Bored

I’m getting kind of bored of this blog. I mean, it’s just me rambling on about my life. Which isn’t even that interesting. I go to work and then go home. And you don’t even know me, so why should you even care?

Then again, I could just be feeling blue. This week, I found out that I was a finalist in one of the most prestigious awards in my field. An award which has never had an Egyptian as a finalist before. And then I got invited to speak at one of the most intellectual events there is in a far off country. Neither piece of news made much of an impact with my family.

That’s the crux of the mutter–I’m just so misunderstood with my family. I don’t fit in. I want to be with someone who gets it. Someone who, when I tell them what I’ve won or who invited me, would instantly understand the magnitude. Not someone I’d have to explain to what this means. Which never really works; it’s like translating a pun. You either understand it or you don’t.

Sigh.

Other than the great news I got this week (which was made somehow not so great when whenever I told I family member I had news they immediately went: “there’s a guy!” As if there’s nothing else I could do with my life that could have meaning except find a guy), nothing much has been going on. I went fishing in Ain Al-Sokhna with some friends and got sunburnt, and I’m finally going sandboarding this weekend.

And now I’m just sitting in the middle of the night watching my new addiction, Britian’s got talent (did you hear the opera dude?!) and eating Nutella sandwhiches in fino* bread and baby’s butts**.

* I think it’s called artisan bread in English. In any case, it looks like a severely anemic baguette. When did the fino loaves get so small? I remember when one used to be enough. Now you need to eat at least two before you feel full.
**Baby’s butts = apricots. Just because that’s what they look like.

Henna Party

Sexy henna

Yay!

Went to a henna party yesterday and had so much fun. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve gotten all dressed up. As I’ve mentioned before, I seem to be visiting more hospital rooms than I am ballrooms, so a henna party is a lot of fun.

I finally got to wear the GF Ferre dress I’ve been hoarding for ages for a ‘chique’ henna. I bought it on a whim because it’s not really a dress you can make hijab friendly and it’s been languishing in my closet ever since.

So what’s a henna party? Basically a hen party, though the similarity of the terms is a coincidence.

Henna is a dye that is used to paint designs on your skin, which disappears after a week or so. Before they get married, brides get henna done at these henna parties, though unlike Indians, it’s usually a simple design. Personally, I prefer a design somewhere on my body rather than hands or feet.

Anyway, so it’s a woman only party held a few days before a woman gets married. We don’t just dress up, we go all out. Think dresses, heels, makeup, hair, hired ballroom just for women, and female dj and caterers.

Depending on the family, in addition to hiring a (usually) Nubian woman to paint henna designs on all the women, they may also hire a troupe of women entertainers who will dress up the bride-to-be in a variety of outfits (oriental woman, bellydancer, etc) and get the guests to dance. The bride’s friends will dance all night, and their mothers will gossip and check out the girls to matchmake with potential husbands. For veiled women in particular, this is a great opportunity since they get the opportunity to show potential mothers-in-law how pretty they can be. The henna parties usually start around 8ish and last to the wee hours of the morning.

My feet are killing me though. Not really used to dancing in five-inch stilletto heels. But I had fun. I love dancing and don’t often get a chance to do so. And dancing in front of the mirror at home is no fun. It was especially fun shocking the older women with some very un-traditional dance moves. Think gyrating hips slowly till you end up almost squatting on the floor before snapping back up

Sometimes, I love being a girl.

Just Keep Swimming*

I dragged my butt out of bed this morning at 8am to go swimming at Heliopolis Club (Women’s only hours are 8-11am on Saturdays and Tuesdays).

Two clubs I haven’t visited in ages in one weekend! Mash’Allah, mash’Allah.

It was amaZing. An Olympic size pool, which makes a wonderful change from the tiny, kiddie size pool I usually swim in.

Drifted lazily in the pool with my friend. I don’t think we swam more than half a dozen laps, but whatever. There’s nothing than can make you feel more like a bum than observing the crazy water ballet girls, who were practicing for the championship like crazy.

Honestly, how do they do that? How can they balance their bodies upside down? They were performing their routine to an Arabic tabla song, which was tres cool.

After the time was up we then ruined all our half-hearted good work by eating fuul and ta’meya (falafel) while watching old people try and play croquet.  Tea with milk was divine, and it was only after I slurped it all down that I realized why: full cream milk!

Strange fact of the day: You can hear the music more clearly underwater than you can out of it.

* That’s from Finding Nemo. I loved Dorie.

Run for Cure

Today I ran for the cure.

Well, more like walked. This is Egypt, after all.

Today the Gezira Club hosted the annual “Run for cure,” breast cancer marathon. Organized by the The Breast Cancer Foundation of Egypt

Convinced my friends it would be fun, and we went for the “women’s run,” which consisted of basically walking two symbolic laps around the track.

We then visited all the booths, where I drank some crap-tasting “ionic” energy drink, and ate a divine blueberry muffin from Dina Cantina, the place where I am now going to order all my desserts.

I haven’t been to the Gezira Club since I was a kid, which is a shame because it seems like a pretty cool place to hang out. Must make better use of my membership.

My friends then tried to drag me over to a sushi restaurant, but I balked. Uggh, sushi.

Holi and Global Village

Had a lot of fun this weekend. Forced some friends of mine to attend holi
with me at the Indian embassy, which is the Indian festival of colors. Forced them because, as typical Egyptians, all we usually do is eat and watch movies. Anything other than that requires persuasion.

But they enjoyed themselves so hopefully it’ll be easier to drag them to Andrea Bocelli singing at the opera next weekend.

Holi is an Indian festival to celebrate spring. Basically, people throw powder and water at each other, eat, dance and make a lot of noise. We got into the spirit, joined a group of Indian women dancing, and got them to teach us some dance moves. I think I was Indian in a previous life. Surprisingly, there was quite a number of Egyptians there.

Afterwards, we strolled over to the Gezira garden, where there was a Global Village event on. Nothing like Global Village in Dubai, of course, but pretty fun. Every country had a stall and was selling things from their country.

And a fun day was had by all.

Zits and Tuna

So I wake up today and find a humongous, and I mean humongous, zit on my nose. My skin is (elhamdulela) really clear so when I get a zit it’s like a glowing shiny beacon. Great. And it’s one of those under-the-skin-lurkers, so I can’t even pop it. And I’m being interviewed on TV in a couple of days. What if it’s not gone by then??!!!!!!!!

Ok, breathe deeply, I told myself.

I then thought: It’s probably because of my diet, right? Perhaps I should forgo my usual cornflakes-and-skimmed milk breakfast and try something new.

But I only had 10 minutes before I had to leave for work so I couldn’t really ‘cook’ anything. So I began to maniacally open and close the kitchen cupboards searching for anything that was quick to eat, and eventually settled on diet tuna in water.

I was late so I ate it right out of the can, and that gave me ample time to actually look at the can and search (in vain) for the nutritional information. But why oh why is the tuna named ‘Rose Tuna?’ And why does the can have a picture of Ariel from The Little Mermaid on it standing next to a tuna fish? Are they trying to tell you a mermaid likes it? But why would she be eating tuna? Isn’t that a little cannibalistic? Or are we eating her, since she’s a fish? Ughh, I feel sick now thinking about it.

I’ll play with Mr. Potato Head for a bit. He’ll make me feel better.

Some of my favorite things

Brown paper packages wrapped up with string, of course. I will never forget my joy as a child when I made my first order online and came home one day to find the brown paper package sitting on my bed.

Some of my favorite things:

Dove Cream Wash

Bateel dates

The most divine bread ever from Cafe Mo (Heliopolis)

Ok so wordpress turned out to be really annoying with the photos and won’t let me resize/ put them in a table (or I’m just too technologically inept to do it) so I’ll just list the list of my favorite things, though I really hate how bullet points look in this template:

• Chocolate fountains (duh)
• Labello lip balm. I’ve been using it since I was 9 and I think I’m their best customer ever
• Leggings (at home, of course)
• Books by Meg Cabot (I realize how stupid and girly that sounds)
• My ‘eye’ necklace I bought in Turkey
• The bass in my car (and my car!)
• Highlighters
• Ballerina flats
• My sebha, rosary, from Mecca
• My pet

Hmm, turns out this is a lot harder than I thought. Almost as hard and annoying as listing 25 things about myself. Kefaya keda.

Mrs. Doubtfire

Today I visited a pregnant friend of mine who’s on bedrest. All we do when I’m with her is watch sad bollywood movies. Today we decided to watch old movies.

And what did we decide on but Mrs. Doubtfire.

God, I loved that movie as a kid. Loved it with a passion.

Fun fun fun.

Contradictions

I won an award today from one of the most prestigious associations in my field. Yay me.

I also finally received my new passport–no more shebsheb* Egyptian passport!

Today I was also sent a comment by email:

Your site is a fascinating read by the way. So many contradictions and so much effort from your side to make yourself appear as something you are not. Reading is like putting together a puzzle.

Contradiction is a word that describes my life.

My religious and cultural and educational upbringing combined with my natural personality has resulted in who I am today: a woman who tries to hard to reconcile aspects of herself that many seem to think are mutually exclusive.

I have had it drummed into me all my life what a ‘good girl’ should do.
I have had it drummed into me all my life what a ‘good Muslim’ should do.
I have had it drummed into me all my life what ‘Egyptians’ do.

What I do with my life and what I want to do with it is not ‘normal’ for an Egyptian.
The Islam I follow doesn’t mesh with the patriarchal, superficial Islam followed by many.
The way I act, the way I talk, and a lot of what I do isn’t very ‘womanly.’

Basically, I don’t fit into any cookie cutter mold.

What defines me, what I believe are my strongest identity traits, sometimes feel like they are suffocating me. The life I lead, the family I’m a member of, and the expectations that are heaped upon me don’t help.

But I persevere.

This blog is simply a small response to the way I live my life. Everything I’m writing is true, and what I write is what I truly think. The way I’m writing here may not be the way I present myself to the world, but it’s how I think inside my head.

Okay, enough of the heavy stuff. Something to make you laugh:

My driver–in a very nervous tone–told me today: “Looks like you’ve lost a bit of weight,” and then looked at me all anxious, worried that it was an inappropriate comment.

My reaction? I laughed like a loon on loon tablets.**

* Slipper. An affectionate term used to refer to (the old) Egyptian passports, which resembled nothing more than a huge green palm-sized notebook. Now we’ve finally caught up with the rest of the world.

** If you figure out where that’s from, then you are a sad, sad person. I salute you.

That time of the month…

Pain. Lots and lots of pain.

The kind of pain where all I want to do is remain stationary, curl up in a ball under my blankets, sipping hot chocolate and listening to oud music.

I hate menstruating. Almost as much as I hate the word. Strange to think about how much I looked forward to getting it when I was a kid. Stupid Sugar magazine that made me think it would be all butterflies and rainbows.

So yeah, intense pain today. But of course I still had to get up and go to work, as usual.

If you ask me, we should get time off when we have our periods. Not only are they disgusting but they’re downright painful.

You know it must have been a man who had “Have a happy period” printed on Always pads. Every time I read it I want to pull my hair out. Asshole.

So I am advocating holidays on our period days. Not because we PMS or can’t control our emotions or ridiculous shit like that, but because we’re in pain and deserve chocolate.

I know it’ll only be fuel to those who say “women just can’t cut it in the workplace” but so what. I am over women trying to prove ourselves. I’ve proved myself a hundred times over and yet there are always those who see my work as:

*My means of compensation for having no husband.
* Something I do to bide my time until I get married.
* Still never as good as something a man would do.

etc, etc.

And yet, I still didn’t call in sick and trudged over to my office.

Thank God for Midol medicine (beats Panadol’s ass) and Lil-Lets heat soothers (Similar to nicotine patches, only they’re as big as your palm and stick to your lower stomach. A modern day hot water bottle. Too much information?)