Siwa (October 7-10)

If you happen to find yourself in Cairo, and you happen to have 4-5 days of free time, I would suggest you attempt a trip to Siwa. Despite the daunting 10 hour bus ride, it will most certainly be worth your time. Siwa is a desert oasis near the Libyan border. Suffice to say, it has everything you could want in a desert oasis: hot springs, cold springs, a salt water lake, fresh dates, and spring water. It was truly three days that I won’t soon forget. Siwan culture is also something of an anomaly to the Egyptian culture I have come to know. First, they speak Berber instead of Arabic. Second, once the women are married, they are not allowed out of their homes unless they receive permission from their husbands. Third, if you talk to a woman on the street your legs will most likely be broken by her family. One quick highlight from the trip. We had the opportunity to take ‘safari’ into the desert and stay the night at a ‘Bedouin camp’. After ramping over sand dunes in a jeep that should have been retired long ago, we settled into our Bedouin camp beneath the vastness of the stars. As we lay beneath the stars we heard music quietly being played from a nearby jeep. All of sudden, the music got a lot louder and Enrique Iglesias: ‘Hero’, was blasting from the speakers. With no words spoken between us, five of us guys jumped up, stripped down naked, and took off running into the desert. I have never felt freer. And in the pale moonlight, six white American asses have never looked more…well, pale.

Home Stays

This is long overdue. And is the first of many long overdue posts. Enjoy.

It felt a little bit like Christmas morning—excitement and anticipation filled the air as thirty Americans students sat like lost puppies waiting to be claimed by some loving family—the week of home stays had come. For the next week we would be living with lower to middle class Egyptian families in order to get a glimpse into what life in Egypt is really like. It went a little something like this.

Our heads quickly turned as each new family walked through the door of our villa: was it our time? After about an hour and a half, my time finally came. Walking quickly across the room, my friend Steven and I were introduced to Maher and Nuur: our new host dad and brother. After the usual rounds of introductory questions, we were informed that we would be attending a wedding ceremony with them. There is no better way to feel out of place than by attending the wedding of someone you do not know, in language you do not speak, with people you only just met. In addition, Steven and I are both tall, skinny, white guys—let's just say that there was no blending into the crowd. Going through the receiving line, I can’t imagine what was going through the bride and grooms mind as I told them congratulations. Ah, the joys of studying abroad. Our family was Christian—most of the guys lived with Christian families because it is very hard to find Muslim families that are comfortable with a bunch of American boys invading their homes. But seriously, some Muslim women would be uncomfortable unveiling themselves in front of strange men. Our family lived about 40 minutes away from my flat in Cairo in a part of town called Haydaek El Maadi. Making our way through narrow busy streets, we finally reached their apartment and went in. Their simple apartment was pretty normal for your average middle class Egyptian family—small kitchen, two bedrooms, and a small living room. The streets of Cairo are hectic, crowded, and loud. Therefore, apartments become a place of refuge from the crowded outside world. During the week I spent with my host family, we only left the apartment to go to church. Otherwise, the time was spent watching T.V. and sitting around. My host mom worked as a teacher, but the schools had not begun for the year, so she spent her evenings making food to go and sell in the market. Maher worked for the Bible Society of Egypt and Nuur is your typical ten-year-old who enjoys playing video games and a soccer. We shared 5 days together in this small apartment. Steven and I would struggle through Arabic; our host mom made us amazing food; Nuur played Fifa 2009 with us; and Maher was an eager listener and was always there to correct the many mistakes in our limited knowledge of Arabic. Like my time in Germany, I am continually amazed by the kindness of strangers and their willingness to extend hospitality. Though the language barrier made for some awkward silences, I always felt welcomed and cared for. I look awful in the picture. Don’t judge me.