Hallmark Moment

Last night we met dear friends at the airport and brought them back to our home for the next 3 days.  They made a joke and said that all of MY luggage had arrived.  They were referring to the great gifts of kindness that our family sent to us…about 30 pounds worth.  These are true friends for they brought every single item and didn’t even give us a hard time though I wonder if they were muttering under their breath as they were packing.

I tried to spin it and said, “Just think how much room you have now for Pharaoh statues!” They weren’t impressed.

Today we will go to an archeological site and then make preparations for Thanksgiving dinner.  Our local friends will also be with us throughout the day so it will be good times all around.

We also think of our two daughters and son in law who will be celebrating Thanksgiving with various family members.  How thankful we are for them! The great thing about children growing up is that they become great friends as well! I do wish we could be together at this time, but we celebrate at other times of the year when we can all be together. (So don’t stare at us if we are having a Thanksgiving/Christmas dinner in the middle of August!)

We won't have the traditional turkey dinner due to the fact that the turkeys here are quite scrawny. I also feel that if they've managed to eke out an existence this long, they should be able to continue trying. (I'll keep you posted on what actually ends up on the table.)

God has given us wonderful relationships here and there (from wherever you’re reading) and we are truly grateful for all He has done in us and through us this year.  Now if this sounds like the final entry of the year, you would be incorrect.  

I’m just feeling very Hallmark-y today and thought I would take the time to express our gratitude for kind words, thoughtful gifts, needed prayers and invested resources.  We leave you with this blessing.

How very, very thankful we are. 

May the Lord bless you and protect you.

May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you.

May the Lord show you His favor and give you peace.

Numbers 6:24-26

Middle Eastern Maxine

One of the funniest characters Hallmark ever created is Maxine.  Maxine is a cranky, old lady who always sees the glass not half-empty, but cracked and leaking.  I have said on more than one occasion that I might indeed be the personification of her if not for Jesus reminding me to be kind.  It seems that the spirit of Maxine lives in more than one culture for I believe I have met her Middle Eastern self right here in our village.

For the sake of our story, I’ll call her Samah*.  Samah lives alone in a small mud brick home near ours.  She sits on the stoop by her front door every morning watching the other villagers going about their day.  She says little, watches much and sometimes chases children with a stick if they get too close.

As I was returning from errands one day, I stopped to greet her (4 kisses on each cheek.)  After the normal, “How are you? How did you sleep? Are you doing well? How was your morning?  How was your afternoon?  You are doing well?” she then asked, “Where have you been?”

I said that I have been here.  I asked, “Where have you been?”  

She clucked her tongue, “I am here!  I am always here! You think I go anywhere?!  I don’t go anywhere!  Ever!”

Well, I’m glad that was settled.

I then told her it would make me so happy to sit and drink tea with her.

She asked, “Why?”

I said, “We have had tea together before and I miss you.”

She smiled and then went serious.  “My house or yours?”

“My house would be fine.  Why don’t you come by tomorrow afternoon with Esma? (A mutual friend.)”

“What time?” she asked gruffly.

“2 o’clock, okay?” 

She grimaced and clucked her tongue again.  “Okay.  Okay.”

After some back and forth deciding if this really was a good time, she agreed.

The next day at 2:07 pm, she knocked.  I opened the door and ushered her into our living room.  

“Where’s Esma?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  I thought she was coming with you.”

She mumbled to herself with words I didn’t understand. It was probably better I didn’t.

We sat down and I offered her some raspberry iced tea.  Definitely not what she was expecting, but I thought she might like it.

“What is this?” she asked.  

“Tea,” I said.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s iced tea.”

I thought she would roll off the couch.  No Esma and now iced tea.  It wasn’t that I was trying not to follow culture, it was giving her something new to try that was from America.  I thought she might like the experience.  Now I wasn’t so sure.

I offered her a brownie and some fresh pomegranate.  She said she would eat it later.

We chitchatted a while as I tried my best to keep up with her Arabic.  If I asked what a word meant she just said it LOUDER and shook her head in disgust.  It made me laugh.  It reminded me of myself a few times when I’ve tried to help others understand English by talking LOUDER AND SLOWER.  The rule is: If you don’t know the word, it won’t help to say it at another speed or volume.  It just won’t.

I heard a knock and opened it to a flustered Esma who began apologizing profusely for being late.  I told her it was no problem and that I was very happy to see her.  She presented me with a bag of oranges and made her way to the couch.

Samah was less forgiving.  She began telling Esma, “You’re late!  We said 2 o’clock and it’s almost 2:30.  What were you doing?  We said 2 o’clock!”

Esma who is a younger woman took the chastisement gracefully.  Once Samah had said her piece she resumed the conversation with me as if nothing happened.  Funny.

Esma immediately took the photo album containing Emileigh’s wedding photos and began looking and commenting.  Samah had already seen them so she began nibbling on the brownie I had set in front of her earlier.

After a few more minutes, Samah popped up and said that she had to go.  She had to go to the doctor and she didn’t want to be late.  She emphasized “late” while looking at Esma.

I walked her to the door and told her how happy I was that she came.  She gave me a half grin and I sensed I had gained her approval if begrudgingly.

Esma finished the photo albums and drank the iced tea with enthusiasm.  (Samah had tried a sip, but declared the weather too cold to finish it.  It was 90º.) Esma needed to leave.  I thanked her for coming and welcomed her back anytime.

As I closed the door and began cleaning up, I smiled.  Samah is what my mother would call “a tough ol’ bird,” but she let me see a glimpse of the woman inside for just a moment.

I decided that next time I would be sure to make hot chocolate for these frigid winter months when temps drop into the 70s at night.  Until then, I’ll keep praying for Samah knowing that if God can tame my tongue and keep me from my Maxine ways…He certainly can soften the heart of my friend.

*Not her real name

A Friend of a Friend

Some friends from Sudan

Our friend, Mohamed*, called us from Sudan.  John tried his best to understand all that Mohamed was saying.  You see, Mohamed, not only speaks in Arabic, but he speaks fast and has his own type of accent that even our Arabic-speaking friends can’t quite make out.

It seems that Mohamed was very happy to tell us that a friend of his was in our city and would like to see us.  

Now you may ask, “Do you know this friend?” To which we would say, “No.”

“Then why would you meet with a stranger?”

“Because he’s Mohamed’s friend and this is as close as Mohamed can get to seeing us.”

So John gets the friend’s number, thanks Mohamed and then asks me when we could have him over.  I checked our calendar and told him anytime over the weekend.

John called the friend and explained who he was.  The friend returned the warm greeting and began chatting with John as if they were long lost relatives.  No one found this unusual or the least bit strange.  John then invites this perfect stranger to our home and the date is set.

I made brownies (all our local friends love these) and prepared mango juice.  (Tea is only served right before you are ready for them to leave.  Serving it too early can indicate you are displeased with them and are cutting the visit short.)

Yusef** arrived and sat with John chatting while nibbling on the prepared brownies.  He told John that he is a granite worker and then said, “If you need anything made from granite, you tell me.  I will make it for you.”  (Our city is actually built in and around granite. They use it to pave the sidewalks here!)  I overheard what he said and immediately began scanning the house for future granite projects.  Rats.  I can’t think of anything.

They talked about families and how this man knew Mohamed.  Yusef went back as far as 5 generations in explaining the connection.  John lost track after the third grandma.

Yusef finished his juice and then stood to his feet.  He had to go, but thanked John profusely for meeting him.  They promised to meet again and a friendship was born.

Mohamed then called John to ask if they’d had a good visit.  John assured him that they did.  Mohamed was very happy.  I call it Friendship by Proxy.  Here they call it, “Normal Life.”  

We made a new friend…a granite-carving one to boot.  I guess it makes me reexamine how relationships are formed or even how I allow them room to form.  Food for thought.

Now how about a granite-carved toilet seat?

___________________________

*This is his real name.  There are many Mohameds.  I'm not really worried about his identification.
**Not his real name.

“Ride the bus,” they said. “It will be fun,” they said.

Our sweet ride on the way back...

“Ride the bus,” they said. 
“It will be fun,” they said.

John recently had some business in a city near the Red Sea called “Hurghada.”  We had visited a couple other places near there, but hadn’t yet had opportunity to visit this one.  Now we had the chance.

Our collection of tickets

Our local friend, Ahmed*, had just been there and recommended that we take the bus.  “It’s only 60 LE!  Well, 70 LE ($10) for foreigners.”  

I had my doubts.  Hurghada is a quite a distance and I’m familiar with the driving habits here.  John checked our other options (plane or private car) and discussed them with me.  After weighing all the pros and cons we thought, “Why not?  It’s only $10 each!”

I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to secure tickets at such a late date, but Ahmed assured us the day before was no problem.  We purchased our tickets.  We were Seats 1 & 2.  Apparently, tickets were no problem at all.

The bus would depart at 3:30 pm.  We (of course) arrived 30 minutes early.  No need.  There was no bus and no passengers until 3:25 pm.  Everyone calmly stepped on the bus.  I counted heads…7 plus a driver in a large charter bus.  Hmmmmm….this can’t be cost-effective.

The bus took off close to the 3:30 pm start time.  I pulled out a book and began to read.  John searched for a window he could look out so he wouldn’t throw up.  So far so good.

Where am I?! Yachts everywhere!

I was told that there was a bathroom on the bus which gave me a level of comfort should the need arise.  However, I did severely limit my intake anyway.  There were mostly men on the bus and I couldn’t imagine myself walking from the front to the very back passing all of the onlookers. (Did I mention I was also the only blonde on the bus?)

We trucked down the road a bit until we came to a small town.  The bus driver came to a halt and a few more passengers were added.  The ticket guy from Aswan rides on the bus and continues his job of selling tickets to those who secure a seat.  He wanted us to have extra good luck traveling so he played a recitation of the Koran on the overhead speakers…loudly.  Thankfully, I had my iPod with some sweet Kirk Franklin tunes ready to go.

We stopped at a couple checkpoints and government security came on to look around.  I’m not sure how secure of a check that is, but I sat with my best posture when he walked by.

The official bathroom stop came at Hour 5.  A local lady and I smiled at each other as we got off the bus and made a beeline for the facilities.  Now please don’t picture a gas station toilet when I mention this.  That would be a bit too nice to compare.  This stop had a row of squatty potties that were unisex.  I rolled up my pant legs, took my packet of tissues and hand sanitizer and headed in.  

Sort of like a 7-11, this place also sold tea, sandwiches and sheesha.  Truly a one-stop shop.

Kite surfing is a major sport here.

After 20 minutes, the driver sounded the horn and everyone boarded the bus.  We continued town to town collecting more and more passengers until the bus was entirely full.

We couldn’t make a lot of fast progress because of all the speed bumps that are in place.  Someone thought that during the Egyptian Revolution of 2011, that somehow speed bumps would prevent protestors from making it to Cairo.  So a LOT of speed bumps were put in from the very Southern part of Egypt, to the East and all the way to the North.  

I wonder if the French ever felt the same way. “Vive la…eh…too many speed bumps!  Let’s go home.”

Little by little we made our way.  A new ticket man put a movie in for all of us to watch.  It was some B-movie from America called, “The Land of Dragons” starring no one we had ever heard of.  It was in English so I think the guy was showing it for our benefit.  I hope that most American actors that have made B and C movies know that it's not in vain.  They live on everyday in Egyptian television programming…and now on busses.

Finally after 8 passenger pickups, 2 security checks and 2 bathroom breaks, we pulled into the bus station in Hurghada.  It was 1:30 am.

Hard Rock Cafe...Lettuce!  Beef!  Cheese!
Heaven...I'm in Heaven!

John and I unfolded ourselves and disembarked.  We asked about return tickets but were told that no tickets are sold in advance.  You have to come on the day you wish to depart and wait.  Then when the bus with your destination arrives, you jump on hoping that there is a seat available.  If so, then you sit and pay the ticket man.  If not, malish! (sorry!), come back again tomorrow.

We arrived at our hotel completely exhausted but grateful to have made it in one piece.  

The city itself is fairly new.  It’s a tourist town and attracts mostly Russians so signs and menus are in Arabic and Russian.  Million dollar yachts lined the marina and a Tommy Hilfiger store was across the way.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Aswan doesn’t even have a large grocery store and it’s the third largest city in Egypt!  This town had a Hard Rock Cafe!  I was indeed in shock, but still managed to order a burger there.

Don't ask me to explain...not sure.

We had a great time, took care of business and mentally prepared ourselves for the bus ride back.  Our new taxi driver friend, Adl*, picked us up and waited with us at the bus stop.  It was 10 pm.  When the correct bus pulled up, he took his 5’1” frame and forced himself onto the bus.  He hockey-checked a couple people while yelling at me, “Madam!  Madam!  Go!  Go!”  I felt bad for half a second when I saw all the others also trying to get on, but the bus world is a dog-eat-dog world and if we were going to get seats, this is how it gets done.  I scooted to the back making apologies along the way and found two seats together.  I draped myself across both of them until John could get the luggage stowed and get on board.

Adl wished us a safe trip and we settled in for another long journey.  We left around 10:30 pm and made it back to Aswan at 7:30 am.  (Egyptians love to travel at night and see no point in day-time travel…ever.)  This bus had a similar pattern of stops and starts with the exception of security.  This bus had originated in the Sinai peninsula so the checkpoints were definitely more thorough.  We (and everyone else aboard) had to show our passports to an armed guard.  No issues though so we were waived on.

Upon our return, our friends asked if we would do that again. I think I would.  Yes, it was long and sometimes a bit (okay a lot!) uncomfortable, but this is how most all locals travel.  It’s good for us to know the challenges they face and the way that they have to navigate their destinations.  It’s real life here and we are one bus ride richer for it…even if it is eternal.

So many fabulous lights!

NaNoWriMo 2014...or Pam Writes a Book

This is a quick entry, but I've decided to put it out there.  This month is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) which is an online community committed to writing 50,000 words (per entrant) during the month of November.

I've signed up with the idea that I would finally gather all my blog entries into a cohesive collection for perhaps...maybe...a (gulp) future book...e-book...something.

We have a couple days of meetings (or rather John does) so I'll be plugging away every day trying to meet my words per day minimum (1,600).  It's a challenge and I'm up for it.

So now I need to pour myself a steaming cup of inspiration and get going.