the ballroom by a troupe of men singing and playing drums and tambourine. Very traditional.
* Aunt. What we call any old woman out of respect.
** May God be merciful! Oh, Hadary! (the goalkeeper)

Sahel Memories

Today I have discovered, apparently years too late, the lahme (meat) song. My iPod battery died while I was tanning by the pool, so I took my brother’s. And when on shuffle, I came across this:

I’m still laughing fit too burst.

I love being here. It brings back soooo many memories:

1. Stopping at Masters rest stop on our way there and praying dad would stop. Buying Amr Diab tapes from the kiosk and random books from the store.
2. Listening to the most random music on our way there–“3ala awel el taree2 elzera3y, wana mesafer….”
3. Coming to the villa the first day and being bitten to death by mosquitoes. Usually trying to chase out butterflies from the room.
4. Having nothing in the compound we were in except a kiosk and place to rent bicycles. A trip to the kiosk with 8 kids on a buggy with the ghafeer driving was the height of fun.
5. Thinking the banana tree in the gardens was magic. I knew fruit came from trees but I still thought it was amazing. Getting shouted at every day by my grandma for picking the mango when it was still green.
6. Having a clay oven in the house where they would make bread. I loved to play with the dough.
7. Eating freska (Egyptian croissant) on the beach.
8. Going to Seagull! The strangest looking restaurant ever filled with weird statues and decor–kind of like TGI Fridays decor gone insane. Eating ‘asaleya (a sweet made out of molasses). Riding the camel. Jumping on the trampoline. Posing next to the weird statues. Making fun of the flamingos. Listening to the guys playing oud who have been there for ever.
9. Before Marina became this crazy posh bubble world, Marina 2 was the shiz. We’d go eat KFC, buy illegal movies, and carwez (cruise).
10. Having breakfast at 3pm and going to sleep after dawn.
11. Getting stung by jellyfish and still coming back for more. Going to the beach in a huge family expedition, dragging chairs and umbrellas and sandwiches and a stereo. Begging dad to let us ride in the launch with our uncle. And then jumping in the pool the minute we get back to “wash” the sand.
12. Swimming so much in the pool we got ear infections and burnt to a crisp (We don’t believe in sunscreen).
13. Balba‘ in Alexandria or Andrea (kebab and kofta restaurants).
14. Going to the mini-funfair in Mara’ya.
15. Eating mangoes in tank tops and shorts or else shamaring (rolling up sleeves) hardcore. Getting mango juice somehow all over our arms and clothes.
16. Getting pushed in the pool “accidentally” with our pyjamas on.
17. Going to Zahran supermarket. Watching movies in the open air cinema, where we’d sit on tables and order pizza.
18. Lying in a hammock and fighting over which constellation we were looking at.

Pasta, Pasta

Loool, I love Egypt! We may have lost to Brazil, but we played a great game.

(You can watch the two other ads in the campaign on YouTube: Egypt vs Brazil and Egypt vs. America)

Question

Since you all come here and read my ramblings, I owe it to you to ask you this: do you all enjoy reading this blog as is or would you prefer it to be a more serious blog commenting on the state of Egyptian affairs?

I mean, I realize I may come accross as a very self-interested person, but in reality I do care a lot about what’s happening in my country. Swine flu hysteria (gotta love the CityStars people walking around with facemasks), succession thoughts, what it means to have a draft law upping women’s seats in the People’s Assembly, etc. Thoughts?

Beach

Ahhh, the beach.

It’s summer time… and Ladies looking Hot. Whine Up, Whine up….

I’ve got that stupid song stuck in my head, probably due to the fact that we had it on repeat almost all the way down to the north coast.

It’s summer, which means a certain segment of Egyptian society moves to the North Coast, spending a couple of months at their fancy villas swimming and bumming around. Marina, which is where my family is at, is a haven for those who want to do nothing more strenuous than swim, jet ski, eat and party. Day and night are flipped, with people sleeping most of the day and up all night. Music pulses all the time, tanned pretty people are having fun, and life is on hold for a bit.

I usually love it for a week or so, then I get bored. So far, I have swum in the pool, got burnt tanning, and walked on the beach. La femme, the women’s only beach, isn’t open yet, so that sucksbu other than that I’m still in the happy-yes I’m-on-holiday-phase.

Everything about being here reminds me of being a kid. We stopped at Masters–a rest stop– on the way, and it brought back such strong memories of praying dad would stop there when I was a kid so we could eat icecream and shop at the two or three stores. I honestly don’t know why I loved it so much.

Utter peace and nothingness. I love it. Will probably get bored in a bit, but for now I am having fun fun fun.