Those of you who know me well are aware of a certain contradiction that defines my relationship with my country. Part of me is embarrassed by the ignorance demonstrated by so many Americans; ignorance to the world beyond our shores, ignorance to the values upon which our union was formed and the ignorance to elect George W. Bush to two terms in office. The other part of me is obsessed with American politics, and while I see many wrongs in our past, I still see great promise in our future. We rebuilt Europe and Japan, we were among the first to support the independence of Kosovo, and we pioneered the idea of democracy, building the most prosperous nation on Earth. For decades we have inspired those who seek a better life and have become richer for it. "Indeed, every language is spoken in our country; every culture has left its imprint on ours; every point of view is expressed in our public squares." These are not my words, they are those of Barack Obama, and despite eight long years of shame, wrongdoing and deceit, I was able to watch Obama's Berlin speech with pride and hope for the future. On my seventeenth birthday, September 12, 2001, I had never been more proud to be an American, and yet in the years that followed, I have never felt such shame. On July 24 of this year, I was once again reminded of the potential that my country possesses as tears rolled from my eyes at the sight of 200,000 European citizens waving American flags in the streets of Berlin.
John McCain criticized Obama for making such a speech in a foreign country before even winning the office of President; yet as an American living abroad I felt that for the first time a candidate was speaking directly to me. For the first time a candidate was addressing critical issues in front of my fellow ex-patriots. Issues such as globalization, free trade and the transatlantic alliance discussed before a crowd of global citizens as visibly moved by this American's words as I was. Lest we forget that America's ex-patriots are our cultural ambassadors to the rest of the world. They pay taxes to the United States yet do not benefit from its schools or roads. They are not only soldiers on tour in Iraq and Korea, they are aid workers, doctors and diplomats. They are busniessmen and women, the very people who ensure that the global networks that have allowed America to prosper remain open and unobstructed. They are university students, sharing their knowledge, experience and passions with their peers, not only teaching others the virtues of our ideals, but bringing new ideas and understanding back to our shores.
Yes, while I might disagree with Obama's stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and while I might strongly object to his ultimate inability to face corporate interests and vote against retroactive immunity for the telecommunications companies, the Berlin speech reminded me that this election is far bigger than any single issue. It is a chance to show that crowd in Germany that we as Americans have not strayed so far from our moral compass. It is an opportunity to remind the planet that America understands its responsibility and commitment to freedom and plurality as more than mere words. Electing Barack Obama is but a first step, and we must not rest on our laurels. We must demand answers for failures to keep promises and explanations for inconsistent policy decisions. We must hold our leaders to account and not merely assume that they have our best interests at heart. That said, the necessary first step to changing course is electing the leader with the greatest chance of affecting positive change, and I believe that leader is Barack Obama.
We are all citizens of the world and any America who says otherwise fundamentally misunderstands both history and our role in it. Without European progressiveness, we are without a benchmark for morality. Without Middle Eastern hospitality, we would lose our compassion. Without Asian innovation and entrepreneurship we would never have achieved greatness. Without Latin American passion, we would be without a soul, and without African perseverance, we might have stopped struggling for what is right long ago. We are citizens of the globe because those within our borders represent the world beyond our shores.
For the first time in seven years I walked through the streets of a foreign country with my head held high. I have hope for change, hope for a better future, hope that we can right the wrongs of our past before it is too late. In Barack Obama I see not merely a president, but the charismatic leader we so desperately require to unite our allies and breathe new hope into America's true mission of seeing the dream of authentic freedom and individual liberty spread to the far corners of our planet. I'm voting for Barack Obama in November, are you?
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
Monday, 21 July 2008
Siwa!
As you now know by my last posting, I spent the past four days in the spectacular Siwa Oasis in Egypt’s western desert. From Cairo there are only two ways to reach Siwa. The first follows a slightly shorter route but involves traversing the remote desert for nearly six hours, often leaving single vehicles vulnerable to highway banditry. The second path, and our chosen route, takes closer to eight hours and follows the Alex Desert Road north to the coast and then traverses the North Coast to Matrouh before a 300 kilometer shot south to Siwa. I for one believe that one cannot truly appreciate the splendor of the oasis until they have driven 300 kms straight through the unrelenting heat and monotony of the desert that surrounds it.
Our home for the three night trip was the spectacular Taziry ecolodge. The hotel actually opens in October so we were the first and only guests, which means that while there was still construction going on (the entire place is being built by hand from materials from the earth) we received personal service from our home-cooked meals to fresh towels by the spring. All this for a special rate – $85 a night – thanks to Ahmed’s special connections. Our first afternoon we received a personalized tour of the grounds, including the fields where all the hotel’s food was produced. Fatihiy, our host, even plucked fresh cucumbers and melons for us right out of the ground. That night our dinner was surprisingly pedestrian, consisting of fried chicken cutlets and fries, though at least the salad was fresh from the garden. Following our meal, which, like breakfast and lunch was served at our request, Fatihiy met us in town and showed us around the Shali, a 100-year old earthen structure built to fortify the people against invading armies. After that we enjoyed a short stroll and a glass of fresh-squeezed juice at a local shop. Most surprising of all, we were not permitted to pay by either the shopkeeper or Fatihiy, leading us to wonder if we were actually still in Egypt.
Siwa is a uniquely isolated town which has seen thousands of years of history, yet it has maintained its own, distinct heritage. While everyone speaks Arabic, which they begin studying at age 10, their native tongue is of Berber origins. Interestingly, Siwa is probably the only place in the Middle East that actually practices gay marriage (in fact Ahmed was convinced that we saw a gay couple farming their plot of land together later in the trip). Surely many traditional practices have been adapted to Islamic morality and thus homosexuality and drinking have become less visible in the local culture but persist nonetheless.
Our second day we ate an early breakfast of fig jam, honey, bread and vegetables before setting off once again for town. We spent the morning touring the sites, including ‘Death Mountain’ which is an Egyptian burial site from the New Kingdom. Up until about two years ago some of the mummies were actually still inside the chambers, however, they have since been moved to a local museum. Still, the mountain has some spectacular paintings and sweeping views over the palm tree forest (which purportedly contains some 1 million trees). Next we drove to the oracle where Alexander the Great was told he would rule the world. It was truly amazing to stand in the same place as this legendary warrior. We then took a break from the heat at Cleopatra’s Baths where the great beauty used to bathe herself in the cool waters of the desert springs. This was by far the largest spring we saw and must have been some 20 feet deep. It was a deep aqua blue and was full of screaming local children taking advantage of their independence to cool off for the day. Ahmed and I of course remembered our suits (nice skimpy ones of course) and plunged into the water. It was wonderful. Feeling refreshed we made a final stop at the temple of Amon (nothing terribly exciting compared to Egypt’s other ruins) before heading back to the Taziry for lunch and a swim in the hotel’s natural spring. That evening, after a nice nap, we had a delicious dinner of more local cuisine which was absolutely delidious. I won’t go into details, but each subsequent meal was of local Egyptian dishes that were nothing short of gourmet quality. My favorite (other than the kofta of course) was the fatih, which is a baked dish of bread on the bottom, then rice and tomatoes on top with meat. There is something like cinnamon in the bread which is faint but lends a sweet flavor to the rice and bread – delicious. I should also mention that I tasted the best cantaloupe of my entire life and despite the fact that each meal was massive; I managed to consume nearly everything placed in front of me.
Back to the sites, we woke up early the following morning, 4 AM to be exact, to watch the sunrise over the salt lake on which our hotel was situated. It was beautiful, but we opted to head back to bed for another 4 hours afterwards. We then spent the day wandering town, visiting other springs and then chatting for a bit with a local tour guide about a desert safari (no there are no animals, but it should be noted that safari is indeed an Arabic word). We ultimately ended up choosing someone else, as this guy was trying to royally rip us off, but we did learn quite a bit about Siwa, including the fact that it is nominally autonomous from the Egyptian government, permitted to make many local decisions as much of the population is actually of Libyan descent. After dinner at the hotel, we returned to town to take our four-hour desert tour, which was nothing short of exhilarating. We were grouped with three Korean girls who were really sweet and a lot of fun. We started by traversing the dunes that lay just beyond the town. The fields and buildings literally melt into the ‘Great Sand Sea’ as if being slowly consumed by glacially slow-moving waves. Some of the dunes must have been 70 feet tall or more and our driver found it entertaining to hear us scream as he drove to the top, allowing the 4x4 to tip over the edge, sometimes at as much as an 80 degree angle, before racing down the face of the dune.
Our first stop was a spring literally in the middle of the desert. We swam for about 45 minutes while the guide prepared mint tea over a small fire. After a brief nap, which we needed after trying to climb a dune for better views of the mini-oasis, we headed off to the next spring, this one of sulphur. I opted not to swim as the thought of 100 degree water in 110 degree heat just wasn’t appealing. Our penultimate stop was, without a doubt, the most beautiful. After traversing a truly horrifying dune where I swear we nearly rolled the car, we came to a stop in what was once the sea bed of the Sahara desert. Today it is the sun-bleached fossilized remains of coral reefs, sea shells and tiny sea creatures. Surrounded by dunes it was awe-inspiringly untouched by mankind as far as the eye could see. Finally, after a brief stop to cool down the overheated engine (the result of a race with another truck) and yet more tea, we ended our tour atop a dune to watch the setting sun, which was a gorgeous orange color thanks to the sand particles on the horizon.
Our final evening Ahmed and I followed dinner with a swim then sat beneath the desert stars and enjoyed the serenity of our secluded lodge. What was amazing about the Taziry was that it was completely without electricity, so every night like clockwork the staff lit dozens of candles, torches and lamps around the property, providing the only light. Fortunately the desert moon is bright enough to allow the naked eye rather clear vision and the experience is nothing short of spiritual. I pretended that we were back in ancient Egypt, surrounded by hand-made edifices, natural springs and the starry sky.
Our last morning we had a nice breakfast then picked up the Korean girls from our tour to take them back to Matrouh. Ahmed decided to offer them a ride after becoming friendly during the tour. They had told us a harrowing tale of how their bus had broken down on the highway in the middle of the desert between Matrouh and Siwa, how could we let them chance another such voyage? It was a pleasant ride and in Matrouh we all enjoyed a nice lunch by the sea before parting ways – though not before exchanging facebook details of course.
All in all I must recommend this trip to anyone who visits Egypt. They are currently building an airport in Siwa which will facilitate access, though in so doing I fear alter its isolated charm. From the springs to the history to the sand, I have never seen anyplace like this in my life. It is spiritual, beautiful, pacifying and certainly worth a second visit, and probably a third and a fourth…Anyone can go to the beach, and while there are some amazing beaches out there, how many people get to enjoy cool natural springs, palm trees and a sea of sand in the same day, in the virtual middle of nowhere in the Sahara desert? Go to Siwa, go to Siwa go to Siwa.
It seems with each visit Egypt presents yet another awe-inspiring piece of its wealth of beauty and culture. This is absolutely one of the world's greatest travel destinations and I am more than happy to serve as anyone's guide.
(That's me in the most recent photo, courtesy of our new Korean friends!)
Of Car Crashes and Extortion, an Alexandrian Tale
I have a great deal to cover this week on the blog, namely Ahmed and my trip to Siwa, but first, a quick run down of the last 24 hours. Breaking up the eight-hour drive from Siwa to Cairo, Ahmed and I decided to stop in Alexandria for the night to crash with his friend Deki from AUC. Deki and his two other friends prepared a delicious meal replete with homemade hommos. After gluttonously consuming more than our fair share, Ahmed and I got dressed and headed out into Alex with the others to check out the city’s gay nightlife. Believe it or not, Alexandria hosts Egypt’s only openly gay bar, Sheikh Ali. We arrived at the bar to find it fairly quiet, so we grabbed a table and ordered some beers. The setting was really interesting, there was a clear cowboy-meets-sailor motif and about a dozen openly-gay Egyptian men. There were also some tourists who appeared to have no clue they were patronizing Egypt’s only gay establishment.
After about thirty minutes of idle gossip, things began to get interesting and my most bizarre night in Egypt to date (believe it or not) commenced. All of a sudden I was being challenged to an arm-wrestling contest with a fifty-year old bartender who was apparently impressed with my arms. I was flattered, but in no mood to make a scene. However, with much prodding from my friends, I acquiesced to the challenge. After duelling with both right and left arms neither of us came out a winner, an outcome with which I was perfectly satisfied. Then, a man twice the bartender’s size, the owner as I later discovered, decided that it was his turn to take me on. I was sore and rather drunk and in no mood, but yet, I was once again cajoled into participating. This time I won a decisive victory to cheers from the clientele (of which there are apparently quite a few regulars).
Following my awkward initiation into Alex’s gay social network, I found some fellow foreigners who had actually knowing chosen this bar having heard that it was gay. As it turned out, these two girls, Elizabeth and Ruth (a stunningly beautiful bisexual girl from Portugal who was sorely disappointed to find no women) were in town for a Wikipedia conference. Even better, their boss, and the founder of Wikipedia, was at the bar (I feel it my duty here to state that I have no idea whether this individual is a homosexual, and have no evidence to suggest that this is the case). I approached the guy and asked him to make out a personal note to his most devoted user, my dear Kavitha Bondhada, who is currently trying to control rowdy children in a Teach for America program on the Texas-Mexican border. The note reads, ‘Dear Kavitha, I hope you survive Texas! I hope to see you on Telegu or French Wikipedia! Jimmy Wales.’ How awesome is that?
After an all-around great evening we piled into the car to head home. About 5 minutes from the bar, however, we crashed into another car crossing an intersection. Based on the impact, the accident was probably both our faults, and while Ahmed had the good sense to suggest driving away, the others preffered to pay the guy a small fee and settle it on the spot. The small fee turned into 7,000 L.E. ($1, 400) and 8 hours of hellish argument, harassment and frustration from the time of the crash at 3:30 AM until 11:30 the following morning. No sleep, no food, no toilet. Poor Ahmed had it the worst, spending the first three hours at a police station signing an agreement to pay the money. After what was apparently quite the harrowing experience, we moved the car to the shop of the local mechanic who had conveniently showed up on the scene shortly after impact. We were sceptical, but the car needed to be fixed before it could be driven and the house was a forty-minute trip out of town. After getting baked for about an hour and a half, the mechanic and his cohorts eventually began putting the car together, which took from about 6:30 until 11:30. After it was finally repaired (and best of all the little shit who hit us milled about laughing and chatting up the mechanic the entire time) they tried to up the price for the repair from 150 L.E. to 800 L.E. We had had enough and refused to pay. It was clear that this was all an elaborate setup. The driver, mechanic, cops and mediators had all been working together to get our money. At this point they had an official agreement for the initial 7,000 but we were not giving them the satisfaction of this last little bit. Ultimately Deki and his two friends paid an additional 150 and we got the hell out of there. It was truly a nightmare.
My next posting will pick up with Siwa, our spectacular trip to the desert oasis that preceded this debacle. I must say, despite the mess at the end, Ahmed and I still agreed that Siwa was an amazing week.
After about thirty minutes of idle gossip, things began to get interesting and my most bizarre night in Egypt to date (believe it or not) commenced. All of a sudden I was being challenged to an arm-wrestling contest with a fifty-year old bartender who was apparently impressed with my arms. I was flattered, but in no mood to make a scene. However, with much prodding from my friends, I acquiesced to the challenge. After duelling with both right and left arms neither of us came out a winner, an outcome with which I was perfectly satisfied. Then, a man twice the bartender’s size, the owner as I later discovered, decided that it was his turn to take me on. I was sore and rather drunk and in no mood, but yet, I was once again cajoled into participating. This time I won a decisive victory to cheers from the clientele (of which there are apparently quite a few regulars).
Following my awkward initiation into Alex’s gay social network, I found some fellow foreigners who had actually knowing chosen this bar having heard that it was gay. As it turned out, these two girls, Elizabeth and Ruth (a stunningly beautiful bisexual girl from Portugal who was sorely disappointed to find no women) were in town for a Wikipedia conference. Even better, their boss, and the founder of Wikipedia, was at the bar (I feel it my duty here to state that I have no idea whether this individual is a homosexual, and have no evidence to suggest that this is the case). I approached the guy and asked him to make out a personal note to his most devoted user, my dear Kavitha Bondhada, who is currently trying to control rowdy children in a Teach for America program on the Texas-Mexican border. The note reads, ‘Dear Kavitha, I hope you survive Texas! I hope to see you on Telegu or French Wikipedia! Jimmy Wales.’ How awesome is that?
After an all-around great evening we piled into the car to head home. About 5 minutes from the bar, however, we crashed into another car crossing an intersection. Based on the impact, the accident was probably both our faults, and while Ahmed had the good sense to suggest driving away, the others preffered to pay the guy a small fee and settle it on the spot. The small fee turned into 7,000 L.E. ($1, 400) and 8 hours of hellish argument, harassment and frustration from the time of the crash at 3:30 AM until 11:30 the following morning. No sleep, no food, no toilet. Poor Ahmed had it the worst, spending the first three hours at a police station signing an agreement to pay the money. After what was apparently quite the harrowing experience, we moved the car to the shop of the local mechanic who had conveniently showed up on the scene shortly after impact. We were sceptical, but the car needed to be fixed before it could be driven and the house was a forty-minute trip out of town. After getting baked for about an hour and a half, the mechanic and his cohorts eventually began putting the car together, which took from about 6:30 until 11:30. After it was finally repaired (and best of all the little shit who hit us milled about laughing and chatting up the mechanic the entire time) they tried to up the price for the repair from 150 L.E. to 800 L.E. We had had enough and refused to pay. It was clear that this was all an elaborate setup. The driver, mechanic, cops and mediators had all been working together to get our money. At this point they had an official agreement for the initial 7,000 but we were not giving them the satisfaction of this last little bit. Ultimately Deki and his two friends paid an additional 150 and we got the hell out of there. It was truly a nightmare.
My next posting will pick up with Siwa, our spectacular trip to the desert oasis that preceded this debacle. I must say, despite the mess at the end, Ahmed and I still agreed that Siwa was an amazing week.
Sunday, 13 July 2008
Cairo Calling!
I believe that a status update is in order, especially given that following this week’s upcoming trip to Siwa I’m sure I will have a great deal to share. I haven’t really been up to too terribly much lately, most of my days are spent at a local café or coffee shop researching and writing my dissertation. On that front, I have made some serious progress, however. Having completed my preliminary research and fleshed out my outline with about 20 pages of quotations, I finally began writing. To date I am actually a little over one-third of the way finished with my rough draft. The highlight of recent days, of course, was my interview with Andrew Natsios. A visiting scholar at Georgetown, I used my alumni status to secure an interview with Professor Natsios, who also happens to have been the Administrator of USAID under George W. Bush and is currently serving as America’s chief envoy to Darfur. Professor Natsios was incredibly gracious and gave me his personal cell phone number. We ended up discussing my dissertation over the phone for a solid forty minutes, and while he was not ultimately in agreement with my thesis, his perspective proved incredibly helpful in fine-tuning my argument.
As for my social life, it has been defined by a nice balance between study and play. One of my primary motivations for coming to Cairo was the fact that I only have a handful of friends here, which guaranteed that the prospect of boredom would compel me to work on my dissertation. So far, my reasoning has proven accurate, as I have spent the bulk of my days writing. That said, I have some very good friends here and have really enjoyed catching up with them in the evenings. A few days ago I joined my friend Niv at the Hyatt’s rooftop pool to soak up the sun. Niv was one of my Birthright group leaders and is actually in Cairo working on his Arabic for his proficiency exam back at SAIS. The view from the roof of the hotel is actually spectacular, looking out over Zamalek, Giza and a perfect panorama of the Nile. Sadly, the pool area has gone dry, but I was still able to satiate myself with a nice glass of fresh-squeezed guava juice. I have yet to go anywhere else in the world that has such an ample and inexpensive supply of fantastically fresh-squeezed juiced from guava to strawberry, orange to mango. There is actually a ‘juice man’ near my flat that sells large bottles of freshly squeezed juice (1.5 liters) for about 17 L.E. or just around $3 USD. He is, needless to say, quite the asset.
In addition, I have spent a lot of time with Liam, who, having professed to enjoying my last few postings, I feel, deserves a shout out. Liam and I attended Georgetown together, though he was a few years ahead of me. Since graduating in 2005, Liam has spent the last 3 years living and working in Cairo as a journalist. He is currently doing freelance, writing a number of articles for the Christian Science Monitor. He also recently completed a piece for the Economist Intelligence Unit. Liam is one of the most knowledgeable people I know on anything Egyptian. He speaks the language very well and knows an impressive amount of information based on his various articles. He is currently working on a piece that addresses the current status of farming in Egypt. In this vein he took me to a party in Dokki, located on the west bank of the Nile, to a party being hosted by a relatively new arrival to Cairo, Becky. Becky works in agricultural development and as such the conversation at this intimate gathering revolved primarily around this topic. I must say, I learned a staggering amount about the incredible price of land and property in Egypt. Bad news for investors, the American bubble is headed for the Middle East big time. Mortgages are a relatively new phenomenon here in Egypt, and as such people haven’t quite wrapped their minds around the potential pitfalls to purchasing a $5 million home on the north coast with a sizeable mortgage. Add to this the fact that the farming industry appears to be in serious trouble as heightened competition threatens the country’s market share, and we are heading for a crisis. Somewhat unrelated, though equally interesting, I learned that apparently the Gulfies are snatching up land in Africa wherever they can find it, and, interestingly enough, they have their sights set on the northern regions of the Sudan. Apparently nobody has sent them a copy of the Economist in recent years, but in their perpetual quest to ensure their survival, Qataris, Saudis and Emirates alike are in a scramble for land in one of Africa’s most unstable polities. The way economics, politics and society work in this part of the world seem to be an elusive mystery to the West, either that or we just don’t care, but with China equally interested in Africa (in Becky’s words, ‘they’re taking over the world in case you hadn’t noticed’) its about time we break free of our self-centred little world and join the international community.
Anyway, Becky was a very interesting woman, who shared with us the story of how she has ended up in Cairo, a story that frightened me as much by how intriguing I found it as by how downright dangerous it was to her own wellbeing. Having volunteered for the Peace Corps in Tanzania, Becky’s first job sent her to Charles Taylor’s Liberia. Describing the daily trip she made from a small suburb to Monrovia, passing through 30-odd checkpoints patrolled by armed child soldiers, I was mesmerized. Granted, the romanticism of working in a war zone is clearly exaggerated, especially when you’re n the ground living it, and Becky quit her job after a year, but still, part of the cowboy in me thinks it would be fascinating. Despite her having left the posting, she did admit to having learned a great deal from her experience. After some time in DC she returned to Tanzania and then to Uganda, her last posting prior to Cairo. One of the things that truly compels me to pursue a job in this field is the passion with which aid and development workers speak about their experiences. To see someone’s eye’s tear up as they reminisce about helping local families to regain their independence and self-sufficiency makes we want to ditch London and move to Africa all the more. In time, in time.
Back to a very different reality, I spent last night at my friend Mohamed’s home in 6th of October City. This is an odd place, built far outside the city, it abuts to the desert and is an iconic example of the satellite cities that represent affluent Egyptian flight from Cairo. As the government follows suit, moving important ministries to these bizarre, artificial towns, I can’t help but wonder what is the future of the Mother of the World? Have the Egyptian elites completely given up on Cairo? This is another topic that Liam is very interested in tackling for an upcoming article (and the beauty of freelancing is that he has this freedom). The evening was very low key, but I feel that I must describe how absolutely absurd it was nonetheless. I preface this by saying that Mohamed is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, we met at LSE where he is working on a masters and then a PhD in social anthropology. Anyhow, at 11:00 he sent his driver to meet Liam and I at the Sofitel in Zamalek to drive us back to his house, a trip that with traffic can take anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours, without traffic, it’s a 20 minute straight shot to the Nile. The trip follows a single elevated road over lush delta farmland, billboards along the side hint at the changing demographics as you leave the city. Advertisements for Mercedes and new private villas in developments like “Beverly Hills” and “October Hills” connote an almost escapist mentality, as Liam sees it. To get to Mohamed’s house we passed through one set of gates, leaving the desert road for a lush development that could easily have been in Southern California or South Florida. The second set of gates with a private gatehouse and guards opened to Mohamed’s private home. The house directly in front of us as we entered was the guesthouse, though it was 3 bedrooms and larger than your average middle class suburban American abode. To the right was the main house, with a large portico and the obligatory BMWs parked out front. We were ushered inside by young girls clad in simple frocks and guided through the main reception area – which basically could have been a wing of Versailles—to the back veranda, which had a seating area large enough to comfortable hold thirty people. There was a large pool to the right and a sizeable pool house to the left with a full outdoor kitchen and a 20-foot serving counter. After that (next to the kennel containing about 6 barking guard dogs) was the air-conditioned, self-contained gazebo where we spent the night chatting until about 4:30 in the morning. At some point we were asked if we wanted anything to eat and we agreed that would be nice. About 30 minutes later two girls came out with, count them, 2 full-length tables, one after the others, with a buffet to feed 20 people. This was at 3 AM. Apparently they sleep in shifts so that someone is always on call. When Liam asked Mohamed how many people worked for them, he actually didn’t know. As Liam later commented, this is how the Pasha’s used to live in pre-Revolutionary Egypt. It was nothing short of insanity. At the end of the night when we got tired, we simply called the driver and he took us both home to our respective apartments in town. Now that’s what I call service.
So that is my past week here in Cairo. I am getting to see more and more of how different people live, exploring other bits of the city and learning quite a bit about the current issues in Egyptian politics, economics and society. I must say, I love this city and this country as much as ever, I implore you all to come visit whenever you have an opportunity, just call me and I’ll be happy to serve as your guide! More to come after Siwa!
As for my social life, it has been defined by a nice balance between study and play. One of my primary motivations for coming to Cairo was the fact that I only have a handful of friends here, which guaranteed that the prospect of boredom would compel me to work on my dissertation. So far, my reasoning has proven accurate, as I have spent the bulk of my days writing. That said, I have some very good friends here and have really enjoyed catching up with them in the evenings. A few days ago I joined my friend Niv at the Hyatt’s rooftop pool to soak up the sun. Niv was one of my Birthright group leaders and is actually in Cairo working on his Arabic for his proficiency exam back at SAIS. The view from the roof of the hotel is actually spectacular, looking out over Zamalek, Giza and a perfect panorama of the Nile. Sadly, the pool area has gone dry, but I was still able to satiate myself with a nice glass of fresh-squeezed guava juice. I have yet to go anywhere else in the world that has such an ample and inexpensive supply of fantastically fresh-squeezed juiced from guava to strawberry, orange to mango. There is actually a ‘juice man’ near my flat that sells large bottles of freshly squeezed juice (1.5 liters) for about 17 L.E. or just around $3 USD. He is, needless to say, quite the asset.
In addition, I have spent a lot of time with Liam, who, having professed to enjoying my last few postings, I feel, deserves a shout out. Liam and I attended Georgetown together, though he was a few years ahead of me. Since graduating in 2005, Liam has spent the last 3 years living and working in Cairo as a journalist. He is currently doing freelance, writing a number of articles for the Christian Science Monitor. He also recently completed a piece for the Economist Intelligence Unit. Liam is one of the most knowledgeable people I know on anything Egyptian. He speaks the language very well and knows an impressive amount of information based on his various articles. He is currently working on a piece that addresses the current status of farming in Egypt. In this vein he took me to a party in Dokki, located on the west bank of the Nile, to a party being hosted by a relatively new arrival to Cairo, Becky. Becky works in agricultural development and as such the conversation at this intimate gathering revolved primarily around this topic. I must say, I learned a staggering amount about the incredible price of land and property in Egypt. Bad news for investors, the American bubble is headed for the Middle East big time. Mortgages are a relatively new phenomenon here in Egypt, and as such people haven’t quite wrapped their minds around the potential pitfalls to purchasing a $5 million home on the north coast with a sizeable mortgage. Add to this the fact that the farming industry appears to be in serious trouble as heightened competition threatens the country’s market share, and we are heading for a crisis. Somewhat unrelated, though equally interesting, I learned that apparently the Gulfies are snatching up land in Africa wherever they can find it, and, interestingly enough, they have their sights set on the northern regions of the Sudan. Apparently nobody has sent them a copy of the Economist in recent years, but in their perpetual quest to ensure their survival, Qataris, Saudis and Emirates alike are in a scramble for land in one of Africa’s most unstable polities. The way economics, politics and society work in this part of the world seem to be an elusive mystery to the West, either that or we just don’t care, but with China equally interested in Africa (in Becky’s words, ‘they’re taking over the world in case you hadn’t noticed’) its about time we break free of our self-centred little world and join the international community.
Anyway, Becky was a very interesting woman, who shared with us the story of how she has ended up in Cairo, a story that frightened me as much by how intriguing I found it as by how downright dangerous it was to her own wellbeing. Having volunteered for the Peace Corps in Tanzania, Becky’s first job sent her to Charles Taylor’s Liberia. Describing the daily trip she made from a small suburb to Monrovia, passing through 30-odd checkpoints patrolled by armed child soldiers, I was mesmerized. Granted, the romanticism of working in a war zone is clearly exaggerated, especially when you’re n the ground living it, and Becky quit her job after a year, but still, part of the cowboy in me thinks it would be fascinating. Despite her having left the posting, she did admit to having learned a great deal from her experience. After some time in DC she returned to Tanzania and then to Uganda, her last posting prior to Cairo. One of the things that truly compels me to pursue a job in this field is the passion with which aid and development workers speak about their experiences. To see someone’s eye’s tear up as they reminisce about helping local families to regain their independence and self-sufficiency makes we want to ditch London and move to Africa all the more. In time, in time.
Back to a very different reality, I spent last night at my friend Mohamed’s home in 6th of October City. This is an odd place, built far outside the city, it abuts to the desert and is an iconic example of the satellite cities that represent affluent Egyptian flight from Cairo. As the government follows suit, moving important ministries to these bizarre, artificial towns, I can’t help but wonder what is the future of the Mother of the World? Have the Egyptian elites completely given up on Cairo? This is another topic that Liam is very interested in tackling for an upcoming article (and the beauty of freelancing is that he has this freedom). The evening was very low key, but I feel that I must describe how absolutely absurd it was nonetheless. I preface this by saying that Mohamed is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, we met at LSE where he is working on a masters and then a PhD in social anthropology. Anyhow, at 11:00 he sent his driver to meet Liam and I at the Sofitel in Zamalek to drive us back to his house, a trip that with traffic can take anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours, without traffic, it’s a 20 minute straight shot to the Nile. The trip follows a single elevated road over lush delta farmland, billboards along the side hint at the changing demographics as you leave the city. Advertisements for Mercedes and new private villas in developments like “Beverly Hills” and “October Hills” connote an almost escapist mentality, as Liam sees it. To get to Mohamed’s house we passed through one set of gates, leaving the desert road for a lush development that could easily have been in Southern California or South Florida. The second set of gates with a private gatehouse and guards opened to Mohamed’s private home. The house directly in front of us as we entered was the guesthouse, though it was 3 bedrooms and larger than your average middle class suburban American abode. To the right was the main house, with a large portico and the obligatory BMWs parked out front. We were ushered inside by young girls clad in simple frocks and guided through the main reception area – which basically could have been a wing of Versailles—to the back veranda, which had a seating area large enough to comfortable hold thirty people. There was a large pool to the right and a sizeable pool house to the left with a full outdoor kitchen and a 20-foot serving counter. After that (next to the kennel containing about 6 barking guard dogs) was the air-conditioned, self-contained gazebo where we spent the night chatting until about 4:30 in the morning. At some point we were asked if we wanted anything to eat and we agreed that would be nice. About 30 minutes later two girls came out with, count them, 2 full-length tables, one after the others, with a buffet to feed 20 people. This was at 3 AM. Apparently they sleep in shifts so that someone is always on call. When Liam asked Mohamed how many people worked for them, he actually didn’t know. As Liam later commented, this is how the Pasha’s used to live in pre-Revolutionary Egypt. It was nothing short of insanity. At the end of the night when we got tired, we simply called the driver and he took us both home to our respective apartments in town. Now that’s what I call service.
So that is my past week here in Cairo. I am getting to see more and more of how different people live, exploring other bits of the city and learning quite a bit about the current issues in Egyptian politics, economics and society. I must say, I love this city and this country as much as ever, I implore you all to come visit whenever you have an opportunity, just call me and I’ll be happy to serve as your guide! More to come after Siwa!
Saturday, 5 July 2008
Does Anyone Actually Read this Blog?
I must admit that I thought of this title prior to reading my very first comment from my good friend Emanuele. While I know that there are a few of you out there who do care to keep up with the goings on in my life, I feel that I should explain that this is a two-way street. While I write to keep you up-to-date with my life, I expect a little recognition, I want to know what everyone else is doing, so follow Emanuele's example and post a reply or two!
But I digress...I have finally settled in and it feels like I never left. I have a nice two bedroom flat in Zamalek that I share with Ahmed, though he says he will probably be there about half the time. It's fabulously tacky in the spirit of all rentals in this city, but thats what makes it so much fun. I have also joined the gym across the street, which is wonderfully empty and open until midnight.
Coming from London I must say it is a breath of fresh air to be able to stay out at a cafe or bar until 5 or 6 in the morning. Last night is a case in point. I went to the 4th of July party, hosted by the American Embassy at the British International School - I hope the irony wasn't lost on the organizers. The party is always a good time, I recall attending three years ago when it was at the Cairo American College. This time, however, there was a beer garden - hosted by the Marines. As if the choice of location wasn't laughable enough, they were serving Coronas imported from Israel, replete with Hebrew script on the back of the bottles. Perhaps the funniest part of the evening, however, was the several dozen Egyptians who were crowding the windows of an adjacent building overlooking the school, watching the goings-on as if we were a Hollywood film, ahhh Egypt.
The party ended at 9 and after some aimless wandering through Maadi - which is way off the beaten path in the far southern reaches of the city - we finally caught a cab to the 'after party' at Club 55, which was more of a casual gathering of shisha and coffee that lasted until about 1 AM. We stayed another two hours enjoying the cool Cairo night. As I'm sure I've mentioned countless times, this is truly the city that never sleeps, you will find people out wandering the streets literally all night - though finding a cab at those hours is not necessarily so simple, especially in Maadi as we learned the hard way. After Club 55, we decided to go for a walk around Maadi. The neighborhood is very popular with Western expats and contains lush greenery and large single family homes. We popped into the local branch of Beano's after grabbing some kunefah (a wonderfully sweet Egyptian desert) and had a deep discussion of the state of American and global politics until about 4:30. How appropriate for our independence day. We ended the evening with some fantastic YouTube videos - one of which I have posted in my links - before calling it a night just as the sun was rising.
More to come soon, including a brief excerpt from the rough draft of my dissertation, until then, I am headed to finalize the contract for my flat and then grab drinks at Buddha Bar where the Cairo Martini is apparently to die for. Yes, living in Egypt after the UK can feel incredibly glamorous at times, mainly because I can afford to eat.
But I digress...I have finally settled in and it feels like I never left. I have a nice two bedroom flat in Zamalek that I share with Ahmed, though he says he will probably be there about half the time. It's fabulously tacky in the spirit of all rentals in this city, but thats what makes it so much fun. I have also joined the gym across the street, which is wonderfully empty and open until midnight.
Coming from London I must say it is a breath of fresh air to be able to stay out at a cafe or bar until 5 or 6 in the morning. Last night is a case in point. I went to the 4th of July party, hosted by the American Embassy at the British International School - I hope the irony wasn't lost on the organizers. The party is always a good time, I recall attending three years ago when it was at the Cairo American College. This time, however, there was a beer garden - hosted by the Marines. As if the choice of location wasn't laughable enough, they were serving Coronas imported from Israel, replete with Hebrew script on the back of the bottles. Perhaps the funniest part of the evening, however, was the several dozen Egyptians who were crowding the windows of an adjacent building overlooking the school, watching the goings-on as if we were a Hollywood film, ahhh Egypt.
The party ended at 9 and after some aimless wandering through Maadi - which is way off the beaten path in the far southern reaches of the city - we finally caught a cab to the 'after party' at Club 55, which was more of a casual gathering of shisha and coffee that lasted until about 1 AM. We stayed another two hours enjoying the cool Cairo night. As I'm sure I've mentioned countless times, this is truly the city that never sleeps, you will find people out wandering the streets literally all night - though finding a cab at those hours is not necessarily so simple, especially in Maadi as we learned the hard way. After Club 55, we decided to go for a walk around Maadi. The neighborhood is very popular with Western expats and contains lush greenery and large single family homes. We popped into the local branch of Beano's after grabbing some kunefah (a wonderfully sweet Egyptian desert) and had a deep discussion of the state of American and global politics until about 4:30. How appropriate for our independence day. We ended the evening with some fantastic YouTube videos - one of which I have posted in my links - before calling it a night just as the sun was rising.
More to come soon, including a brief excerpt from the rough draft of my dissertation, until then, I am headed to finalize the contract for my flat and then grab drinks at Buddha Bar where the Cairo Martini is apparently to die for. Yes, living in Egypt after the UK can feel incredibly glamorous at times, mainly because I can afford to eat.
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
The City Victorious
Yes, I've stolen the title of this posting from someone else, but how many great works of literature borrow their inspiration from past masters? While my choice of wording connotes a literary theme, it is also a rough translation of my current home - Al-Qahira. That's right, after more than a year away from my beloved Cairo I have returned to spend the month of July, researching for my dissertation - and I could not be more ecstatic to be back. As we reached the final hour of our flight from London to Cairo I found it difficult to concentrate, instead I anxiously craned my neck for a glimpse of the North African coastline to appear out of the endless blue of the Mediterranean.
Leaving London was bittersweet. The weather has been surprisingly warm the past few days and as my readers are well aware, I am infatuated with all that the city has to offer, from the mundane to the exceptional. That said, much like Cairo, London isn't going anywhere. As I have decided to apply only to jobs in the United Kingdom, my return to England is all but certain - though frustratingly lacking a confirmed date.
Back to Africa...seeing the brown, dusty Egyptian coast cut the monotony of the sea never fails to elicit a swell of anticipation deep inside of me. It is a mix of excitement and of anxiety of the unpredictability of certain, imminent adventures. The closest example I can provide is that sensation one has when returning home from an extended stay abroad. Indeed, the only place the gets me as much as the sight of that coastline is the simple beauty of the Washington Monument poking out from behind the trees as I cruise down the GW Parkway - the Monument and Georgetown's majestic gothic spires, of course.
But I digress...we touched down in Cairo around 4:30 PM, a bit behind schedule, but this is Egypt, I would worry if anything was too efficient (though the delay was admittedly on BMI's end back in London). Here I must share a brief anecdote. After securing my visa and explaining the purpose of my stay in Egypt, I attempted to change a $100 bill that mom had slipped me at the airport back in April. As ultimate proof of the fall of the almighty dollar, not a single bank at the airport would touch my money. They said that they didn't change $100 bills there, and that I would have to go downtown. Not even the duty free liquor store would accept my $100 bill as payment. Granted, they both would have changed or accepted smaller denominations, but there was a day not so long ago when one could travel to any country in the world, wave $100 bill and draw instant attention. Now you cannot so much as convert it at an airport bank, thank you George W. Bush.
That minor inconvenience aside - and its rather comical because I had similar difficulties changing the money in the UK - I arrived in Zamalek where I checked in to a small, inexpensive hotel, took a breather, and braved the heat in search of a sim card. I walked west down 26th of July Street, crossing the Nile and entering Mohandisseen. I continued along the road until I finally found what I was searching for, Vodafone. It really is astounding that Cairo can be simultaneously in a constant state of flux, and yet ever-reliable. I sit here now at Tabasco, the neighborhood cafe where I often had dinner with friends some three years ago when I spent my first summer here. It was here that I first spotted my friend Emanuele, now living in DC he remains my personal mentor and role model. I ordered my absolute favorite, fresh-squeezed guava juice (and a chicken shwarma, both for a whopping $6) and it felt like I had never left. At the same time that I am comforted by this familiarity, one look out the window of the plane and I had been struck by the astonishing observation, echoed by Ahmed and the former AUC professor (of English origin) seated next to us, that Cairo seems to expand with increasing rapidity every year. What's more, despite the fact that by August I will have spent a combined total of over three months in this city, there are a million things I have yet to do or see. I want to visit the camel market, to see the 1973 War Panorama, Ahmed and I are already planning a weekend trip to the Siwa Oasis replete with a desert safari to the isolated oases that speckle the western desert. Even with such an ambitious list of sights to see, I will have to return one hundred times more to even make a dent.
All of this is to say that Cairo never disappoints. Ask anyone who has spent time here and they will tell you that returning to Cairo is a bit like coming home. Like any great city, Cairo is ever-changing. I was disappointed to find that the Cairo Jazz Club seems to have been demolished, yet there is surely something new and exciting to take its place. Still, through the ages, Cairo seems to maintain its unique sense of self. Whether you are wandering the crowded, meandering alleys of the Khan, or strolling the glimmering boulevards of City Starz, Cairo is unmistakable in its allure, charm and age-old mystique.
Leaving London was bittersweet. The weather has been surprisingly warm the past few days and as my readers are well aware, I am infatuated with all that the city has to offer, from the mundane to the exceptional. That said, much like Cairo, London isn't going anywhere. As I have decided to apply only to jobs in the United Kingdom, my return to England is all but certain - though frustratingly lacking a confirmed date.
Back to Africa...seeing the brown, dusty Egyptian coast cut the monotony of the sea never fails to elicit a swell of anticipation deep inside of me. It is a mix of excitement and of anxiety of the unpredictability of certain, imminent adventures. The closest example I can provide is that sensation one has when returning home from an extended stay abroad. Indeed, the only place the gets me as much as the sight of that coastline is the simple beauty of the Washington Monument poking out from behind the trees as I cruise down the GW Parkway - the Monument and Georgetown's majestic gothic spires, of course.
But I digress...we touched down in Cairo around 4:30 PM, a bit behind schedule, but this is Egypt, I would worry if anything was too efficient (though the delay was admittedly on BMI's end back in London). Here I must share a brief anecdote. After securing my visa and explaining the purpose of my stay in Egypt, I attempted to change a $100 bill that mom had slipped me at the airport back in April. As ultimate proof of the fall of the almighty dollar, not a single bank at the airport would touch my money. They said that they didn't change $100 bills there, and that I would have to go downtown. Not even the duty free liquor store would accept my $100 bill as payment. Granted, they both would have changed or accepted smaller denominations, but there was a day not so long ago when one could travel to any country in the world, wave $100 bill and draw instant attention. Now you cannot so much as convert it at an airport bank, thank you George W. Bush.
That minor inconvenience aside - and its rather comical because I had similar difficulties changing the money in the UK - I arrived in Zamalek where I checked in to a small, inexpensive hotel, took a breather, and braved the heat in search of a sim card. I walked west down 26th of July Street, crossing the Nile and entering Mohandisseen. I continued along the road until I finally found what I was searching for, Vodafone. It really is astounding that Cairo can be simultaneously in a constant state of flux, and yet ever-reliable. I sit here now at Tabasco, the neighborhood cafe where I often had dinner with friends some three years ago when I spent my first summer here. It was here that I first spotted my friend Emanuele, now living in DC he remains my personal mentor and role model. I ordered my absolute favorite, fresh-squeezed guava juice (and a chicken shwarma, both for a whopping $6) and it felt like I had never left. At the same time that I am comforted by this familiarity, one look out the window of the plane and I had been struck by the astonishing observation, echoed by Ahmed and the former AUC professor (of English origin) seated next to us, that Cairo seems to expand with increasing rapidity every year. What's more, despite the fact that by August I will have spent a combined total of over three months in this city, there are a million things I have yet to do or see. I want to visit the camel market, to see the 1973 War Panorama, Ahmed and I are already planning a weekend trip to the Siwa Oasis replete with a desert safari to the isolated oases that speckle the western desert. Even with such an ambitious list of sights to see, I will have to return one hundred times more to even make a dent.
All of this is to say that Cairo never disappoints. Ask anyone who has spent time here and they will tell you that returning to Cairo is a bit like coming home. Like any great city, Cairo is ever-changing. I was disappointed to find that the Cairo Jazz Club seems to have been demolished, yet there is surely something new and exciting to take its place. Still, through the ages, Cairo seems to maintain its unique sense of self. Whether you are wandering the crowded, meandering alleys of the Khan, or strolling the glimmering boulevards of City Starz, Cairo is unmistakable in its allure, charm and age-old mystique.
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
Doing Nothing in the Algarve
After two weeks of exams, I needed a break and my when my friend Nick invited several of us to join him for a few days at his parents' villa in Faro, Portugal, it sounded ideal. I met Ryan Friday afternoon and took a car to Gatwick for the quick two-and-a-half hour flight to the southwestern bit of the Iberian Peninsula. Our driver was a bit crazy and acted as though we were fighting the frenzied chaos of a Lagos freeway rather than an English highway. Clearly we did arrive at the airport in one piece, however. I must say, the nausea-inducing drive to the airport would be the last bit of unpleasantness for the remainder of our trip. By 9:00 that night we were in the Quinta do Lago resort at Nick's front gates. This was truly an experience in relaxation, we didn't have to lift a finger. Nick showed Ryan and I to our room, a beautiful wood-floored space with a balcony that overlooked the side lawn and olive grove, with an adjoining bathroom that housed a shower large enough for about 10 people. After dropping our bags we headed downstairs to find an incredible spread ready and waiting, prepared by Luke and Sarah, our personal chefs. There was a delicious seafood paella, a variety of sides and even a crème brulée for dessert. We spent the rest of the evening trying to put a dent in Nick's father's supply of wine and champagne, which somehow fostered the idea that a game of frisbee in the pitch black of the golf course behind the house would be a good idea. Needless to say that didn't last long, and we ended the night in the home cinema in the most amazing theatre seats I've ever experienced. They actually recline to a flat bed with the touch of a button, thus, needless to say I ended up passing out a bit earlier than every one else shortly after settling into the plush leather.
The following day set the tone for the trip. I suppose that I cannot, in retrospect, really say that I've 'seen' Portugal, as we didn't leave the resort complex once. We did go to the beach for a bit and then had some cocktails at a local restaurant, however, the bulk of our time was spent reading or swimming in the pool, which is exactly what I needed. You know, after a solid year of reading what others tell you to for school, it is an incredible luxury to be able to freely choose your own text.
The days were generally spent swimming, with an occasional trip to the sauna beneath the pool in the gym - because clearly the 30+ weather wasn't hot enough. Nick decided to give Luke and Sarah Saturday night off as we prepared a ridiculous BBQ. Ryan grilled some fantastic homemade burgers while the rest of us completed various other tasks. We ate until we nearly burst, and then proceeded to spend the better part of an hour cleaning up the mess we had made.
On Sunday afternoon we went to a restaurant on the beach called Gigi's where we ordered several pitchers of sangria and ate the largest prawns I think I have ever seen. The swordfish was equally spectacular and we left yet another meal so satiated we found it difficult to stand up from the table. Sadly, Ryan had to leave that night, however, I decided to extend my stay until Tuesday, taking advantage of my time off while hedging my bets against London's less-trustworthy weather patterns.
With the return of our cooks on Monday we indulged in meals that included eggplant and zucchini casserole, octopus and cucumber salad, roast chicken as well as sage-encrusted swordfish filets served over beautiful asparagus. I feel as though I ate like a king, yet everything was quite healthy and wonderfully fresh and local. Post-dinner drinks is another story, however, as 'doing nothing' often involves 'drinking heavily'. We had sangria, wine, champagne, cocktails and Luke even prepared a homemade frozen watermelon cocktail that was dangerously and innocuously sweet.
All in all I feel relaxed and regenerated. Nick was a wonderful host and could not have provided a more perfect weekend for his guests. I came away with three new friends, a slight hint of a tan, and a new appreciation for laziness. I highly recommend the Algarve to anyone and everyone - there is never a cloud in the sky, the seafood is fresh and the motto is one to live by - or at least occasionally holiday by!
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