An Improper Woman

Well, we all knew that!

Come on. I work for a women’s college that should’ve been your first clue. But if not, talk with my parents or grandparents, they will tell you any proper woman would have been married and filling their hearts with fat, happy grandchildren by now. Or ask any of my former boy friends or girl friends. I’m sure they could tell you a tale or two.

Egyptians, however, are just learning what type of improper American woman I am.

As you all know some fabulous friends visited me here in Cairo recently, Mr. Mark and Mrs. Anne Kennedy (See previous post: Nile Jule). Well on the 2nd night of their visit, we were woken by a call at 1:30 am by CEO Junior who is the so-called manager of the “guest house” where I live. I was informed that, “It is against Egypt’s policy and the policy of this house to have male guests stay in the apartment with female residents.”

Um. Excuse me? You are calling me in the middle of the night to tell me what?! As I try to rub the sleep out of my eyes and brain, he informs me that the security men downstairs have told him that a man entered my apartment a few hours ago and has not left yet. He repeats his “policy” statement and expounds on proper behavior for a woman.

Um. OK. There is no doubt in my mind that this strict Muslim man expected me to apologize profusely and say it would never happen again.

But, um, yeah. That ain’t my style - especially when you wake me up and insult me. Over the next 20 minutes I proceed to tell him exactly what I thought about him calling me an “improper woman.”

It went something like this:
You have the nerve to call me in the middle of the night and accuse me of going against Egypt?! You have no idea who this man even is! Maybe he’s my brother (he’s not); maybe he’s family (he is - in the American definition that friends are like family). You just call me and accuse me of going against guest policies that you never informed me of. I have lived in filthy Mokattam for 5 months and now in the middle of the night you want to discuss polices! I want a written copy of these house policies.

Oh Miss Julie you are acting very defensive. If this person is your brother it is no problem.

SORRY. You don’t get off that easy, you woke me up man – I HATE being woken up - and accused me of immoral behavior – which I am not even participating in (or enjoying) at the moment. SO, if you think I’m acting defensive you have misunderstood me. - I’m pissed off!

I continued:
I have done nothing wrong. Nor am I ashamed of any of my behavior. And it’s none of your or anyone else’s damn business who is in my apartment at any hour – DAMN IT. Don’t you watch Desperate Housewives and Sex in the City?! If not you must be the only Egyptian to miss this educational TV. Cause let me tell you, everyone else here seems to think all of us foreigners will sleep with anyone regardless of what they say or do, or even their lack of basic hygiene.

Yeah. I’m sure a “proper woman” would never have spoken to anyone in that way. But alas, it is clear I am not such a woman.

It did not go well for CEO Junior that night. Nor the next morning when I called CEO Senior and told him everything. The final response, “No problem Miss Julie your friends are welcome to stay as long as you like. Please enjoy your holiday.”

There are no “morality police” in Egypt like there are in other Arab countries. (See these links about Saudi Arabian religious police http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/1874471.stm or http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/chat/2231296/posts ) But clearly some people like to take it upon themselves to fill this role. I have had friends harassed at hotels when men and women share a room – regardless of the known, unknown or suspected sleeping arrangements, or martial status. Egyptians must always travel with their marriage certificate. I have heard of brides and grooms being turned away from their hotel room on their wedding night – still dressed in their wedding clothes – for not having the proper documentation that says they can share a room.

And yet, these “police” have no problem with women – Egyptian and foreigners – being glared at, taunted and harassed constantly on the street.

My reaction to CEO Junior may seem harsh to some. But a woman - or more specifically this woman - can only take so much of this hypocrisy. This is a culture that supports a man having 4 wives and you still want to monitor the comings and goings of guests in my apartment?! Well, get your notebooks ready. I'll give you something to talk about.

So hell yeah, I will relish in the joys of being a proud and “Improper Woman.” I am thankful that I can be and will continue to be such a woman for all those who cannot.

An Independent Woman

I bet some of you thought, “Wow! What an independent (and crazy) woman Julie is to be moving off to the Middle East by herself.”

I know I thought that – probably even a bit too arrogantly. But since I arrived here I have felt anything but independent – really.

I am continually shocked at how many different people I need to rely on to get anything done here. At times it’s maddening. I just want to do whatever it is by myself and get it over with – but I can’t. I honestly can’t do everything I need and want to do alone. And that is really hard for me to admit and accept. It is something that I struggle with daily here. I try to see it as a growth experience, and clearly one I need to learn because it just keeps coming up. But I will honestly admit I’m an impatient student at times.

A really good example of this came up when I was planning for a long weekend away. I just wanted to get out of the city and see something new. It started with talking with my Arabic speaking coworker, who then volunteered to call her travel agent friend to get me the best hotel deal on this holiday weekend. It took about 3-4 calls between the two and in turn the hotel of their choice to get me an $80/night room for $45.

I then had to call a friendly driver I know and ask him to go to the train station and buy me a train ticket and to arrange to pick me up the morning of my departure. Train tickets must be purchased in advance in person at the train station, only. It’s much easier to hire someone who knows what their doing and where they are going then to get a taxi there and back myself.

I then had to arrange for another taxi to take me to the above mentioned travel agent to pick up the hotel “voucher.” The voucher is this handwritten piece of paper that says I have paid the travel agent the agreed upon price and guarantees me a room when I arrive at the hotel. These vouchers are required. VERY few hotels accept online reservation; and everyone prefers cash.

Since I was dealing with a new taxi driver with limited English and my Arabic is still lacking, I then had to enlist a neighbor to translate and help direct the driver to a location where I had never been before. And just for good measure the helpful apartment building security guard looked on and chimed in as he saw fit regarding directions - in Arabic-only of course.

At the travel agency there were two men both named Mohamed awaiting my arrival – late of course. Believe it or not I haven’t been on time for anything since I got here which is SO unlike me. But the Egyptian time warp story is for another day. So these two businessmen could not complete one task without the other - it was a little like Laurel and Hardy. “Pass me the phone, no the other phone that is actually closer to me then you. I can’t find the number dial this number for me. I have a pen but where is the voucher receipts?” It was weird. They of course called back the hotel again to finalize everything. They gave me a story about, “Oh you’re late. Not sure we can guarantee that same rate anymore, blah, blah, blah.” They did.

I count 8 people and I still haven’t gone anywhere yet!

It's exhausting. Oh, and I can’t forget the call to the coworker’s family who lives in this new location who will be my “tour guide” upon arrival. That’s 9!

Admittedly, and thankfully not all outings are this complex but this is a pretty typical experience.

I am truly grateful for all those that help me every day. Really I am. I could not get things done without them. And some of these helpers have become good friends, likeShaimaa and Hamdy (who you’ve heard a lot about).

But some days I long for the ability to just hop in my own car and just go.

Welcome Spring - Alexandria

Despite never being in Alexandria before, my first visit felt nostalgic.

Alex is a short 2.5 hour train ride north. It is a much smaller city than Cairo, only about 3 million people. I found it more manageable as it appears to be planned on a basic grid-system. It’s cleaner and quieter. And it hugs the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. It reminded me of so many coastal cities I have lived before – Boston, San Diego, Honolulu, Portland, Old Orchard Beach.

I shake my head every time I try to figure out how the heck I end up in one of the biggest cities in the world in the middle of the desert. ??? And yet here I am, making the best of my crazy life.

I had a nice visit in Alex. Thankfully, I had a local guide to show me around to the sites, the cafes, and the local fish restaurants - where they cook everything in the street. I thought their citadel looked an awful lot like Castle Island in South Boston.















I was there for the first day of Spring which is a national holiday here. The beaches and boardwalks and parks were PACKED on this day and except for the clothing it look a lot like San Diego or OOB on the first warm day of the season. The streets are full of cruising cars and everyone is joyous and festive.

The only difference is the sunbather’s costumes. Muslim women will sit on the beach fully dressed, head scarf and all; if they swim at all they will do so also fully dressed or wear a bathing suit that looks like a full-length diver’s wetsuit. Men wear whatever they want, of course.

At these city beaches it was almost exclusively Egyptians. Not wanting to be the only foreigner in a “normal” bathing suit, I chose not to swim. I get too much unwanted attention as it is - no need to add more skin to the equation. But no worries.

Instead, I learned that they don’t really like swimmers at 1 am. It’s “forbidden” apparently. But in Egypt a little baksheesh – tipping – goes a long way; and I blissfully frolicked in the Mediterranean Sea in the cover of darkness, and under the glaring eyes of only one security guard instead of hundreds.

It was chilly but TOTALLY worth it.

Nile Jule

This past Easter holiday, I cruised the Nile with

some great friends from home. Anne and Mark

Kennedy definitely win the award for best friends of 2009 for making trek out here. And what a fabulous way to see Egypt - on a cruise ship with good friends.

After a few days touring Cairo, we flew to Aswan and saw Lake Nasser – largest manmade lake in the world created by the High Dam which was built to control the annual floods of the longest river in the world.

Our cruise ship, which looked like an old steamship on the Mississippi was appropriately named The Nile Jewel http://www.italianexpresscruises.com/.

We sailed with the current north (the Nile flows from Lake Victoria to the Mediterranean Sea) towards Luxor and stopped along the way to see temples and ruins like Philae, Edfu, Ko Ombo and Elephantine Island. We lounged in the sun, played cards and drank beer and rum as we watched the lush Egyptian landscape pass by. It is striking how green the Nile Valley is and how stark the desert and mountains are in the distance.




The Easter bunny travelled with us. :-)

In Luxor we sweltered in the heat to see the spectacular Valley of the Kings tombs, Hatshepsut's Temple - where one of the world’s first female cross-dresser was king, Luxor and Karnak Temples - where kings and queens partied and prayed, the Avenues of Sphinxes and Rams, and of course took the obligatory horse and carriage ride through the city.

It was truly a fabulous trip with some really great friends.

Khamaseen

Khamaseen (pronounced “come and see’em” hint, hint, hint) refers to the dry, hot and dusty sandstorms blowing in North African.


In Egypt, khamaseen usually arrives in April but occasionally occur in March and May, carrying great quantities of sand and dust from the deserts, with a speed up to 90 miles per hour, and a rise of temperatures as much as 20° in two hours. Derived from the word for 50, Khamaseen is believed to blow "at intervals for about 50 days" although it rarely occurs more than once a week and last for just a few hours at a time.

The reality is the sky turns yellow with sand, you can feel it like humidity hanging in the air, on your skin and in the air you breathe. The wind whips like in a hurricane. It’s a terrible day for allergy or asthma sufferers.


Sand coats everything. The maids at the schools scurry around furiously to try and sweep up the sand as quickly and as often as possible. It’s like shoveling in the middle of a snow storm. Because sand is as slippery as ice on these hard marble floors; and children in any country just seem to need to run in the hallways.

Sand creeps into every crevice and cranny. I know I’ll have little piles of sand at my doors and windows when I get home from work. No window fitting or door jam is plum or sealed in all of the land. The heavy curtains keep the sand from blowing all over the rooms.

And just from walking from the car to the building it feels like an expensive exfoliation treatment. It hurts. Honestly and frankly, it hurts. It feels like you’re stuck in a freezing rain storm – it stings your skin. You end up with sand in your mouth and eyes and ears and hair. Everywhere.

Thankfully, it does not last long. Like a tropical rainstorm it is fierce but the sun and blue skies return quickly.