Fortune Telling

It's cooled off a bit here so more and more people in the village are gathering in the late afternoon to visit with one another before starting dinner.  My friend, Sarah*, and I were walking home one day when we came upon Sarah's friend, Samia*.  Samia smiled broadly and greeted us each with a handshake and a kiss on each cheek.

We exchanged pleasantries when Samia asked if we would like to join her for tea the next day.  We agreed on a time and went on our way.

At 2:00 pm today, I met Sarah and we made our way down the street toward a house that we though was Samia's.  We looked around the building, but all the doors were shut and no one was around.  Thankfully a woman and small boy appeared around the corner.  I inquired where Samia lived and she pointed down a different street.

We took our plate of cake and began walking from house to house looking for anything that would indicate we were close.  Soon a few women spotted us and we asked them about Samia.  They pointed up toward a balcony where Samia was smiling and waving.

We walked through a small wooden door up the concrete steps into a simply furnished home.  Samia greeted us along with her daughter and two grandchildren ages 2 and 10 months.  (The baby just kind of stared at us.)

She had her daughter bring out two chairs on the balcony while the remaining folks sat on a bed.  Samia popped up and brought a bowl of fruit and 2 cups of steaming tea.  The tea had loose leaves in it so once the sugar is in you stir once or risk a mouthful of bits and brown teeth.

The sugar had a few ants in it so I deftly attempted to dodge them while scooping and distracting the hostess with questions.  I think I succeeded. (John said that poached ants are quite tasty.)

We tried to understand all the Arabic that was flying around us and we managed to catch some phrases here and there that allowed the conversation to flow back and forth although it was a highly unfair verbal ping pong game.

Samia pulled out a stack of photos of herself, her daughters and her friends.  Photos are a big deal here and Photoshop is HUGE.  If one image of a person is good, then four of them in a collage must be great.  After we looked through the stack, Samia told us that her husband died 17 years ago.  Since then it's been just her and her 3 girls. 

She put away the photos and came back with a small silver plate with salt and cowrie shells on it.  Her daughter asked if we wanted to participate.  I told her that I was unsure of what she was doing.  She explained that Samia will toss the shells and then predict the future for my daughters…Who will they marry?  How many babies will they have?  and so on…

I smiled and told her thank you but that we pray to God and He guides our days and our lives.  They both smiled and said, "Kwyees!  Kwyees!" (Good! Good!)  Samia put away the plate and offered us more tea.  We thanked her politely and then began to make our exiting statements.

I told her that when we return for tea the next time, I would bring pictures of my family and hometown in America.  She was pleased.

She shook hands and kissed each one while making our way down the steps.  Samia yelled down to us to be sure and come back.  We will definitely return to these wonderful ladies who share their tea and open their hearts.


*Not their real names

The Orientalist

While walking to the phone store, John came upon a fundamentalist M*slim man he had once met before.  The man recognized him and struck up a conversation.  First, he inquired of John's family.

Are they well?

Yes, they are well.

The whole family is well?

Yes, we are all well.  Is your family well?

Yes, they are well.

This continues for several more times before Osama* asks if John is an "orientalist."

"Orientalist?" John repeats.  (I'm standing nearby thinking about "The Mentalist" and wondering if they are the same thing.)

"Yes, 'orientalist,'" Osama says, "It is a person who comes to the Middle East to search out philosophy and learn deeply about the culture.  Are you an 'orientalist'?"

John shakes his head no.  We now are treading deeper waters because this man obviously has strong opinions about his beliefs, he is not a close friend and we are in a public setting.

John quickly deflected the questions by stating that we do indeed want to learn the culture and also the language.  Sensing that more could be discussed, John invited Osama to tea in the near future.

Osama smiled and agreed.

We continued walking and I shook my head while smiling.

"What?" John asked.

"My husband, the fundamentalist magnet," I said. 

John just shrugged and said, "Why not?  He wants to talk to me.  I want him to hear about J-sus.  So…we talk."

He calmly makes plans for tea.  I'm wondering if a drone is close enough to hear our conversation and vaporize us.  (Just a bad joke, not a political statement.)

That's why I love my husband.  Very matter of fact.  Not easily rattled.  Pragmatic.  J-sus follower.

We continue to the phone store and finish the rest of our day one relationship richer.

I'm not an orientalist, but I am a realist knowing that J-sus can change the heart of anyone if we will just step out and share the Good News with everyone.

*Not his real name, but a popular one here.

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Today's BOGO Blog and one of the most embarrassing moments to date in Egypt: Pinball Pam 

Things You Learn from an Aussie in Egypt

Any woman reading this post will understand when I say, "Hallelujah! I got a great haircut!"  Sorry, guys.  There's more to this story, but indulge me for a moment.

A friend of a friend of a friend (That's how it works here…) found out that a woman from Australia who has a travel agency in our town was a hair stylist in her former years.  She was immediately hired to cut this friend's hair who then recommended her to another friend and a few friends later…I was sitting in her cutting chair.

She doesn't have a salon, so a pair of Walmart scissors, a stool and a Winnie the Pooh sheet as a cape became the tools for my new do.

I have had many haircuts in this country (see prior post) and none of them have turned out well unless you consider Loretta Lynn (1972) and Julie Andrews (Sound of Music) good looks.

Mesha* began snipping and telling about her years here as a business woman.  (Actually since she's an Aussie, she could discuss the stock market report and I'd be enthralled with her accent.) She talked about the low ebb of tourism, ideas for the future and culture in general.  I learned some things I didn't know.  I'll share them with you so if you should ever find yourself here, you'll be thoroughly prepared:

1)  The guy riding a bike with a megaphone through the village at night is a town crier of sorts.  He announces deaths in a family, big news or warnings.  He's hired by the family who wants the news distributed.

2)  When women come to your house to visit, don't be shocked if they look through all your cupboards and cabinets.  They are determining if you received a worthy dowry for your marriage.  Mesha was considered poor to her friends because she does not currently own a china cabinet.

3)  If you can't afford lamb meat, donkey is an acceptable substitute.  Oh, Eeyore!

4)  Egyptians who work with Western tourists think their #1 requirement for customer satisfaction is good service.  Westerners who work with Western tourists say that cleanliness is #1.

5)  A fast train is in development between the northernmost city and the farthest one south (that's us).  Woot!  

She finished my hair and I was a happy camper…seriously…I actually looked like me.  She's officially hired.  We sat down with our mutual friend to give her a break.  She's not exactly sure how her real work will go right now, but she's still happy to be here and enjoy the "winter" weather.

Me?  I'm not exactly sure what to do with myself.  I haven't had someone who knew how to cut my hair (really cut it) in the same country that I've lived in since 2008.  So I'm quite thrilled to have such ready access…the donkey meat?  Not so much.

*Not her real name

Egg-cellent Eid

Men gathering to drink tea and play backgammon

 So John and I had the bright idea that we would go out one night on a date during last week's eid (holiday).  We wanted to get out and see what exactly happens during the festivities.  We decided to walk so that we could enjoy the fabulously low temps (upper 80s/brrrrrrrr!) and visit with some of our friends.

The corniche (along the Nile) was teeming with people!  John had been out earlier and said that the junior high aged boys were running around.  Later as we were walking, the demographic changed. Now the older teens and young 20s took to the streets visiting with one another, enjoying felucca (sailboat) rides and sitting on park benches.

In fact the vendors were so busy with the locals that they barely even acknowledged us.  (I have to admit, that was kind of nice.)

We arrived at the end of the way and found ourselves at McDonald's so we thought we'd stop in to visit our friend, Mona, the manager.  To our surprise, the place was covered in children.  I'm not talking full, I'm talking e-ver-y-where.

We looked around to see if Mona was working and noticed that she was hosting a party over on one side of the restaurant.  Children were smiling and jumping up and down to Arabic versions of "Happy Birthday" and something that sounded like the theme from Barney.  One little girl turned around and smiled.  She had also been a participant in face-painting so that she now resembled a very adorable kitten.

Mona continued with the arm motions as the kids followed.  Hamburglar even made an appearance.  (I think he is considered politically incorrect for the US now…)  The kids were loving him though.

We knew it would be a bit before she was available so we decided to order and squeeze our way into a table.  Families had had their fill of lamb on the first two days of Eid.  They were ready for something different.  Sort of like 3 days after Thanksgiving for us (turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey kabobs…)

The kids got their money's worth because we had ordered, waited, eaten and cleaned up our table and they were still going.  I ran over to give Mona a hug and told her that we'd be back to visit.  She nodded and apologized, but I told her that she was doing a great job.  It was obvious by the sheer glee on the kids' faces that they were having a great time.

The restaurant really began to fill up as we were exiting since most folks eat dinner around 8 pm or so.  We took that as our cue to leave the mayhem. 

Once we returned to the corniche, even more people had come to town.  This time mostly families were out buying new outfits for their kids, meeting friends and enjoying a festive atmosphere.  With all that has happened in Egypt over the last few weeks, any mental respite is welcomed.

We began our walk back toward the village and were greeted by our Nubian friends perched in their regular spots.  We took time with each to greet, shake their hands and wish them a happy eid.  My village "pals" were not satisfied with a short greeting so I sent John on ahead so I could sit with them for a while.

I asked about their day and they inquired about mine.  Soon steaming hot tea with fresh mint was served in what we would define as juice glasses (no handle).  The 3 spoons of sugar had been already added.  The saying goes that if you can pick up the glass of tea with your bare fingers (no handle) then it's cooled enough to drink.  True statement.

Some of their kids ran around showing me their new cap guns and dolls (the gifts of choice this season).  We are becoming friends now so we talk about life, work, husbands and cultural differences.  This is all accompanied by many follow up questions, arms flapping and some (admittedly) nods of understanding when there really isn't (both sides).

We are learning to laugh together and understand that we can be totally different yet still have some things in common.  I'm really glad about that.  I even have an Arabic name.  The name "Pam" is hard for them to pronounce because there is no letter "p" in Arabic.  Most of the time I answer to "Bam."  I find it endearing.

So during one visit I asked them to give me an Arabic name.  One lady said, "Noor" because you are "light" to us.  I was moved by her statement and almost teared up until another lady said, "No.  Your new name is Baid. 

Baid? I responded.  Egg?  "Because I am white?" I asked.

"No," she shrugged, "you could be a brown egg, too."

I was totally confused.  I looked at my friends who were with me (visiting from Cairo) to see if they understood what she was saying.  Their quizzical looks gave me my answer.

The subject was dropped and I now am Baid or sometimes Bam Baid followed by good natured snickering.  Not exactly Gladys Aylward stuff, but hey it's a start.

As I took my leave, they presented me with a portion of their lamb, frozen and in a plastic bag.  I thanked them profusely and smiled, grateful that they insisted on sharing their Eid bounty but more importantly themselves.  Life here can be unpredictable, but it is surely never boring.

Signing off with much love for now,

Bam Baid 
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Today's BOGO Blog:  Rip PamWinkle

Typical Fruit Vendor

Life Isn't Fair

"Life isn't fair," I whined.

"'Fair' is when grown men in overalls throw cowchips for prizes," retorted my grandma.

That nugget of wisdom along with "If your nose itches, someone's comin' with a hole in his britches…" have resonated in my mind over decades through various circumstances be they troublesome or some form of allergy.

There are simply days that I can't help but wonder, "How the heck did I get here?"  ("Heck" is as strong as it gets, in case you were getting worried.)  

I was sitting with my new friends "the village ladies" drinking tea and doing my best to begin to understand all of the percussive Arabic being directed toward me.  A small boy about 2 came up alongside me and gave me his biggest smile.  I smiled back and watched as he tried to put his hand in my purse.  He was looking for candy.  I had brought his family some sweets for the holiday last week and he had seen me take small packs of candy from my purse.  He needed a refill.  Before I could even react, one of his aunts smacked his hand and pushed him away as she gave him what I can only assume is their version of "what for" (another one of my grandma's phrases).

Things settled down after that and I chatted with them about their day.  The oldest woman in the group has arthritis and asked me if I could get medicine at the hospital.  I reminded her that I wasn't a nurse (like my friend, Sarah*).  She shook her head remembering a previous discussion about careers and piled the "not working" medicines back in her lap.  The other ladies were wrapping small pieces of paper into a cone that would be filled with roasted peanuts.  The packets would then be put in a box and sold along the Nile to passersby.  Microenterprise?  Very nice.

The 2 year old began to make his way toward me, but was given the eye by his aunt and he backed away again.  I smiled at him and said that I didn't have any candy today.  (No use getting in trouble for a well gone dry!)

The conversation waned a bit and I began my exit conversation which can take as long as the original visit so one must begin preparation at just the right time.  I tell them that I had enjoyed our visit and the tea.  They then insist that I stay longer, so I do.  We visit some more and then a second attempt is made this time with me standing half way up.  Before I can reach a full upright position they have all motioned for me to sit back down.

"You go to bed too early anyway!" they laugh.

"When do you go to bed?" I ask.

"Oh, at 2 am or so."

I laugh and tell them that I can't stay up that late, but that I do get up earlier than they do.  

One lady asks, "Why?"

She tells me that it's cooler at night and it's better to sleep in the day when it's so hot.  Good point.  I've always been a bit of a night owl with no inclinations toward early birding.  This could be my chance.  These could be my people.  Arsenio Hall, them and me.

Someone asks me something else and I have to ask her to repeat it.  So she does what every person in the world does…she said the same thing only LOUDER AND SLOOOOOOWWWWEEEERRRRR.  

Oh, yeah. That helps.  I simply don't have some vocabulary, so no matter how enunciated it is I won't understand (yet).  This is the part where I get a bit deflated.  I just want to understand and to be understood.  At moments like this I have an out of body experience that sees the whole scenario:

A dusty village along the Nile.  A small concrete and mud house on a dirt road.  A group of women all dressed in black sitting on low stools in front of their home.  Children running around playing with sticks.  Then me.  A very pale woman in khaki pants and multi colored, elbow/bum-covering shirt with sunglasses perched on top of her blonde hair straining to somehow take it all in.  To make sense of it all.

Just how did I get here? I'll spare you the 99 cent Kindle version and just tell you this: raw obedience.  Some days it simply doesn't seem fair to try to live this life out among people who are so different than we are, to be away from our daughters and family for extended periods of time, to somehow create a sense of normalcy in a place that boasts pharaohs and Chili's simultaneously.

I have to choose to lay my life down every single day…to live dead.  But just as a farmer may define what is and is not "fair" in life, he also has a deep sense of optimism.  No one plants a seed without the hope that it will grow.  No one tends and nurtures a young shoot without the expectation that it will take root.

So I plant seeds into dry dusty dirt and water them (on some days) with my tears of self-declared unfairness, but not without hope…not without expectation.

Jesus sees my life.  He sees yours.  We don't need to have a compared equitable life, but a life that trusts in the One who loves us dearly, adores our children and weeps for those who don't know Him.  God is good and He does good (Ps. 119:68).  If I believe that, then I don't need "fair." He is growing and nurturing what He's asked me to pour my life into…family, friends and a group of village ladies who put too much sugar in their tea.  I love Him so I love others even if that compels me to the far corners of a cow field...er, desert.

But if I ever do want "fair," there are plenty of donkey chips around my neighborhood to hold a serious competition.

Life Is A Roller Coaster

Any person who has shared life with us on this side of the pond has heard it before…maybe ad nauseum.  The song would tell you, "Life is a highway."  I would say, "Life is a roller coaster."  

I read an interview once where a reporter asked Rick Warren, "How do you handle the extreme highs and lows that your job brings?  Like a funeral and wedding on the same weekend?"

Rick responded that there are two tracks constantly running in our lives.  One track holds all the good things that happen to us and the other track holds the difficult.  They usually run simultaneously and learning to live in the moment "grieve with those who grieve" and "rejoice with those who rejoice" may be the healthiest way to handle what life brings.

He says two tracks, but I've added 4 cars on each:  physical, spiritual, emotional and intellectual.  One day physically I may feel great, but emotionally low.  On another, spiritually strong but physically drained.  I think Universal Studios ought to consider the possibilities of what this ride could look like at their theme park…a scream fest for sure.

I've been contemplating this thought quite a bit lately.  I think Autumn always makes me more introspective.  I love Autumn with all of its beauty and the traditions that we hold as a family.  We would decorate the house with multi-colored leaves, burn just the right Yankee candle scent, go to craft festivals, drink apple cider and visit the pumpkin patch.

Now that the girls are in college and we find ourselves an ocean away, I'm needing to redefine or recalibrate my expectations for seasons in life.  I'm not sure if this makes any sense to you or me.  

Part of it would be classic "empty nest" syndrome…learning to live life without the little chicks in the nest.  But since we've relocated, it feels more like empty nest, empty tree, empty forest.  We are really starting from scratch…new country, new town, new neighborhood, new house, new friends…and then throw in that pesky language portion and I find myself on a roller coaster ride of emotion that would rival the Corkscrew at Cedar Point.

John (who is also known as Mr. Zen) lovingly takes this in stride.  He gauges my moods and then offers the appropriate hug and/or kick in the pants as needed.  He has up-and-down days too but it would be more comparable to the kiddie coaster at Silver Dollar City…smaller swings and shorter track.

If you are tempted to call a hotline for me, I think you can hold on that.  I understand the process of adjustment in my head (intellectual).  It's just taking my heart (emotional) time to catch up.  Frankly, I'd like to be in two places at once…Pam 1 is here in the village, drinking tea, visiting with the ladies and sharing Jesus.  Pam 2 is in a tea room with Emileigh and Aria eating a salad, hearing about their day and giving/receiving hugs as needed.  (We might even throw in a trip to Hobby Lobby.)

The fam at Abu Simbel

But I've had talks with them and they understand that we are in this together as a family even though it causes separation.  We bear the burden and the cost willingly though at times painfully.  It doesn't take the longing away, but it does bring peace during times of personal soul dissonance.

This life also brings incredible highs…floating down the Nile, camping at the pyramids, snorkeling in the Red Sea and sharing Jesus with dear desert people who have never once heard of Him before (the pinnacle).

So I'll stay on the ride, buckled up, hands raised and maybe screaming the whole way knowing that each low has a high and that I am firmly in the grip of Jesus' loving hands.  And when I arrive at the station (Heaven) hair-blown, green-faced, walking sideways may it be with my family and the friends I've introduced to Jesus who also chose to get on board this ride we call "The Christian Life." 

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Today's BOGO Blog:  Bananas Over Our Girls

When Western Ideas Fuse with Local Tradition

The conundrum of Egypt lies in the extreme mix of modern and ancient.  From one of our apartment windows we can see an archaeological site holding the secrets of a thousand years.  Yet from another window we can see endless wads of cables for electricity and satellite channels.  

The taxi we were in the other day had to make room on a narrow dirt road for the donkey cart coming through with a load of fresh bread.  

One of my friends told me that in Cairo she saw two men pushing shopping carts down a busy street…inside the carts were live goats looking nervous.  The funny thing is that no one gave them a second look.  Like pushing a shopping cart down the streets of one of the world's largest cities with a goat sloshing back and forth was an every day occurrence…and in some ways it is.

Yesterday was the first day of a major holiday here, Eid Al Adha.  This is a celebration commemorating the lamb that Abraham sacrificed in place of his son, Ishmael (according to M*slim beliefs).  They don't attach any significance to the lamb itself except that in current traditions he is killed on the first day of the Eid and prepared into a large family meal.  History meets present but still a disconnect remains.

I walked past a stall in the souk (market) and couldn't help but laugh and take a picture.  Women like to wear house dresses here (otherwise known to us as moo-moos).  But Western influence has infiltrated and now you can find the latest house dresses sporting Spongebob and Angry Birds.  (I couldn't choose between the two so I put off the purchase until later.)

Some of our neighbors don't have glass panes in their window openings, but they all own cellphones.  

The bedouin tribes used to use the stars to navigate their way across the desert, now they have satellite phones and GPS systems.  However, they still choose to live in a tent and cook over an open fire.

I guess that's one of the challenges of living here.  It's like telling Laura Ingalls to continue to live the way she did on the prairie in the late 1800s, but also be sure to have TiVo and keep a People magazine handy for the latest bonnet fashion updates.

A challenge for sure but one I'm adjusting to each day little by little.  Two nights ago I was sitting outside a small mud house on a low stool made of metal and string drinking tea while using my phone to show a group of curious village women pictures of our daughters.  

We took a felucca (sailboat) ride in a boat that has existed since the British colonization and then report on TripAdvisor our opinion of the trip.  Surreal.

The one comfort in all of this clash of technology and time eras is that Jesus is the same.  He never changes.  He understands the heart of each person whether they embrace old ideas, new concepts, ancient theologies or modern philosophies…He can speak to each individual heart in a fresh relevant way that will be powerful and meaningful.  That is my peace when trying to navigate all of the cultural waters that I am given to tread.

Now I need to go and buy chocolate for some cookies that I want to make.  It's sold at the paint store.

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Today's BOGO Blog: Simpli Fi

The car says it all.

Beeza

This is the coffee lounge area...

This is before the Italian decor was added.

Last night John and I attended the (soft) opening of a new beeza  (pizza) cafe located in a hotel that we had stayed at prior to our move.  Ali, the general manager, had called me earlier in the day to invite us.  During a previous visit he had told us that he had been trying to think of ways to gain additional business since tourists weren't coming through right now.  He decided that a pizza and coffee cafe just might be the ticket.  We agreed and told him we would be his first customers…and we were.  

We had invited another couple to join us for the event.  Ali greeted us warmly and showed us to the lobby nook which had been redecorated as an Italian eatery.  Green checked tablecloths covered the small round tables.  A red square was on top of that with fresh greenery in a vase.  The whole area would seat 10 people.

A waiter presented us with the menu and we made our choices from the four types of pizza offered.  He thanked us and said, "Have a nice time."  He continued to say this every time he left the table.  

Ali asked what type of music we would like to listen to as we dined.  We told him that we should stick with the Italian theme so he quickly created a playlist and the soothing melody of "The Godfather Theme" wafted through the air as we sipped from our canned sodas with bendy straws.

I thought it was an unusual night for a restaurant opening since it was also a day of fasting for the local majority; however, Ali told us that it was good practice for his staff since we were foreigners and they were new to the pizza-making business.

Not too long after, our pizzas arrived looking very much like they should with the exception of olives.  I had totally forgotten to ask them to leave off the olives.  Olives here are added to everything.  E-ver-y-thing.  If you say "plain" that still means "with olives."  To get "no olives" you have to be very explicit.  I had forgotten to do that.  We thanked the waiter and then discreetly scraped them off.  The olives here are very strong…almost pickled…and in my mind to be avoided if at all possible.

The pizza was good and even included tomato sauce (not always a given like olives)!  I mean Pizza Hut doesn't have any immediate worries, but still the staff was trying. Plus, there's not a Pizza Hut to be found for 500 miles.

We were eating and visiting with our friends, when Ali pulled his camera out and began taking pictures of us enjoying our food.  He snapped from every imaginable angle and I thought that this was definitely a brochure in the making.  Our mugs will probably be pasted on every cruise ship from here to Luxor, but if it helps… I've vain enough to consider asking him to Photoshop out any double chins that might appear in the images later, but it might detract from the appearance of deliciousness of the pizza.  (Double chin=many tasty slices of pizza consumed, in case you weren't following…)

Sadly, no other customers came in while we were there so I'm really glad we went.  We assured Ali that we would be back and that we would tell all our friends.  He thanked us and held the door as we exited.

We left declaring that the pizza was good and that this was a nice dining option compared to the days coming when we may be offered lamb brains and eyeballs for Eid (holiday).  Then, even olives would be a welcomed topping…

When Friends Come to Visit

 

Nothing brings the heart more joy than when friends come to visit.  We had a wonderful week spending time with a friend who shared history with us as well as three new friends.

Since this was our first official "hosting" in this city, I promptly went into "Mumkin Tour" mode and researched all things interesting.  "Mumkin" for those of you who are new to my writings is an Arabic word meaning "maybe."  This word has served me well over the last few years as nothing is certain in this culture.

Nubian coffee being prepared

Mumkin Tours theme is "Maybe you will get there.  Maybe you won't.  Maybe you'll have a good time.  Maybe you won't."  So far we've always been able to live up to our company promise.

Our friends arrived on October 6th which is a national holiday here, sort of like our 4th of July.  We had been told that we should probably not go out too much through the day so we heeded the advice, picked up our friends and stuck around the house.

What we didn't know is that locals love to take boat rides on this holiday.  Soon we heard beating drums and yells coming from the river.  Everyone took to the patio to see scores of boats in a parade sailing down the water and turning around to return to the main dock area.  It was a VERY impressive start for our guests.  

I also introduced them to the women in our village and the village ladies did not disappoint.  They asked us to sit and visit.  Soon 8-10 women gathered along with children with questions coming from every side.  Two of us knew some Arabic so we did our best to understand, translate and respond as best we could.  When they talk all at once, it is exceptionally hard.

Sunset cruise...

After a while, I told them that we needed to go because my husband was cooking dinner.  They laughed and laughed while telling me to sit back down.  They were making tea.  We sat back down.  We visited some more talking about the upcoming holiday, family, etc.  Finally, I told them that we loved our visit but we were going to eat dinner now also allowing them to eat theirs.  They laughed again at the thought of John cooking and sent us on our way only after we promised to return.

Through the week we took them to a variety of experiences from the very fancy to the very, very local.  One night we took them through the souk (market) which is a very different experience than during the day.  The place comes alive at night so we thought they might enjoy it.

As we walked through the souk a rumble of excitement began to ripple through the store owners.  You could hear them whisper, "Tourists!  Look!"  It didn't take long before all of them paused and stared at the "huge" group of 6 foreigners walking down the middle of the street.

One of the ladies noticed some pretty alabaster dishes.  We stopped to look and suddenly we had a new best friend.  Let's call him "Ahmed."  Ahmed immediately began greeting all of us while stating, "I promise…you are the first tourists I have seen in a year!"  He was almost giddy.

I asked him the price of something but rather than answer he said that we should look at his factory around the corner which had a much bigger selection.  I should know better.  "Around the corner" is NEVER around the corner.  It was around the corner, down the street, turn left down the alley and into a small shop (not factory) at the end.

Thankfully the man at the end was one of John's friends so we all had a brief reunion before getting down to business.  Tea was offered, chairs were pulled in and the women were all turned loose to browse and "take your time."

Ahmed doesn't believe in individual pricing but group discounts.  This allows him to use his very special math.  He met his match though.  John is quite adept at figuring things in his head so Ahmed couldn't push buttons on his calculator fast enough to confuse him.

The items were all picked out, discounts discussed, money exchanged and packages wrapped.  Everyone had a bag to carry out full of pretty little purchases.  Ahmed led us through the alley back to the main street where men were waiting for him.  They gave him a high five and said something to the effect, "Congratulations!  You made a sale! You are the man!"  He was smiling ear to ear.

Souk in the daytime

Then as we all re-entered the main street, vendors on either side began clapping and yelling, "Tourists!  Tourists!  Sissi!  Sissi!  Tourists!"  You couldn't help but feel like a rock star.  We were all laughing and shaking our heads as we finally regrouped at the entrance of the souk.  What an experience!

It's one of those moments that I don't think I'll ever forget.  The sheer joy on the store owners faces.  The hope that we represented for a new day in Egypt.  But as we settled back into the apartment at the end of the day I said, "Think about Heaven.  Just as those vendors were clapping and cheering for our presence…do you think that maybe Heaven was rejoicing because more Jesus-carrying light had come into the city?  That the joy on the men's faces was just a precursor for genuine cheering when they meet the One who gives true security and hope?"  Let it be so.

We concluded the time with our friends by feeding them fuhl  (traditional local bean dish) for the most down to earth experience they had had yet.  It's a filling dish that leaves you feeling sleepy and satisfied.  Naps were definitely in order before they boarded a plane later that afternoon.  What a wonderful time we had shared together.  

Following their visit, we received another email discussing a potential visit from other friends.  The vendors might be right.  Mumkin Tours may be finally taking off.  : )

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Today's BOGO Blog:  An exceptionally funny recollection of exercising in Egypt..."Grapevine Like an Egyptian"

Deep in the Sticks

The chairs are made from papyrus reeds.

 Craftsmanship here varies wildly and widely.  Today my friend called to tell me that a bench she was having made for a nook in her patio didn't fit quite right.  Rather than the carpenter trimming the bench, he took a sledgehammer to the wall where it should go.  He pounded through the stucco to the brick before my friend intervened and insisted that he operate on the wood.  He was not happy.

Knowing things like this would be considered somewhat typical, I was dubious when I was told about a man who could make patio chairs out of sticks.  Riiiiiiiiiiiight, I thought.  I couldn't imagine how he would be able to create something that would be sturdy enough for every day use.  Still, I thought we should give him a try.

I called him and asked if he could come on Tuesday afternoon.  He speaks no English so I have no way of knowing if he fully understood my request since this is via phone.  John and I made sure that we were around on Tuesday afternoon.  Then Wednesday afternoon.  Then Thursday and so on.  I'm sure you are wondering if we could call to ask him if he's coming and we could.  It would just mean that he would say that he is and we would wait…still.  No real difference.

The detail is pretty amazing.

We gave up and went on with our lives into the next week.  Then as we were preparing to go into town one day, our neighbor showed up and said Mr. Nasser was at the door.  The Chair Man Cometh!  He arrived with four other guys in tow.  John was inside working on something so I told him that I would try to handle this encounter.

Mr. Nasser began speaking very fast and soon I had to stop him to ask if he would slow down his speech.  He looked at one of the men with him and spoke.  The man then turned, looked at me and translated…in slow Arabic.  It took me a second to realize what was happening, but it worked so I rolled with it.

I began to ask about the chairs that he made and he pulled up a picture of one on his phone.  He was currently promoting a new style of chair for the Fall 2013 season.  They were reminiscent of something you might see on the set of "Golden Girls" so I told him that I would like 4 chairs (regular style) plus a table.  What I didn't have in vocabulary I made up for in verbose charades.  I'm sure they all thought I was magnoona (crazy).  He really wanted me to have the new style.  I didn't really like the new style.  He really, really wanted me to choose the new style and finished the discussion by telling me that he would bring them and I would see.

He soaks the reeds so they'll bend.

Finally, I had to go inside the house and ask John to bring his manly self outside.  John greeted him and listened to Mr. Nasser's sales pitch.  At the end, John told him that we would like the old style chairs.  Mr. Nasser agreed.  John was a man after all and surely knew what he wanted.  No need to debate.  Sigh.

We went back and forth on price until we agreed at a suitable rate.  Someone had told me that I should order now and expect delivery in several weeks.  I could understand.  These chairs require a LOT of sticks.  We gave him a down payment and returned to our lives wondering when and if we would ever see any chairs.

Not 2 days later we received a call from a friend saying that a man with 4 chairs was at the gate.  What?!  Sure enough our first installment of chairs had arrived and I must say that they are pretty great.  So…if you're reading this…consider yourself invited to our home where you can enjoy our newly crafted stick chairs and gaze at the Nile.  Once we have the table, I'll even throw in a batch of chocolate gravy and biscuits!  (We are in the South here, y'know.) 

Y'all come!

You are welcome!

Call Me Definitely

John being a decoy while I try to take a picture of the gathering crowd.

 My friend, Sarah*, invited John and I to join her and her husband at McDonald's one Saturday morning to meet a local friend who might be able to help us with language study.  We readily agreed and began our walk from our apartment to the other side of town.

It was the day before a big national holiday (sort of like our July 4th) and scores of people were out to celebrate.  We passed through the gauntlet of felucca (sailboat) captains greeting them and eventually making our way to the restaurant.  Once there, however, we had to stop just shy of the entrance.

There were many people gathered in and around the area.  Because of the current political scene, we try to see exactly what's happening first before voluntarily entering the fray.  Once we heard some drums playing we realized the collected group was also celebrating the holiday.

We went to the edge of the Nile where there are outdoor seats.  We greeted Sarah and her husband.  She said that her friend had not shown up yet so we decided to wait outside and watch the festivities.  Boats from all directions were coming into the harbor carrying men dressed in their best jalibayas (long tunic with pants) and women in their sparkling finery.  Different groups wore different colors and had their own dance that they would perform on the top deck of the boats.

As the boats began to dock, the celebrators would disembark and make their way toward us and on up to the street.  It was sort of like a parade except on the water.

We had waited for over 30 minutes now and wondered what we should do next.  Sarah called her friend but received no answer.  This creates a dilemma.  Lateness in this culture is not a problem and is to be expected.  How long to wait is where it gets tricky.  If you're American through and through then 15-30 minutes is an extremely long time to wait on someone.  But we're in their culture…so we have to add 30-60 minutes give or take.

We decided to order lunch and just settle in for the long haul.  We ate and visited all the while placing calls to our missing friend.  Finally, after an hour and a half we decided it was an official "no show."

This explains the phone calls that we receive prior to a visit to a local friend's home.  They will ask us to come to their home for tea.  We ask what day and time.  They tell us.  We agree.  After we return to our home, we will receive another call confirming that we're coming.  Yes, still coming.

Two days before the visit, we may receive yet another call to remind us that we had said we're coming.  We try to really, really emphasize that we will come.

The day before, we might receive 1 or 2 calls politely asking if we will be able to come.  By now, I want to say, "YES! YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!  WE ARE COMING! I HAVE IT IN MY CALENDAR, ON MY PHONE, TACKED TO MY FRIDGE AND TATTOOED ON MY CAT!"  But (that wouldn't be very nice so...) instead I calmly confirm that it would be our pleasure to join them.

On the actual day, we receive one more call 15 minutes prior to our agreed upon meeting time once again confirming that we are indeed on our way.

You would think that after we have told them 6 times that we were coming that they would have all things ready.  Not always true.  We run about 50% in this category.  50% have tea and cakes ready for us while the other 50% may make a family member run to the store to pick up a few things while the rest chat with us.  (This means that you should add another 2 hours to the visit for cooking time.)

So when friends sometimes ask us, "What do you do during the day?"  I smile and say, "I answer calls and wait for friends."  

*Not her real name

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Today's BOGO Blog:  Flying Coffins