Happy New Year!!!

Happy New Year!!! Mutlu Yillar!! ευτυχισμένο το νέο έτος! سنة جديدة سعيدة! 


From my journal today-

It's New Year's Eve 2010.  December 31st, 2010.


I'm writing this on the Acropolis of Athens, watching the sun set over this ancient city.
Before me is a forest, a rocky hillside, a Byzantine church chiming the hour.
Beside me is the ancient agora of Athens.
Behind me, the Parthenon, the Erechtheion, everything.
And above me, but swiftly sinking, the sun.  Apollo takes his chariot into the sea for the last time this year.  When he surges out of the Mediterranean foam tomorrow, it will be a new year.


I am so happy to be here.  


A year ago, I was on a pier in Philadelphia with Liz + Ned and Annie, and my beloved Madli.  It was raining, but we still went out and watched the fireworks and had a lovely time.  Madli and I drank something she'd brought, and we stayed up late laughing and singing songs.


Tonight, I'm going to bed early.  I got quite sick in Cappadocia and haven't gotten over it yet, though I'm trying not to let it slow me down.  And I'm exhausted from my 2+ weeks of traveling.


I won't drink a lot or go dancing or stay up very late.


But I am on the Acropolis of Athens, watching the sun set for the last time in 2010.


I have done and seen some things this year - so many new challenges, new triumphs, some dreamed of, some impossible to anticipate, each sweet and memorable.


I've seen Alexandria, Cairo, Port Said, Ain Sokhna, Luxor, Aswan, Edfu, the Western Desert, magnificent Rome, Venice, Beirut, Bcharre, Al-Arz, Wadi Qadisha, Istanbul, Ankara, Cappadocia, Goreme and Athens.


And it's certainly not just the places I've been on a map.  I've been all kinds of crazy new places this year, and you can't see most of them with your eyes. 


I dreamed up a huge world for myself last year, and this year - 2010 - I have met that huge world and made it a reality that I now seek to fill with myself.  


I expand.  I am my dream.


I'm tired of plans and wary of dreams, but I'm hungry for the world.  Hungry for the sea and the sky and the dirt under my feet.  


I want to fill myself with the world, until I fill it up in turn.


Happy New Year, 2011!!!

Wise Words

"If I have learned anything from this trip, it's that no matter how great a civilization, how large and beautiful a building, how important a person's tomb, it will always eventually become just a place for birds."
                        - Marisa Kovacs

Cappadocia

Check it out:



My hotel is actually in a cave.  They have 12 cats.  About to hike up and watch the sunset over these amazing rock formations.  We're going hiking, horseback riding, or hot air ballooning tomorrow.

I'm living in a gnome metropolis.

Istanbul

Call it by whatever name you like - and it has had many - this city is a dream.  Beirut was perfect, Northern Lebanon was amazing, but Istanbul is a dream.  It's gloriously large, massive and glamourous on a scale befitting a city that bestrides two continents, but it's walkable and welcoming too.

And Merry Christmas to everyone!  I know, I didn't do a Hanukkah post, but I did have a proper Hanukkah celebration while I was Alex - made a menorah out of clay and everything!  In Northern Lebanon, where the majority are Maronite Christians, Christmas spirit was everywhere.  Here in Turkey, where the country is 97% Muslim, not so much with the Christmas fun times.  It's a little sad, and it feels strange to say that today is December 24th and I'm a million miles away from my family and friends and home.

But, let me not feel too sorry for myself.  Today, I saw the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, the Grand Bazaar, the Basilica Cistern, Taksim Square, the Galata Bridge, ate tons of delicious street food, had my first and certainly not last glass of raki (hint: it's not pronounced like it looks)....and best of all, I did it in the company of truly wonderful friends.  Generous, hilarious, joyful people who reminded what Christmas is really about for a pagan like me - taking time out of the routine of daily life to celebrate warmth, company, light, laughter, and to make a little extra happiness in the world.

Merry Christmas, Istanbul!

And of course, everyone I love in the U.S. and around the world, you know I miss you, especially now, and I wish you bliss and ease, comfort and adventure, and friends as uplifting as mine to make your holiday brilliant.

Love,
Helen

P.S.  I think this picture should give you a good idea of how I'm spending my Christmas:

Beirut I Love You

Don't have much time to write now, Marisa and I are in Beirut, Lebanon and loving it.  We've been out and about, museuming and naturing and barhopping and finding random live rock concerts, and this afternoon we're off to the horse races.  Still frantically working out our next step, everything up in the air all the time, and the people at this internet cafe already greet us like friends.

We're both in love with Beirut.  It's so perfectly different from Egypt, which actually begins to look a little better with some distance and a positive outlook on life.

Loving it here, next stop Wadi Qadisha in the north, then Istanbul with more friends for Christmas!

3 more nights in Alexandria

A little Mahmoud Darwish in honor of the occasion.  When I first read this poem, two years ago, I promised myself that one day I would read it again on Egyptian soil.  I can even read a little of it in Arabic.


In Egypt


In Egypt, one hour isn't like any other…
each moment is a memory renewed by a bird
of the Nile. I was there. The human creature
there invented the Sun-God. No one calls himself
by name: "I'm a son of the Nile, that's name enough
for me." From your first moment, you call yourself
"son of the Nile" to avoid the heaviness of the abyss.
There, the living and the dead pick clouds of cotton
from the land of Upper Egypt and plant wheat
in the Delta. Standing between the living
and the dead, two guards take turns watching over
the palms. Everything romantic is within you,
you walk on the edge of your soul in time's labyrinth,
as if before you were born Mother Egypt
had given birth to you first, as a lotus flower.
Do you know yourself now? Egypt sits with itself
in stealth: "Nothing is like me." And mends
the battered coat of eternity with a wind blowing
from any direction. I was there. The human creature
was writing the wisdom of Death-Life. Everything is
romantic, moonlit…except for the poem
as it turns around to look for tomorrow, thinking
of immortality but speaking only of its frailty
before of the Nile…


                                       - M. Darwish

With a hey ho, the wind and the rain

Just got back from a five day idyllic Nile cruise that reminded me of all the reasons why I came here, of everything I hoped to find in Egypt, and dazzled my eyes with wonders.

In 6 days, I will be done with my first semester in Egypt, and I'll begin traveling on my own and with friends, hopefully through Lebanon, Turkey, Greece, Palestine, and maybe England or France.  After that, it'll be Ireland to see my parents, where I hope to be cuddled and cared for until I explode.

But right now, winter has come to Alexandria.  It's raining, it's hailing, the sky is dark blue black grey, the wind is throwing the city into the sea as the sea rushes right into the city, and all the elements are screaming through the cracks in my windows, flooding my hardwood floors and cracking the paint on my walls.  The extremity, the might of the weather here is like nothing I have ever known.

Click here for a video a friend sent me of the Corniche of Alexandria overcome by the weather.

I will post about my cruise soon,  I promise - I have over 500 pictures to sort through, and five action packed days to summarize, and in the next 4 days I have a paper, a presentation and 4 exams to get through, so it may take a little bit.

But right now, I'm going to cuddle up with my roommates and watch some movies, order in some soup from our local cafe, read the storm scenes from King Lear, and as always, balance between the thrill and the terror that is life in Egypt.

Moon rise to sun rise

The desert could not be claimed or owned - it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by stones, and given a hundred shifting names before Canterbury existed, long before battles and treaties quilted Europe and the East...All of us, even those with European homes and children in the distance, wished to remove the clothing of our countries.  It was a place of faith.  We disappeared into landscape.
                                                                 - Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient               

Last weekend, I went with 8 of the other girls on my program on an overnight camping trip to the Western Desert, specifically the Black and the White Desert.  The White Desert, a well-kept secret for a long time, is swiftly becoming one of the most popular tourist destinations in Egypt.  But it's probably the only tourist place in Egypt where no will try to sell you anything.  They may instead cook amazing meals for you, stop every time you want to take in a view, or play drums for you as you look up at the endless Milky Way.  

This is the Black Desert.  The whole desert area used to be an ancient sea - really ancient - and this area had a lot of active underwater volcanoes.  So now that it's desert, everything here is covered in black volcanic basalt rock.  We renamed it Mordor, and picked out Lord of the Rings characters for each other.  I'm so glad to be here in Egypt with so many awesome nerds.  

Also, I'm Frodo apparently.

Driving along.  We drove four hours from Cairo to the Bahariya oasis in a bone-rattling van, and in Bahariya we transferred to the 4x4 which would take us out into the desert and onto the sands.  We stopped first at a 50 meter golden sand dune and climbed to the top, frolicking and shrieking and reveling in the sun and sand.  We were like children, like animals, looking and running and climbing and sinking into the sand, and taking pictures of each other, laughing constantly, stunned by what we were seeing.  

There is a feeling with beautiful and mighty things in Egypt that what you are seeing is not real, that you cannot actually be looking with your own eyes at what your are seeing.  With the Pyramids, it's hard to comprehend the reality of what you're seeing, because the image of the Pyramids is so familiar.  You've seen them a thousand times in pictures, how is this time any different?  What I have learned after all these months is to close my eyes and use my other senses.  What does the desert sound like, smell like, feel like?  You can even taste it sometimes, though I don't recommend doing that in downtown Cairo. 

On top of the dunes, you feel the sun on your face and neck and you register the implacable dry heat of it.  Mostly though you feel the wind - buffeting and whipping and making you grateful that you cut your hair so short in Italy, because now it doesn't tangle.  And then sometimes the wind is completely still, and then you hear the silence of the desert.  You're up so high, and you're so far away from anyone, that you can relish in silence, the most precious sound in Egypt.  Then your driver, behind you on the next dune, turns on the car radio because he's bored of waiting for you, and Elisa, the Lebanese singer who you're actually beginning to like, comes screeching scratchily across the space to you.  The feel of the desert is the best thing.  You've kicked off your shoes a long time ago, so you can feel the sand under your calloused feet, shifting so quickly from hard and packed to soft and sinking, from the surprising cool that makes you want to stand still for a while, to the heat that makes you jerk and tiptoe like a dance.  The taste of the desert is just dry, and then you can taste your hallucinations of water.  

This was Romario, our 4x4 driver, with me, Marisa, Lauren, Liana and Ger.  He named himself Romario as an homage to "Mario Kart" and a brag that he was a comparable driver.  He really was pretty awesome, but I would have liked him to do more wild off-roading stunts.  We were there for adventure, after all.  We all got new names in the desert too - mine's Aziza, if you're curious.  

And then there's the sun.  In the desert, I saw so many stars.  The whole Milky Way stretched out over my head, so that I had lie down on the ground and just look up with my whole body.  So many stars, and only a few familiar constellations.  I was not the only one that night who wished out loud that I had studied astronomy, that I knew something to say or think to make sense or style out of the vastness of the sky above me.  But the most important star was our own, of course.  Here at sunset, turning everything your usual purple and pink and gold and blue and black.  Shining behind the moon like the light in a shadow puppet theater, turning it's perfect half-circle from bright orange to gold to silver to the same bone-white as the desert, or lighting up the whole desert at sunrise.  

The 4x4s were draped with colorful blankets, delicious chicken was barbequed and served with rice and fresh vegetables, songs were sung, the stars were celebrated, we were all renamed, and myriad other wild things happened around our desert campfire.  

Our guides woke us a few minutes before the sun had begun to show on the horizon, and we climbed an ancient chalk rock, bundled in blankets and sleepy-eyed, to watch the whole thing.    

The White Desert, a few minutes after sunrise.  The white chalk sculptures that cover the entire desert are the remnants of an ancient coral reef.  We humans walked through a desert, and billions of years ago, fish swam through a sea.  We are probably descended from those fish.

I suppose every photograph of the desert makes it look the same, but the stunning reality of it is that when you're there, every single instant looks different, and it looks like nothing you've ever seen before. It seems impossible to find your way in the desert, but not because everything looks the same - rather because everything looks different, even if you look and then close your eyes and look right back.  It is a place - but the meaning of place implies a fixed nature, a location to be plotted and to orient by.  The desert, even the vast unyieldingness of the Sahara, is no such thing.  A place that transcends place, that cannot be held down with a pin and can be marked only by the passage of eons of time.  

I will come back to the desert.  It's a place to feel the urgency and the importance of your connection to other people, as you feel both your own smallness and the power of your togetherness, of how different you and your friends are from the rest of the desert.  But it's a place to feel entirely alone, to feel your own isolation from everything else.  And to feel how desperately you need sometimes to sit around a campfire and laugh wildly and sing and smile with others of your kind, and how sometimes you need to lie alone on the sand and stare back at the universe.

Bella Italia

I could write about my week-long vacation in Italy, but it wouldn't do it justice. I will show you pictures, but they aren't enough. It was a perfect week, a blur of happiness and inspiration and love and comfort and excitement. I threw three coins in the Trevi Fountain, so legend has it that my return to Rome is guaranteed, but it may never be as wonderful as this week.  

Bits and Pieces

None of this has anything to do with Egypt, except that it has something to do with me and I have something to do with Egypt.

-----

Trippers and askers surround me, 

   People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and 

      city I live in, or the nation, 

   The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old 

      and new, 

   My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues, 

   The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love, 

   The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss 

      or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations, 

   Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, 

      the fitful events; 

   These come to me days and nights and go from me again, 

   But they are not the Me myself. 

   

   Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, 

   Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, 

   Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, 

   Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, 

   Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. 

   

   Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with  linguists and contenders, 

   I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait. 

                   

                          - Walt Whitman, "Leaves of Grass"

Belated Promise Ring - Iron & Wine

When I thought life had some purpose Then I thought I had some choice I was running blind And I made some value judgments In a self-important voice I was out of line But then absurdity came over me And I longed to lose control into no mind Oh all I ever wanted Was just to come in from the cold

Tonight I'll sing my songs again

I'll play the game and pretend

But all my words come back to me 

In shades of mediocrity

Like emptiness in harmony

I need someone to comfort me

Rousseau, "Femme se promenant dans un foret fantastique"

He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young

But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won

And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun

And now will you tell me why?"

The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye

She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"

But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry

But she closed herself up like a fan.

And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread

It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"

He laid his hand then on top of her head

And he bowed her down to the ground.

"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel

As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed

But I won't march again on your battlefield"

And he took her to the window to see.

- Suzanne Vega, "The Queen and the Soldier"

The deep waters surged in the heart of the sea

Beach days in November?  Only in Egypt...

On the beach at Ain al Sokhna, a Red Sea resort town, with Corey and Liana.  Mango juice in my hand made me a happy girl.

I took a long wander down the beach at sunset, and when I looked before me, I saw sea.  Above me, I saw sky.  And on either side of me, mountains.  If Miriam ever sang anywhere, she sang here.  If Tzipporah ever danced, she danced here.  If Moses ever did God's wonders, it was here.

The sunset was so beautiful that I wanted to try and catch the sunrise.  But, me and mornings....not such a good combination.

All the IFSA ladies - the guys weren't pretty enough to take a group photo.

I had wine on my tongue, flowers in my hair and friends all around me.  A good night out.

Oh...and then a belly dancer literally pulled me up on stage.  Traumatic.  But awesome?

Not pictured: skinnydipping at 2 am in the Red Sea with some awesome people, and all the hundreds of stars I could finally see clearly.

The Israelites should have realized...I think the Promised Land is on this side.  

The summer's gone and all the flowers are dying...

This story is about an adventure I had two weeks ago - sorry for the delay, this blogging thing is harder than it looks.

Acting spontaneously on a desperate need to get out of our dorms (more on that later) and out of Alex, Marisa and I decided to head to Port Said in the delta for the weekend.  Port Said's main claim to fame is as the home of the Suez Canal, but to Egyptians it's mostly famous for having the best shopping in the country (because it's a duty-free port).   The city saw a lot of action and destruction in the Suez Crisis and the Yom Kippur/October 6th War, but has recovered economically in recent years.

We went just because we needed to get away.  We didn't really know anything about the place, had no train tickets, no hotel reservations, just a little preliminary internet research.  We stayed up all night so that we could get the 4 am train to Port Said - our only other option was a 4 pm train, which would have cost us a whole day there.  But unfortunately, our horrible old dorms lock us in at night and the guards absolutely refused to let us out.  After considering scaling the courtyard walls and bailing out a second floor window down a drain pipe, we decided we would just wait until 8 am and get a bus from downtown Alex.  The bus turned out to be much faster and a little cheaper (Egypt doesn't make sense sometimes) and surprisingly clean and comfortable.

We arrived in Port Said, amazed to have even made it this far, grabbed a taxi and headed to the nice hotel we'd read about online.  After bargaining and jockeying for a room, and inspecting the beautiful pool, we settled in for our long weekend of relaxation.

We lay out and sunned for at least 3 hours every day.  We both caught up on our pleasure reading.  We drank fresh mango juice while dangling our feet in the pool.  Just feeling the sun on my bare skin was such a precious sensory pleasure.  Upper arms, shoulders, legs all got their first sun kiss in 6 weeks.  It was wonderful.

We wandered around the town, did some window shopping, bought some ugly tee shirts with fuzzy bears printed on them, and saw the Suez Canal.  We couldn't get up close to the canal, because it's super high security, so we just hung out by the ferries, watching them cross from Port Said to Port Fuad and watching the sunset and moonrise.  

We wandered along the beach, got our feet wet, had ice cream, smoked delicious sheesha, played a public park with swings and seesaws, and explored the city a bit.  There was a wedding in our hotel on our second night, and after I had stood watching the bride and groom be circled by drummers and bagpipers for about 20 minutes, two little girls in the wedding party came up to me and shyly asked me my name and where I was from.  I told them, and we talked for a moment, and then they smiled and ran away.  When Marisa and I went out onto our hotel's balcony for our sheesha,  the little girls followed us and brought some of their friends!  We ended up talking with them for quite a while - some Arabic and some English.  They asked if we were artists, and I told them that I was a singer, they would not be satisfied until I sang.  I tried everything to talk them out of it - I'd been smoking sheesha for half an hour! - but they wouldn't take no for answer, so I sang them a verse of "Danny Boy," and they couldn't have been happier.  Then one of the girls sang an Egyptian pop song for us, and one sang an English nursery rhyme, and they left.  Marisa and I laughed and laughed - and then they came back!  We talked some more, and I had to sing again.  This time one of the girls requested "you know that song of love from Titanic" - and so there I was, sitting in a sheesha cafe in Egypt, singing Celine Dion with a bunch of Egyptian girls.  What a strange country.

We did have some bad experiences in our hotel, but they got resolved without too much problem and we tried not to let it affect how enjoyable the rest of our stay was.  Egypt is a land of extremes, and it was too much to hope that any experience could just be all good.  

But what really made the weekend wonderful was how self-sufficient we were.  We set off on our own, with no plans, no reservations, no information, no guides, no prep at all - and we made it work all on our own, in Arabic and English, and had a lovely time.  We both felt so proud, and felt that we had really come a long way.

This current weekend marks the halfway point of my first semester in Egypt.  I've been here seven weeks, and I'll be here seven more.  One of those will be blissfully spent in Italy with people I love, and one will be spent cruising down the Nile from Luxor to Aswan and Abu Simbel.  My program responded to all of our complaints and health concerns about the dorms we were living in, and has moved us into gorgeous new apartments (hopefully I'll be able to get pictures up soon).  We're in the nicest, poshest neighborhood of Alex, we have a huge kitchen, a balcony, a sun room, three separate living rooms, a dining room, two bathrooms, picture windows - it's probably the best apartment I'll ever live in, actually.  Some of our friends came up from Cairo to see the place this weekend and with a bunch of Alex resident friends, we christened the place with a proper hefla (*party) and feel very settled in now.  Having this beautiful, comfortable living space in a neighborhood where I feel safe is going a long way to change my feelings about Egypt.  I feel stronger and more willing to take risks knowing that I have a safe and lovely space to come home to.  

So, seven weeks to go - midterms and finals and travels, oh my.  But it feels like these next seven weeks will be drastically different from the last seven weeks in all kinds of positive ways.  It's still Egypt, so it'll be crazy and impossible as usual, but better.  Definitely better.


And the cool weather has just moved in for fall.  Yesterday, I stood out on my balcony to catch the first rain of the season, and let my bare arms and head get soaked.  The change of seasons and time is in the air.

Salaam,

Helen

Trying to be a better Jew

I always meet the hidden part of myself in holy places.

And if the holy places are hidden, the revelation is ever greater.

Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue, the only synagogue in Alexandria, is certainly hidden. It took my friend Liana and I good while wandering around downtown Alex to find it, and the entrance was tucked away down a sketchy alley and surrounded by guards.  The building was originally a church, but the Coptic community sold it to the Jews because they couldn't afford to pay the taxes levied on them by the Muslim rulers.  We're all people of the book, eh?

I wish I could show you pictures, but my internet connection is way too slow here to upload pics to this blog, so I'm putting in a link to my facebook album - I hope you can all see it fairly easily.

Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue

I'd read about the synagogue in some of preliminary research on Alexandria, and really wanted to cross it off my list.  Liana was interested in it herself, so we went together.  I'd found a phone number for the "gaon," Ben Youssef, in my friend's Lonely Planet guidebook, so I called and made an appointment to see the place.  When we got there, Ben Youssef was there to meet us and couldn't have been more welcoming and warm.  He asked us a few questions about ourselves in good English, took several animated phone calls in Arabic, quoted in Hebrew and, when he couldn't remember a word in English, slipped into French for a minute.  Needless to say, I was thrilled to hear French in Egypt, and picked right up with him, chatting away.  French turns out to be the native tongue for most of the Jews left in Alexandria, so he was very much at ease speaking it with me, and I was so happy to get some practice.  When I saw the old and well-worn volumes of Moliere and Racine on the shelf behind him, I knew I was in a good place.

The synagogue caretaker, Abd el-Nabi, took us around the synagogue, while Ben Youssef did whatever you have to do to run a defunct synagogue.  The place itself is absolutely beautiful - and beautifully maintained.  The temple (المعبد اليهودي, in arabic) was in its heyday when Alexandria alone had a population of around 40,000 Jews - a thriving, European ex-pat community filling up cosmopolitan Alexandria from around the turn of the century to the end of World War II.  After the creation of the state of Israel, Nasser's nationalizing spree, and the Six Day War, Egyptian Jews began a second exodus - today there are only 4 Jewish men and 17 Jewish men in Alexandria, all over 65 years old.  21 Jews.  They don't have enough men for a minyan, so they only have services on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot.  They import a rabbi, and invite Jews from Cairo and from Israel and all over the world to fill their beautiful, ghostly synagogue.  

Abd el-Nabi is a Muslim, but he's worked at Eliyahu Hanavi for 25 years, and his daughter works there now too.  He speaks Hebrew, has read Torah, and works with Jews every day.  He knows more about the synagogue than most anyone else.  He's got a wicked smile, a welcome for everyone, stories to tell all day and all night, and a constant perfume of cigars.  I liked him a lot.

After we wandered around the synagogue to our heart's content and listened to Abd el-Nabi's stories, we went back to the office to say goodbye to Ben Youssef.  We exchanged phone numbers and he declared that we have a father in Alexandria now.  The Jewish community here is so small, so endangered and so indestructible, and they welcomed us with open arms.

After we left, we went to a delightful French pastry shop and had ice cream and coffee looking out over my favorite vista in Alexandria, Saad Zaghloul square and the Mediterranean.  Waving palm trees, blue water, consulates and hotels, horse-drawn carriages crawling by, good food and good company.  On impulse, we took a horse-drawn carriage with red wheels and bells back home, and just soaked the atmosphere of an Alexandria that had treated us well that day.

Some good news!

 Check out this article - At least I can afford some retail therapy here.

You could either be successful or be us...

Egypt and I aren't in the best place right now.


Get Me Away from Here, I'm Dying - Belle & Sebastian

Catch up - yalla bina!

You're in luck - today I had a really excellent Arabic class, which has finally put me in the rare position of being in a good mood while having some downtime in my room. I've put on some Miles Davis, looked back through my pictures, and I'm ready to blog.

There's so much to say - the last time I posted was 10 days ago! I can't believe time has gone so silently - it's already mid-October (Miles, with his melancholy flamenco sketching, seems to feel the same way). Every day is full, every week is long, and when I wake up suddenly a month has gone by. It's been one month and one day since I arrived here. When I look back on my expectations for my first month in Egypt, I feel like I have accomplished nothing and will never get solid ground under my feet again. But when I stop expecting, judging, comparing and evaluating everything, as a wise person reminded me to do, I find that, like time, good things come silently and knit themselves into your daily life so you never notice them. There will be a time for introspection, for evaluation - but it is not now. Now is the time, the moment, the instant -

"There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

Urge and urge and urge,
Always the procreant urge of the world."
- Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

So that's my new approach, my new mindset. We'll see if it makes the next month any easier than this one has been. Egypt is madness all the time, a rush from extreme thrill and joy to misery and confusion, with never a chance in the middle to catch your breath. But hey, I'm young and that's what I should be doing. I remember last year, around this time, looking at pictures of friends studying abroad, and feeling strangled by all the placid pastoral community of Kenyon around me. Now, part of me wants that friendly familiar embrace, but the wiser (more annoying) part of me knows that this experience is really what I want - that breathing sea air is better than being strangled.

Stories this week in list format - it's just easier that way.

- A day bopping around tourist Alexandria. The lovely Marisa and Kasandra came with me to explore Pompey's Pillar and the Catacombs of Kom el-Shokafa, two of Alex's main tourist attractions. The Pillar itself was beautiful and very tall, but that was pretty much it. The legend from which it draws its name is that the head of Pompey, a great Roman general who led the wrong side of a civil war against Julius Caesar, was beheaded in Alexandria after he came seeking sanctuary, and his head was placed on top of the pillar as a gift to Caesar. This is very charming and all, except that pillar was actually built to celebrate the victory of emperor Diocletian over an Alexandrian uprising - over 200 years after Pompey was killed. Awkward.

But there was lots of ancient art and sculpture around the pillar that was exciting to look at. And more excitingly (Get ready, I'm about to really nerd out), the remains of the ancient temple of Serapis! Serapis was a syncretic Hellenistic-Egyptian god - basically, the Ptolemies who took over the leadership of Egypt after the death of Alexander the Great needed a way to control their recalcitrant Egyptian citizens, and shamelessly manipulated and invented religious figures to help bridge the gap between the Greek and Egyptian culture. Serapis was the foremost of these, seen as the full manifestation of the Egyptian god Osiris, and also as the Greek god Hades, who served a function similar to Osiris in the Greek pantheon. Crazy, right? See I warned you I was going to nerd out. The temple of Serapis also functioned as the "daughter library" to the Great Library of Alexandria - any books that didn't fit there were kept in the temple. The books in the temple were also completely open to the public, unlike those in the library which were only open to a certain class of people. The Coptic Christians destroyed it at the end of the 3rd century CE. RUDE.

But, like everything ancient and precious in Egypt, it was pretty much unguarded, unmarked and uninterpreted. So when Marisa and I found a way down into an underground passage, of course we went in. We got a cell phone flashlight, slipped through the hole in the wall, and down a small tunnel, and there we were - two American girls crawling around the ancient temple of Serapis, the world's first public library, a mighty symbol if the religious syncretism of the ancient Mediterranean. And it was really creepy and dusty too!

After that, we walked along the Corniche looking for a famous fruit juice place. Walking, we realized that a car in the near lane had slowed to keep pace with us - a car full of young Egyptian men. Frustrated, we kept walking, assuming they'd move on. No such luck. So we stopped, figuring no one would stop their car on a six-lane highway. Wrong - they stopped. So we walked backwards, knowing no one would reverse on a six-lane highway. Wrong again. And this time one of them got out of the car and stared at us. We kept walking forward, getting more and more upset and freaked out. They got back in the car and kept following us. Now I'm all for being sensitive to cultural relativism, and I know that women here are not expected to lose their temper or even acknowledge this kind of behavior - but this went beyond cultural relativity for me. No human being, anywhere, should be treated like that. So I lost my temper, screamed at them, cursed, and they drove off. I'm not proud of it - it's just that I simply could not have kept enduring that a moment longer. You can only be dehumanised for so long before you have to raise your voice.

Needless to say, after that, a delicious kiwi juice overlooking the Mediterranean, and then a quick splash, fully-clothed, in the sea itself, was more than necessary.

- So, on to another day. The Alexandria Opera House. Everyone on our program had bought tickets to a concert of the music of Sayed Darwish, a beloved Egyptian composer. We got all dressed up, looked sensational, taxied over to the Opera House, admired the remarkable cleanliness and elegance of the hall, and then listened in horror as the music began. It was a noxious children's chorus, conducted by a decrepit tenor with delusions of grandeur, backed by an exhausted-looking middle aged half-orchestra. It was bad. Bad. For the first time in my life, I bailed on a concert at intermission. And I have no regrets.
Two of the other girls left with me, we went back to our rooms, changed into jeans, and headed out to our favorite ex-pat dive bar where we started the dance party and had an absolutely fantastic night. Did you ever expect that I would leave a classical music concert half way through to go to a dive bar? I guess I'm growing up...

- Class continues on, and some days are terrible, some days are excellent. I'm not used to feeling like the stupidest person in the room, so it can be hard on my ego, but I do think I'm learning.

- This weekend, I went back to Cairo again with most of the people on the Alex program to see a production of Aida staged in front of the Pyramids. I really don't like the opera itself, so I figured this was a perfect opportunity - the best thing about the Aida is just the massive spectacle of it all, and there could not possibly be a more spectacular setting for Aida than the Pyramids. So I could see it here, and no matter the quality of the performances, feel like I had done the opera justice and would never have to see it again. The music was not great, though the soprano singing Aida was actually very impressive, but when the background to the Triumphal March is the actual Sphinx and the Great Pyramid, you're really not listening all that hard.

After the opera, our friends in Cairo took us out to an amazing sheesha place - incidentally, lemon-mint is the best sheesha flavor in the whole world - and we had milkshakes and sheesha until 3:30 in the morning. We got up early the next morning, bought some pastry and brought 5 of our Cairo friends back to Alex to show them our city by the sea. We had an amazing time, showing them the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, our favorite fish restaurant and juice place, the beaches, the antique and awesome tram line, the ancient Catacombs and some of the cooler neighborhoods of the city. Showing other people around the city made me love it a little more, and made me feel a little more at home in it. Maybe by the end of the semester, it'll feel like my city. I hope our Cairo peeps come back soon and often!

And today, after that whirlwind weekend, it was back to class, to the mental whirl of amia and fusha, homework and vocabulary drills. It can be hard to care about schoolwork here, with everything else there is to do.

Hopefully, this weekend will be another get-away weekend, somewhere cheap and exciting, and preferably near a beach where I can wear a bikini!

Salaam,
Helen

Running running running

It's very easy to lose momentum for blogging when life is so busy and confusing.  I'll try to have a new one up for you guys soon.  As every day goes by and more things happen, it gets harder to imagine going back and remembering and retelling.

And besides, my new resolution is to live more fully committed to the present moment and not compare or judge.

Size Matters

A week ago today, I stood at the base of the Great Pyramid of Giza.
And really, the thing that makes the greatest impression is just the sheer massiveness of the pyramids.

The individual stones are massive.  Each pyramid is massive - even the smallest one is incomprehensibly huge.
After the size, what impresses most is the ancientness of them.  The oldest is almost 5,000 years old.  Maybe it's because I'm the daughter of two historians, or because I'm an American and therefore a cultural infant in the global sweep of things, but the age of things has always had a powerful effect on me.  And the wonderful thing about the pyramids - as opposed to the ancient sites of Alexandria, for example - is their endurance.  The rush of continuity and eternity that runs through you when your fingertips touch the stones is impossible for me to put into words.  I know, I know, this is a blog, I'm supposed to be describing these things for you.  But that's where the title of this blog comes in - as much as I try to explain and describe what I do, the experience is at heart a wordless one.

But to imagine a man laying down a stone 5,000 years ago - a member of my own species, speaking a language and worshipping gods, eating fresh mangoes and drinking Nile water, struggling every day with his body to support a family - and then to feel that same stone under your own hands, I felt so incredibly human, and felt that I understood a little better what it means to be human.

I also understood what it meant to be hot, dirty, tired, and heckled by pushy camel ride salesman and skinny children selling postcards.  This is the way it is in Egypt - a constant rush from one extreme to another.

I went to the pyramids with one of the guys on my program who's studying in Cairo this semester, and we decided not to get a guide or take a tour at the site, but instead just to enjoy it at our own pace.  We really took our time, and I actually enjoyed not learning anything about the place - just drinking it in.  And Josh and I had some good talk about Bernard Lewis and Edward Said - I'm still working my way through "Orientalism" and falling ever more torturously in love with Said.  Not to mention that he's beginning to color my experience here in interesting ways.

After the pyramids and the Sphinx, Josh and I went on to the best part of the day.  I had done some research at home about horseback riding in Cairo and had found one stable that looked really good, and Josh was more than game, so we had made plans for a two-hour horseback ride across the Sahara between the pyramids of Abusir and Dahshur/Sakkara.

Yes.  A two-hour horseback ride across the Sahara.

If you know me at all, you know this was one of the best moments of my life.

We had a wonderful guide, an international endurance riding champion, I had beautiful horse named Umm Kulthoum, Josh was great company...but really, I was just on such a high from being ON A HORSE IN THE SAHARA DESERT.

No helmets, no set track to follow, we just rode.  And rode and rode.  And though my out-of-riding-shape body was aching the next morning, I couldn't have been happier at the time.  There was a moment when, having ridden a bit ahead of the other two, I stopped and look all around me.  All around, all there was was desert.  I looked down and saw horse, looked up and saw sun, and couldn't have been happier.

We walked, trotted, cantered, got up some serious speed.  I hadn't forgotten everything, even though my Western habits amused our English-trained guide, but when I figured out the my horse could neck-rein, it all worked out.

But there it is.  I can tell you that cantering across the Sahara desert, wind buffeting my face and blowing my hair, sun burning my face, sand in my eyes, and strong horse carrying me, is as good as it gets.

Highlights of next post: kiwi juice overlooking the Mediterranean, how I finally snapped at men harassing me, and how Marisa and I snuck into the ruins of ancient temple.

Salaam,
Helen