Bitchy-ness

What is up with the number of rich, stylish women I’ve seen shouting in the streets after being rear-ended?

I get it, I really do. It’s frustrating and annoying as hell when it happens. But you know what? You’re driving a car that costs what some Egyptians don’t even dream of one day having. You’re not the one who’s going to take it to be fixed, and probably not the one who’s going to be paying for it. The guy who hit you didn’t do it on purpose, probably doesn’t even have enough money to fix his own bump, and envies the hell out of you. You live in a country with no insurance, and where rear-ending is as natural as breathing. And just because you’re rich and pretty and live in a country where the rich are never in the wrong, doesn’t give you the right to treat everyone else like dirt. It’s snobby, bitchy and not at all classy.

When it happens, just sigh, let out an expletive (in your car), at the most give him (or her, though it’s usually a guy) a dirty look, and drive on. What purpose does stopping the street, getting out of your car and having everyone gawk at you serve? And then getting mad if the guy so much as dares answer you back? Threatening to call so-and-so and telling him “do you know who I am?”

The video below, which made the rounds last year, disgusts me. In it, the woman gets out, holding an (illegal) taser, insults the guys with some horrendous swear words, and calls her dad, who’s a high-ranking lieutenant , telling him to send her an officer right away.

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)

Korba Peace Festival

Korba!

Always so much fun!

Korba is one of the oldest districts in Heliopolis. All these gorgeous old buildings. Sadly, it’s become extremely crowded and annoying, but on one day every year, it becomes a pedestrian street, and it’s true beauty shines through.

All the cafes set their tables outside, bands entertain us up on a stage, kids draw on the street with chalks, and companies fall all over themselves to market their products in the most innovative ways. Entertainment is varied: the traditional tanoura/ oriental dances, and then guitar/ jazz bands. It got way crowded at night, but still vairy fun,

Loves it.

I then went and caught the late screening of Angels and Demons. Neither it or nor the Da Vinci code are my favorite Dan Brown books (that would be Deception point), but it was interesting to see how it played out on screen.

The best part? The fact that the terrorist was no longer an Arab Muslim who hated all Christians and loved raping and killing white western women (real subtle of you there Dan). Instead, he was a Dane. Two thumbs up.

Loser that I am, I decided to google and see what people thought of this. And I came across this delightful piece by anti-Muslim zealot Debbie Schlussel:

“Over the years, I’ve written about the many movies in which Hollywood changes the villain or the terrorist in the original script or novel from a Muslim to something else out of politically correct deference to Islam, the religion of whiners (and ultimately, murderers). Now, Hollywood continues in this tradition. … I’m already learning that ['Angels and Demons'] has been ‘disinfected’ by Islamopanderers (director Ron Howard) not wanting to upset our dear friends in the ‘Religion of Peace,’ who might do something ‘peaceful’ if the movie had stayed true to the book.”

Sigh.

I heart Egypt

I heart Egypt

I lurve my country sometimes. I really really do. I was driving through the city today with the windows rolled down listening to Dalida’s Helwa Ya Balady (Egypt my beautiful country), and I felt this sudden rush of love for my country. Yes, it’s crowded and poor and polluted and corrupt. But it’s my country. Dalida was one of Egypt’s Jews, who were all kicked out during President Gamal Abdelnasser’s time. She sang this song after she left, singing about how much she wanted to come back.

Things I love about my country:

• How friendly people are. You’ll always get directions (even if they have no idea where the place is), you’ll have someone stop for you if your car tire goes flat, and your neighbors will help you out if you’re in trouble.
• Family. How important it is. How they’re always there for you.
• Our humor. Even if things are dismal, Egyptians still find something to joke about.
• Insh’Allah, Elhamdulela, Mash’Allah. Our faith.
• Our toorath, heritage, and our culture. We have pharonic, Islamic, and Arab history here. Our streets are filled with beautiful mosques and churches and even synagogues. Our museums are unbelievable. Khan El-Khalili is always a laugh. Sitting in el-Fishawy cafe and doing absolutely nothing are some of my fondest memories.
• A country that gave us the music of Abd Al-Haleem Hafiz and Um Kalthoum. Music that will lift you up no matter what.
• If you have no money whatsoever, you can still find beautiful things to do here.
• The Nile. Seriously. Until you’ve walked alongside the Corniche or taken a fuluka ride, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.
• Koshari, a uniquely Egyptian dish of pasta, rice, lentils, onions and chickpeas.
• The chaos. Yes, things are messy and bureaucratic but sometimes it’s wonderful.
• How you can get everything delivered. Aspirin. McDonalds. Sellotape.
• The bawab. An Egyptian institution. A man who supposedly guards your building with his wife and dozen kids, and knows everything about everything.
• How some of the best food and drink and outings and clothes are some of the cheapest.
• Taxi drivers. Some of the most philosophical conversations of my life were held in taxi cabs. If you haven’t read it, I suggest you check out the English translation of Taxi.
• Traveling out into the countryside with my grandma and visiting farmers and their families. Seeing how simple their lives are and how easy it is to make them happy.
• Egyptian bellydancing.
• Our TV series. The melodrama, the tragedy, the ecstasy. The spiritual twin of Bollywood.
• How we bargain.
• Our pride in announcing that “ana masri,” I’m Egyptian, to non-Egyptians.

Today is a day for lurve

Bribes

I got a parking ticket today. In Egypt, your parking ticket is stuck to your window.

Question: What kind of glue is used on those stickers? I removed it almost the second the guy stuck it, and it still left a mark.

Ugggh.

It’s doubly annoying because the policeman was standing right there. I was only double parked for a maximum of five minutes while I ran into the cafe and picked up a sandwich, but he beat me to my car. Then came them “ma’lesh ya anesa*” and suggestive smiles. Slip him a tenner and the ticket will go away.

But I just can’t do it. I understand why they do this–heck I’d probably do that if my salary was like theirs**–trying to fleece everyone, but I just can’t give bribes. It feels so wrong and icky. I’ll pay them money if they help me park (as if) but I draw the line at bribing.

It’s sad because this is basically how Egypt works–a little money greases the wheels and makes everything work–from the bottom tier of the pyramid all the way to the top. That and your wasta***, of course.

* Sorry mademoiselle.
** Ranges from LE 100–250 ($20-$50) per month.
*** Connections

Driving in Egypt

Today my car cheerily announced that I have now spent 1,000 hours driving.

I’ve had my car for less than two years, and I’ve spent approximately four months of them abroad.

That means I’ve spent 40 days driving in less than two years. Almost two hours of driving a day.*

40 days.

That’s crazy!

And how have I spent that time? Listening to my iPod on shuffle or the radio, talking on the phone, and cursing other drivers.

For the uninitiated, here’s a quick run down on driving in Cairo:

1. 

   Normal Cairo Traffic

   There’s no rhyme or reason to the way streets are organized. To get around, ask the trusty bawabs chilling outside buildings, since few streets are clearly named/ have numbers.

2. But realize that everyone will always give you directions, even if they have no idea where you’re going.
3. The streets are always gridlocked. And Egyptians always have an excuse for why: “Children are going to school.” “Children are leaving school.” “People are leaving work.” “It’s the weekend.” “It’s night time, people are going out.” And my favorite: “El-rayes me3ady**”
4. The streets are so crowded we measure distance in the time it takes us to get there, not by distance. Now, it takes at least 20 minutes to get anywhere (if you count parking time) and on average, an hour.
5. We triple park our cars now. Soyas (valets, but that word is just too posh for men who are basically lounging around and tell you to go right/ left) are now everywhere, and they have their own systems, payment scales, etc.
6. We have our own car language. Your signal lights, your car horn, and even your arms can be used to express a multitude of things.
7. The signal lights are never used, of course. If you use them, the person next to you will speed up to overtake you.
8. Likewise, we speed up if we see pedestrians. Idiots. They refuse to use the bridges and tunnels and would prefer almost dying trying to cross the street.
9. We all know someone who has died/ accidentally run over someone in car accidents.
10. We don’t have traffic lights. If you can cross an intersection, you cross it, even if there’s a tram coming your way.
11. The lanes are just suggestions. You don’t really have to stick to them. And if you do, you might find yourself running into the pavement. Or stuck behind a donkey pulling a cart. Moving from the far right to the far left (without signaling) in two seconds is a-ok.
12. Ghoraz are an art from. That translates as ’stitches,’ and consists of you weaving in and out of cars, since we have no ‘fast/ slow’ lanes. They’re called stitches because we follow the same wave motion of a stitch.
13. Highways are an excuse to see how fast you can drive. Ignore the fact that you have humongous trailers everywhere, and that a lot of highways aren’t properly paved.
14. There’s also a ton of roadkill on highways. I always wonder: who cleans them up?
15. There are also potholes on highways, speed bumps are never clearly visible or marked, and there are long stretches of road that are pitch black.
16. On normal roads, there are always big bala’at (manholes) which protrude out, meaning you always slam your car if you don’t see one coming. And we have no drainage facilities, so when it does rain (once a year) the city stops.
17. Never do you see Egyptians co-operate more than on highways. If there’s a radar on one side the cars on that side will signal (with their lights) the cars on the other side. This, in car language, is telling them that there’s a radar and they should slow down.
18. Honk your horn any time you like.
19. The guy who designed the streets in Cairo was an idiot. One of the first thing I learned in operation management was: BOTTLENECKS!! You can’t have a six lane road suddenly become a two lane road and not expect traffic. This is the case everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.

And so on and so forth. That’s just a selection of Egypt’s driving rules. Truly, if you can drive in Egypt, you can drive anywhere. But you’ll probably have your license revoked the first time you’re out in the streets, so it’s a lose-lose situation.

* The calculation: 1000 / [(365 x 2) - (30 x 4)] = 1.63

** “The president is passing by.” When he does, you’ll see soldiers lined up every few meters (which means literally hundreds of them) and the streets will all be sealed off, so his majesty can drive by. Often, people will switch off their engines and leave their cars to stretch their legs.

UPDATE: And here’s some advice from the US Department of State (!) about driving in Egypt:

Driving in Egypt, a country with one of the world’s highest rates of road fatalities per mile driven, is a challenge. Even seasoned residents of Cairo must use extraordinary care and situational awareness to navigate the hectic streets of the capital. Traffic rules appear to be routinely ignored by impatient drivers. Any visiting Americans thinking about driving in Cairo should carefully consider their options, take the utmost precautions, and drive defensively.

Drivers should be prepared for unlit vehicles at night; few, if any, road markings; vehicles traveling at high rates of speed; vehicles traveling the wrong way on one-way streets; divided highways and connecting ramps; pedestrians constantly dodging in and out of traffic; and a variety of animals on the roads. Most traffic lights in Cairo appear not to function, but rather intersections are staffed by policemen who use subtle finger movements to indicate which cars may move. Pedestrians should also exercise extreme caution when traversing roadways, especially in high-volume/high-velocity streets like Cairo’s Corniche, which follows the east bank of the Nile River. Motorists in Egypt should be especially cautious during the rare winter rains, which can cause extremely slippery road surfaces or localized flooding.

Moulid El-Nabi

Creepy Moulid Dolls

Today is Moulid El-Nabi, Prophet Mohammad’s birthday (Peace be upon him).

The best thing? The sweets!

My house is fill to overflowing with baskets full of sweets sent to us from family and friends. Moulid El Nabi sweets are very particular–they’re usually made of sugar and nuts. They include semsemeya, fouleya, etc. I don’t even know how to translate their names (except for malban–Turkish Delight*), but they’re all very, very good.

My favorite is basically fried coconut that is dyed orange. I don’t even want to think about calories, carbohydrates, or fat grams. I’ll just enjoy my candy in peace. It brings back childhood memories.

There’s also going to be festivites at Al-Hussein later on in the day. I especially love the sufi chants praising the prophet. Fun fun fun.

A moulid basically means a festival. It’s an excuse to have fun, remember the prophet, eat food, listen to music, people-watch, and did I mention to have fun?

For some reason, ugly dolls with creepy eyes are always sold at the moulid. They remind me of Phoebe’s painting of Gladys.

* Every time I think of Turkish Delight I think of the original Chronicles of Narnia movie (which, by the way, I kind of know my heart). “Turkish Delight? It shall be.” The witch then tilts her vase and a drop falls out of it which turns into a box of Turkish Delight. I remember going to bed and dreaming of Turkish Delight, even before I knew what it was! I just knew it looked delicious. Last time I was in London I tried Cadbury Dairy Milk with turkish delight. It tasted horrible. Ok, I’ve gone off on a tangent here, my point was that Egyptian Turkish Delight isn’t just normal Turkish delight, it’s a combination of Turkish delight and jelly which comes in colors and is sprinkled with sugar. You can just look at it and practically feel it thunder straight to your thighs.

Interesting video

What has become of Cairo, Egypt? and What is it meant to be?! Do you see a falling society?!

The rich are deserting the old city of Cairo and moving to luxurious, Hollywood style, gated communities in the desert, with lush golf courses and artificial lakes. Water is a big issue, as old Cairo is left to the poor and the tourists. Reporter, Hagar Cohen.

Why do the rich people of Cairo want to live like westerners? What are the consequences—will this mean more social unrest?

It’s a little amateur and doesn’t go into as much depth as I would like, but the issue it tackles is very pertinent: with the rich moving out of the city, what will happen to those left behind?

Slumdog Millionaire

Just watched it. Ah, ya alby*

Such a depressing movie. I know everyone loved the rags-to-riches story but I couldn’t get over the lives of the children. I know it’s a British movie by a British director, but it still shed light on an issue many of us were unaware of.

It was especially heartbreaking for me because the lives of the children in India mirrored the life of street kids in Egypt. There are so many of them, and their numbers are increasing every year because these kids are giving birth to kids. Everyone is up in arms about the 13 year old boy whose girlfriend just had a kid in the UK, but the LA Times just published a story earlier this month about a 13 year old pregnant street kid in Cairo who already has a two year old daughter , and the story barely made a ripple. It didn’t because we’re so used to it.

A couple of years ago we had the case of El-Torbini, a man who led a street gang of kids, using them to beg, and then raping them (boys and girls) before throwing them off train roofs. Egypt’s version of the Slumdog gang leader Mamman, only 100 times worse. He killed dozens of kids before being caught simply because no one keeps track of street kids. Many of them don’t even have identification. They are born, live and die without ever being registered in the system as having been here. And are buried in unmarked plots.

* Oh, my heart. Basically it means “Ouch, that hurt.”

Amr Khaled and Money

Al-Mujaddidun

Yesterday, Amr Khaled, the celebrated Egyptian televangelist and–according to the Times–one of the 100 most influential people in the world, came to the American university in Cairo (AUC) to talk to AUCians about developing their communities, and being mujaddidun, renewers. Since I’m an alumni, I drove over to listen to what he has to say. Love him or hate him, there’s no denying he’s done a lot of great work and is always inspiring.

But poor Amr Khaled. He has so much hope, so much drive, and so much (misplaced?) faith in the audience–the youth of Egyptian society who have the means, the opportunity and the ability to change the country if they wanted. Too bad that it’s because they have the means and the ability–the money and the education–they just. don’t. want to.

Egypt, as I’ve mentioned before, is a very polarized country, in every which way, and money-wise is the first thing. You have the very, very rich, and the very, very poor. The middle class is almost non-existent.

The unfortunate fact of life is that people with a lot of money are usually less community-minded and more about me, me, me. Cairo is no exception. We may not have a lot of Paris Hiltons, but the Gossip Girl wannabes are more common than you might think. With a very few exceptions, I can safely say that a lot of rich Egyptian youth–those that are found in AUC–live in a shiny pink bubble, and most will stay there. When they graduate, the majority will work with their families, in a multinational, or simply up and leave the country. The brightest and best go abroad and flourish there. Many never come back.

Ok, so I’m rich, elhamduelala.

But, I’m not an empty airhead like so many of my fellow AUCians, and that’s mainly because of two reasons:

1) My family is very ‘new’ money: My dad is very unsophisticated and comes from a village in Upper Egypt. As such, he raised us in a very different way than most rich kids are raised, and for that I am supremely grateful. We grew up to appreciate money, understand it doesn’t come from the sky, and to not spend money like there’s no tomorrow. It means I am as comfortable eating kebda (liver) sandwiches from a cart in Imbaba as I am in Cairo’s trendiest restaurants. It means I understand where I came from and how lucky I am to be where I am today.

2) We have religion, which tells us ostentastiousness is bad, and that we will be asked not only where we got our money, but how we spent it and our time. We don’t party, drink, etc which have become the fashionable activities for Cairo’s elite. Islam also tells us that we live in this world as part of a family, community, and ummah. We aren’t living for ourselves, but for the world. It means we have to actually do stuff in the world, and not just exist. It means we have to change things and improve them, and not just pray and fast and live in isolation.

But it’s just so hard. I’ll be honest, it’s hard sometimes not to fall into a life of leisure. I think to myself sometimes when I don’t want to get up for work: “I don’t really need to work, why not bum around and spend my days being a social butterfly?”

The people Amr Khaled was talking about yesterday, Mujaddidun, people who will effect real change, are just so hard to find. He says his new show will feature 16 of them–16 young men and women who really want to change the world.

I wonder what they’re like? I wonder how do you get that drive to get up every day with the intention that you are going to do great things?

And I wonder how many of the people who turned up to see Amr Khaled will really go on to do great things, and not just work, marry, have kids, and die.