So Much to Learn...

So last night I was out trying to buy a phone card (the store was closed) and was still out wandering at 6:15. It was interesting to walk past restaurants, store fronts, through the streets and see people everywhere with food and water sitting in front of them...untouched of course. Everyone perched, waiting those last 15 minutes out together. I have mentioned this before but I love the way Ramadan connects people and it was never more apparent than watching everyone wait and then watching them reach for their first drink of water of the day in unison. Anyway I decided to try out this restaurant that I have been wanting to go to for some fuul and falafel. Now I can't read the menu (or the restaurant name) so having done the background research to know what they serve and knowing what I want to order is key. Of course everything is different here so I walk in, struggle to figure out the system...where do I order? who helps me? what is going on? how did I end up living in Egypt again? Anyway I muster all my confidence and walk up to someone and in my best (and still mostly non existent Arabic) I ask for fuul and falafel (hoping there are no follow up questions but certain that there will be). So the man starts speaking Arabic...full, fast complete Arabic sentences. I get nothing from this except that they don't have what I want...how is this possible?? It is 6:35 - they have been open for five minutes ... they have not been able to serve food all day - they can't possibly be OUT of FALAFEL. I give my best Arabic word for 'finished?' and he starts talking again...this time I understand nothing --I giggle a little (my best response when I don't have a clue what is being said) and then he says something else..but ha! I understand a word....POTATOES! So I take it that all they have in the restaurant this evening are potatoes....I say thank you (one of my VERY few mastered Arabic words) and briefly consider trying somewhere else. Instead I head home to make myself some rice. Tomorrow is a new day. Bring it on!

"I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends"

So I have made some pretty great friends here. They range from 4 to 11 and they play outside in what they call the “garden” (it is the courtyard for the apartment buildings). It started with a smile to one of the girls and quickly turned into running to each other when we catch a glimpse of each other every night and evenings full of broken Arabic/English/the universal body gestures (and all the misunderstandings that go along with that) Egyptian versions of Hide and go Seek (a lot of yelling) and Stella Ella Ola (with the painful twist of having to hit the person so that they make some sort of noise to indicate pain) and house (which turns out is pretty classic around the world…except that they empty out things from their house and we play it in the “garden”). It is nice having some to hug you when you are so used to constant snuggles back home (expecially from Meghan and Serena)

The other day one of my friends celebrated her 11^th birthday so I made a card and a birthday crown and went to the market to get her helium birthday balloons. We had a lovely little party.

At some point though I realized that my homemade keychain (a present from a student I taught at home) had opened and I had lost my key to my locker at school. So of course I was devastated. I was running through having to tell the school that I lost it and upset at how irresponsible that would make me look. I figured out that it should have been in the courtyard so I start searching in the dark – it was totally unrealistic to think that I ever would have found it. Immediately I had a search party – about fifteen little children searching the grass using the screens from their phones to light the way. They also went and got the guards and some got older siblings (I was somehow able to convince them not to get their parents) involved so add in a few of those looking for this needle in a haystack – in the dark. Anyway I searched for awhile and was pretty upset and the birthday girl kept saying “you are not sad” by which she meant “don’t be sad”. She was nearly in tears because I was upset…very sweet. I kept trying to cheer them up and stop them from looking. They would run over with the saddest little faces to hug me and then they would set off looking again. Very touching. It got to the point where I had to give up for the night, (andthey kept telling me to go to bed…they know that I go to sleep hours before them) so I set my alarm to wake up with the sun and left my friends.

Just before 1:00 am I hear knocking on my door. I don't answer my door here because I am always nervous that someone knows where I live and the hallways are always empty so I get scared that I would be alone (this has gotten me into trouble when my director stopped by my house one night to make sure I was ok). I don’t even look through the peep hole – as if by getting that close to the door they will sense that I am home (note that I am not overly paranoid about everything here…just this). So the knocking gets louder and at some point I notice that there is more than one person knocking and I figure out the it is likely children, check the peep hole and there are about ten of the happiest kids you have ever seen outside my door. I open up and they hand me my key! So after I went to bed they refused to give up and kept looking – in complete darkness. Of course, I was THRILLED to have the key back and relieved at not having to have the very uncomfortable conversation with my school but mostly I was so touched by the commitment to keep looking after I left and by how happy they were to have made me happy. True friends.

"Just like Disney Land"

Like in so many parts of the world the driving is crazy here. There seems to be no traffic signs or rules of any sort. If there are two lanes, but room for three cars then you just squeeze in, if you want to merge you go for it and hope the person behind you stops, a problem in one land is dealt with by a man on the side of the road pointing where you should go - directly into oncoming traffic. The horn is also handy - as are the blinkers and the headlights. In fact it seems that this is the only rule here. Honk and flash for everything. Driving around is really like a game of Almost Bumper Cars set to a symphony of honking and the comforting constant click of the signal light. We asked about speed limits and the question was met with laughter. Real genuine laughter. Of course when we reach for our seatbelts (which only exist in the front seat anyway) we are either laughed at or we are labeled “so American”. Of course there are no cross walksso crossing the street is an equally big adventure. I have not quite gotten used to it and I still look all ways and then still hesitate and then continue to monitor as I dart across but people here just make the decision and run for it. Like really run for it. They tell me that if I continue to look around and wait I will never get across the street. If I am with a local my rule has become "Stay close to the Egyptian" as we weave through cars, which do always seem to stop - though you are never sure they will. It seems the trick is to walk out in the streets with confidence...still on my own I wait and wait and wait.

In two weeks I have seen countless cars on the side of the road completely destroyed (in one we actually saw someone sitting in what was left – mourning a death of a loved one or seeking refuge from the heat?), one woman waving her arms frantically and running out onto the highway as her donkey ran out and four dead bodies that had been dragged to the side of the road. Seeing these bodies always shakes me up. At home we are very sheltered from death. Accidents happen and people die but they are very quickly swept away. Knowing that someone died in a terrible accident is horrific and always make me think about the uncertainty of life and of how quickly it can change - both for the victim and his/her loved ones. But there is something about seeing a lifeless body that just minutes or hours before was going about their day as usual that reminds you that nothing is promised. I have made a friend here who insists that I should drive here – in fact has offered me a car. Of course I tell him he is crazy – that I would never ever ever. He thinks this is hilarious and insiststhat it is fun, that it is “just like Disney Land”. As for me…I am walking – and of course darting across the street between swarms of honking vehicles

Settling in Quite Nicely...

Of course the sights in a new place are fascinating but I am starting to wonder if the appeal to traveling to unfamiliar lands is really about seeking a feeling within ourselves. It seems to grant us the rare and beautiful opportunity to see the world through the eyes of a child again. Everything is new. Everything is confusing. Everything is beautiful - even when it isn't. We take what we know and compare it to what we see - are fascinated by differences and are connected by similarities. We walk with our eyes open again - noticing things we don't always take the time to notice at home. We are open to experiences - impromptu conversations with strangers, long waits, tedious errands. Maybe part of why we travel is searching for this openness.

At the same time it is incredible to me how quickly things become normal. I have been meaning to sit down and write this for some time now but when I think about doing it I always conclude that I "don't really have anything interesting to say" which means that in two short weeks so many things have stopped surprising me. Already it is normal to go to a storeseveral times in a night hoping to catch them when they are open, to drive through the desert where people can be seen sitting reading the Qu'ran on your way to work, to be so aware of how people are perceiving opposite sex interactions – especially touch, to see people praying everywhere – in mosques (and overflowing outside when they fill) which are everywhere as well as on patches of grass or on sides of streets. Perhaps this ability to adapt so quickly is part of what gives the ability to do things like pack up and move to Egypt (or wherever we may be).

So…daily life here. I wake up to the familiar sound of the call to prayer at 3:45, listen for a little while and then go back to sleep, thankful to have another 2 hours. I try to get dressed – but I am still confused about what I am allowed to wear. The dress code is different than I was initially told (ie. floor length skirt, not just below the knee) so I can’t wear a lot of what I brought. Even the stuff that seems to be what they want I am not sure about. I have been wearing what I thought to be appropriate based on what they told us on our first day and then the other day one of the two other Western teachers was approached and told that she can’t have the foreign teachers not following the dress code and asking if money is the problem (then we were shuffled around and she drove us home instead of our driver and dropped us off at the mall). I am far more formal than all the other women so I have to assume this means that the clothes I am wearing are either too tight or too low cut (even though I am careful about this). I remain confused and stressed out by this misunderstanding. Anyway once I affix the proper scarves to cover or try to pin or adjust clothing appropriately I head outside and wait for the driver that the school sends for me. This time of day (before 7 am) is lovely because there is a breeze and the heat isn’t so intense yet.

I exchange greetings and pleasantries in Arabic with my driver because this is all of the language that I have mastered so far. He is quiet on the drive to school (not one for the morning I presume, he saves all his chatting for the drive home). We drive through the desert for twenty minutes (note the pictures were taken out the window...apologies)

When we reach the school I step out of the cab and stare up at this place and am again amazed at how beautiful it is. There are easily seven gardeners (all in their spiffy green jumpsuits) working on the grounds. I wave. I walk past the security at the school’s entrance and after more Arabic greetings I am at the fingerprint punch in system (that’s right...my fingerprint gets me

into my school!) I visit my classroom briefly before heading into the air conditioned auditorium (by this point it is almost 8 am and the heat is blazing). We spend a good part of the day talking about things that would be so strange to discuss in an orientation at home but that offer fascinating insight into the culture here. We discuss the importance of not allowing children or each other to interrupt. A lot of the teachers say things like “but what if we don’t mind”. “what if they are in a rush”. Here it is extremely common to be talking to someone and have someone walk in and carry on a conversation and then leave without any awareness of the interruption. This does not seem to bother anyone involved in the interaction in the slightest. We vote over culturally appropriate signals to give children and each other when they try to interrupt. We discuss wait in line behind each other and how we have to force ourselves to be aware of when they aren’t. Again, lines are not respected here – it seems you just jump in wherever you can. We are told to practice standing in line at the fingerprint machine on our way out at the end of the day. We discuss how we will also have to enforce that the children call us by name here – apparently this is also not a practice here and students often do not know teachers’ names. They thought jumping to last names would be a big leap here and so they will call us Ms/Mr. and our first name. So I am Ms. Melissa! I like it. More orientation/training/time to work in our classrooms and the work day is done. Because of Ramadan the days are shorter – everyone is fasting so energy is low in this heat (it is the water that is the hardest to do without).

On the cab ride home the driver chats with the American teacher, Mr. Billy, who speaks Arabic. After we drop him off though the driver talks to me. He knows that I do not understand – and yet he continues. I nod and giggle and say “aywa” (Arabic for “yes”) a lot. Sometimes I can make out the subject if he throws out a familiar word or offers a hand gesture or some combination of the two (not eating/drinking because of Ramadan, some sort of discussion of sleep, various Egyptian cities, the director of the school, something about the sun – I presume a discussion about the heat, hooka…) but still all I can say is my standard “aywa”. These interactions make me laugh. He puts this vial of scented oil in the air conditioner vent and yesterday had me smell it – and the entire collection he keeps in the glove compartment. I guess I was more enthusiastic in my “kwaiyis “ (Arabic for ‘good’) because he insisted that I put out my hand so he could put some on me. He then did this with three or four others. We sat in the car, not moving , doing this for quite awhile. He is now endearingly known as my perfume guy. Today after dropping the American teachers off we sat in the car and watched video of his daughter on his phone – several times. Who knows what tomorrow brings.

I finally get home and it is too hot to do anything. I usually take a nap. The city is completely deserted during the day. This is due to a combination of the summer heat and Ramadan. The

people you do see out are guards, street cleaners etc. and they are often laying under the refuge of a tree. A little later I buy groceries (my favourite pass time so far) and run errands. Stores are often closed. I get that they close for iftar (the meal at 6:30 that breaks the fast) and they close at prayer times but sometimes they just seem to be closed. So you come back later….they might be open Insha’allah. Or they might not. This is how it works here. You just go with it. I have needed a permanent marker for two days – maybe tonight I will choose a better time to go get it and they will be open. This doesn’t bother me….it is all part of it and I embrace it. The city comes to life at night. Everything opens around 9 and stay open far past my bedtime. Walks and errands are great at night because it is cool and you can walk around. I like to sit outside on my front steps and get some work done…there is a beautiful breeze and feeling all around. No one sleeps. I know because when I go to bed all I hear is children screaming and playing, people in the streets, cars honking. It seems they are all on your time back home and I am the only one on Cairo time.

Welcome to Room 121!

Ever since I was told which classroom would be mine (Room 121) I have become obsessed with visiting it. It is locked and it is impossible to get in touch with the right people to get it opened but it is the first place I go when I get to school every morning, I walk by it whenever I start to feel overwhelmed by everything and usually stop by before I leave. I stand outside and imagine it full of children and full of life. I often take the long way to wherever I am going just so that I can walk by and stare in. I gaze in the window and get lost in how beautiful it is and how happy I am at what awaits me. Here are a few pictures. I took them through the glass... I know that you see an empty room with sparse walls, no colour and desks right out of the box - still covered in cardboard and plastic set up in straight rows. But I see opportunity and days full of colour and life. Those blank walls are so promising to me. I can't wait to get in there and make it a place my grade ones and I will be happy to be. I look in those windows and see student portraits and welcome signs and pencil crayons and books. I see children laughing and reading and learning and questioning. When I feel like I can't possibly get through the incredible amount of work that I haveright now or find a way to align school and personal values I stand right in the spot where I took these pictures. And then I can breathe again.

My First Visit to my School

It is so fascinating and wonderful to be in a place where everything is new and exciting. I could not sleep again last night as always and when I was still up at 3:45 am to hear the morning call to prayer. I enjoy the calls to prayer (which happen 5 times a day). I find the sound to mesmerizing and hypnotizing in a way that it puts me in sort of a daze. I like that it reminds me how far I am from home and what an amazing new world I am experiencing (not that everything I see doesn’t make forgetting impossible). Anyway of course I don’t understand but I have learned that one of the things that is said in the morning call is “Wake up. Prayer is better than sleep” This has quickly become my favourite time of the day! Anyway around 4:30 I decided to go for a walk which is just as people were getting up to eat before sunrise so there was that feeling in the air of being connected to something bigger than myself. I walked around, smiled at (and tried with very little success to talk to) some children who were out playing, sat on my steps and watched the recycling collector do his work. I love the overwhelming feeling when everything is so new. When you want to get up before the sun and watch the mundane events that start of the day, when you are captivated by something as everyday as the man who collects the empty bottles of water.

I went to see my school today and I don’t think that I can explain to you how beautiful it is. Marble floors, a man playing the piano in the foyer, huge open air windows, the most beautiful garden, intricate staircases with wrought iron railings. I stood today gazing out the window onto the most beautiful courtyard imagining how perfect it will be once the buildingis filled with the life that little voices talking and laughing will bring. I have posted a few pictures but they definitely don't do it justice. I think you really need to be there to feel that.

There are only two other foreign teachers – both male so that makes me the

only non-Egyptian woman in the school. I like that this will grant us the opportunity to interact with Egyptian people. Too many North American teachers would likely mean that we would just interact with each other and this makes for a much more genuine and authentic experience. I had a very nice conversation with the assistant library Sahar who had never spoke English with a foreigner before. She is one of several people who will be a joy to work with every day. Tomorrow I will meet the other teachers.

One of the American teachers speaks, writes and reads Arabic so while going through resources in the library we had an impromptu hour or so long lesson. My very first! He taught me 11 of the 29 letters today and sent me home to practice these. Arabic is written entirely phonetically but it is tricky because the letter takes different forms depending on the position within the word (initial, middle or ending sound). I even wrote my first Arabic word (it was door or Bayt in Arabic) and then a few more. I have been practicing writing these tonight and once I have them he will introduce more letters. He also taught me some words and we worked on pronunciation a little bit (he is very supportive even though I am terrible and never laughs at me). He is excellent at teaching languages as well because he has a Masters in Spanish and teachers it to adults and also seems to have a linguistics background which helps us to discuss the way the sounds are made and other details (those linguistics courses are finally proving to be useful!). I was approached in the market yesterday by a woman who is living in Rehab city teaching Arabic privately so I think I will call her and start some lessons. It is challenging but very very exciting. Here are some of my study notes: I am mostly just writing out the alphabet but it looks fancier and more important than that right?!

I feel like I am trying to take in as much as I can – to observe every interaction and seek to understand the culture and religious reasons for things. I think this hyper aware state along with the stress of navigating through this school that is so different from what I am accustomed to is partially responsible for my lack of sleep.. It has been days since I have slept and I am not at the point where everything is fuzzy. ( It is 3 am while I write this, I have not been to bed and I have to get up at 5:00) On other news, I have figured out that my stove needs to be lit like a BBQ and I have matches, but, having never lit a BBQ in my life and having flashes of burning down this beautiful apartment every time I light the match…well lets just say I am sticking

to dates, nuts, mangoes, bananas and today green beans. Also there is still no water. I hear that a main pipe broke in the city and this is the reason. It is very hot and a shower would be wonderful. It is different living in an orphanage and not being able to shower but my school looks like a palace - it would be nice not to be filthy. It has been a week now and I do wash as much as I can in the sink with bottled water but i feel guilty enough having to buy bottled water to drink, let alone bathing in it. The word is that it will be back tomorrow but I have heard this for several days now. "insha'allah" I remain optimistic that this tomorrow will be the day!

A lovely morning wait...

Yesterday I was sitting outside waiting for my ride when a man walked by. Of course I did my usual thing. Head down. Look away. Ignore. He stared but walked on by politely and went into his building. Then a few minutes later he came back out with his son but just stood there maybe 6 feet from me with the child. He was not doing anything or saying anything or going anywhere…just stood there with this one (ish) year old. He must have been able to tell that I would not be able to resist the baby so I of course started waving and smiling and talking to the baby. The baby was really not sure what to make of me – which I can understand judging from the lack of people that are around here. At this point if I saw someone someone who looked like me I would stare as well! After a little while we stopped interacting and I went back to what I was doing. He still stood there…doing nothing. Then after a few minutes he went in and got another child. By this point he knows me very well. We play this whole game again with his 3 year old daughter. Again after a few moments he leaves again and I am wondering if he has more children, or what his next move will be. We did this for awhile. He brought out a A very enjoyable game for a Friday morning. He invited me into his home and I wish a) that I could speak Arabic and b) that it was safe to accept such invitations from such seemingly kind people. But the stories I have heard have coloured every experience. I know that it is best to be informed and to be cautious but I also can’t help but feel that you miss out on the real authentic experience that interacting with and visiting locals like this affords. All of my fondest memories of India are when I accepted such invitations. Of course this is different. This wait for my ride turned very long …I am starting to better understand parts of this culture. Inshallah (which they say after just about every sentence and it means “God willing”) really does mean that everything is flexible – the time, the place, whether or not the meeting happens. Anyway this man came out about an hour later with a glass and a large bottle of water and he poured me a glass on the street and waited while I drank it and handed him back his glass with as many “Shokran”s (thank yous) that I could muster. I love interactions like this. Pure acts of kindness. How often do we truly see this? We could not even exchange a word and he went out of his way with this gesture. It was heartwarming and it still makes me smile to think of it. Of course, this broke my rule about water during Ramadan in front of observant Muslims but accepting this display of hospitality was far more important. I truly have met some of the kindest, lovely people here. I love that something that could have been perceived as an annoyance (waiting an hour and a half in 40 degree whether for a ride that never came) actually turned into a really beautiful experience and memory. I wish that we were able to keep this openness and flexibility in our everyday life. Anyway I am happy and doing well! I love hearing from you all. Thank you for your comments, messages and emails.

A Very Quiet Life...

This silence is new for me. Livingin a place where I am not able (because of language) or not supposed to (because of men) speak to people. I am used to conversation with friends, family strangers you meet on the street or in stores (even the "here is your total", "do you want a bag" conversations we have with cashiers) and of course a steady of stream of one-

way conversation with my dogs but without Serena to rattle on to I find that I don’t hear my voice in the day – and what an odd feeling that is.I am silent. I sometimes will read things that I write aloud to myself and if I drop something on my foot as I did today I will yell aloud but for the most part, I am silent. I enjoy my solitude. Being alone is just fine with me - but I realize now that that is because with the dogs

I am never really alone. Until now. Last night I could not sleep – probably a combination of the nap and the time difference. So I was up. And I was unsettled so the normal reading/knitting passtimes held no appeal. Now at home – even alone in the middle of the night - I would have had company – could have taken the dogs for a walk or had a cuddle or a play or even a little chat. I would normally have been fine with just laying in bed, relaxing, not needing to do anything. Anyway so what does one do with eight hours, no phone, no internet, no company of any sort and not yet comfortable enough to leave the apartment.

1) Reading was the obvious first stop. I tried to read teaching resources. Then tried a n

ovel. Then tried an Egypt guide book. For some reason my attention wasn’t there – I think it was just too big of a day to settle down and focus on a book. Finally read a Dr. Seuss book (The Lorax) which solved the problem, capturing my attention but unfortunately it was quite short (I read it aloud to myself by the way). I then read “The Dot” by Peter Reynolds – a classic favourite – again read it aloud and again this only entertained me for a short time.

2) I tried to meditate – make good use of my silent day – but found I did not have the concentration and was not in the right place for it

3) I worked on getting the nail polish stain out of my clothes (from when a bo

ttle of bright pink nail polish -which I did not put in a bag in my suitcase because they are hard enough to open on my own with my hands – opened in my suitcase ruining 2 skirts and a dress shirt). As it turns out there is really no way of getting nail polish out of fabric.

4) I took out a deck of cards and tried to think of good math games that my students can play. This turned into several games of solitaire (which I don’t think I have played since I was nine and is actually not an easy game to win – lucky for me because it meant I played several rounds) and then yep, believe it or not, a game of war where I was both sides. I imagined I was playing a friend – I lost.

5) I tried to get my stove to turn on. Either the burners or the oven part. No such luck. Looks like another day of bananas, mangoes, almonds and dates.

6) I listened to music and got bored. Then switched podcasts (thank you very much Meghan) and had found my solution, at least temporarily!

7) I did my nails – avoiding using the colour that was splattered all over my clothes and my suitcase.

8) I looked for a good place to hide my suitcases – found one. I wished I had not already unpacked so that I could do that

8) I cut out some materials for my classroom – welcome signs, alphabets. That sort of thing.

11) I practiced my Arabic – aloud. I still only know one word Shukran (thank you)

12) I decided to observe Ramadan partially and extremely loosely. I would not wake up at 5:00 am to eat but I would not eat from breakfast to sunset. I would still drink water (because I do not think it would be wise to cut that out in this heat) but I would not drink it in public where others were so diligently following this practice. This is not because I am Muslim but because I interact (well I don't actually but I pass them on the street and imagine what their lives are like) with people who are observing this tradition every day.

One thing I did not think to do was get up and take a shower. Now I certainly regretted this when I woke up in the morning and tried to take a shower only to find that there was no water. There has now been no water all day. I used the leftover water in the kettle from last night to wash my hands. Now I, in a strange way, like not having all the water that I need. I like feeling

connected to all of the people in the world who do not simply turn on a tap and have an unlimited supply of fresh water. It reminds me of what a luxury that is and of how careful we should be with this resource. In Nepal, there was something beautiful about getting my water in a bucket from the well and using that to “shower” and there being times when there was no water and we had to wait and hope for it to rain. So really I am ok with this. But I am hot and feeling like…well like that shower is going to be awfully wonderful when it finally does happen.

Arrived Safe and Sound

(I wrote this the night I arrived but have just now found internet access so I will post it)

Well I have arrived in Egypt safe and sound. I will not soon forget the experience of waiting in line to check in for my EgyptAir flight. The line was full of Egyptian men (plus one Egyptian family) and everyone stared at me – the stares seemed to say more than “I am staring at you because you are so white and so blonde” but also seemed to me to reflect a confusion as to why I was getting on this plane – was I lost? Crazy? I looked around at all the other lines, going to every other place in the world you can imagine and all contained friends, couples, families heading out on vacation. I wondered why it is that I have this desire to do things the hard way - why couldn’t I have gone to work in the UK after all?? I embraced it as I will likely do every day over the next year or so: walked up with all the confidence I could muster and stood in line as though I belonged there: in spite of every indication that I did not.

Hours later, after waiting for my plane with a glass of red wine in the airport bar I met this young man named Hussein who lives in El Shrouk City and is studying at the American University in Cairo. He offered to help me once I arrive – show me around and help me get settled. I also sat beside this lovely man on the plane who tried to help me with everything – putting my bags overhead, putting my tray back up, finding my headphones... The small sample of people that I have encountered seem to be kind and selfless in a way unlike many from our own culture. Not to worry, I remain cautious and maintain an appropriate level of distance and skepticism.

The director of my school and another young man, Baha' arrived to pick me up (my new friend Hussein nearly insisted on waiting to be sure that they were there before he left) and we drove to see my apartment. I am living in Al Rehab city, which even after practicing its pronunciation with my director, I apparently still can’t say. I will need to sign myself up for some Arabic classes soon. This city is 20 minutes from El Shrouk City which is where my school is and there is a school bus that will pick me up ( I am very excited to ride the school bus every morning!). I only saw Cairo briefly because we drove straight to my apartment but Al Rehab seems to be its opposite. It is clean and quiet and extremely safe (that’s for you Mom - we had to pass through several guarded check points to get to the space I will soon call “home”). So the concerns that I gave all of you from stories that I had heard about men waiting outside of the door and not being able to leave the house some days can now all be put to rest. This is very obviously an area for wealthy families. There are five private international schools (I have seen French, German, British so far) Their presence means that there will be other teachers living and working I this area and so I will indeed have friends before too long.

Look at my apartment!

The living room is so ornate and intricate - I do not spend much time there. In fact that was the first time I had ever sat in those chairs and it was my second time on the couch. I am always in my bedroom or on the balcony. I could not be more pleasantly surprised with the place and know that I will be happy here. Ra'faat (the director) kept talking about how I could stay forever and he would buy the apartment for me. I have been politely laughing this off and saying such things as “yes, I could live here forever. It is beautiful” a response which I have altered since his telling me that he considers his word to be like a contract – and after reminding myself that not all cultures understand the way we would say something like this to be polite. Anywaywe dropped off my things and they took me to the market so that I could get a few things to get me started. I felt very silly having my bags carried by Bahaa' but even more silly when they insisted that he bring them right up to the apartment. Anyway they were very kind to me and Ra'faat has been very helpful. He is so proud of this school. He seems to light up when I mention it. I can't wait to see it on Saturday. I was exhausted from straining to understand and make sense of what they was saying so I came home, unpacked my things (it feels much more like my own space now that I have a few of my things around - it is amazing how far a book on a bedside table, a pile of teacher resources, a framed

picture and a few balls of wool can go to making somewhere feel like home) and had a nap.

When I woke up I decided to walk around a little. What a lovely place. The city is only ten years old and it definitely feels a little like the Pleasantville of Egypt (which of course looks nothing like Pleasantville elsewhere - but still, you get the idea....maybe?! - I will post pictures once I take some) There is this beautiful courtyard out in front of my place where children were playing surrounded by more security (for Mom!). The streets were incredibly quiet – eerily so. I think this may be because it is Ramadan right now so since most Muslims (which make up 90% of Egyptians) don’t eat or drink from dawn to sunset means that everyone was likely getting ready to “breakfast” as they call it here. I wandered around and came to this area in the street where at least 80 men were sitting at a long table eating. Honestly. I counted one side of the table and there were 39 and I did not count the other side or the part that wrapped around the side - so honestly...80 men! It seems that there are many small dishes on the table and everyone gets their own “aish” or naan type pita thing ( I am sure there is a name for this that I am not familiar with but I did see a bakery that makes them right out on the street) and then they share the dips. When we read these things they sound normal but really, picture it. The sun is setting and I walk through this covered walkway (but it isn't really a walkway - I would call it a building but all you do is walk through it and up the stairs and out on the other side) that was modeled the Ancient city of Heliopolis. And you come out onto crowded street with the crazy traffic and honking and right in the middle of this chaos 15 tables are pulled together and filled with all men. A strange and beautiful sight! Odd though, observing a culture where women are mostly missing. I love seeing people out in the street all eating at the same time. In fact even just the thought that at dawn and sunset - every day at this same time almost everyone in this country is eating. It seems to connect everyone in a way that I find really lovely. And I feel that even just my knowledge of this connects me to them in a way that I can't quite put into words.

Of course I get a lot of glances and stares but I have found people to be extremely respectful here. They rarely say a word to me and if they do it is usually nothing but “hello”. It is so strange not to be able to make eye contact or smile at people. I wore my sunglasses and this helps but it just feels so unnatural not to smile! Right now it takes all my attention and energy to avert my gaze and walk on past - I suppose I will get used to this but I wish that I did not have to.

As for the women, I think I saw maybe two women the whole nearly two hours that I was out walking. I worry that just by being out I am offending people but I sincerely hope that this is not the case. I also have not been covering my head (although I do wear my hair pulled back) and I think this is fine but I have no way of knowing how this is truly perceived both by local men and women. I did not walk far today because I still do not know my way around very well. With not being able to read signs and a lot of the residential parts of the city looking quite similar (at least at this point) I am still trying to take as few turns as possible. Straight lines are much easier to retrace. I came home before dark and settled in for the night.

(Please note that I did not place the pillows like this for the picture. The pair of piled pillows on the floor is all part of the decor)

En Route to Cairo: A Prelude and Farewell

Hello to all my lovely people at home!

Well after many suggestions to start a blog I have decided that you are all right, it is indeed the best way to let everyone know what I am up to and to share some pictures that I take along the way (while avoiding the problems that mass emailing has caused me in the past). So here it is! I present to you...Melissa on a Camel (acknowledgment to Hunter for the title amendment) I still feel like there is something slightly presumptuous about assuming that anyone will want to read my rants but here it is (ZV you know that this means you have to start yours now - we had a deal after all). I am sure that by the time I arrive in Cairo my mother will be the only person still reading this so....Hi Mom!

The last few days have been a whirlwind of errands and goodbyes: some were quick, some were emotional, some didn't get to happen (as it turns out it is impossible to say goodbye to everyone that is important to you). One thing I do know, however is that the type of goodbye or even whether we had that chance is not what matters. You know who you are and you mean the world to me. I am sitting in the airport right now waiting for my plane to New York. I am mostly all nerves: How do I meet the needs of all my students? How will I push them further? How will I inspire them? What will the parents be like? Will they learn to read? (because I really don't think I know how to teach!) I keep trying to tell myself that these are all normal concerns that new teachers have. I realize though that most of my hesitations are about the room full of six year olds I will be facing shortly and not so much about this huge move - a good sign I think. Aside from the part of me that is thinking about how unprepared I am for my own classroom and the huge part of me that is thinking about how I am still not entirely certain that I am capable of living without a certain little black dog, the rest of me is overcome with thoughts of how lucky I am. I have such wonderful people in my life who build me up and support me ...and make adventures like this possible. So thank you. And we will talk soon.