Cougar Cruises

A previous visit to our city in 2009

A few times I have likened life on this side of the pond as being like one who’s landed on Mars and is trying to see if the atmospheric pressure will provide sustainable life. In so many ways this place is just different from anything I’ve ever known., i.e. the food, the weather, the language, the clothes, the RELATIONSHIPS.

Wow. Relationships are complicated here. Now granted there are no known Egyptian versions of the Kardashians or shows like, “The Real Housewives of Cairo,” but there are situations I find myself in that I never saw coming…or understood once they did.

Most of the time John walks with me when we have errands to do in town but on some days when I’m meeting a friend or have a meeting, I walk alone. Now our city is around half a million people, but it doesn’t feel like it. We live in a nearby village, but even “town” still feels pretty small and safe. I enjoy the exercise especially when the temps are under 100º. (This will not happen again until September.)

Horse and Buggy Ride!

Something I did notice during some of these first solo walks were comments that the men would make as I would walk by. Some men sit alongside the Nile “boardwalk” as it were and try to gain customers for their sailboats or horse carriages. Others are there to visit with their friends. And the remaining ones hang out because they simply don’t have any other place to be.

The comments range from “Hello, whassyourname?” to “Felucca?” (Sailboat?) or “Hola, Amiga!” One of my favorites is “Welcome to Alaska!” (a particularly witty comment when it’s 120º).

A few have crossed the line, however, and go from shouting their questions to walking alongside me. “Whassyourname? Where are you from? You are fanTAStic! You want to be my second wife?”

Egypt 2009

To these questions, I give no answer. I simply put my head down and pick up the pace. When this first happened I was shocked. You see, when we lived in Cairo we had comments and camel offers pouring in constantly because of our two daughters. I didn’t like it, but we learned to deal with it.


In Sudan, we still had ongoing “negotiation-rejections” for the girls now and then, but my role as mother was understood. I was “old” and “used up” to put it in their vernacular. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. When the girls went to college, the remarks stopped. The pressure was off.

Sudan 2010

Now here in Upper Egypt, I was once again being assailed with comments and offers. What gives?! So exasperated from my experience I asked our local friends about it. They laughed. One said, “You can never be too old here!” Still another reminded me that Muslim men can have up to four wives and I should take it as a compliment.

I still couldn’t remove the dissonance in my brain over this issue. Finally, one friend said, “It’s because of the cruises.”

“Cruises?”

Fun on a NON-cougar cruise.

“Yes, the cruises. Boats come from the cities in the north with foreign women on them who travel alone. When they stop in the port, young Egyptian men will strike up a friendship with them. The lonely woman has then been known to invite the young man on board for the rest of the cruise during which she will pay his way, buy new clothes for him and give him some cash. At the end of the trip they part. She returns to her country and he looks for another boat.”

My jaw is on the floor.

“The women that are usually on these cruise ships are retired women in their 60s, 70s and even 80s. So you see, there is no age limit for potential companionship here.”

I’m stunned. I mean I understand that things like this exist, but this is the first time that it has been this close, this personal.

The cruise ship port

Sometimes to keep things on the “up and up” in the Muslim context the woman will “marry” the man temporarily. The contract will then be torn up at the end of the vacation. It’s also happened that some women will just remain married to these men and return periodically for visits. The man will also usually have at least one wife with children from his local tribe. 

John making new friends.

It’s considered an acceptable business practice here. Marriage is not viewed as a covenantal relationship. It’s a negotiation between families or in this case between perceived needs and wants. He wants cash, a green card and maybe a way out. She wants…well, you know what she wants.

Some might consider this topic too indelicate to discuss. I would agree except that it is part of my every day life. I have no choice but to face it and try to work this out in my brain and spirit.

Of course this doesn’t represent all of the men here or all of the marriages. We know some wonderful families who demonstrate love and respect to one another very well. Still it's a real part of this society and therefore something that I have to know about which turns my reluctant understanding into prayer for these dear people.

As for me, I still take walks and enjoy meeting people…but I steer clear of anyone who might be heading my way humming the theme from “The Love Boat.”

I guess I am all that AND a bag of chips.
(Bad joke.)

I Want to Hear What You're Saying, Honey, But I've Got Toilet Paper in My Ears!

Today’s original blog has long been delayed and it will continue to be for a couple days more. I am planning to write about a unique phenomenon here called, “Cougar Cruises,” but not yet. Intrigued? Rather I am going to just update you on life here. 

Last week, the To-Do List that I created was a thing of beauty. I had open slots in my calendar and everything needing to be done was fitting nicely into these blank spaces. Yes! I could see light at the end of the tunnel!

But alas it was not to be. I began getting a slight earache which isn’t really unusual. I have thin tympanums and it’s been part of my life for as long as I can remember. (I am a bit bitter that if I’m going to have THIN anything…Why thin tympanums and not thighs? Sigh.)

The small twinge turned into a two-alarm double ear infection which left me clutching the sides of my head and yelling (unintentionally) at John, “I WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOUR SAYING, HONEY, BUT I HAVE TOILET PAPER STUCK IN MY EARS!” Ah, yes. THIS is what marital commitment is made of. The toilet paper was keeping the medicine in my ears leaving me with quite an attractive overall look that John has gotten to live with for the last 3 days.

Just as the ears were beginning to heal and sounds around me were returning, I was hit with stomach flu which has laid me out flat with the exception of my head leaning near a trashcan. Unbelievable.

I have a Fin, a Latin, a German and an American coming to dinner tonight…That sounds like the start of an amazing joke, but it’s the truth. I need to recover fast and that includes being able to actually look at food without running for the porcelain areas of the house.

So that’s my week so far. How’s yours? Please speak up when you answer and don’t use any food analogies. Thank you and much love.

Watering

Our village near the Nile

A family who lives nearby went on vacation and asked us to water their plants while they’re away. We were happy to help.  Each day before the sun sets John and I begin our trek to their home which happens to be at the top of a very tall hill. (Emphasis on very.) Ah, I get it. It’s some sick physical fitness plan that John has whipped up. They probably aren’t even gone at all. They’re probably hiding behind their house for an hour while we gather the water bottles and make our way to the 40 plants on the roof.

Well, anyway…as we’ve created this routine we’ve gathered some new friends along the way. There’s the woman who sits at a small table selling candy to the village kids. She smiles broadly every time we pass her and she offers us her chair. She only offers it once so it’s a polite gesture rather than a serious invitation to sit…at least for now. We do chat with her for a bit before continuing.

Then there’s a group of women who sit outside their home collecting news from the day and telling us that we are welcome.

Sometimes children will run by us playing, “Can you touch the foreigner without getting eaten?” or some will smile and giggle.

Cresting the top of the hill I am nearing a heart rate of 764, we see a construction crew working on a new apartment building. They are mixing concrete and yelling at each other over the very loud machine. As we pass by we hear, “Hello! HELLO! HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

John smiles and waves, but can do nothing more since they are elbow deep in concrete and the machine is rumbling loudly.

Still they persist. 

“WHATISSSSYOURNAME?”

“WELCOME! WELL. COME. WELLLLLLLLLLCOME!”

Now they have turned it into a game with each other. Whoever can get the biggest reaction or the most body language is the winner.

“HEY, COME HERE! COME HERE! FOREIGNER, COME HEEEEEEEEEEERE!”

At times, we know that these are sincere offers at friendship. At others, we understand that they are creating entertainment for themselves as a distraction from the concrete mixing. We think this time it’s the latter.

We go inside the home, water the plants and I yell into the house, “Great to see you! We’ll see you again tomorrow!”

John’s looking at me quizzically and says, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making the neighbors think there’s someone here in the house. Pretty clever, huh?”

John laughed. “Very,” he said wryly. “They’ll never figure it out now.”

I smiled smugly as we began our return trip which required us to walk past the construction workers again. They seemed to be working intently which I had hoped would distract them long enough for us to get by without anymore comments. Not to be.

“Helloooooooo! Helllllllllllll-oh! HELLO, FOREIGNER!”

John once again smiles and greets them. As a woman, it is not proper for me to make eye contact or greet men on the street. I keep my eyes straight ahead.

“WHERE ARE YOU FROM?”

“COME HERE! COME HERE!” (Now he gets serious and in his loudest most demanding voice he screams, “COME HERE!” Then the other co-workers burst out laughing and give the game up.

Most other times, John would stop and engage the men, but since they were supposed to be working and since his wife was with him and since they were being less than respectful in their approach, he decided that today was not the day. I agreed.

We rounded the corner and a small boy sat on a bench. He was helping his father do some work. He gave us his biggest 7-year-old-with-2-front-teeth-missing smile. We shook his hand and he went off running to tell his father what had happened. 

Further on, we successfully dodged a rock-throwing contest between two groups of teenage boys who agreed to a cease-fire until we had made it through safely. They resumed as soon as we were out of the throw zone. We laughed.

It was now twilight and the sun was just peeking over the horizon of our city. A city of half a million, but within it holding the stories of pain and triumph in each individual’s heart.

We discover their hopes, dreams and fears by being in proximity to them. Seeing them each day. Learning the culture. Finding out what’s genuine. 

It’s not easy. We knew it wouldn’t be, but somedays it really is all up hill. My aching calves (metaphorical and actual) can attest to that. Still there’s joy in the pain because as we walk to go water plants we also walk to water seeds of hope in the lives of those who knew none before.

Killer calves are not a bad biproduct either.

Panorama of our city

Bacon Care of Business

It’s “Friday Eve” as someone clever mentioned today and I am reflecting on a week gone by. The older I get the more I realize that time as a commodity is precious. This moment that I’m living right now is in “real time.” There are no “Super Slo-Mo Playbacks,” no fast forwards or rewinds…it’s simply now to do with as I choose.

Do I choose to spend time with Jesus? Do I sit with my neighbor and listen to her pour out her heart? Do I wash my ever-growing stack of dishes? Do I sit at my computer typing about time gone by and then wonder if I should still be typing about time gone by?

I guess I have become more acutely aware of this as my bacon bit supply diminishes. Yes, you read that right. Another lesson brought to you by the goodness of bacon.

I was preparing breakfast this morning and wanted to add a bit of bacon to our eggs. As I pulled my Sam’s-Warehouse-sized bag o’ bits out of the freezer, I sighed. Only 3-4 more days worth remaining. Then it’s cold turkey…or cold pig…or whatever you might want to call it. 

How shall I use my last few tablespoons of deliciousness? Should I just throw them on the eggs pellmell? Or do I save them for a special spinach salad that may or may not happen depending on the crops here in the desert? Or…so many possibilities, but once they’re gone, they’re gone. No more until we go to a bacon-loving country again which may not be for a while. So we ration and ponder and savor.

I’m also given a Sam’s Warehouse-Sized Bag O’ Life Minutes from God. When the bag is first opened I take them by the fistful and throw them about not caring where they’re spent or what they’re used for. After all, I have an entire bag! It will be a very long time before I run out. 

However, as the supply diminishes I realize that there is an end to the minutes in the bag, the life in my life. How will I use these precious minutes? For what purpose? For whose purpose?

Unlike the bag of bacon bits which has ounces listed, I do not know exactly how much life I will get. I think most of us assume we’ll get a good 70-80 and maybe even 100 years. But not necessarily. What if I lived every day as if I were at the last 2 tablespoons of life? Would it change my priorities? My activities? My relationships?

I’m still pondering. I do know that I want to be intentional. I want things to happen in my life and not just let life happen to me. That takes care and thought. It also takes discipline and hard choices. 

So now I stare intently at the bottom of my resealable bag of bacon and consider the deeper things of life. Now what does freezer-burned ice cream say to me?

14 Ways to Make Guests' Stay in Your Home Special

Our neighborhood welcoming committee.

 1. Arrange to meet your guests at a familiar location to pick them up (Be early!) or lead them to your home. Have water bottles ready for guests upon greeting.

2. Have a basket of their favorite snacks (after you’ve done a bit of investigating) and water bottles in the guest room.

Local flavors offered here.

3. Turn down their bedding and place a mint or piece of candy on each pillow.

4. Write a welcome note that lists any information they might want to know such as internet username and password, your phone number, address and include brochures or guides for the area along with a notepad and pen for any planning.

5. Provide a fan in case your guest likes air circulating or white noise.

6. Make sure there is room in the closet with hangers for their clothes and a dresser drawer or two available.

7. Ask them about when their day starts and what kind of breakfast they prefer especially morning beverages.

This just makes me laugh.

8. Have towels with washcloths in the guests' room so they won’t have to hunt for them. (Small shampoo and soap are nice as well.)

9. Provide an adaptor and transformer in the room if you live somewhere other than 110V-land.

10. Set out a nice smelling candle and matches. Let your guest choose to light it in case of allergies.

11. Fresh flowers are always a nice touch. Even wildflowers in a mason jar are welcoming!

These were waiting for us after our difficult departure from Sudan.
So thoughtful, I cried.

12. Provide space for your guests to relax by a comfy chair in the room or by other areas of the house where they can be alone to read or rest.

13. Cook some meals ahead of time and pull them out when your guests are here. This allows you more time with your guests. Or invite them into the kitchen to help prep a meal. This will make your guests feel right at home!

14. Finally, remember that fussing and hovering do not create a tranquil environment. Do a little planning ahead and enjoy your time together by being in the moment with them. Laugh, relax and have fun!

Our chairs made out of palm trees.

___________________________

P.S. I dedicate this post to the amazing friends and family through the years who have shown amazing hospitality and off-the-chain thoughtfulness by opening their homes and making us feel so welcome! We can't thank you enough. Seriously. <SNIFF.>

P.P.S. What are your ideas for making someone feel welcome? Comment below or FB, Instagram or Twitter.

Do You Take Visa?

I am absolutely sure that if you have perused the Facebook postings of your friends abroad at one time or another then you have heard story upon story of visa traumas. 

“Please pray that I get my visa…”

“Almost at the last step of my visa…”

“I need only one more signature for my visa…”

“I got a 5-year visa!”

“My visa got cancelled! I’m kicked out!”

“$1000 bucks for my visa this time!”

Honestly, before I lived this life I had very little idea what visas were even for in relationship to my passport, country visited or length of stay. I simply had no idea.

Visas are like an admission ticket into a country for a certain length of time for specific purposes. You can request a tourist visa or a resident visa which sometimes also requires permits, stamps and very official looking papers. (Some countries don't require them at all based on the entrant's nationality.)

In Sudan, we had a full-time guy that worked on visas. It was a complex system and it was his job to keep us all up-to-date. Not an easy task. It took weeks and sometimes months to get one. They were expensive and not easily procured. When one did secure it, there was much merriment and celebration for a brief season, before one had to start the process again for the next year.

In Egypt, it’s quite the opposite. Upon arrival at the airport, you walk to the window and say, “Visa please.” The man then says, “$25.” You give him the money, he gives you the visa. That’s it. No questions asked. No long drawn out trips to multiple offices. Simply a sticker to put in your passport. Beautiful.

This visa is good for 30 days which is great for most tourists. If you decide to stay longer, then you can go to your local friendly government office and request an extension. Our first trip in we were given 7 months. That seemed like a rather arbitrary amount of time, but for us 7 months represented the most stability we had had in 2 years! 

Since then we’ve received a 5 month and then a 6 month. We asked for a longer time on the last visit to which the lady said, “Next time, get one at the airport!”

Why? Ours is not to question why. At least that’s what her face said. To the airport it is. Or so we thought.

We just read that a department in Egypt’s government has now made it a requirement to get all visas at consulates prior to entering the country. That means no more visas at the airport. That means a lot more time and paperwork and trips outside the country.

I’ve followed the media on this and as you can guess there are many for this decision and many against. Those for it say that it will increase Egypt’s security. Those against it say it will hurt an already fragile tourist industry.

I understand both sides, but I’d still rather not have to visit an Egyptian consulate in another country with a pile of papers if I’m given the choice.

I also read that the last time they tried to implement something like this it lasted a total of 3 days. I laughed out loud when I read that. It seems in this new dawn of burgeoning democracy, rules and regulations are being tested albeit short-lived at times. So we’ll see. 

Since the new visa information came out, a new law was passed stating that 15-passenger vans can only transport 8 foreigners and 24-passenger vans can only transport 15 AND no more than two nationalities per vehicle please.

You may shake your head at all this and I do too, but this is life here. It’s changing, frustrating, mysterious and comical. It also burns a lot of energy trying to make plans, follow the rules and stay out of Egyptian prisons. 

So next time you’re in a store and you ask, “Do you take Visa?” breathe a prayer for your friends abroad and ask God to give them tenacity to navigate the visa maze that is their life.
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BONUS: When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It's Time to Go Home