Greetings from murky Cairo. I’m perched at the dining room table looking out over the balcony at the lovely east-side view from Mary Megalli’s Garden City Flat. So far the elevator has not eaten me, the washing machine has not held me hostage, and the Masri door has not swung shut against my too-small tush. It’s been a rather dull existence so far - the only calamity occurred on the trip over when a baggage cart collided with my plane in London - the plane survived, I think the cart is on life support.  

It’s a typical Cairo scene: sunshades for livestock and people on those breathless August nights, satellite dishes to keep in touch with the (Arab) world, and piles of “stuff” that will certainly be useful someday…all covered in the same thick layer of dust you can see in the air. It's khamseen season here, when the winds blow cold from the north carrying tons of sand in their wake. Some mornings are so murky you can hardly see down the block - fortunately, I haven't been yet treated to the full scale sandstorms that are a feature of the khamseen.  

Mary Megalli's flat. 

The not at all scary washer. It even comes with an instruction book - how boring.  

The oh-so-amazing kitchen. 

Reception room, looking into the large study cum extra bedroom. 

Sitting room. 

The small study. 

One of the joys of staying in this flat are all the little treasures Mary has collected in 30 years of living here. Bronze casket and mashrabeya screen.  

Bedouin basket.  

Geologic treasures from the Sinai & western desert.  

West side view - not very different from the east side view. The Nile is only about ½ mile away over those rooftops. When the family first moved to this flat in the 60s, this west-side balcony overlooked an extensive complex of gardens and orchards stretching all the way to an unobstructed view of the Nile’s banks. Fortunately, there is still quite a bit of bird life here (not to mention 4 species of bats) - the usual list of European house sparrows, Palm doves and pigeons, supplemented by small falcons, owls and the Senegal Thick Knee, whose acquaintance I made just last week. It’s a wading bird, cousin to Stone Curlew, which lives along river’s edge and the rooftops of Garden City whooping a sad and eerie cry.  

Down the very scary elevator. I have heard way too many stories from Fulbright colleagues about getting trapped in their elevators…and having to be tugged out through a 10” foot space between the elevator’s top and the floor above. En shah’ allah, not me!  

Out the front door. 

Down the street. 

Around the corner. 

Garden City used to be an upper class European district - lots of glorious old decaying pasha villas, now converted into falts. Today it's a mix of commercial uses, embassies and middle class housing. 

Neighborhood flats. 

The very busy Kasr el Einy, a major commercial thorough fare just two blocks form the flat. 

Gas in Egypt costs about 60 cents a gallon - no wonder they drive everywhere! 

You can grab breakfast on your way into work. 

This truck's owner did not want me to take pictures because selling vegetables on the street is illegal - albeit commonplace all over Cairo. 

Near the Saad Zaghloul Metro station. 

The Metro higab blur. 

Just 2 days after I arrived, I had the opportunity to participate in a community cleanup event at Wadi Degla, the lovely little protected area that lies just outside Cairo. There is a dump (not landfill: read dump) about 1 mile away from Degla and the fierce winds are constantly blowing garbage into the wadi. Plastic bags are a special menace since they get caught on the spines of the tamarisks and can strangle the trees by cutting off sunlight. I met up with one of the Shoprite crews (one of the local grocery chains) in Maadi at 10 am… which inevitably became 11am, this being Egypt…when we clambered into a van for a trip to the wadi along the brand new Ein Sukhna. We hung out at the top for while getting organized, then trudged down into the wadi for the mission.  

About 100 people took part in the cleanup, including 2 groups of school children: one group from the Fayoum where CARE, the sponsoring organization, supports a school, and another group from one of the American schools in Maadi. There was a fundraiser at the other end of the wadi, where bikers, runners and hikers were raising money by the kilometer trekking through the park. Cadbury (white t-shirts) and Shoprite (red t-shirts) were sponsors (providing water, fruit & chocolates, as well as bodies) and the Degla sporting club provided a BBQ. (They are busy recruiting new members - gave everyone a two week pass to try out the premises). These folks being Egyptian, food was, of course, the primary and most essential organization point. We ate early and often. It was a very breezy day, good for heat control, really bad for dust and basic functions like respiration..  

Mohammed Mabrouk, founder of Sahara Safaris, gave everyone a nice 10 minute talk on the area's geologic history and natural features - munching on oranges, bananas & chocolate all the while - then we donned gloves and bags and plunged into the ribbons of plastic trash.  

Kids from the American school. 

The Fayoum group. 

The work crew. 

The primary objective, we were told, was to remove plastic bags clinging to the tops of the tamarisks so they could get sunlight. Don't bother with the bags under the bushes - too scary, might be critters there - and don't wander beyond the 1/4 mile area we were in. Most weird.  

I didn't follow the rules (what a surprise) and dug out every bag I could get - frustrating, since they promptly disintegrated into plastic snowflakes on touching - kind of like a bad mummy movie. Paid my ransom in blood from the tamarisk thorns but had the satisfaction of freeing some roots and small animal habitat spaces - not that it will matter much in the long run, since the nearby dump with engulf the area with plastic streamers within a few days.  

After about an hour they declared victory and proclaimed that it was time for lunch. I was shocked - thought we were there for the day. (So did some of the Shoprite guys who had done the cleanup last year). To be fair, we collected an impressive mound of garbage bags - probably 50 giant Heftys - and the tamarisks did look more content. But there was so much more plastic begging for collection…  

I was there... 

We all trudged back to the visitor center for the Degla club's BBQ - kofta, chicken and burgers, of course, with tiny plates of vegies and a few containers of hummus for those in search of a bit more balance in their diet.  

We had a lovely time eating and chatting while trash from the BBQ - styrofoam plates, aluminum foils, napkins and water bottles - blew down into the wadi we had just cleaned. The Egyptians didn't even seem to notice - I think they are so used to being inundated with garbage that they literally don't see it. American me was rabbiting around pouncing on flying pieces of garbage and hauling them over to the cardboard boxes serving as temporary trash receptacles...finally shamed a few Shoprite guys into following my lead. This culture has a long way to go in dealing with garbage.  

And there are people here who will be catalysts for that change. This is Hala Yousef, formerly a Fulbright staffer, now working for CARE. She gave each volunteer with a canvas bag and gave the usual spiel about lugging it along in order to avoid generating all that plastic bag waste in the first case.  

On Saturday – 3 days after my arrival, still jet-lagged, I gave a presentation to a group of “youth” at the Gezira youth club. This was the first of two presentations (the 2nd was in Alexandria) arranged by the American embassy. I really sweated over what to present. My mission: “…a talk that centers on the American experience of the conservation movement and promoting environment awareness that explains why Americans are supportive of this issue….we envision you talking to students and inspiring them to make a difference.” Piece of basbousa, no? After a lot of hair pulling, I put together a lot of pix illustrating the growth of the conservation movement in parallel with the country’s rapid industrialization and rape of the land, focusing on how the efforts of 4 individuals – Thoreau, Muir. Leopold & Carson – madder a difference in the national psyche/heart. I wove this together around verses from the Quran, emphasizing the Islamic message that we are God’s Khalifa (trustees) on earth and have responsibility to care for the “nations of Allah” (all those other species). The audience in both presentations was dominated by university professors and environmental professionals, with a scattering of students. The Alex audience included movers and shakers from the dynamic Iskandriya political scene, including several council members and a member of Parliament. Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The similitude of His light is as a niche wherein is a lamp. The lamp is in a glass. The glass is as it were a shining star. (This lamp is) kindled from a blessed tree, an olive neither of the East nor of the West, whose oil would almost glow forth (of itself) though no fire touched it. Light upon light. Allah guideth unto His light whom He will. And Allah speaketh to mankind in allegories, for Allah is Knower of all things. 24:35 2:164 Behold! in the creation of the heavens and the earth; in the alternation of the night and the day; in the sailing of the ships through the ocean for the profit of mankind; in the rain which Allah Sends down from the skies, and the life which He gives therewith to an earth that is dead; in the beasts of all kinds that He scatters through the earth; in the change of the winds, and the clouds which they Trail like their slaves between the sky and the earth;- (Here) indeed are Signs for a people that are wise. Note that English translation of last line varies: people who are wise, people who understand, people with sense or people who can see. I emphasized that these 4 individuals were extraordinary only because they were “people who could see” through that inner light that is the truth inside all of us.

KJT presenting. Pretty risky! I didn’t know how folks would react to this non-Muslim westerner talking to them in both secular and quranic language. But I seem to have struck the right note - the Embassy people were thrilled, so I satisfactorily completed my duty to America.  

One of the best things about presentations in Egypt is the discussion afterwards. Egyptians begin very graciously, bestowing copious praise and thanking the speaker for the wisdom/knowledge/importance blah blah blah of the talk. Then they go for the jugular - in a very polite way. This lady, head of an Egyptian NGO, is commenting about the sheer waste and stupidity of the US using all those resources to produce weapons that we use to blow up people in Iraq. Governments and NGOs need to work together to make the world a better place - I couldn’t agree more. One speaker in Alex asked me if I thought it was ethical for the US to scatter depleted uranium around the world in our myriad weapons-related adventures. (Duh.) Many speakers went after the US on our failure to abide by the Kyoto treaty - clearly an issue that has been given prominent play in the Regional press. A regulator from the Egyptian Environmental agency asked how we balance the challenge of forcing non-complying factories to comply with the law when serious fines will force them out of business - a completely unacceptable outcome in this economy, where jobs are so scarce. My favorite commenter was an Alex city council man/university professor who complimented me on my “scientific and romantic” talk, then disagreed with my entire premise by stating that the message of change should be purely economic - without changing the economic system, we can’t change anything. I agreed with his point about the importance of economics (especially in the West, where economics is a form of religion for many) and we had a lively exchange about how to best get concepts across to people - through the head or the heart.  

The students who spoke mostly asked how they could make a difference. I stressed the importance of each of us making changes in our own lives, and the cumulative effect this could have on the world. I ended the talk using Margaret Mead’s famous quote: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. Supplemented by this little ditty that so accurately captures my nights in Egypt so far: If you think the efforts of one individual will be nothing, then you have never been to bed with a mosquito. Betty Reese  

The Mediterranean from my hotel room in Alex, just because it’s such a scrumptious view. With all these talks and my work with Helwan, I have been extraordinarily busy. The Faculty now seems genuinely interested in the idea of inserting sustainability modules into existing classes - I finally got a copy of the curriculum after only 8 months - in English, even! And the chair of the Tourism Guidance program seems committed to creating a naturalist/interpretation guidance program (with associated licensing) at the Masters/Diploma level. Since he is (a) the Tourism representative on the Supreme Council for universities; (b) likely to become Dean of the Faculty next fall (a return stint); and (c) is best buddies with the current Minister of Education (who use to be Prez of Helwan U.), he is uniquely situated to actually get something done. One complicating factor on the naturalist guidance side are the locals: so far, nature guides are being drawn from local folks who have existing knowledge about the natural environment in their area, with training efforts focused on helping them build basic skills around leading tours (language, time management, managing people, first aid, etc.) Both Eman and I think that these folks need to be part of the future for Egypt - they provide such an authentic voice for Egypt and the jobs are badly need to combat poverty. So we are trying to sort through two different systems for licensing guides, one at the university level and another at the technical/professional level. This week I’ll be doing several workshops at Helwan. Tonight is a recruiting mission for the Fulbright program - the application period for the Egyptian student exchange program has just opened. Tomorrow morning I’ll be meeting with some faculty to talk about teaching methods (we’ll see if anyone shows up) and in the evening I’m joining Eman’s Masters’ course on Tourism Planning for a discussion of tourism and zoos.  

Yesterday, after meeting with a scientist at Cairo U., I found myself across the street from the Giza Zoo - a place I have avoided like the proverbial plague. Since we’re talking about zoos tomorrow, I decided I should at least put my nose in the place. So I ponied up my 1 pound entrance fee (about 20 cents US), took a deep breath, and plunged in.  

It was every bit as bad as I expected. This is an old style “zoological garden” with lots of green space and pleasant sitting areas for families to stroll and picnic and just enjoy the shade. The animals are, at best, an incidental curiosity, and kept in appalling conditions. The hyenas were pacing up and down their 10 foot cages, the leopards were sprawled dully in the sand - children tormenting them all the while. Fortunately, this species appears to have become locally extinct at the zoo 

The guinea pigs were thriving.  

Foxes in a typical enclosure. About half of the cages I saw were empty, suggesting a very low success rate in keeping animals alive - probably a good thing from the perspective of the nations of Allah.  

I made it as far as the Barbary sheep before the animal agony - and the ubiquitous testosterone-driven adolescent boys - drove me out.  

And finally - the news you’ve all be waiting for: update on the baladi cats! The girls survived their long and adventure filled journey to the Us (actually I think the adventure was all on my end - fortunately for them - but that’s a tale for another day). They are all doing fine in their new homes, adjusting quite well to the USA good life. I haven’t seen the boys yet - they are still here in Cairo, headed for the US this summer. We’ve got a date next week.  

Tiger Lily, supervisor of Sara and her two college roommates.  

Amira - Princess Leia in her Arabic form - taking a break from exercising Fran’s two older cats.  

Layla, the kitten that my dear husband decided that we needed to keep (no objections here!). She is a delightful little personality who has taken to car-travel very well so far.  

Unlike her mother - the Cat Bastet in her American form - who still cannot be picked up without risking a trip to the emergency room.  

She’ll no doubt mellow out over time… I’ll will end with a political joke - sorry I don’t have a scanner to show you th real thing. I saw a great cartoon in a local mag yesterday around the theme of "kefaya," Arabic for "enough," the catchword of the recent spontaneous demonstrations that have been springing up in Egypt and other parts of the Middle East. Picture a row of riot police lwith shields lined up like a solid wall along a city street. Two little boys are walking in front of them. One boy asks "Why are people saying kefaya?" The other boy replies "I think it’s a big game to know if there are enough to enclose the entire country." Pretty good for an autocracy, nu?  

Last posting from Cairo this round

The flat is a very dangerous place these days. I have to carefully watch every move I make lest I am attacked – without provocation - from any direction, at any time. Of course, the attacks are mostly aimed at my ankles so the threat is not exactly lethal. It’s more like a larger, feline variant of whatever insect species has been nibbling at my anklebones ever since my arrival in Cairo. There are flying fur balls everywhere: clambering up chair legs, lurking beneath tables, using my legs for a jungle gym, bouncing off what remains of the Great Wall of Kitten (sadly reduced to a minute patch of cardboard precariously guarding the kitchen entry). They leap off the bed trampoline style, and dart beneath my feet whenever I have the audacity to try walking across the room. They are tiny terrorists, striking fear into the hearts of mighty potentates – until they fall asleep: suddenly, completely, irreversibly, their sweet little kitten faces all tumbled together in an angelic mass of downy fur. Mom-cat mostly tries to stay above it all (literally) by perching on her dining room chair surveillance point until the din dies down. My friends here are quite impressed at Mom-cat’s prowess in acquiring green cards for the entire family – a skill many of them would like to develop. The two kitten boys will come to the States this summer, after moving (early next week) into their new home with two US students who have one more semester to complete at AUC. Mom and the three girls will enjoy (or maybe not) Lufthansa’s efficient service to Denver late next week, making their march through customs around the 15th of January – assuming all of us survive the paperwork ordeals at which Egypt excels. Egyptians are intent on making it into the US one way or the other: the many cats worming their way into susceptible American hearts (remember those Puss eyes in Shrek 2?) to find homes in the States are simply the elite advance guard. It’s been such a busy month - I don’t know where the time has gone. This blog posting has actually been 3 weeks in the making – words jotted down here and there in between cross-town treks. I’ve been wrapping up my research, enduring multiple trips all across town to chase down and copy papers, discs and videos. No need to bore you with the dreary details of meetings, materials and memoranda: I have finished my curriculum outline, drafted 3 companion pieces and - en sha’allah - after only 5 or 6 more cross-town trips I will have everything collated, cross referenced, copied and ready to pack. Hamdulillah

Such deceptive innocence....7 weeks old. 

At 5 weeks the Kitten Wars began. Princess Leia, Tiger Lily and AWOL take on Fatima.  

Shoes were a great discovery. 

Four weeks old and out exploring.  

They looks so innocent... 

Ghandi makes a dash out of the basket. AWOL is curled up on the left. 

Fatima, Princess Leia and Tiger Lily at 3 weeks. 

The Sinai visit was last month’s highlight. I was determined to visit the protectorates/national parks and ecolodges in the area, and Karen Kellen, Dina Powell and Fran Costanzi - visiting Egypt at that time - decided to tag along. We were joined for the first three days by by Mary Megalli, a delightful, spirited lady who has spent most of her last 40 years living in Egypt. Mary is a wonderful companion, a great source of knowledge about natural areas and recent Egyptian history, and a terrific birder, skills appreciated by all even if her practice of simultaneous birding-while-driving made us a bit nervous now and then. (Cries of “look, it’s a brown footed yellow breasted chit-chat” while barreling along the highway at 50 miles an hour can tend to take one’s breath away.) KK, Dina, Fran and I flew from Cairo to Sharm el Sheik on Egypt Air, being treated en route to one of those lush travel videos extolling the delights of one’s approaching destination. The outbound video featured lots of gorgeous underwater footage, with colorful coral reefs and elegant tropical fishes. Egypt’s Red Sea reefs are rated among the best in the world for snorkeling and diving, and we saw lots of footage of divers enjoyed themselves by swimming with, stroking and feeding the pretty little fishies - activities that are, of course, prohibited by the Nature Conservation Sector’s coral reef protection regulations. The tourism industry does have a ways to go with ecological protection (here and elsewhere).  

Typical Mary pose. 

We spent the first two nights at the Shark’s Bay Bedouin Lodge, a once-funky, beach-hut style, older resort located near the original Sharm town center. Mary arrived the night before and reported a great “dawsha” (noisy fracas) at the upper huts where we had planned to stay. So we moved into complex’s lower cabins where we enjoyed relative quiet - whenever the pick-and shovel terrace renovation work outside our window was not underway. Mary’s window-sill dialogue with the workmen (in Arabic) at 10 pm on an otherwise blissfully quiet Sunday evening: “What are you doing?” “Fixing the wall.” “Do you know what time it is?” “No, what time is it?” “It’s 10 pm.” “Ah.” Work continues. “Do you do construction work at 10 pm in the middle of a hotel where people are sleeping?” “Ah.” Work halts. Mary retreats into the room and shuts the window. Loud conversation ensues as the workmen discuss whether they should be working at night. Mary opens the window and tells them to stop talking. Quiet settles in. Twenty minutes later, the picks and shovels start again. Mary puts on her clothes and stalks out the door. “Khallass! (Stop it, enough!)” “But tomorrow is my vacation and I have to finish this work.” “Your vacation is not my problem (followed by a number of comments that are probably not repeatable in polite company - Arabic is supposed to be a marvelous language for insults). Picks and shovels are hastily packed away and the workers retreat to the lower terrace where they huddle together for further consultation. Mary returns to the room. Being Egyptians, the conversational volume quite naturally rises to shouts. Mary flings open the window and tells them to stop the dawsha. The workmen flee - returning the next night for a second similar - albeit briefer - exchange. Customer service is a concept that has not quite made it into the Egyptian hospitality’s sector’s collective consciousness.  

Shark's Bay has a certain funky charm - but that's unlikely to last, given the 300 additional units planned for the resort. 

Sharm el Sheik is one of Egypt’s favorite tourist destinations, touted as a lovely resort community nestled in a beautiful setting, with marvelous activities to occupy one’s time. We thought it was dreadful. Sharm is kilometers of unplanned strip-development (picture a downscale Orlando, Florida). The areas is dominated by luxury gated resort and condominium complexes and giant shopping malls (“Naama Bay, mall number 18”), punctuated by ticky-tacky cafes, curio shops and odd collections of beach huts. The once beautiful sea vistas are almost totally obscured by a discordant blend of architectural styles packed together in an exceedingly unattractive jumble. We were happy to escape into Ras Mohammed National Park.  

We voted this casino tackiest resort. Shot from the road, it's a bit out of focus - but I think that adds to the effect. That's Ben Franklin on a US $100 bill surrounded by playing cards. 

This is old Sharm. 

Sharm el Sheik is one of Egypt’s favorite tourist destinations, touted as a lovely resort community nestled in a beautiful setting, with marvelous activities to occupy one’s time. We thought it was dreadful. Sharm is kilometers of unplanned strip-development (picture a downscale Orlando, Florida). The areas is dominated by luxury gated resort and condominium complexes and giant shopping malls (“Naama Bay, mall number 18”), punctuated by ticky-tacky cafes, curio shops and odd collections of beach huts. The once beautiful sea vistas are almost totally obscured by a discordant blend of architectural styles packed together in an exceedingly unattractive jumble. We were happy to escape into Ras Mohammed National Park.  

There was no escape from commercial Christmas.  

Ras is Egypt’s first protectorate, established in 1982. Although protection languished for much of the Park’s first 25 years, over the last 5 years the Nature Conservation Sector (NCS) has taken many steps to conserve the area’s natural resources. Guidelines for underwater behavior were developed with local diving clubs, and dive guides are part of the awareness and enforcement program. (Now if they could just change that video…) Protectorate status was recently extended along the entire coast from Sharm to Taba (located at the top of the Gulf of Aqaba), with beach setbacks and construction standards now in place for resort development. These development regulations are implemented through an environmental impact process jointly administered by NCS and the Ministry of Tourism. With European Union financial aid, NCS also recently built an impressive environmental training center and a brand new visitor center at Ras. Lots of exciting projects underway. Ras’ major attraction is the afore-mentioned coral reefs. As Mary drove us - bouncing, swaying and birding - along the parks’ roadways we saw dozens of dive boats clustered into quiet coves with hundreds of nearly naked European tourists spread out across the beaches. Being mountain people, we did not, of course, venture so much as a toe into those tranquil aquamarine-and-emerald waters, but the Russians (presently dominating the mass-tourism market here) clearly loved it. My favorite theater-of-the-absurd moments came while watching TV-style video cameramen follow their tour groups around, recording every moment of the tourists’ glorious vacation in the sun. Said tourists were clad in the skimpiest of costumes (g-strings and thongs), with various rather unattractive parts bulging out in all sorts of unlikely places - not a scene I would personally care to have recorded for posterity. (We all agreed that no human male should be allowed to wear a g-string in public after the age of 18.) And all of this taking place in a conservative Muslim culture… Dina's shot of a typical Ras scene. 

There is a small mangrove channel within Ras Mohammed. Nabq, a protected area up the coast (north) is dominated by mangroves. The other PA's in South Sinai are Abu Gallum, containing red canyons that snake down to the sea and Taba, with Moab-like vistas of slickrock and gnarled arches. 

Lots and lots of dive boats. 

The reefs drop off quite sharply. 

Kind of like Cornwall without the green. 

On Tuesday we left the charms of Sharm, traveling through gorgeous desert scenery to the St. Katherine protectorate in the Sinai’s high mountain region. This a region of gold-and-amber sands and wind-sculpted red rock, striped by black granite intrusions (called “intrusive dykes” to our great amusement). The landscape is similar to the North American Southwest, sharp crags and curved hollows, faces and demon shapes stalking steep slopes which rise up above sinuous wadis and pancake-flat plains. Vegetation is sparse but breathtakingly beautiful when visible: the “forse,” or desert carpet of spiny shrubs, fragrant herbs and ethereal acacias raising their soft fronds in solitary grace above the dry surface below. Human habitation is also sparse: scattered patches of stone houses, cloth tents and palm-branch animal pens dotted across the vast vistas. The Jabaliya Bedouin were nomadic until this generation; most of the permanent habitations we saw were less than 30 years old. In addition to its status as an Egyptian national park, St. Katherine’s is a UN World Heritage Site due to the presence of Mount Musa (Moses or St. Katherine Mountain) and the St. Katherine Monastery (with its priceless collection of Byzantine manuscripts and art). Hundreds of thousands of tourists come here each year, rising at 2 am to climb the 3700 steps of the “path of Lord Moses” to view the sunrise at the exact spot where Moses received the Ten Commandments from God. Many then descend the mountain to pass through the monastery’s gates, kissing grubby icons and gazing in awe at the original “burning bush” where God first appeared to his reluctant prophet. Of course, there is no archeological or historical evidence that any of these events happened at all - let alone happened here - but that is an insignificant detail. Religious pilgrimage, an early and still thriving form of international tourism, has been part of the life of St. Katherine’s for the last 1800 years. The other major category of tourists visiting St. Kat’s is hikers and mountain climbers coming mostly from Germany and Israel - at least before last fall’s attack on Taba. For mountain people, this is a sacred landscape venerated in much the same way as our wilderness areas in the western US. The mountains are quite high - St. Katherine’s is one of several peaks topping 5,000 feet - with exhilarating climbs and spectacular panoramic views. Dina snapped this stunning shot. 

Dina and I spent a memorable day climbing Gebal al-Banat, led by Salah Ansour, our Bedouin guide. We scrambled up steep inclines, clinging to narrow crevices and tiny ledges with all our fingers and toes fully extended. We edged around inverted boulders and tiptoed up slick, slanting surfaces that looked more suitable for mountain goats than us. Our pants and coats bruised fragrant herbs as we edged around corners, releasing the sweet and elusive aromas of “the land of wormwood and scent and helianthum and pyrethrum,” the region’s Bedouin name. We finally emerged above a broad cirque valley to stand on the gebel’s flat peak, with a 360 degree panorama of central Sinai’s high mountain region in view. Absolutely magnificent. I plan to come back during my spring-time visit to do a 3 day trek (with camels toting our gear) through wadis and across mountain passes to one of the region’s lush springs. Salah, our intrepid guide.

After descending from the mountain, we had lunch in the wadi. Salah made bread for us - delicious! 

The dough was buried in coals for baking, Salah tapping on it now and then to test for done-ness. The finished product was dusted off, checked for pebbles and quickly devoured by all of us. 

In the wadi. 

More suitable for goats than humans. 

Petrified orc? 

View from the top. 

We stayed at the Al-Karm ecolodge, a Bedouin owned and managed facility started just a few years ago through an EU-financed protectorate conservation project. The “lodge” is a cluster of stone buildings built on the site of an older abandoned Bedouin residence. The architecture is drawn from an ancient indigenous style, updated with modern features like composting toilets and solar hot water for the shower rooms (no electricity). Guest rooms feature sleeping ledges piled high with foam pads and wool blankets (woven by local women from the hair of camels, sheep and goats) accented by simple, elegant touches of carved woodwork appearing in the form of mirrors, chairs and low tables. There are outdoor and indoor gathering places centered around firepits - necessary to ward off the frosty air - plus Bedu tents and palm-frond pavilions for lounging on hot days (not an issue for us). It is a lovely, peaceful retreat set in heart-stoppingly beautiful country.  

Karm from the road (if you can glorify that bumpy, misbegotten track with such a name - 4 wheel drives only need apply). 

Main gathering space hall on the left, guest rooms alla tool (ahead). 

Outdoor eating area. 

Sleeping area. 

Guest room. 

The lodgekeeper, Gamil Atya, is a gracious host who managed to make us feel most welcome even without benefit of English. He cooked up some of the best food I’ve had in Egypt - we recommended that they create a recipe book to sell as a tourist memento. He and a colleague led Fran and Karen on a separate trek to a neolithic village on the day Dina and I climbed Gebel Banat.  

An interesting follow up item: two weeks after our visit I got a call from one of the St. Kat rangers asking if Fulbright could send some volunteers to help Gamil and his staff develop some basic English language skills in exchange for full board for 7-10 days. Such a deal! Gamil’s request was prompted by my visit and the community’s fond recollection of a Fulbright-sponsored English teacher who had worked in the area some years ago. Two of the FB students are at Karm now, taking advantage of this wonderful mutual exchange opportunity.  

Another highlight of St. Kat’s was visiting the brand new visitor center due to open this month - a world class facility in every way. Before leaving for Sinai, I got the opportunity to meet John Grainger, the dynamic leader of the St. Kat protectorate project whom I have admired from afar through readings. He is a warm and engaging man with a fascinating history - I hope to do some work with him in the spring. He told me not to miss the Pharaonic toilets, the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism’s contribution to the local ambience - oy, vey!  

This landscape has been intensively managed by humans for several thousand years - people and place are inextrciably linked. 

Amazing geology. 

Not a lot of the CLMs left, but significant populations of most everything else - lots of insects, including the smallest butterfly in the world. 

Land of wormwood and scent and helianthum and pyrethrum.  

No comment. 

We also stayed at Basata, Egypt’s oldest “eco-lodge” (although Sherif al-Ghamrawy created the “resort” in 1984, before ecolodges were much of a concept). Basata means “simplicity” in Arabic, and the complex functions on trust and simple living. There is a large communal kitchen with a small stock of foodstores; people simply take what they wish to eat/cook and make a note on a tally sheet for later payment. Washing up water comes from the desalinatization plant’s brine, later mixed with greywater from the communal showers and sinksto use as local landscape and garden irrigation. Solid wastes are sorted and recycled, with food wastes going to local Bedouin animals and everything else processed through a transfer station in Nuweiba. Basata is the nucleus of a waste collection system that now extends along the entire coast (Nuweiba to Taba), they organize regular cleanup days (terrestrial and marine) and have started two wind generators for a local Bedu village. And they’ve done all this quite profitably, experiencing no downturns over 18 years in business – even through terrorist attacks in Egypt and 2 Gulf wars. Quite an inspirational operation, which I hope to research further in the spring. Dina's shot of the Basata entry.

Communal kitchen area. 

Basata beach, courtesy of Dina. 

Lodging and communal buildings at are built from bamboo, with tiny beach huts forming the nucleus of lodging. I stayed in one of these for one night, listening the sounds of waves lapping softly outside my door, and woke to find that I had inherited a sleeping companion overnight. We also rented one of their new relatively upscale chalets - individual vernacular architecture, complete with electricity and solar hot water that sometimes worked.  

My sleeping companion was one of about a dozen sweet baladi dogs who hang around the place living off handouts. 

Beach hut. 

Dina, KK and I decided to taxi up to Taba to see what was there. Not much: 2 tine grocers, a city hall and museum that are reportedly never open, one incomplete hotel, one bombed hotel (vacant because there is apparently no money to fix it), one tiny restaurant and a very large force guarding the border crossing. We were the only tourists and the subject of much headshaking and amusement. It was really illuminating to visit this part of Egypt and get a visceral experience of the closeness of the players in this war-torn region: traveling to Israel and Jordan would be like driving to Broomfield (ignoring border regulations that make such travel impossible) with Saudi Arabia lying just across the bay.  

Border crossing. 

Circus Guy

Last night (December 8) I went to a rock concert at Azhar Park. (Yes, me at a rock concert – picture that!) The band, Circus Guy, is out of New York and includes several Egyptian-Americans. They are really fine - do a mix of classic rock, Arabic rock and their own tunes. They were brought here by the Embassy, and have been touring throughout the MidEast. The lead singer, Taha, is an environmental science teacher now living in Cairo and working at the Wadi Foods environmental science center for kids. The band teaches science through rock-n-roll – yes, Virginia, it can be done. (What a hoot!) The band also boasts a NASA scientist designing photovoltaic (violin and petal steel) and a physicist doing cancer research(veddy cool bass player). Not your average band! It was lovely sitting on the Azhar Park green (freezing our tushes off) while gazing at the Citadel and listening to Heartbreak Hotel – the ultimate cross-cultural experience. No pix, alas, but here’s a link to the Embassy’s publicity page for their Egypt http://www.usembassy.egnet.net/usis/culevents.htm and pix from their Oman trip. http://www.usa.gov.om/circusguyc.htm (Michael has cut his hair and looks really nerdy now – which he uses to great effect in his “circus guy” persona.)

I returned today in triumph to my flat bearing the only roll of duct tape in Cairo. Hamdullilah! Now I can build the Great Wall of Kitten - only duct tape will do for a criticl job like this. The little darlings’ eyes are open and their sweet little Yoda-faces are peering over the edge of the basket - only a matter of hours before the Force is unleashed into the world…or at least the bedroom. Mom knows what’s coming - you can see it in her eyes.  

Ten days old. I swear you can hear these little guys growing...reminds me of listening to tomato hornworms chomping on the greenery while doubling in size before your eyes.

Three days old. At this age, they still look more like their principal prey base than their noble forebears. 

Christmas arrived in Cairo right on schedule, the day after Thanksgiving. Of course, this is Consumer Christmas, not indigenous Coptic Christmas (which falls on January 6), but who notices? In the taxi back from Garden City yesterday, the stop light hawkers were peddling Yusuf Effendis (wonderfully sweet little tangerines), crates of strwaberries, and Santa Claus hats. Go figure.

Lord knows where they got the evergreens. 

As we all know, Christmas is primarily about selling toys. (John 23.65) 

Week before last I decided to take in a little fresh air while reading. I strolled down to a neighborhood park and parked on a patch of grass to enjoy the sun. I had my camera along, which the kids quickly discovered. They kept coming, and coming, and coming…I finally hid in another part of the park, but they found me again and crawled all over me (literally) trying to practice their English. I fled in defeat and finished my reading on the balcony.  

Heartbreaker. 

Good ball player. 

Supermodel potential. 

Here they come... 

Last week I dropped in to the Central Cairo Library to check out the “Green Corner,” a EEAA - and Suzanne Mubarak - project designed to provide environmental education for kids. The palace belonged to a princess, sister to King Farouk. When she died in 1984, she specified that her house be used for a cultural program – and the library emerged.

This is the children’s library.  

And this is Rania, the children’s librarian. She leads a very busy summer program teaching kids about pollution in Cairo. (The library closes early in the winter, so not many kids can come.) Resources are, of course, scarce, and she would really love some help identifying environmental teaching games for pre-schoolers. EPA education folks, can we help out? Rania is a PhD, fluent in English, so she can translate anything we send her.

Note the great lineup of computers.  

This is one of my favorite spots in Zamalek, the Egypt Crafts Center. It’s a “marketing link” for a number of artisan cooperatives and has been instrumental in getting many of these cooperatives up and running. The Center is an offshoot of North South Consultants, a sustainability consulting organization who is doing the ecotourism work in the Fayoum. They have wonderful products, very well crafted and with great stories behind the work. Everyone who visits me comes here and leaves loaded down with treasures.  

Carvings of water buffalo horn, from the eastern red Sea coast. 

The bags being hung are made from cloth scraps scavenged by the zabayeen, Cairo's waste collectors - and one of the most underprivileged groups in the city. The bags come out of a program from APE (Association to Protect the Environment), one of Egypt's oldest environmental groups. They focus on girls and yound women, teaching literacy and leadership as well as hand-craft skills. 

Bedu necklaces. 

Nubian necklaces. 

These are made by children in the Fayoum, the brainchild of a European lady who set up an atrist program and kiln for kids several years ago. Designs are created by the children, inspired by the natural world in their part of the Fayoum. 

Fayoum children potters. 

North Sinai embroidery. 

Fayoum pottery and reed baskets. 

Siwa embroidery and Akhmim weaving. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

I’m ensconced in my Cairo flat enjoying a traditional T-Day meal of chicken soup and coconut rice. All right, so it’s not Thanksgiving fare - at least it isn’t grilled chicken and tahini. Egyptians are not noticeably adventuresome eaters. They seem content to eat the same set of basic dishes day after day, especially during Ramadan. (Menu: kofta, kebab, chicken or pigeon, grape leaves stuffed with meat, béchamel lasagna with meat, moussaka with meat – vegetarianism is not a concept here – accompanied by rice, tahina, hummus, babaghannugh, and salata baladi - tomatoes & cucumbers in olive oil/lemon dressing.) Mind you, I like Egyptian cooking, but I also like some diversity. (This is the girl child who began her cooking career at the tender age of 10, convinced that was the only way to assure access to the foods she wanted to eat.) These last couple of weeks I’ve been hungering for food that the Prophet would not recognize. Cairo does have some ethnic restaurants. But their cuisine generally gets adapted to Egyptian tastes in an attempt to lure them in. (It doesn’t work – most patrons of ethnic restaurants are foreigners.) And the resulting mélange of tastes can be quite…extraordinary. I’ve had any number of Egyptians tell me that they don’t like Chinese food; and I can understand this, given my sampling of the “good” Chinese restaurants. (Of course, most Egyptians have never really tasted Chinese food, given my sampling…) But sometimes the urge for food that is not Egyptian becomes so strong that you have to do something. So I’ve developed the Ethnic Food Lovers Guide to non-Egyptian cooking. First, have no expectations about what you are about to eat. Don’t think “I’m going to have Chinese food” or – heaven forbid – “this is Kung Pao chicken.” Approach each dish as a unique and never-to-be duplicated experience. What interesting taste combinations will we encounter this time? Corn and no tomato sauce on the pizza? How unusual! Sweet & sour fried potatoes? How creative! Calamari in everything? What abundance! Back in Boulder, I’m planning dinner at the Orchid Pavilion on January 16, Chez Thuy on the 17th, Juanita’s on the 18th and buttermilk biscuits & grits at Dot’s Diner every day for a week. Having got that little rant off my chest, …er, stomach… It’s been a busy month here in Lake Food-Be-Gone. Between out of town visitors, multiple converging work projects and the occasional unexpected happening, I’ve been breathing pretty hard round the bends. This will be a fairly random, stream of consciousness posting - let’s start with the “unexpected.” Remember the cat? We’ve been establishing a certain rapport over the past weeks. She’s figured out that scratches are ok, strokes are even better and if she rubs against a shin she’s likely to get both. She’s also decided that beds and eating regularly are really fine, and that flats have lots of little nooks to perch and watch the strange goings-on of the flat human. On Tuesday, the cat demonstrated just how comfortable she’s become by giving birth to 5 kittens in the flat. Just what I needed, hamdulillah. (At the Fulbright orientation, they told us to expect anything.) She and the brood are now tucked up in a cosy reed basket on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe. Being a responsible American pet guardian, my girls are always spayed, so I haven’t been around newborn kittens since I was a child. I swear the little beasties get bigger by the hour. It’s finally autumn here…or maybe we jumped right into winter. Days are cool and breezy – sometimes downright cold – and nights are definitely nippy. I’ve pulled out my fleece and slippers, put the comforter on the bed and even plugged the heater in a time or two. Brrrr! Last Friday I got a marvelous treat: I got to go on a 24 km, all day hike in Wadi Degla, a protected area. I’ve been wanting to visit this bit of open space, just outside of Cairo, but haven’t been able to find any information about it. While searching for information, I came across a group called Sahara Safaris on the web (SaharaSafaris@yahoogroups.com) They describe themselves as “Just a group of enthusiastic travelers who like to enjoy the beautiful natural scenes of the desert, Egypt and the world. Some of us go to extended walks, and journeys in the desert (learning stars names, visiting monuments, etc).” I signed up and asked for help in finding Wadi Degla – immediately got messages from half a dozen people inviting me to join in several activities, including 3 different hikes to Degla. Great folks – mostly young professionals, just discovering nature and their love of the outdoors. They remind me of the Colorado Mountain Club 25 years ago, when folks were just figuring out how to hike, mapping out trails, putting together hiking etiquette, etc. I had a great time hiking with a group of 15, half of whom made it the full 24 km, up and back through an amazing canyon landscape. I made several new friends, and it felt so good to be outside in the wilderness for an entire day - the silence was deafening. We finished the hike in the moonlight, a wonderfully mystic way to end the day. I look forward to more adventures with the group in future. Matt and I got a real treat on our visit to Luxor. In late October I finally got to meet Dr. Moustafa Fouda, the director of the Egyptian Environmental Affairs’ Agency’s Nature Conservation Sector, the folks who manage Egypt’s protected areas. Dr. Moustafa is passionate about protecting biodiversity and a hard-driving manager (reminds me a lot of Boogie Bob Duprey, for you EPAers). Anyway, we see the world pretty much the same way and have started doing some project scheming together. Aswan has a small protected area among the islands in the Nile, and Dr. Moustafa asked me to call up the director and ask for a report on what’s going on. So I duly called, and Matt tagged along to my meeting with Dr. Mahmoud Hassieb and some of his staff. Very interesting meeting: we heard about the area’s history (including having to call in the army to protect rangers from angry locals in the early days) and the wonderful educational programs they are doing today. Then, on Sunday, we got a tour of the area, with more history and ecology – fascinating. Saluga and Gazal, the two islands that make up the area, contain some of the last remnants of native vegetation communities that used to exist all along the Nile. It’s rich habitat for both local and migrating bird species. I got to see a brilliant green beaeater and a flock of Egyptian geese (the same species we see on the circa 2500 BCE Meidum geese wall panel, for the Egyptologists among us) – quite a thrill! I’m thinking of using this area as one of my case studies, and have done a draft write up with pix. You can access it on my Yahoo briefcase at http://f1.pg.briefcase.yahoo.com/joniteter if you’re interested. We also visited with Dr. Hussein Tahtawy, director of the EEAA pollution control side of the house in Aswan. Eman and I have been putting together a case study on the environmental impacts of Nile cruises, visiting with my EEAA folks in Cairo to find out what’s going on with these floating hotels. Conveniently, EEAA and about 6 other agencies have been engaged this year in multi-media inspections of the industry, so they had lots of info. to share. Aswan has a very active governor, and the region has put together a 5 year action plans for environmental and socio-economic projects, which Dr. Tahtawy shared with us. Very interesting reading. I have some great pix of cruise ships not hooked up to their sewage stations (yech!) and the riparian waste transfer station which I will be happy to share, on request, with afficianados of waste. Matt also got to tag along to a meeting with Kirk Ellis, the project manager for the consulting firm working for USAID on the lead remediation project that brought the EEAA folks to Denver last year. They have got the smelters closed down, have completed the blood lead work (grim results – lots of impacted kids) are now moving into remediation. Kirk says that testing on soils at the smelter facility came back 75% lead – and the owner has helpfully started self-remediation, digging up several hundred cubic yards of soil that have gone no-one-knows-where. Some stories are the same the world over. Through Sahara Safaris, I have also hooked up with a young powerhouse named Nina Prochazka who works for North-South Consultants, a group specializing in sustainability projects. Nina is project manager for a set of eco-tourism development projects in the Fayoum. They have worked with local residents and protected area rangers to develop hiking and camel riding itineraries; helped to empower and train local ecology, birding and camel guides; helped two groups of potters (one is all young folks) in impoverished villages to market their wares; and wrapped all this up together in a well-presented ecotourism “product” that is now being marketed to tour operators and travel agents. Pretty impressive! We are working on a program to bring the Helwan Tourism faculty and students to the Fayoum, since it’s a great place to learn what eco-tourism is all about. During the first week of Matt’s visit, our friend Alison Tormey was here from London. Alison’s visit was most welcome (and not only because she brought an entire suitcase full of chocolate chip cookies.) She and Matt did some touristing together, and I got to join them for a couple of days. We visited Saqqara, my favorite pyramid complex, wandered the Islamic quarter, visited the ancient Christian/Jewish quarter in Old Cairo, and spent a jam-packed weekend visiting all my favorite haunts in Luxor. (Of course, the best tombs in the Valley of Kings are still closed, but we did get into Thutmose IV, that wonderfully twisty, deep-into-the-earth early 18th dynasty tomb just made for bad horror movies.) It was great to be a tourist and get to see some antiquities! As a lark, we also went to the Sound & Light show at Giza. It was even worse than I remembered – what melodrama! But the visit was made entirely worthwhile by the bagpipe and drum corps, outfitted in full Pharaonic regalia, strutting up and down the aisles behind their drum major playing traditional Egyptian favorites like Auld Lang Syne. Who comes up with this stuff anyway? This week and last, I’m helping out with interviews for Egyptian students who have applied to come to the US under Fulbright. It’s been fascinating. All kinds of disciplines are represented (political science, linguistics, education, communication, Egyptology, literature, sociology, even holography, which I didn’t know was an academic discipline) and students range from brilliant to mediocre. We’ve had some pampered scions of the privileged class, many diligent students from the middle class and a number of very impressive working professionals who’ve had very few opportunities and have made something of themselves anyway. There are a very limited number of grants, and the final decisions will be very, very hard. I’m the only “panelist” who’s sitting in on all the interviews, and I’m meeting some very interesting folks from the Egyptian academic world and the US Embassy along the way. (Yesterday’s panel included a career diplomat who’s lived most of his life in the Arab world and spent last year in Iraq – you should hear his Paul Bremer stories!) Last week I did my second lecture on transportation impacts to Dr. Mona’s transportation class – it rained that day (real rain!) and half of the students went home. Rain, it seems, is another occasion when Cairo stops. I’ve got one final lecture coming up in this series (on Nile cruises) next Monday, then a “workshop” for Helwan faculty on protected areas with Dr. Fouda the following Wednesday. I’m doing a piece on Yellowstone, relating its evolution and current issues to challenges here in Egypt. Dr. Moustafa’s presentation will likely be the first exposure to Egypt’s protected areas for most of the folks at Helwan. And Moshira has asked me to do a “design” lecture at the Faculty of Fine Arts, which we’ll talk about tomorrow. Oy, vey, I need to be cloned. (Maybe that’s what the cat was trying do?) I’ll close with that bit of inter-species helpfulness and get myself back to work! Enjoy the cold and snow back home…

Luxor West Bank at sunset. 

No trip to Uper Egypt is complete without a felucca ride. 

"Our" felucca. 

Hassan and Alison. Hassan is an exceptionally bright and personable young man, working towards his license as a felucca captain. (He wants to captain a Nile cruiser eventually). Hassan works as the "front man" for his family's varied operations, including taxis, feluccas, and who knows what lese. He is well suited for the job, evidencing a genuine interest in people and - as Alison said - the "gift of the gab." Hassan organizes 3 day felucca rides between Esna (just south of Luxor) and Aswan - there is definitely one of these in my future. (Helen, you'll join me, of course?) 

Hassan and his cousin Hassan, the two felucca captains. 

Bab Zweila, one of the medieval gates to El Qahiyra, the City Victorious. The gate has two minarets and recent conservation work has made it possible to climb them. Interesting museum exhibits inside the gate as well. 

Views from the Bab Zweila minaret. 

Lots of conservation work underway in Islamic Cairo. 

No caption needed. 

The Saluga Protected Area in Aswan. 

Many hidden treasures. 

Most of the islands in the Nile at Aswan are developed. 

This area used to be the first cataract of the Nile. The boulders show their history: several millenia of roiling water smooths even granite. 

Hiking trail, Saluga. (Strange Boulder hiker.) 

Visitor center, Saluga. 

Waterbird heaven. 

Park boundaries. 

Saluga Island. 

Gazal Island. 

Wadi Degla entrance gate. 

You have to be tough to survive as a plant here. 

Giant tiddlywinks. 

A magic kingdom. 

If this boulder could talk... 

Slickrock canyon. 

East end of the Wadi - the "other" entry. 

Vast distances. 

The intrepid hikers take a break. 

May and Sawsan. 

Wadi Degla. 

Beds are good - almost as good as food on demand. 

Cosy nooks for human watching. 

One hour old. 

November Daily Camera column

Ramadan has come and gone and the world has started up again. Ramadan was a strange season in Cairo. It was like living in a time outside of time, somewhere between two worlds: the “modern” world that is my everyday context and another strange no-man’s-world lost somewhere between then and now. When was “then”? I’m not sure. Frustrated by the failings of modernity, Egyptians are turning to Islam, back to an idealized past for answers. Ramadan is part of that turning back. Cairenes used Ramadan as a time out from the modern world. All month long, offices opened late and closed early – if they opened up at all. Schools shortened classes, avoided giving homework, and closed the libraries at 2pm. Restaurants and shops didn’t open up until late afternoon. Meetings were put off or crammed together so people could beat the horrendous mid-day traffic jams as everyone rushed home for iftahr, the breaking of the fast. Afternoons were deserted streets and a quiet so soft one could hear the birds sing… and then the sun went down. With darkness everything burst alive, shouts and frenzy extending long into the wee hours of the morning. People wolfed down iftahr, settled in front of the TV, munching snacks while breathlessly watching the newest Gulf States extravaganza. (Weight gain is a serious problem during the Ramadan fast.) Some gathered with friends and fired up the sheesha, smoking scented tobacco and drinking coffee while drifting into a haze of dreams. Still others jumped into their cars and headed for the Cairo nightlife, promenading through the streets with shouts and honking horns and the occasional firecracker. I’m told that some people spent the nights praying in a mosque, but those quiet souls were very much an exception to the rule. All this partying took a heavy toll. Sleep deprivation and fasting made people sullen – in week three (cranky week), I even saw a couple of fist-fights break out. People wouldn’t answer the telephone and disappeared for days at a time. Work on projects came to a complete stop. For someone trying to get work done, Ramadan was a maddening experience. I kept feeling like I was trapped in a badly run doctor’s office, where appointment times were approximate, commitments fluid and time had no meaning. Did this “time out” help Egypt cope with modernity? I doubt it. It certainly did not strengthen relationships with people outside – folks are more likely to write Egypt off as too much trouble than they are to adapt to Egypt time. Did Egyptians use the “time out” to reflect on the wisdom that Islam can offer in coping with the modern world? Maybe, maybe not. From the perspective of an embedded observer, most Cairenes seemed to use the “time out” as an excuse to slack off and party. Egyptians have a love-hate relationship with modernity. Less than a generation after Mohammed Ali launched modern Egypt in the mid-19th century, his grandson Ishmael mortgaged the future to finance his infatuation with the West - and lost the country to Britain when the West foreclosed. The Brits brought Egypt into the modern world by building infrastructure while squashing democratic institutions. The last 40 years of Egyptian rule has been no better: Nasser, Sadat and Mubarak have all continued a pattern of building economic wealth for the few while repressing the rights and aspirations of the many – aided and abetted by a West intent on protecting its oil. Time and again, modernity has offered ordinary Egyptians hope of a better life, then dashed those hopes against the cold realities of autocratic governments and international geopolitics. A Ramadan card sent out by a colleague sums it up: “Stocks decimated, material wealth mutilated…let us all observe Ramadan and see our spiritual stock soar.” And yet, for all their disenchantment with modern “values,” Egyptians are eager to reap the chief benefit of modern life: consumer goods. Egypt has one of the most intensely consumer-oriented cultures I have ever seen. Streets are lined with shops filled with Western clothing, shoes and toys. Egyptians love to buy stuff, to give and receive gifts. But where will the money come from to buy the modern “stuff” Egyptians crave? This is not Saudi Arabia - there is no “oil daddy.” Egypt is a net importer of food, has no mineral wealth, no manufacturing to speak of, and a labor force that is largely unskilled and too expensive to compete with China. Egypt must have a functioning economy to support itself in the style to which it hopes to grow accustomed – or in any style, given that half its population is under the age of 25. And creating a functioning economy means dealing with the modern world. Which takes us back to Ramadan. Will Islam provide Egypt with answers on how to cope with a globalizing world? The seeds are there: the Islamic empire was, after all, the great globalizer of its time. In its golden age, Islam was outward looking, intensely engaged with the “modern” world of its day. And Prophet Mohammed’s vision of a community rooted in social justice, political liberty and accountability have strong resonance today. An updated, energized Islam could offer a welcome alternative to the cruel capitalism that seems to be engulfing the globe. But Ramadan needs to be more than just a “time out” if Islam is to offer any answers. It needs to be a time of real spiritual reflection, of a community reflecting on the life it has made and the future it is providing for its young people. Islam provides Egyptians with the strength to endure – and lord knows there is plenty to endure in Cairo, with the heat, the dust and the psychic pressures of sharing space with 17 million of your closest friends. But endurance alone is not enough to cope with the modern world. Mother of the World she may be, but Cairo today needs the modern world more than the modern world needs Mum.

Welcome to Azhar Park. Last week I was fortunate to have a couple of people pass on the Sunday NY Times architectural review of this new "central park for Cairo," so I checked it out on Saturday. It's a beautiful place and an amazing project. The park is about 75 acres in size, located in one of the oldest and poorest quarters of Cairo. It's built on top of a mound of rubbish that has been accumulating - literally - for centuries. They actually uncovered large portions of the 12th century wall that surrounded Cairo in Salah el-Din's time, and restoration of this wall has eveolved out of the park project. The Agha Khan Trust has been working towards this project for the last 15 years or so, starting out wiht the idea of giving Cairo some green space (which, lord knows, it needs) and growing into an urban revitalization project. The landscape architecture is wonderful and there are some interesting architectural features as well, but I find the community links most interesting. In order to create a sense of connection with the Darb el Akhmar district right next doo, the Trust is undertaking several restoration projects - one them will convert an historic Islamic structure ionto a community center - and soem community empowerment activities. For more info. on the project go to There are some great "before and during" pix on line at http://archnet.org/library/sites/one-site.tcl?site_id=5060  

There are real growing-in-the-ground exotic flowers here. I even saw butterflies - in Cairo! And birds that weren't house sparrows! It's an incredibly peaceful place, in the middle of Cairo's craziest and densest district. 

The sunken gardens, with one of the hilltop overlooks in the background. You could actually see the Giza pyramids from here on a clear day - assuming such a thing ever existed in Cairo. 

The hilltop restaurant, with panoramic views of Cairo. 

Reflecting pools leading to the avenue of royal palms directing the eye to the Citadel of Salah al Din. 

Kids play area. The park was planned in th early 90s, but construction was delayed for several years because the governate decided to build some water storage tanks in the park site. The play area is built on one of the tanks, designed to allow access and provide a good space for young folks. 

West side, abutting the Darb el Akhmar district. 

The Mameluke cemetery on the southern end of the park. The Citadel is on the left and the minarets of the Sultan Hassan mosque in the center distance. 

People live in the cemeteries. Some folks are reportedly artisans who have lived in and around the cemeteries for years to be close to their work. But a lot of folks seem to be squatters trying to cope with Cairo's severe housing shortage. 

The southern edge of Darb el Akhmar, right next to the Citadel of Salah al Din. The Agha Khan Trust has a number of conservation and community development projects underway in this neighborhhod, affiliated with the park project. 

This is Cairo's medieval quarter. Many buildings date back to the 14th and 15th centuries. 

Poor people in Egypt survive almost entirely on aish (Egyptian flatbread). Wheat flour and aish are heavily subsidized, and the government has been trying to bring the prices closer together - with disastrous results for nutrition for poor folks. 

Some parts of the neigborhood are really, really poor, lacking basic infrastructure (like wastewater hookups). This area reminded me of India, complete with trash mound and affiliated goat-cum-rubbish disposer. 

There is need for investment in the housing stock. A survey taken by the Agha Khan Trust indicates that people are willing to invest in their homes, but government policies discourage investment. Many buildings encroach on historic monuments, and the governate and Supreme Council of Antiquities have standing edicts to demolish such encroachments. Of course, they don't but the fear of demolition discourages investment. The Trust is taking on this issue as well. 

A tiny bit of urban open space. 

Some cool and shady lanes. 

Lots of little workshops and activity in the neighborhood. 

The Blue Mosque, one of the now sadly dilapidated monuments in the area. This mosque dates from the Mameluke period, and is one of 3 Blue Mosques in the Arab world. The other two are in Turkey and Syria. 

Azhar park from the Blue Mosque roof. This is one of the few mosques in the area that you can still climb the minaret. 

The ceramic tiles are exquisite. 

Blue mosque minbar. 

The mosque was heavily damaged in the 1992 earthquake. Manyof the tiles were stripped away before then. 

Replacement tiles. 

Blue mosque courtyard. 

This is Elham Saed, a friend of Moshira’s at her home in Maadi. She kindly invited me to visit her garden. The garden includes jasmine vines, bougainvillea, ful (a small, sweet-smelling white flower), roses and many aromatic herbs. 

Elhams' garden.  

Random Wordshots

I have been very busy this last week meeting with all kinds of people. I came down with a cold, which slowed me down for a few days, and got to share (at least vicariously) in the adventure of finding flats in Cairo through Jackie and Sunshine. Eman and I finally got to meet with the environmental contacts at USAID and with my friends Ekhlass and Serag at EEAA – meetings that had been re-scheduled several times. Both offices are located in Maadi, an upscale suburb between central Caior and Helwan favored by Americans, Europeans and the Masri well-to-do. It’s a district dominated by large villas with private gardens – picture the Denver Capitol Hill area of Boston’s Beacon Hill. AID is in a brand new glass and steel building-cum-fortress built to GSA’s post Oklahoma City security requirements; it sits in solitary splendor next to the giant telephone satellite terminal in eastern Maadi. EEAA is in a multi-story office building plonked down in the middle of a shopping plaza right next to the Corniche. Interesting contrasts, as always. We got lots of help and information from people at both agencies, and are now busily chasing down contacts to get specific info. our research “database” and case study development. Of course, chasing people down is not easy when they won’t answer the phone (see “Ramadan kareem”). Ekhlass showed me how to light the oven and Sunshine brought along a bag of chocolate chips, so I’ve been trying out recipes on my Egyptian and American taste testers. Baking is an amusing challenge since my recipes are in US measurements and the implements here are in metric, and the oven has no temperature marks at all (no numbers or gas marks). So it’s “all measurements approximate” and a swift prayer to the kitchen gods. So far so good: the chocolate chip cookies are a big hit with everyone (no surprise – chocolate is a universal addiction as far as I can tell), McVitey’s digestive biscuits make a great crust for key lime pie, and my grandmother’s coconut-date-nut cookies go down a treat after iftahr. Of course, for Egyptians nothing competes with kornifa as an after-iftahr treat…kornifa is a baked concoction that’s kind of like eating Karo syrup with crunch. Matt arrives next week, followed in short order by our friend Alison Tormey from London so we’ll be off touristing over the weekends. In anticipation of our travels, I’ve been accumulating single pound notes - one goes through these like water and they are rarer than gold in the hinterlands. On Tuesday I wandered up and down Talaat Harb Street downtown dropping into banks to see how many singles I could talk them out of (10 here, 20 there, 45 from a very friendly bank). My wanderings coincided with the very busy last hour of business for the banks. People were carrying in – and taking out – reams of bills. There were briefcases, grocery bags and gym bags full of bills, coming in and out of the banks. I saw one man take away a hay-baled size box of rubber-banded 20 pund notes. The tellers have little machines that riffle through the piles of fuloos, counting piles of bills in an instant and sorting them into packages of 100, 1000 or more. These little machines were going no-stop, everywhere I went. You’d think that Egypt would join the rest of the world economy and convert to plastic and electronic transfers – so much easier and saves such a lot of time. But that kind of system rests on trust in governmental institutions that is totally lacking here – I think that people like the comfort of cold, hard (worn-out and dirty!) cash that they can control themselves. Last Saturday I visited Menoufia University in the Delta with Dr. Ahmed el-Kholei, a professor there in the Department of Architecture and Planning. He is interested in establishing a teaching and research relationship with the College of Architecture and Planning (CAP) at CU, and he trotted me around to meet with all the powers that be to sell the idea on his end. Fortunately, I didn’t have to say much – just smile and look tangible. I like his ideas and hope that we can make the relationship happen. For those of you interested in education, here’s what we’re exploring… The Egyptian government has mandated that Egyptian universities move to a semester/credit hour system (instead of the antiquated high-school like format they now use). The Menafia Architecture/Planning Department is jumping on the idea, and taking this opportunity to update the curriculum with environmental, economic and sustainability concepts. El Kholei, whose graduate work was at U. Illinois - Champaign, is also concerned that the US is not issuing visas to graduate students from the Middle East, so he wants to take steps to upgrade their program to US standards so there is a quality alternative in the region. The idea is for CAP & Menafia to collaborate initially on “egyptianizing” some selected CAP courses. This would involve joint work on course materials (possibly sending an Egyptian grad. student to CAP), followed by a CAP professor visiting Menafia to teach each course while modeling how to teach for young Menafia professors/instructors. We’ve talked about including “guest lecture” slots for experts (US and Egypt/ME) and about whether we could build a distance learning component into this kind of exchange. Menafia would also build library and technology resources as part of this project. Over the long term, Menafia would also like to develop long term graduate teaching and research exchanges. They have some seed money to partially fund graduate students interested in doing field work here, and they have some interesting people on faculty that might be good folks to visit CU. The Universality President (I really did meet all the “powers that be!”) expressed interest in working towards a joint undergraduate program in future. Menafia is the most highly educated governate in Egypt and turns out a lot of the “powers” in civilian and military life – quite a contrast with the “get-along” atmosphere in Helwan. There is a world bank grant program available here in Egypt now that could be used to fund at least the first stages of such an exchange, and Ahmed and I will be talking on Sunday with Ann Radwan, the Fulbright director here, about funding possibilities in FB, USAID and other State Department programs. Cross your fingers and say your prayers! One final wordshot: Last week I finally got to see the Giza pyramids up close. (I have been very good and working very hard – the only touristy things I’ve done so far are the visit to the Egyptian Museum and this week’s evening anderings in old Islamic Cairo.) The only problem is that I hadn’t planned to see the pyramids up close! I was due to meet Eman at her house in Giza (near the south end of Cairo University for those of you with Cairo maps) and hopped in a taxi to make the trek. To my astonishment, the taxi driver got off on the ring road and proceeded to go along the highway to the Giza plateau. I remonstrated with him – this was miles out of our way – but to no avail. and I’m sure he knew exactly what he was doing. He is the first driver in all the many cabs I’ve hopped in Cairo who turned on his meter, and I think he thought he’d take the foreigner for a little extra ride to up the fare. I was fuming by the time we reached Eman’s street, 15 minutes late (fortunately I had allowed double the time needed for the journey, not knowing if traffic would be bad). What a journey! At least it was lovely to see Khufu and Khafre still standing in the glory…

Ramadan kareem! A street decoration in Zamalek.

Al Azhar continues the business of being Al Azhar. 

The Khan gets back to the business of being the Khan. 

"Tables ready for action" 30 minutes after sundown. 

Our own groaning board. The pigeons at the end of the table were to die for. That's Serag, my friend from EEAA (the Egyptian EPA) on the right. The oterh folks are colleagues of Camillia's from the English school in which she teaches, and Ahmed, an old family friend. Ahmed has lived in the US for the last 19 years and now has businesses in both New York and Cairo. We had some interesting discussions about how life has changed for him since 9-11. 

Camillia and (??? - I can never get her name straight in the swirl of conversation) the amazing Enab family cooks. We had a lively conversation around the pre-dinner table about the "spirit" that a good cook inmbues in her food -recipes alone don't do it. These two share a food-spirit as grand as the minarets. 

Tables ready for action. 

Hotel Hussein balcony. 

Tour bus hell. 

Tour bus heaven. 

Hussein Square, with the mosque behind. 

Al Azhar mosque from Hotel Hussein. 

The old Islamic quarter. 

Jackie Williamson (on the right) and Sunshine Ludder are here in Egypt on Fulbright student grants. Jackie is an Egyptologist finishing her dissertation on body cartouches. (If you don't know what body cartouch is it's probably better not to ask.) Sunshine is a filmaker focused on women's issues and the arts. She has spent a lot of time in Iran and is especially interested in comparisons between Iran and Egypt. They stayed with me (sequentially) while finding flats of their own. This picture is taken in the living room of Jackie's new 9th floor flat room overlooking the rooftops of Zamalek. 

Ramadan Kareem!

Here in Cairo, we are just winding down from the first full week of Ramadan. The easy-going pace of Cairo has morphed into languor in the mornings and robotic slow motion in the late afternoons. People go to work late (9:30 or later) and leave early (sometimes as early as 12:30 or 1pm). Phones go unanswered, meetings don’t get made and projects of all kind get put off until “after Ramadan.” Universities shorten lecture times to assure that students are done with classes by 1:30 but that isn’t enough for Eman’s students at Helwan – they begged to be let out of classes altogether for the entire month! The weather hasn’t helped the daytime pace: after one week of blessedly cool fall weather, a heat wave settled over the city – I’m back to feeling like something in the batata-man’s grill. For people fasting – and that is most everyone in Egypt – the heat must make fasting nearly unbearable. Ramadan is supposed to be a time of spiritual reflection and renewal. Pocket-sized Qurans have appeared as the best-seller of the month. Building guards, shopkeepers, schoolgirls on the Metro, everywhere you go, people are reading Quran and silently mouthing prayers while running strings of beads through their fingers. Muslims have an obligation to read the entire Quran at least once in their lives and many people use Ramadan as a time to accomplish this goal. For many, concentrating on Quran also helps with the rigors of fasting, providing a tangible reason for the disomfort of throats are so parched from thirst that it's hard to swallow. Traffic jams up everywhere between about 12:30 and 3pm as people rush home to get ready for iftahr (breakfast). The metro is equally jammed - people nose to nose (or, in my case, nose to shoulder) even in the "less-crowded" ladies only cars. By 4 pm a sense of calm begins to descend, as shops roll down their shutters (assuming they opened up in the first place) and the streets empty of life. If you happen to be on the streets between 4:30 and 5pm you can actually hear the birds sing down the sun, a symphony usually drowned out by the cacophony of human Cairo. All over the city, tents and temporary rooms have appeared, made of immense sheets of geometrically patterned cloth in vivid primary colors. Each night, the tables inside are heaped with solid, nutritious food that anyone is welcome to eat – for poor people in Egypt (of whom there are many) Ramadan is the only time of year when they eat get to eat meat. When the cannon goes off and the muezzins begin the sunset call to prayer (signaling “break-fast”), people reach for something cool and liquid – tamarind juice, sweetened coconut milk and ‘amar al-din (made from sheets of apricot paste) are favorites, since they provide liquid and an immediate burst of sugar to replace depleted energy. I had iftahr with Eman’s family on Sunday, and the first dish served was a marvelous combination of chopped dried fruits (dates, figs, apricots, prunes and raisins) soaked in sugar water overnight and topped with almonds and shredded coconut. I could have ended dinner right then and there, but this is Egypt and the food goes on…and on…and on…. The city comes back to life after sundown. By 8pm shops are open, streets are humming, children are running up and down eerywhere. Brightly colored, ornate Ramadan lanterns light up the streets after dusk, and streamers of silver and colored paper criss-cross the streets. There is a sense of festivity in all the human interactions. A pair of itinerant minstrels strolled down the lane in front of Eman’s house after iftahr, one man playing the oud (a sort of flute) while the other sang traditional songs while beating out a stirring rhythm on a small hand drum. We put our monetary contributions in a wicker basket which Emans’ mother lowered on a rope from their 3rd floor balcony. Some people spend all night in the mosques in prayer or spiritual reflection, but most people watch TV all night (Rmadan is the season for new programs and blockbuster serials) or hit the streets to party. By 12:30 am, the street beneath my balcony resembles parking lot - a very loud, impatient parking lot. Last week, just before Ramadan began, I was startled to see turkeys appearing in the poultry shops. Mind you, these were not plump turkey carcasses sealed in sanitized plastic wrap, these were turkeys-in-the straw, feathers, wattles, and all. (In a country with little refrigeration, meat stays live until the cook is ready to pop it in the pan.) I never did figure out how these large, gangly birds were persuaded to perch serenely on top of the small wooden crates housing their equally doomed compatriots (chickens, pigeons, rabbits…) while awaiting their fate. Of course, I have the same question about the brown and white goat tethered to a lamppost down the street who is happily munching on anything his teeth can reach as the days tick down to the Eid (3 day celebration at the end of Ramadan), in which he is no doubt destined to play a starring role. Jackie, Sunshine and I (see picture caption) took ourselves down to old Islamic Cairo just before sundown Tuesday night. We spent a little time in Al Azhar Mosque, a stately, elegant matriarch with a 1000-year old lineage, where preparations for iftahr were underway. A long plastic sheet was rolled out across the carpet, with plates and plastic cups and silverware laid out in individual place settings. As sunset approached, men moved quietly around the cloth laying out dates (the first food traditionally eaten to break the fast), pouring out water and placing aish (Egyptian flat bread) on the plates. Outside in the courtyard, people moved quietly among the many small groups clustered under the cloister overhang passing out dates and aish. Everyone accepted their portion quietly as the sense of anticipation rose. We headed south out of Azhar and immediately lost ourselves in the maze of medieval el-Qahiyra. Preparations for iftahr were underway everwhere: rows of 4-person tables flanked by metal or plastic chairs lining the narrow alleys, cushions or chairs of any origin grouped together in communal circles inside shops, people running back and with bowls and plates filled with white beans in rich tomato sauce, platters of roasted chicken or meat, salty pickles, bowls of hummus and bab ghanoush and the ubiquitous aish. When the cannon call to prayer finally wafted through the air, there was a great burst of excited talking as people fell to eating with vigor and enthusiasm. Everywhere we went, we were greeted with cries of “welcome, faddali” (an all purpose word meaning “here you go, help yourself, join us”) as people sprang up from chairs and waved us to their tables. The welcome was consistently hearfelt and sincere. We declined the offers with many thanks and many smiles (none of us were quite ready to test our newly-developed digestive bacteria cultures quite that intensely) as we made our way slowly through the maze. We eventually found the footbridge that crosses Azhar Street, connecting old Islamic Cairo to the better known (and intensely touristed) Khan el Khalili. Here the welcome was equally warm but with a very different edge: “Welcome, I’m your friend, I have what you’re looking for, big discount, just look, just look…” What a difference! The south side bazaars are old and dirty, full of goods like plastic water pitchers, cheap shoes, inexpensive clothing and bolts of cloth I’d never use. But I’ll take the warmth and genuiness of the south side over the Khan’s flashy lights and tourist kitsch any time. It is so unfortunate that most tourists experience only the Khan’s kind of “welcome” rather than the authentic hospitality represented in the old bazaars. On Wednesday night, Serag invited me to join his family for iftahr in one of the Hotel Hussein’s 4th floor rooms overlooking Hussein Square. It was a lovely, peaceful place to enjoy the spectacle. Tourist buses kept disgorging hordes of people, then squeezing through lanes barely big enough for their side mirrors in order to maneuver back out onto the street. People were milling about everywhere in any kind of costume you can imagine: long gallabeyahs next to shorts and tank tops, white-uniformed of traffic cops beside dirty-faced urchins, western ladies in elegant broad-brimmed hats, t-shirts everywhere. We sat in lpasha-like splendor above the crowds and watched as tables gradually filled, first with people and then with food. As dusk approached the cats appeared, weaving in and out among the table legs, staking out their spaces and waiting patiently for their share. By the time sunset neared, our own table was groaning heavily under the feast prepared by the marvelous Enab family cooks. And then it was time. Muezzin voices drifted out of the many minarets surrounding us and people dived in to the feast. Our party ate and chatted and ate some more, spending a pleasant 2 hours over dinner and tea. Down on the ground, the tables closest to the Khan cleared out in a record twenty minutes so the shopkeepers could get back to the serious business of selling before the tourist hordes drifted away. The men in our party moved up to the Hussein’s rooftop garden to smoke sheesha, filling the air with the aromatic aroma of their various flavored tobaccos while we gazed at the half moon rising above the 1000 minarets of this city that is "Mother of the World." Eventually, I made my good nights and drifted out of the Khan and into a taxi headed back to Zamalek. The driver jolted me back to reality by proposing a fare that was easily double the going rate. I laughed and told him he was charging much too much (in Arabic) and that I was not a foreigner to be taken in. He laughed back and told me that he had 4 children and needed to make a lot of money to support them. I told him he should have thought of that before he had them! We had a lively, bantering Arabic-English conversation all the way back to my flat and parted on excellent terms (with agreement that my proffered fare was “kwais”).

Red Sea bombings - Warden message

I though you might like to see the message sent out yesterday by the local State Department folks here in Egypt. US citizens who are residents register with the embassy so the security folks can keep track of us and provide security info. as needed. (Short term visitors can do this as well.) Note the nuanced response - not "don't visit the Red Sea" (not to mention anywhere else in Egypt), just "avoid the area where the bombings occurred." WARDEN MESSAGE On Thursday evening, October 7, an explosion severely damaged the Hilton Hotel in Taba, on the northeast coast of Sinai, causing a number of fatalities and injuries. There are indications that the blast was a terrorist attack; however, investigations on the cause of the explosion are underway. Other explosions were reported to have taken place elsewhere on the east coast of Sinai, including one in the area of the town of Nuweiba in which there were several reported casualties. While there is no indication that U.S. citizens were the targets of these attacks, Americans in Egypt are urged to exercise caution and remain vigilant. U.S. citizens should avoid travel on the east coast of Sinai north of Sharm el Sheikh, particularly in the vicinity of the towns of Taba and Nuweiba. Travelers outside of Cairo may experience delays due to additional Egyptian security presence.

Red Sea tourism bombings

Terrible news from the Sinai. Folks I've talked to are especially upset about such actions taking place on Egyptian soil. “Whoever did this,” said one man, “we will find they were not Egyptian.” Most people here strongly believe that visitors to Egypt and politics between countries should be kept quite separate - even with Israel. This attitude stems from two sources: the long-standing tradition of Egyptian hospitality, in which any person is to be made welcome regardless of religion, ethnicity, country of origin, etc., and the strong contemporary interest in tourism as an industry providing jobs and revenues for economic betterment. Sadly, we can expect a dip in tourism not only in the Red Sea but throughout the region as a result of these bombings. The other response I hear to this and related terrorist acts (like last week’s kidnapping of 5 Egyptian telecommunication workers in Iraq) is that these are completely un-Islamic acts. The Quran specifically forbids killing without just cause, and the slaughter of innocents guarantees you a place in hell. Most folks see these actions as the work of crazy people who are using (and mis-using) Islam. Others believe the Al Jazeera line that the Bush administration has hired private companies to act as spies and carry out these actions while blaming them on Islamic terrorists. I point out that this policy would not serve Bush’s interests at all, especially right now, since the administration is entirely focused on getting itself re-elected (in which, god-willing, they will fail). But violently attacking innocents is so far outside the mainstream Islamic worldview that some folks have trouble believing that any Muslim could possibly be doing them – so there must be some kind of secret conspiracy to explain what’s going on. I think this perspective is at the root of the difference in worldviews between the Muslim world and the US on the conflict in Israel. Muslims see thousands of innocent Palestinians being slaughtered everyday by a regime acting outside the bounds of international law and humanitarian norms, with no hint of censure from the US. Why doesn’t the US condemn Israel as well as the Palestinian terrorist groups? Why doesn’t the US care about the lives of innocent Palestinians caught in the middle of this conflict? What happened to the US’ role as an even-handed broker between these parties, putting pressure on both Arafat and Sharon to stop the violence and bring resolution to this conflict? It will be interesting to see Mubarak’s response to the Red Sea terrorist attack from this side of the Atlantic. Egypt has been taking a very active role in the Israel/Palestine conflict, both in the immediate crisis in Gaza (which folks in the West don’t seem to see as a “crisis”) and in peacemaking overall. In my view, Mubarak is presently trying to protect Egypt’s interests (Gaza borders Egypt) and step into the vacuum left by the Bush administration’s policy of ignoring or tacitly blessing anything the Sharon government does. This doesn’t suit the interests of the radical terrorists, who – like our own Timothy McVeigh – seem mostly focused on venting their rage through death and destruction at any vulnerable target. I would very much like to eavesdrop on the back room discussions among career diplomats in the region right now.

Fall (el- rubiya) has finally arrived in Cairo.

I can walk outside in the middle of the day and not feel like one of those sweet potatoes stacked up on the coal-fired cooker that the batata-man trundles through the streets. (Delicious, those roasted batata.) We went off daylight savings time last week, and night falls swiftly (about 5:30 pm) bringing deliciously cool evening air: I'm up to two light blankets on the bed. What a relief to be free of the enervating heat. Early morning on the Nile just across the street from my flat. '’ve been very busy the last few weeks meeting with people, preparing for and delivering my first lecture, studying Arabic and hassling with Thoth the computer, who decided that I really did not need a functioning CD/DVD drive. Since almost all my files and reference materials are on CD or DVD (oh, those hours spent scanning documents!) I have a very different point of view. But it avails me naught: so far the score is computer 5, Joni zip. I find it amazing how dependent I am on this little piece of technology. The computer is my lifeline: it's my communication link back home as well as my brains and institutional memory for work here in Egypt. The thought of being unable to access my files has kept me in a cold sweat more often than I care to recall. With a lot of help from the wonderful folks at Fulbright, I have been able to get my files transferred onto Thoth's hard drive so I've at least got a workaround for the CD problem. Matt has helped by spending countless hours on the phone with Toshiba (wonderful technical support - I can't sing their praises loudly enough) to try to zero in on the problem. This coming Saturday morning I plan to make the long trek back out to Masr Gidida (Heliopolis) to the Toshiba service center to leave the computer for a day while they figure out if it's the CD drive or the computer's motherboard (perish the thought!) My troubles with Thoth have put me way behind on lots of projects. But, thankfully, this is a holiday weekend in Egypt, so I've got a chance to catch up. (Which holiday, you ask? Why October 6, the date of the 1973 Six Day War with Israel. Why any country celebrates wars is beyond me - why Egypt celebrates this particular one makes my brain do flip-flops.)

Of lectures and copy angels

My first lecture at Helwan was last Monday, when I did a presentation on environmental impacts of transportation to second year students in the Tourism Development track. I wasn't sure what to expect from these students. I knewthat I needed to keep things very basic, both because of the language barrier and due to the sad fact that most of these students have had little or no exposure to environmental concepts. (Helwan Tourism has no environmental courses whatsoever in its curriculum - a pity, given that they are preparing people for careers in tourism planning as well as hotel development/management.) In the end, I found the interaction with this group of 200 students to be a lot like interacting with students at CU: about 1/3 of the class was actively engaged, asking questions and making comments; another third drifted in and out; while the remainder would clearly have preferred to be somewhere else. At least no one went to sleep. Lecture slots at Helwan are two hours, which is grueling for both the presenter and the presented upon. They meet for class once a week. During Ramadan lecture times drop to an hour, since work of any kind pretty much stops in the afternoons (hear the sound of blood sugar crashing in the afternoons all over the Muslim world). Students don't seem to do much in the way of background reading; lectures are their principal source of information. (I put together a reading pack for the students' use but it's not at all clear to me if the materials will be made available to them.) Eman and I plan to follow up with another lecture after Ramadan (late November) on Caribbean and Nile cruises, including a research problem for them to work on. The engaged 1/3 seemed to be pleased with the idea of undertaking a research exercise. Speaking of the reading pack: I visited Helwan a few days before the lecture to meet with Dr. Mona (the professor teaching this transportation class) and to make copies of the reading materials. I made my way to the copy center where I was told that the machine was broken and directed to the coffee shop. The coffee shop people looked at me like I was magnuun (crazy) and sent me back to the copy center. En route I pleaded for help to a gaggle of students perched on a concrete wall between these two esteemed establishments. This group of lovely young ladies stepped up to help me navigate the copier shoals. Turns out the "coffee shop" is located in a club next door which also includes a coffee house. The club allows the to use both - for a fee, naturally. En route to the club the ladies stopped on the sidewalk and had a hurried consultation in Arabic. "They will charge you" (gesturing to indicate my agnaby - foreigner - status) "a lot of money. They will charge us less. Give us the papers." And off they went, the copy angels, leaving me parked out of sight on the sidewalk with two of the ladies. We made conversation in broken Arabic/English until the copy angels returned, proffering the pile of paper. "It's seven pounds and a half (about $1.25)," said Evon triumphantly. (She's in the white blouse, second from the right). Egyptians are a most ingenious people, using creative strategies everyday just to survive. If only that creativity could be unleashed and directed in ways that would improve the formal economy as well as the informal one!

Mona & Arabic class

This charming lady is one of the reasons why I’m so busy these days. Her name is Mona and she's my Arabic teacher. I decided that I really did need to enroll in an intensive Arabic course if I were to have any hope of picking up the language so I took the plunge three weeks ago. I am a Taliba (student) from 9-11, 4 days a week, in attendance with 11 other students who are all young enough to be my children. They come from all over the world: Holland, Sweden, Switzerland, Germany, Mexico, Italy, Britain and the US are all represented in my class, with folks from Indonesia, Russia, Japan and just about anywhere else you can think of enrolled in the other 15 classes. The venue for this miniature United Nations is the International Language Institute located in Mohandiseen (west side of Cairo). Mona is a gifted comedienne (picture Lily Tomlin in higab) who talks with us almost exclusively in Arabic, acting out new words and concepts with an amazing repertoire of sounds and pantomime drawn from her TV cartoon addiction. I'm taking 'amaya (colloquial Egyptian dialect) from her. Most of the folks in my class are trying to unlearn fusHa (modern standard Arabic) - these really are almost two different languages. I'm definitely starting to get the feel of the language - I should be able to take up serious eavesdropping on other people’s conversations in another couple of weeks. It has been very interesting for me to try to function as a virtual illiterate in this society, especially since I'm used to having a high degree of competence in verbal and written communication. As my competence in understanding, speaking, and reading Arabic increases, my confidence grows by orders of magnitude. Being virtually illiterate has given me some empathy for how isolating true illiteracy must be.

Tidbits

I finally had the courage to order in Chinese. (Some of you may remember a certain "Chinese" dinner in Giza where the only recognizable item on the menu was the peanuts.) It wasn't too bad - and the very idea of eating tofu was delightful. The food traveled on the back of a motorcycle like these. Everybody does delivery in Cairo: restaurants, pizza places, grocery stores, shops, even fast food - it's still very strange to me to see a fleet of these bikes parked outside McDonalds. These bikes belong to Cook Door, a "healthy" fast food place located across the street from my flat. I've tried a couple of their offerings - quite good. The delivery guys zoom around all over Zamalek delivering kebab, pizza, salads and the many forms of chicken (an Egyptian staple) until 3 am or later. Nahla, Eman's sister, is doing her Master's thesis on ethnic foods in Egypt. (Food reprter note: Thai has recently arrived and is very big here.) Nahla is exploring the different kinds of foreign food available and people's reactions to them. She says Egyptians are very reluctant to try new types of cuisine. Like others I've talked to, Nahla attribute this to a certain amount of closed mindedness to new ideas, and a curious lack of curiosity - problems in a society trying to make its place in the globalizing world. Last week's Quest for Items Household involved the search for an extension cord. I checked at the Alfa market, looked in a department store, and window shopped in any likely window. Nothing. So, as a last resort, I paid a visit to electrical supply shop down the street where I bought adapters the second day I was here. Mish moshkila (no problem): they simply made up an extension cord to my specifications on the spot. In my wanderings around Zamalek, I've seen a lot of tree branches piled up on sidewalks - looks like "fall cleanup is underway. On Tuesday I actually got to see the tree pruning operation in action. One man climbed the tree and tied a rope around the designated branch. The other end of the rope was tossed to a compatriot in the street, who promptly commandeered a work force. The corvee survives! (For the non-Egyptologists among you, "corvee" is the form of labor conscription used to build all those monuments we come here to gape at.) The tree man whomped the branch vigorously with a dull axe while the crew of five men below pulled on the rope. After a lot of whacking, the branch finally broke, tumbling down in a shower of accumulated dust. (You gotta be tough to survive as a tree in Egypt.) Everyone smacked their hands free of dust and went on about their business. Best news of the week: All Saints (the Episcopal Cathedral I wrote about earlier) has a lending library with a very large collection of novels. I have found a supplier for my reading addition, hamdulilah!

Shobra Mont

In an earlier posting I mentioned a project that I am helping the Sakkara Chapter of the Rotary Club put together with Engineers Without Borders. I visited the village along with members of the International Relations Committee (Hossam, Nanice and Nabil - Moshira was busy that day) . We took a lot of pictures. and I'll share some of them here. This is the village of Shobra Mont, one of several villages located in a poverty-stricken area near the Cairo suburb of Giza (near the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx). Over the last 20 years, Giza has grown very rapidly; the villages now border the Giza suburb. (It is about a 15 minute drive from central Giza to Shobra Mont.) The village is densely populated: about 40,000 people in 5000 households. Villagers engage in a wide range of traditional occupations, including farmers, small merchants, artisans, mechanics/handymen, teachers and government workers. The average annual income per family is about $500 US. Shobra Mont and its neighbors lack basic infrastructure. There is no reliable water supply; last year, the Sakkara Chapter donated a kidney dialysis machine (along with other items) to the local hospital but the hospital can't use it because it is still not connected to the local water lines. The national government has constructed main sewer lines in the area, but it lacks funds to connect individual households, and villagers are too poor to pay for individual connections. People toss wastewater into the streets, The village has developed severe problems with localized flooding during the Nile inundation season. Several houses have collapsed, making ground floors unusable and first floors very unstable, and forcing families to double up in already crowded conditions. The flooding problem has two contributing causes: the gradual rising of groundwater in the area due to the High Dam's regulation of the annual inundation; and disposal of wastewater into streets by houses not connected to the central sewer system. Within the village, there is a difference in elevation of about 5 meters. Discarded wastewater from the higher houses drains into lower-elevation streets. During the inundation season, groundwater saturates the subsurface and there is no capacity to absorb local wastewater. (See attached photos.) The proposed EWB project would connect households to the main sewer lines to eliminate one source of flooding.

One of the streets that is subject to frequent flooding. 

During the inundation, water reaches depths of 1 1/2 to 2 meters and stands in the streets for weeks. Mohammed is showing us the water marks. Note how the wall has from deteriorated from submersion in standing water. 

This is one of the houses that has collapsed from flooding. 

The lady who lives in the house. That's Hossam in the suit. 

More damage. 

This used to be the ground floor - not a basement. 

Another collapsing house. The smell of raw sewage was especially intense in the saturated soils within these rooms. 

Local water supply. 

The most difficult part of the visit was trying not to step on the children who accompanied us everywhere and were constanly underfoot.  

Res ipsa loquitur. 

Gigi and the Adventure of the First Solo Train Ride

I have survived my first solo expedition by train and lived to tell the tale, hamdulilah. Eman graciously invited me to spend the weekend of September 23 with her family at their flat in Alexandria. Eman and her family went up early in the week, and I made arrangements to join them on Thursday afternoon, catching the train from Ramses Station. So the first step was getting a ticket, a relatively easy task, thought I. Wrong! I set out to acquire said ticket on Tuesday mid-day, right after Arabic class. Ahmed suggested that I go to the ticket office in Dokki, which is much closer (and theoretically less crazed) than the scene around the main station. He told me to go to the "central telephone exchange" where there was a train ticket window. My first stop was at the office of the Red Sea Sustainable Tourism Initiative (RSSTI), a USAID-funded project aimed at improving waste management, water handling and energy use in Red Sea resorts. The project has produced a plethora of valuable materials on best practices for resorts in Egypt that Eman and I are anxious to acquire. In a meeting the previous evening with Dr. Emad Adly, president of Arab Office for Youth and Environment (check out the organization's website at www.aoye.org - a number of great activities around environmental topics and sustainability in Egypt and the region) I learned that the RSSTI was closing down in just two days, so I rushed over to see what I could learn before everything was packed away. After finishing my business, I asked the folks there for directions to the train ticket office. They had no idea where it was located - they have other people buy train tickets for them. (Having undergone the ordeal myself now, I understand their reasoning!) The RSSTI folks suggested that I get a ticket from Giza station, since that was closer than Ramses. So I taxi-trundled off to Giza station where I was informed that I could not get a ticket to Alexandria since trains from Giza onlygo to upper Egypt. I called Ahmed for more precise directions to the Dokki ticket office; like most folks here, he didn't know the address but only near-by landmarks. We finally settled on the Ministry of Agriculture as the taxi navigation point. Of course, none of the taxi drivers spoke English and my Arabic doesn't extend to either "ministry" or "agriculture." With aid of a map, my Cairene dictionary, a helpful passerby and several very helpful taxi-drivers-in-seach- of-a-fare I finally got myself seated in a Dokki-bound cab (paying exorbitant at-the-train-station prices, of course). I was dutifully dropped off near the Ministry and quickly realized that the elusive office was no where nearby. I started asking for directions - not many English speakers in Dokki - and spent half an hour gradually working my way up the street, eventually zeroing in on the central telephone exchange building. (Nobody knew where the telephone exchange was located - I got there by asking for train tix in Arabic. Go figure.) Once inside the building things got a lot easier. I took advantage of the "ladies go to the front of the line" rule and completed the purchase quickly. Back at the flat, I even managed to assure myself that everything on the train ticket was correct - after 30 minutes of careful Arabic translation using a magnifying glass. But I have to say that I was exhausted by all this schlepping around - 3 hours plus in the heat and dense Cairo traffic. Many people here point to Cairo's crowding, pollution and long commuting times as factors that sap people's energy and contribute to lack of productivity (not to mention that often frustrating phenomenon "operating on Egypt time"). This was my first personal experience of what they are describing. The train trip itself was a breeze in comparison. Ramses Station was blissfully uncrowded (a rarity), the train came in 25 minutes early, and I found my car through the simple expedient of going from car to car shoving my ticket under the nose of every conductor I saw until finally landing in the right one. Since I had come prepared for Egyptian air conditioning (sox, scarf and blanket - trains are usually kept at a temperature that would keep a side of beef fresh for weeks) I had a very cosy and relatively quiet two hour journey to Alex. Thankfully, there were no movies or radios here - only that world-wide favorite "symphony by cellphone" providing background music along the way. I arrived a little after 4 pm, was accosted by a number of taxi drivers at the train station, and finally settled on a fare that was only 3 times what it should have been - the best I could do as a foreignor. Locals here generally detest the behavior of taxi drivers, especially their rapaciousness towards towards foreignors, because they think it gives Egypt a bad name. In Alex, anyone who isn't from Alexandria is classified as a "foreignor" for taxi purposes, so Cairenes get stuck with the same kind of cut-throat behavior. In my experience, the worst places to pick up cabs are at train stations and in front of big hotels: the drivers there tend to hang out waiting for fares, then expect to make up for all that lost sitting time by inflating fares for "rich" foreignors. In contrast, the cabbies I flag down in the streets are, by and large, quite reasonable - I even had one driver tell me I was paying him too much on a trip to Mohandiseen. It takes all kinds! The Helmy's flat is opposite Gleam Beach, the beautiful public beach you see in the picture above. I was a little anxious about what to expect once I reached the flat, since I wasn't sure how Egyptian families dress or behave in the privacy of their own home. I needn't have worried: Eman met me at the door in a track suit (called "trening" in Arabic) while the rest of the family was garbed in anything from housedresses to PJs - as the Queen of Office Casual, this was a family with whom I could identify! They had saved me a "lunch" of kebab from their favorite local stand, and kept up a round of lively conversation (mixed Arabic and English) as I indulged. Mrs. Helmy does not speak English, and she had a lot of trouble saying "Joni" (it's a mouthful for Arabic speakers). So she re-dubbed me "Gigi," a name that suits don't you think? After lunch and more conversation, we all sat around and watched the family's favorite evening soap opera. I couldn't understand the dialogue, but that hardly mattered - soaps are soaps, and the plots don't vary much. After this episode's happy ending, Eman and I went out and strolled along the corniche for a couple of hours, enjoying the cool, clean Iskandriya air. I was very impressed by the changes I saw along the Corniche since I was last here two years ago. The Governor hsas undertaken an aggressive public improvement program, financed throgh the simple expedient of telling business people not to pay their taxes (thus short-circuiting the corruption cycle that siphons off so much of Egypt's investment funds) but to invest the money directly in public improvements. The result is a completely re-vamped corniche, with new breakwaters, strolling areas, beach furniture and a slew of exclusive beachfront resorts open only to "syndicate" (i.e., trade unions) members. There is also a lot of investment and upgrading evident in the private sector, with buildings being torn down (sadly including the quaint little San Giovanni restaurant I lunched at last time I was here) to be replaced by gleaming modern construction. Most notable is the Four Seasons mega-resort, a huge double-circle five star hotel and luxury apartment complex that reminded me of a space station for aliens. Overall, Alexandria feels full of bustle and promise, quite different from the easy-going, just-get-along atmosphere of Cairo. (Eman tells me that President Mubarak decided to transfer the Alex governor to Cairo - governor is an appointed position here - but the Alexandrenes went on strike to block the move.) One side effect of all this development is continual loss of public access to the waterfront, and I think the jury is stil out on how this will all balance out. On the way back to the flat, we stopped at a juice stand for granitas, a wonderfully cool juice-and-ice slushy. After licking the last of the granita juice off our fingers, we topped off the evening with big slices of Movenpick ice cream cake and toddled off to bed. I shared a room with Eman, bouncing her sister Nahla into her mother's bed and Mr. Helmy onto a couch in the front room.

This is the building in which Eman's family has their flat. Like the Helmy's, many people in Egypt rent apartments on a virtually permanent basis, with relatively unbreakable leases (much like rent-controlled apartments in New York). This has contributed to the dire housing shortage in Egypt - some people hold on to empty apartments for years, until the time their children grow up and need a home of their own. (One well-informed person I spoke with here estimated the number kept out of the housing market due to this phenomenon as around 1 million units.) This quasi-ownership also seems to provide a disincentive for maintenance of common spaces: stairways and foyers often have broken windows, deteriorating flooring and walls with chunks of molding missing. If you are a landlord, why pay for maintenance if you can't raise the rent and you don't have to worry about attracting new tenants? 

Friday morning, after a hearty breakfast of eggs scrambled with basterma (a kind of salty dried beef) Eman and I played tourist. We took the local bus along the corniche to Qait Bey, a 21st century reconstruction of a 19th century reconstruction of a 15th century fortress built on the site of 4th century Roman fort - which many people believe was the original site of the Pharos Lighthouse, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. When I was here two years ago, reconstruction work was ongoing everywhere, so it was very interesting to see the work completed. The fortress sits on a peninsula that just out strategically between Alexandria's two harbors; this version was clearly designed as a defense agains invaders from the sea (like those pesky Knights Templar based on the nearby island of Malta). The complex is a warren of barracks, guard rooms and courtyards with defensive windows and turrets everywhere. We spent a couple of pleasant hours wandering around inside and strolling on top the walls, while incidentally baking like cookies in a 425 degree oven - such an unseasonably hot day.

The fort has many beautiful architectural details. I especially like the archways and grilled mashrebiya windows, many of which are ornately carved in wood. The whole complex is reminiscent of crusader castles and gothic architecture in Europe, not surprising since the Knights Templar were heavily influenced by Islamic architectural forms. 

The Alexandria waterfront, eastern harbor. The views from the Qait Bey walls are stunning. 

After being appropriately baked at Qait Bey, we took the tram to downtown Alex to engage in every Egyptian's favorite pastime: shopping. The tram was terrific, ambling at a stately pace, providing lots of time to soak in the atmosphere of the surrounding streets. We window shopped in ladies apparel stores and the ubiquitous shoe shops. (Egyptian women adore shoes.) I bought a pair of bright blue sheb-sheb (remember the plastic sandals that the bawaab lent me?) for my very own. It was Friday prayer time, so some shops were closed and several of the streets outside mosques and prayer rooms were overflowing with men listening to the weekly sermon. Women are spared the duty of attending mosque on Friday, although they can choose to attend if they wish. As in Malaysia, most women prefer to shop or catch up on household chores instead. 

Of course, we rode in the ladies car (no men allowed) to avoid the crush. Some people have pointed to the maintenance of traditions like the "ladies only" cars as evidence that women are downtrodden. On the contrary, women clearly have the upper hand! They can ride wherever they want (men's or ladies' car) but men can't. Women here appreciate the relief they get from the constant crowding and ogling (what Eman refers to as "flattering the girls") in these separate spaces. These two young ladies reminded me of my nieces' friends back home. Girls make their own decisions about whether to wear higab (the headcovering) at 12-13 years (about the age of puberty). Of course, peer pressure is much the same everywhere in the world and higab is very much in vogue in Egypt today. I've seen a lot of very stylish renditions using gorgeous fabrics and ingenious wraps/ties. 

This alley is in the old part of Alexandria, near Qait Bey. 

Downtown Alex. There is no escape from the Golden Arches these days... 

Here is a typical street corner in downtown Alex. 

After exhausting the downtown shopping possibilities, we continued on the tram to a mall near Gleam Beach to meet up with Nahla who had her eye on some very stylish boots. Nahla was successful in her quest, and we returned, triumphant, to the apartment with our respective shoes in hand. That afternoon, Eman's cousin Susu and her children Nihad and Mahmoud joined us for lunch. The young folks (ages 12 and 9 respectively) are studying English and were very shy about speaking with a native speaker - Mahmoud kept hiding if I came anywhere near. 9I know, I'm pretty scary anyway.) Mrs. Helmy cooked a delicious meal of Egyptian favorites: chicken cutlets and rice pilaf, with lots of fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, pickles and aish (flat bread). After lunch we retired to the sitting room to polich off huge amoutns of fruit: brown figs, fresh red dates, grapes, guava and an Inidan delicacy that looks like an orange tomato called kaw-kaw. I took a nap immeidately after stuffing myself full of food. In the evening, we strolled the corniche en famille, resting for a while on a bench overlooking an inlet under the beautiful new bridge, then strolling up the longest pier replete with courting couples whispering together on benches, men fishing off the breakwater and a lively soccer game going on at the end of the pier. Back at the flat, we polished off the ice cream cake - duty bound to finish it since we were headed back to Cairo next day. On Saturday morning the family quickly orgnaized themselves to shut up the flat for the season, and we were on the road by 9:30 am. We stopped at a tammiya place near the flat for brekfast sandwiches of fuul and felafel, then headed out to the main highway - shopping along the way, of course! The highway between Alexandria and Cairo could not be described as a "scenic drive" - unless you are fond of billboards. Leaving Alex, one travels through a vast industrial area: petroleum refineries, quarries and a variety of smaller industrial operations of every scale. Industrial air pollution is not well controlled, and there are increasing problems with groundwater quality. Unfortunately, all this industrial activity takes place in and around Lake Mariut, a large inland freshwater-wetland complex that provides rich habitat for migrating birds. Although Egypt has set aside some bird habitat areas in the Sinai, there are no protected areas at all along the Northern Coast - and plans for massive beach resort development. Once out of the industrial area, the scenery becomes agricultural: orchards of citrus and apple, vineyards, palms and bananas.

We stopped here for supplies of sweet and gooey Middle Eastern treats - baklava, halva and several varieties of nuts and/or coconut baked in honey. With Ramadan approaching, sweets and their makings (nuts, coconut, raisins, dried apricots, dates) are appearing everywhere. That's Eman putting packages into the trunk.  

This is Wadi Foods, an outlet store for organic produce grown in one of the new desert plantations. The Egyptian government has been establishing "new towns" - industrial and agricultural - outside the Nile Valley for about 40 years now. Some have been successful, others are not. These farm outlet stores, located on the main highway between Alexandria and Cairo, seem to be doing very well. Some have outlets in Cairo as well, and there is a very large farm production called Isis Foods that markets a line of organic produce and spices that is available in most supermarkets. We came back to Cairo on the highway that comes up directly behind the Great Pyramids and Sphinx at Giza. The last desert part part of the highway is now dominated by luxury villas, gated communities with names like "Beverly Hills" to reflect the land use (estate residential with pools). Approaching Cairo, the scenery becomes a mixture of agricultural fileds and mid-rise apratment buildings, many built illegally (without permits) on land that is supposed to remain agricultural. There is very little suburban transition: one minute you're in the desert, next you'r landed in the bustle of Cairo. As we were swallowed up in the mid-day Cairo traffic, I kept gazing at the pyramids rising up across the fileds, dominating the landscape in a scene unchanging for millenia - assuming that one ignores those pesky eletric power transmission lines blocking the view. The Helmys took me back to their flat in Giza for a final lunch before cutting me loose for the day. We stopped at a fish market where the elder Helmys selected fresh Nile fish to be roasted and delivered to their flat in half an hour's time (that's half an hour Egyptian time - it was more like 1 1/2 hours, but well worth the wait - delicious!) While waiting outside the shop, I saw a citrus vendor racing down the street, pushing his wooden cart in front of him while lemons spilled off all around. What a waste, I thought - he is very careless of his wares. He dashed around a corner and disappeared. Two minutes later a large truck with three men standing up in back came roaring down the street and careened around the corner after him. "Are they chasing him?" I asked Eman and Nahla. "'Yes," they said, "he doesn't have a permit to sell and the local authorities will confiscate his goods and break his cart if they catch him." I had read about this but never seen it before: very poor people, with no other means of employment, who scrape together enough capital to buy a tiny bit of goods that they can market by wandering the streets in middle class neighborhoods. The authorities do periodic crackdowns to show who's in charge. The local folks don't like this policy at all - the government should help these folks find jobs or set aside locations for them to sell, not persecute them, and the goods sold are appreciated by folks in the neighborhoods. (It is also an amazingly stupid policy in a country that is supposed to be encouraging entrpeneurship.) When we stopped to pick up sodas at a nearby market, another "illegal" vendor" wandered by and Mr. Helmy warned him to get out of sight because the authorities were patrolling: very Egyptian, that response - there is a strong sense of people banding together to protect one another from the powers that be. So replete with yet another emormous meal, I made my farewells to the Helmys and caught a cab back to my little sanctuary in Zamalek - which was buried in dust, of course, since I hadn't cleaned in 3 days.

El-Baab It is fortunate that I was appropriately dressed when I locked myself out of the flat. Things would have been much touchier if I had been in my PJs. But I was in pants and shirt - no shoes, but that was easily remedied by a pair of the ubiquitous plastic flip-flop sandals that men shuffle around in, supplied - naturally - by the bawaab. (He probably took them off someone else's feet for the occasion.) Of course, everything I owned was inside the flat: wallet, cell phone, phone numbers, the all important muftaaH (key). and it was Friday morning, start of the weekend. so the Fulbright office was closed. What to do, I pondered, as I contemplated that grim and unyielding visage. I took my barefoot self down the stairs to Ibrahim the bawaab and made it understood that il baab shut itself (clap hands together) wa i- muftaaH (key) fee shaqqa (was in the apartment). This provoked a long discussion between the bawaab and one of his buddies hanging 'round to help supervise the construction underway in the ground floor flat next to the bawaab's tiny room. (It's more like a closet than a room - just big enough for a cot to fit inside. The TV and radio sit on an old kitchen chair strategically positioned just across from the pillow outside the door.) The buddy was all for jimmying the lock: was the lock out this far or this far? he asked, showing distances with his hands. (Il baab has 3 convenient lock settings: merely locked, deadbolt, and really, really locked - double deadbolt. ) My door was "merely locked," but the bawaab overruled the jimmying idea (thanks to god). Ibrahim made it known that he was going to get the landlord's phone number so he could come with a spare key. I was instructed to sit myself down on the other kitchen chair (reserved for the bawaab's visitors and guests) and wait. After about ten minutes, the bawaab re-appeared with a piece of paper and a Menatel card and we trudged across the street to the phonebox. He made a call, talked for a while, hung up and informed me that Mr. Malek was on his way. Where did he live, I asked? In MaSr Gidida - bai'd (far). Mr. Malek would get in his arabeyya (car) and (driving motions). I sighed and decided to take in the lovely Nile view across the street rather than perch on the visitor's chair listening to the rhythmic music of pounding on concrete while breathing the buddy's cigarette smoke. After a restful 30 minutes watching the water glide by, I was summoned back to the building to find poor Mr. Sameer, the Fulbright housing manager, emerging from a taxi. The landlord had done the sensible thing, avoiding disruption to his day off by dumping the problem on someone else. Sameer gave me a wry grin and commented that "the Nile is very beautiful today." After I returned the borrowed sandals, accompanied by a plate of cookies and baksheesh for the bawaab, I was roundly lectured by anyone who happened to be in the building foyer about always keeping the muftaaH in my pocket. But I was only putting out the rubbish, I later whined to Nevine. "You must get some heavy something to block open the door," she replied. "I thought I had it blocked by my tush," I answered. "No, (tut-tut), your tush is not big enough for an Egyptian door - you must gain a lot of weight." Ahmed told me later that I had just lived out a favorite scene in Egyptian movies - seems everybody gets locked out of their flats in Cairo.

Here's the Fulbright office. 

Entry room. 

Inner sanctum. 

This little guy was rearranging his nap space while a neighborhood lady was feeding the horde of cats I snapped last week (see below). Seemed to me like an unusual place for snoozing, but, hey... 

All comfy now. 

Last Saturday I went to the Egyptian museum - I had been in Egypt an entire week and not see a single Pharaonic artifact, horrors! Great people-watching that day. This is my favorite picture from the afternoon. I wandered around inside hoping to visit old favorites and found an amazing number of items out on exhibition in other parts of the world - a lot of them in Denver. (Sigh.) If the stately, mysterious Anubis from Tutankhamen's tomb is in the Quest for Immortality exhibit now at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, please drool over him for me, won't you? 

I spend a lot of time walking - at least an hour every day - and my usual route takes me down the corniche on both sides of the Nile.  

Corniche en-NIl, looking north. 

Corniche-Nil, Central Cairo going south. 

September 17, 2004 Weekly Activity Report

It’s been a busy week in il-qahiyra (Cairo, “victorious city” in Arabic). I’m up to four official picture ID cards (no trouble remembering who I am), have opened an Egyptian bank account (only took 1 and ½ hours – fortunately, there was no line), have purchased a few pieces of very fashionable clothing, styled for Muslim ladies (thereby attracting even less attention as I saunter down the streets), and pleased myself immensely by directing a clueless taxi driver to my flat – with no wrong turns. What competency! Last Sunday, Moshira took me to the weekly meeting of the Saqqara Chapter of the Rotary Club, of which she is an active member. Flashback to mid-August, when Roger Hoogerheide (an EPA colleague) lasso’ed me outside his cubicle and asked me to look for an Engineers Without Borders project while I was in Egypt. (Roger is co-chair of the committee that selects projects for the organization to undertake.) I mentioned this to Moshira and she told me that her Rotary chapter takes on a community project each year, and that this year the group was looking at ways to help a very poor village outside Giza. Sounded like a potentially good match for EWB, so I tagged along with Moshira to talk about the idea with the club. The chapter meets in the very posh Gezira Club (a holdover from British colonial days) which is now a very popular – and very busy athletic-cum-social club for the well-to-do and the movers and shakers of Cairo. They didn’t want to let me in the door – no surprise, since I am neither well-to-do, not mover-shaker and a foreigner to boot – but Moshira persisted and finally got me in by paying a E£ day use fee (for which she would let me reimburse her). The Rotarians were warm and welcoming, a 50-50 mix of men and women, all with the air of business and professional folks. The group divided quite naturally into women on one side table and men on the other (contrary to the mix-em-up style in similar meetings in the States) but the meeting dynamic was just like home. Although the conversation was conducted in that “other language” (with Moshira helpfully interpreting from time to time), I didn’t have a lot of difficulty following the proceedings because of long experience…people are people not matter where and who we are. The group enthusiastically endorsed the EWB idea, Roger-on-the-spot immediately e-mailed and application form, and the Committee is scurrying around collecting information and taking photos. I think I may get to go with them tomorrow to visit the Vilage and “listen in” while the Rotarians talk with local council and governate members. And I think I’m going to be made an honorary Rotarian – should get me in the door in the Gezira Club more easily next time I attend a meeting. I’ve spent a lot of time this week just getting settled, mentally and physically. By Friday last week I started to feel like all of me was finally in the same time zone, and I found myself making street turnings automatically as I walked around Zamalek. I am astounded by how much energy it takes to be “on alert” all the time. In Boulder/Denver I make my around on auto-pilot most of the time, never having to think about where I’m going ‘cuz my feet just take me there. In this new and foreign place, I find myself having to think about things like “this corner or the next?” all the time and it is really exhausting. It’s nice to feel some routines start to settle in. I acquired a printer and hooked it up – hamdulillah! – have started organizing notes and files for the curriciulum project and have started putting together notes for the various lectures I’m being asked to do. Dr. Mona, who teaches Transportation in the Tourism Faculty, has asked me to do a lecture on transportation environmental impacts next week. Eman came up with the great idea of using Nile cruises as one of our curriculum case studies (wonderful opportunities to do some comparisons with Costa Rica and the US). If Dr. Mona agrees, we’ll put together a second lecture and exercise with the students researching various aspects of environmental impacts of Nile cruise ships. We plan to have Eman’s 1st year Masters’ students (Tourism Development course) do a similar exercise around protected areas (resorts, environment, culture). I also expect to do some presentations for the faculty and TAs on sustainability and ecology, sharing some of the ways we are trying to introduce these concepts in Colorado. Helwan has no environmental courses whatsoever in its curriculum, so this is very new ground here. Moshira toured me around the beautiful Faculty of Fine Arts in Zamalek on Tuesday. This campus includes arts, architecture and design, and it was a lot of fun wandering through design studio spaces and knowing instantly where I was. (For the ENVD folks: studio classes have 50 students and lecture classes routinely contain 200-300 people.) The Fine Arts campus is centered around two villas that once belonged to a pasha and his daughter. The villas and grounds were confiscated by the government during the Nasser years, and the University has built classroom buildings in the grounds. It’s a wonderful, rambling maze of courtyards and benches and student art everywhere: brilliantly colored mosaics, sculptures, paintings. The whole complex feels very alive and bursting with creativity. There is even a “free school” for folks who aren’t enrolled in a diploma program but just want to learn to draw. I met the Dean – a gentle, gracious gentleman – and several of Moshira’s colleagues. They have asked me to do one or two presentations as well, but I’m not sure about the subject yet – Moshira and I will figure out what makes sense, I’m sure. It’s good that I’m being asked to do these lectures since, to no one’s surprise, the “security” people have asked that I concentrate on lecturing, not research in my grant. (It’s supposed to be about 80% research and 20% lecture.) These mysterious folks are really worried about having foreigners running around the country asking questions. I can’t do any kind of formal, standardized interviews (“please fill out these questions”) or use a tape recorder to record conversations. I can have “informal discussions” with people (open ended questions) and hamdulilah for Eman and the students, since they can act with more freedom than I. This is what life is like under a regime that is hyper-paranoid and intent on controlling information – keep that image in mind, all you folks back home, and get out that vote! Eman and I have already had several interesting “informal discussions.” (Thanks to god for Eman! She is a delight to work with – exceptionally bright, very quick, sweetly open-minded – and is obviously very well-regarded in the tourism world here. She is getting us immediate access to people that it would take me weeks to see.) We are asking about what sustainability means to people here and how the concept is being played out in the tourism industry. So far, feedback is that there isn’t much concept of sustainability here, although folks are using that term (and eco-tourism) in some marketing contexts. The folks we’ve been talking with are former agency and authority heads, with broad understanding of the industry, and they seem fairly frustrated by Egypt’s inability to take control of its own destiny with respect to tourism. I’m hearing a lot about how awful mass tourism (a.k.a. “garbage tourism”) is for the country, and how mass tourism has brought about a decline in the both quality of tourists and the tourism experience. GATT will open up the market here to direct foreign operation and people are expecting a lot of dislocation – opportunities and dangers, just like the Chinese character for change. It will be very interesting to learn whether this view continues to prevail as our “informal discussions” move to operators and younger people. I also spent a lot of time checking out library resources this week. The delightful Helwan librarians (Mme.s Zenab, Sphab and Iman) provided me with my first picture ID, a thumb-sized pix on my all-in-Arabic library card (membership purchased for E£40). The American University folks are handing out membership cards to Fulbright grantees for free this year, a change from prior practice. Once again. the contrast between Helwan and AUC couldn’t be greater: four floors of stacks, separate banks of computers for printing and research, access to on-line data bases and interlibrary loan, and a restful, shaded courtyard just outside the library door with quiet corners and livelier spaces for student hang-out and student group activities. There’s even a snack bar. But Helwan’s dusty little one room library is made very welcoming by the library ladies, who thoughtfully position the fan breeze my way when I’m sitting at one of the long tables reading and taking notes. On Sunday I’ll pick up my 5th picture ID/3rd library card at the American Embassy. What an experience that visit was! Unlike other embassies I have seen, this one is not topped with concertina wire and marine gunposts. It doesn’t need to be: the entire neighborhood around the embassy is blockaded. For blocks around, every street and alleyway is blocked by heavy metal fences, concrete roadblocks and soldiers with automatic weapons. (These are not traffic cops – these are the serious Mubarak-special variety troops.) No one is allowed in, by car or on foot, unless they have specific business at one of the embassies. It was eerie walking down these silent, traffic-less streets knowing that the cacophony of Midan TaHrir (traffic chaos central) is just blocks away. I found myself wishing I were Canadian when I passed their embassy later in the week: broad, inviting plaza entry and one bored cop on guard at the door. I am not proud to be an American these days. (Library membership fee at the US Embassy is only E£5, but I doubt that many people take advantage of the bargain…) So that’s the news from Nile Valley-land, where the women are strong, the men are beautiful and the children are lively and full of mischief.

Column for the Boulder Daily Camera

I have made arrangements with the Camera to run a monthly column on my experiences here in Egypt. My first submission is below. I'll try to post some more snapshots (words and pictures) to the blog in the next couple of days. Cairo is a city of 17 million people. You see this most clearly in the traffic. Everyone here aspires to own a car, although most (hamdulillah, thanks to God) can’t afford one. Everywhere you go it’s six lanes of traffic crowded into four, cars jammed so densely together in traffic jams that even bicycles can’t get through. Cars are double and triple parked and crammed at odd angles into every available nook, making it difficult for pedestrians to squeeze through. Following local custom, I mostly walk in the streets (fewer obstacles to avoid than on sidewalks) and there is a constant flow of fast little cars, dusty taxis and ramshackle buses brushing by just inches away. Still, the pace of life is so easy-going that it’s fairly easy to ignore the frenetic traffic, even for a not-big-city girl like me. There is no road rage and only occasional outbursts of annoyance, which quickly fade away. People are friendly and courteous, quick to smile and quick to laugh. I offer lots of opportunities for laughter, muddling through my terrible Arabic buying brooms to chase the ubiquitous dust, seeking help getting back into my locked flat (with the key inside), asking for directions. Fortunately, Egyptians talk with their hands a lot so it’s relatively easy to communicate. Back in the States, the most persistent question I heard was “will you be safe there?” Ironically, I am safer in Cairo than in almost any city in the USA. There is virtually no violent crime, very little robbery or theft, not much in the way of pickpocketing. I can walk down the street on my own at any hour of the day or night and feel perfectly safe. And if I should run into a problem – like sprain my ankle in one of those holes that suddenly appear in sidewalks – there are always people around, quick to come to my aid. In MaSr, community is foremost and people are always watching out for one another. This takes some getting used to for Westerners. Everywhere one goes in Egypt there are eyes watching you. Egyptians are endlessly interested in one another’s doings, and the peculiar ways of foreigners are especially intriguing. The hardest eyes to get used to are those of the young men. There are scores of bored post-adolescent boys standing guard in front of embassies, hotels and commercial buildings or half-heartedly directing traffic on street corners. Fueled by fantasy images from Baywatch and MTV, their lustful, slant-wise stares are a constant backdrop to my streetscape wanderings. This is especially troubling for younger women, who provoke rude kissy noises regardless of how “properly” they dress. Being older and tougher skinned, I rarely find myself bothered. Egyptian notions of community are rooted in the values of Islam. Individual morality is a very important part of community: what individuals do reflects negatively or positively on the community of which they are a part. People behaving “inappropriately” will be counseled, chastised, and possibly even shunned. (If those bored men acted on their lustful fantasies, they would run the risk of being barred from their local mosques.) Dress and deportment are important signals of morality, and foreigners who dress and act with respect for Islamic mores gain respect for our own cultures back home. The other frequent question I heard is “don’t they hate Americans?” I have encountered nothing but warm welcome from everyone I’ve met: taxis drivers, shopkeepers, door-minders, passers-by on the street, and from the warm faculty at the College. Of course they all despise George W. – who can blame them – but they are much too polite to raise the topic with me. When I make my own views known, trying to coax out an opinion, folks will open up a little about their anguish and fears. But their feelings are never directed at me as an American. This is a people with a long history of living under tyranny, so they have little difficulty distinguishing between “government” and “people.” Some joke a little about the US taking lessons in governance from Arab states (sad but true), shrug “en sha’allah” (as God wills it), then change the subject. Resignation is a quality deeply engrained – they have 5000 years’ history living closely together under authoritarian regimes. In my opinion, this is Egyptians’ biggest strength and their biggest weakness. People here are intently watching our Presidential campaign, probably more closely than many Americans. Egyptians know that the outcome of our election will affect their everyday lives, a fact that many Americans seem to have forgotten. The Cairo ex-patriot community is engaged in a vigorous get-out-the-vote campaign, with even the Embassy sending emails reminding people of our options to vote from abroad. I’m told that folks who usually vote Republican plan to vote for Kerry this year: from the outside, the choices – and their consequences – are heartbreakingly clear. This week I started talking with people about “sustainability” (the focus of my teaching and curriculum research) asking “what does it mean for Egypt?” We’re still trying to figure out what this means for our culture, and I expect the concept to have a very different meaning in this ancient and “less-developed” country. I’ll write more about this in coming months as my understanding grows. I’ll be here for Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting, reflection and celebration of community, and will share my experiences and impressions of this special time. I’ll try give a little flavor of life in an Islamic country since this is a mysterious (or frightening) culture to many of us. And I’ll try to capture some of the difference in worldviews between Americans and Egyptians through observations about press coverage and conversations with the people I meet. And, like those 17 million other Cairenes, I will try to keep my cool by breathing deeply in the polluted air and taking long strolls along the corniche, catching the evening breeze watching the silent and eternal Nile glide by. Ma es-salaam (may peace go with you).

The view across the Nile to Helwan Faculty of Tourism. 

I know it's midafternoon - and time to draw the curtains against the heat of the day - by the sound of the waterman processing down the street. He carries a samovar by a strap on his neck, vessel and cups arrayed 'round his chest. right hand busy clanking our the waterman song with a pair of cymbals: clackety, clackety, clackety, CRASH! He moves briskly down the street , pausing only to pour water for a bystander or a street-sitter, his music fading as he winds around the corner. Many adventures in the last few days: a hafla fi'l bayt (housewarming) at the flat of Tory and Fayiza, two Fulbright students doing refugee studies who happen to live in the building next door; two visits to the Helwan Faculty of Tourism (about which more later); three visits to the Fulbright office, successfully finding the building each time by taxi, by foot and by car (what a triumph!); and endless wandering round the streets of Zamalek. I actually end up where I intend to go most of the time now. Later this week I visited the bookstore on the American University of Cairo (AUC) campus. AUC is where visiting students usually come to study (several CU students are here this term) and has the best English language bookstores in the City (although Luxor has a bookstore that's even better, right Fran?). What a contrast to the Helwan campus! AUC is irrigated grass and manicured lawns, clusters of comfy chairs grouped in secluded and shady locations, tennis courts and an immaculate physical plant. (No pix 'cuz they don't allow cameras.) Students wear designer pants and fashion jeans with their higabs and baseball caps, reflecting the wealth of their families and/or countries of origin. No wonder there is envy and resentment of the "have mores," to use GW?s quaint and faintly insulting descriptor. I walked back to Zamalek from central Cairo to get a better sense of distances and to avoid the dreadful afternoon traffic. The previous day I spent 20 minutes stuck unmoving in a cab on Qasr al-Aini in the hottest part of the day. It was six lanes of traffic jammed into a space designed for four. Cars were packed together so tightly that a bicycle delivery man trying to get across the street couldn't maneuver his bike between the fenders of the cars. (For those interested, the walking distance from Central Cairo to central Zamalek is about the same as walking from the Table Mesa park?n ride to downtown Boulder. It seems much farther in a cab.) On Tuesday morning I found my way to the Anglican Cathedral on the other side of 26th July Street (a main arterial that divides the island of Gezira in two). I was looking for a thrift shop they once ran (still in search of that can opener) and found a found a courtyard full of Sudanese refugees instead. It is sobering to walk through a doorway and find yourself in the middle of a lead story on the news. There were several hundred men, women and children quietly working or resting in the cathedral complex' spacious grounds. Most were gathered under a cloth pavilion intently watching the evening news on a big screen TV. What is it like to be a refugee, watching those talking heads report that the global community can't find a way to stop the ethnic cleansing in Darfur, knowing that ethnic cleansing is code for death and rape and destruction for the people and places that you love? The folks were soft spoken, infinitely polite and neatly turned out in the sharply-pressed clothing that characterizes Egyptian dress. Instead of thrift shop, the Anglicans are now running a craft store featuring items form their various missions, including Sudan, prisoners and the blind and deaf. Lovely embroidery and fabric work; I came away with two pillow covers and a plush woven rug for the bathroom floor. Tuesday night was dinner with Ahmed, my good friend from our very first trip here, and Ahmed sends his greetings to all.