It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.....

Except that it isn't. There is no snow. No Christmas lights. No family. No stockings. No tree - although I did decorate the tropical plant in my apartment.

This is my first Christmas away from home - I honestly never thought I would be able to do it. I love Christmas more than anything. Everything about it. I have been going through very distinct phases in dealing with this. At first I was surprisingly okay. I was sad but grateful for all that I have here and I think because the usual reminders that Christmas is coming weren't here it was easy not to think about it. But then as it got closer and I realized that Christmas really was going to come without me it was much harder. I wallowed in self pity for awhile mourning all the things that I was missing out on. Coming to terms with the fact that there would be no decorating the tree with my mom (no squint test this year), no Christmas baking, no teasing my mom about her Christmas bathroom (complete with Christmas toilet seat, shower curtain, toilet paper and soap), no sitting by the tree listening to Christmas music for hours, no wrapping presents with my mom on Christmas Eve, no sitting at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning with my brothers until Mom says that we can finally come down, no wishing Merry Christmas to strangers I pass on the street, no Christmas chaos when my parents' house fills with love and my whole family comesover, no talking to my little cousins about Santa and watching their eyes light up with excitement, no living room strewn with crumpled wrapping paper, no pulling Christmas crackers at the count of three with the whole table and the wearing of the lovely paper crowns, no walks through the snow with the dogs. I won't feel that magical feeling that is so evident at this time of year. Not this year. I cried. I considered buying a last minute ticket....but here I am. Spending Christmas alone - or rather, with the fish.

But I have a new outlook - or rather, I am trying to have a new outlook. The reason I am hurting so much is because I have had 28 wonderful Christmases. How lucky! My mom always does everything she can to make it special and my grandma always did the same. I also have a wonderful large family that all comes together to celebrate. I will have all this again. Many have never had one Christmas surrounded by the love that I know so it is easy for them to be away. But better to be heartbroken about missing something that you are so so lucky to have - Merry Christmas to my wonderful family. I am thinking of you.

"I'll be home for Christmas.....if only in my dreams."

"Darling it's better down where it's wetter, take it from me!"

I hope that you are all singing along with Sebastian and friends in your head...But really this little crab was on to something.

A few weeks ago we had a lovely day to start off a wonderful vacation. It was a week off for Hajj, the pilgrimage that Muslims make annually to Mecca. Elements of the Hajj trace back to the time of Abraham, around 2000 BCE. It is believed that the Abraham was ordered by God to leave his wife Hagar and infant son Ishmael alone in the desert. While he was gone, the child became thirsty, and Hagar ran back and forth seven times between the mountains searching for water for her son. Miraculously water sprang forth,a source of water that still runs today and is called the Well of Zamzam.We replicated the whole thing for the kids. We all wore traditional Hajj clothing (even I wore all white and a hijab!). The day started off with an assembly - the highlight was my students performing a song that was half in English and half in Arabic...I am pretty sure it took me longer to learn than it took me to teach them but in the end it was fantastic. I was standing in front of them mouthing the words and doing the actions, beaming with pride at their little faces. Then we were all given our plane tickets and passports, both personalized with our names. They did a wonderful job and the kids were very excited. The bus picked us up and took us to the airport, where our passports were taken and stamped and then off to board the plane, made by the art

teachers - so realistic and the kids could step in and everything! The events that take place at Hajj were also recreated beautifully from the seven circuits around the Kabaa while saying "In the name of God, God is Great, God is Great, God is Great and praise be to God" in unison - of course it sounds a little different in Arabic to mountains that Muslims walk back and forth between to signfy Haga's frantic search for water to the areas where the pilgrims sit to pray to the stones that are thrown to signify their defiance of the Devil. This is done to symbolize the trials experienced by Abraham while he was going to sacrifice his son as demanded by Allah. The Devil challenged him three times, and teach time Abraham refused. A lovely day. I have so many great pictures - if this wasn't the internet I would put them up...anyway - we had a great time.

And then I was off for a week. I went to Dahab, on the Red Sea and fell in love with the place. It was perfect. I would wakeup to watch the sunrise on the water, curled up with my newfriend (read super sweet and friendly stray dog that would meet me every morning) then spent my days getting my scuba diving certification and my nights on the water. Imagine a waterfront of all restaurants where you leave your shoes at the door, sit on cushions on

an all blanketed floor, with twinkle lights and candles. At one point, listening to Jack Johnson sing about how " livin ain't as hard as it seems" I watched a sting ray swim by. It is true: living isn't as hard as it seems. The place put me in a trance, the week was like a dream. I have since been back several times.

I am also completely addicted to diving now....I go every chance I get. It is a totally different world - one that I am so grateful to be able to experience. Life is slow and peaceful under the water. Everything is new and remarkable. It is like underwater yoga...but you are admiring fish and coral that look as though they were painted and marveling at the way these organisms work together to create this untouched world. It is breathtaking. Last weekend I went w

reck diving which was also amazing. Swimming through sunken ships and imagining what they once were and seeing the way they have now become a part of the underwater life - with things growing on them and living in them.

I am one lucky girl...

The Little Ones

I know it has been awhile - I know because my mom is quick to tell me when I have gone too long without a post. I also know that I have not yet told you about my little ones - I know this also because of my mother....I love you Mom. And in fact, she is right. The last a lot of you have heard about work was my first day, which, in 10 words or less, began with the realization that most of my kids could not understand a word I was saying, as I stared out at 17 confused little faces- and ended with a clock falling off the wall and shattering glass everywhere, a lost child and a not yet organized bus system, a parent telling me that her child had a bad day, my principal reminding me that I am not allowed to speak to parents right as they all lined up to talk to me and then a colleague shutting my finger in my classroom door, which seemed to grant me the permission to burst into tears as I locked up my classroom and walked to the bus, trying to no avail to hide the fact that I am a total basketcase. And that is literally just a report of the first and last 10 minutes of the day. But all this was exactly 48 school days ago ( I know not because I am personally counting the days...but because my students and I are of course counting down to our 100 days of school party). All that is just a vague memory that makes me laugh now.

I have heard it said "Never underestimate the vital importance of finding early in life the work that for you is play." How true this is. And how lucky I am. For my work...it is my play. Of course we all have days and of course there are parts of my job that I don't love but the day to day experience of teaching is a joy. My kids are wonderful. Every day they say something to make me smile. As I write this I remember teaching senses and asking what we do with a flower and having little Jasmin raise her hand as politely as can be and state in her sweet way that she would give it to her mom. I think of Ali who learned to read a book where each page says "It is time to... (eat, play, etc.) until the last page when "it is time to hug". He must have read that book to me a hundred times anxiously waiting for the last page where we hug and giggle at how clever we are. I remember all the coaxing I had to do week after week in the library to get him to choose a new book. I remember teaching community helpers and asking what we say thank you to firefighters for and feeling my heart swell as my littlest one tells me that we thank them because "they are so busy". I remember teaching living and nonliving things and asking how we know that a turtle is living and Reem stating with all the confidence in the world that "we know it is living because Allah (God) made him". I remember reading Dr. Seuss' The Lorax aloud and discussing the environmental impact of The Onceler who is cutting down all the trees when Ali stands up and screams "he is a bad man!" with his hands on his hips for added emphasis. Ali then went on to explain that he should lose a house point (our school uses the house system...think Harry Potter). I remember asking students to pick out words that they recognized on the morning message and one picking out PROUD. A challenging word, and so I asked her how she knew this one. She replied, looking at me like as if I had just asked the most ridiculous question she had ever heard "because you always say you are proud of us" and I guess I do. I always am proud of them. My heart skips a beat when they say something that I taught them or when I see them do or say something they picked up from me - like when little Youssef exclaims (always without raising his hand and always in the most excited little voice) "oh that's a TRICKY word Miss!!" to any word that is not phonetic. I especially love watching them stretch out words and listening for the sounds when they are writing. It is one of my little daily pleasures. My principal told me a little while ago that there are now all these little Melissas running around using hand gestures and speaking English (they have for the most part picked up the language like magic...they amaze me each and every day). Sometimes I catch a glimpse of this and I can't help but grin.

I am away from the supports in my life - my family, my friends, my dogs. And while I have people at the school that I would call friends, who would help me if I needed anything, the intimacy and comfort of these relationships from home is something that I often miss. I lead a very solitary life here (not counting my days which are filled with laughter and chatter and "she pushed me"s, "she made a mean face"s, "she said that she was not my friend anymore" s) and while that grants me the time to dedicate to work and carries with it a lot of really lovely things it can also be lonely. Sometimes I feel this and then I go into school the next day and, like every day I am greeted by Zeina (and whoever else is with her - but always always Zeina) who runs to meet me when I get off the bus, eager to give me a hug, help me carry whatever it is I happen to be lugging in on that particular day and to tell me about something she did the night before or something that she made for me while we walk to class together. And then they fill my whole day with love: like yesterday when we were thinking of ways to put our new high frequency words in sentences and Waleed, who spoke virtually no English at the beginning of the year and after meeting me asked his mom how he was going to understand - his teacher only speaks English! - said (for the word 'little'), "When I was little I did not see Ms. Melissa but now that I am big I do and I love her". They make all the difference.

School is pretty much my life. I am my own ESL and remedial teacher (by my own choice - we don't have these supports so I pull these students out and teach them during my planning periods..not ideal for them but the best I can do), I eat lunch with my kids (because it is my chance to talk to them without having to remind them to raise their hand or focus on what we are doing and also because I can make sure they are actually eating lunch and not just eating their snacks and running to the playground). And then I go home where I plan lessons, make math games, cut out endless bristol board templates and such - all tedious endeavors which I happen to also love.

I am writing this on a Friday evening (weekends are Friday and Saturday here) and while I needed the day off to of of course work on long term plans and a fun addition game with egg cartons and millions of tiny hand cut out circles with hand written numbers on them (among other classroom related activities) I am also starting to wonder how my grade one friends are and while I am thankful that tomorrow is a day off I am also starting to look forward to stepping in the building to a sprinting little Zeina and hearing their chorus of "Good Morning Ms. Melissa" on Sunday morning.

My local market turns....

About a week ago I had an especially nice conversation with my dad. It was one of those conversations that reminds me that what I am doing here truly is a dream. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the daily stresses of life and to forget that this truly is a grand adventure. So after this conversation I head out to the souk (market) to buy a Happy Birthday helium balloon for a little girl in my class. I am walking with a spring in my step that had been missing for awhile as I dealt with the stress of school and report cards and thoughts of how do I help Ahmed understand living things without using any language and how do I grade a child who can’t communicate with me and how do I find more ways to challenge Abdellai and how do I…and on and on (not their real names of course). But on this particular night I felt it. I felt like I truly was living a dream. I walked around in my own little world, when suddenly I smell…farm animals?! Strange because I am in the market that I go to every day. I look around and sure enough about 30 sheep and rams right there in the middle of the market. Some of them are trying to wonder off, walking out in front of cars in true Egyptian fashion. Men and young boys hit them with sticks to keep them where they want them. I keep walking and then right there out of nowhere in front of a café that I like to go to, tied to a tree, are two cows. Just hanging out outside of the café as if someone had tied them up while they ran inside the way we would a dog. I giggle to myself then further down the road…more livestock. Of course I am not naive enough to assume that this really was what it looked like: my souk turned into a petting zoo. But there were so many animals that I did question what they could be for - surely there are too many for them to be used just for meat. I think about how hilarious and odd my life is. And then I remember my assitant principal telling me, in a discussion about what my grade ones were going to do to celebrate the upcoming Hajj (a pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia that Muslims make annually) that the symbol is a lamb, because they perform a lot of sacrifices. Oh...my poor little friends.

I have since researched this a little more. During Hajj, Muslims commemorate the trials of the Prophet Abraham. Most notably, he was commanded by Allah (God) to kill his only son, Ishmael. He prepared to do this but then Allah intervened, and called out to them stating that his intention was enough and told him to replace his son with a ran to sacrifice instead. So Muslims now slaughter an animal (typically a goat, sheep or ram but can also be a cow for the very wealthy). They then keep a third of the animal for themselves, give a third to family and friends and a third to the poor.

So my friends in the souk are waiting for people to come choose them. A number will then be drawn right on the animal and the family will come and feed their animal over the coming days. Then on the day of Eid they will come sacrifice the animal. Traditionally the person is supposed to perform the sacrifice themselves but they can also have someone do it for them but they should be present to watch. This is how I understand it anyway from what I have read and conversation that I have had. I have been visiting my "petting zoo" over the last few days and dreading the day when it returns to what it was.

A weekend on the coast

This happened awhile ago but I thought it was worth writing about so

here it is.....a two month overdue post about our trip to Alexandria.

In an effort to escape the heat and the intensity of Cairo and to take advantage of the a few days off before school starts (a vacation that occurs at the end of Ramadan) we head to the coast of the Mediterranean. Alexandria, founded by Alexander the Great, is the second largest city in Egypt and historically was super important. It was the capital for nearly a thousand years and home to one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It does still have the catacombs, one of the Seven Wonders of the Middle Ages. Anyway enough of that...

We took the metro to the train station. Fasting was about to end for the day and as the time approached we saw people running around handing dates out to everyone so that everyone would have something to eat. I remember thinking that it was so beautiful and so rare to see everyone come together like that. On the train, Billy, my Arabic speaking American teacher friend befriends this man (who speaks no English). Billy spent the three hour train ride in a very intense discussion about Islam while having smoke blown in his face. Little did we know, this conversation would later save our whole trip.

So turns out this man, Ali is friends with a taxi driver who is coming to pick him up from the train station. He offers to drive us to a hotel and so we agree. We arrive and go to check in and....well I am not proud of this next part but in my defense let me make a few statements: we have been living in Egypt long enough now that we don't really feel like tourists and apparently this means that we don't think about requiring a passport and also normally when you travel

you don't have a home so you have everything with you - so you don't think about the fact that you are asked for your passport when you check into a hotel. Plus, we were really only leaving the city....I think about needing a pas

sport to leave the country. Yes, ok so we did not bring our passports. All three of us. Yes it is true. I would not tell this story out of sheer embarrassment but unfortunately it is necessary for the rest of the story. Anyway so our first thought is "ok we will go back to the train station and take the next train back to Cairo" BUT of course we just got off the last train of the evening so this isn't possible. We then think "ok well we will wonder around the city all night or sleep on the beach and take the next train back in the morning". Of course we are not thrilled with this option but we try to be as optimistic as possible. Our buddy Ali and his cab driver friend Ayman are still with us at this point and they suggest that we hire Ayman to drive us around and then we can see some of the sights (albeit in the dark), have somewhere to leave our bags,

and somewhere to nap if we want. So we agree to this - sounds better than the alternative. Then Ali starts making calls and buzzing around in Arabic and then announces that he has found us a friend of his who rents out his apartment and we can rent it for the weekend. Hmmmm sounded suspicious BUT keep in mind that we were pretty desperate at this point and we justified it by saying that it isn't like he offered this sketchy deal right from the beginning - he would have been perfectly happy to leave us at the hotel (if w

e hadn't been so dumb!) Anyway so as we drive there we decide that if their plan isn't to kidnap and rob us and if this is all a legitimate attempt to help we will stay no matter what...it could be an empty filthy room with just a floor and I would sleep there.

So we get there and we nervously climb the stairs and open the door a

nd immediately are hit with this beautiful ocean breeze - oh wait, it is coming from the most amazing sea view you can imagine.

We step out onto the balcony (see picture taken from this balcony above) and I decide right then that I could live there forever - even if their master plan has something to do with kidnapping the foreigners. We can only imagine what they are planning to charge us for this beautiful, furnished, full kitchen, two bathroom loveliness. We all sit down and everyone lights cigarettes and they ask us how we like it - we express our delight at the place in broken Arabic. Then they get serious and the bartering begin. Ali, it turns out is a master negotiater. It was an intense round of negotiations and on more than one occasion I thought Ali was going to get up and hit someone or throw something and then he would be laughing and poking the guy in the stomach in this sweet playful manner, like you would do a toddler. And the man would giggle. Very odd. Anyway, I am lost and just sit there like a fool totally enthralled by this interaction. Then Ali turns to us and t

ells us a price (I can't remember what it was now but something in the vicinity of the equivalent of like 25 dollars each). What?! Yes please, and by the way, can I stay forever?! We don't have passports so Ali puts up his I.D for us (keep in mind that this man just met us) and the place is ours! It h

as now been hours since Ali should have been home and he travels for work and had not seen his family in 15 days - and yet, here he is bartering for these strangers he met on a train. We didn't ask for any of this kindness! It was remarkable!We try to offer to buy him dinner or to do something for him but he insists that he does not want that

- instead, he says, when we go home to our countries and people ask what the people are like, he wants us to tell people that Muslims are kind and that they are not terrorists, as some people in the West think. I was deeply touched by his kindness and saddened that this was was his one wish- not to be misunderstood by my part of the world. We saw him several times w

hile we were in Alexandria - we would meet at night and drink tea on the beach (see below). It was lovely.

We went with him to his home and met his daughters - a lovely lovely experience. I could not have been happier that the three of happen to be idiots who left their passports at home. We hired Ayman to be our driver for a few days- in part to repay the kindness both men showed us

that night and also because he was a great guy and we enjoyed his company.

My travel companions: Billy and Ryan (the other Western teachers at my school)

and our new friend, Ayman.

The trip was nice - we saw some sights: the catacombs where a guide explained all about the

process of transporting the mummies through the tombs and the makings and statues and what they meant, a fort made partially from the remains of the lighthouse (one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World) that was destroyed, where we stood and watched the waves crashing on the shore and marveled at the beautiful view of the city, ruins of the ancient city which has largely been destroyed because it was a constant war site for so many years...anyway a lovely visit. For me it is nice to be out with the two male American teachers that I work with. Being with a man changes everything in this part of the world. While the harassment does not stop, it frees me up to experience the people in a way that I can't alone. We stopped and had tea with a man who was sitting out on the street in front of his seafood shop which looked to me like he and his employees were the sole customers, with a mountain of fish and fishbones (and no plates) piled on top of newspaper on a fold up table. I would never be able to do something like this alone - I can see how different of an experience it is to be a man in this country. Anyway, it was a great little getaway that left us refreshed and ready to meet the little ones.

Greetings From Egypt's Worst Belly Dancer

Close your eyes and imagine a bachelorette party. Got it? Okay now close your eyes and imagine a bachelorette party for an Egyptian Muslim woman. What comes to mind? Yeah, I didn't know what to expect either.

In true Egyptian fashion I was told Wednesday that I would be picked up Thursday for a bachelorette party..this was all I knew. What does one wear to a bachelorette party in Egypt you might ask?! Yeah I wondered too...anyway the ladies picked me up and they were all dressed in their usual clothes: conservative, veiled. I was dressed appropriately so that was fine. Anyway after a lot of dancing to Egyptian music in the car, we arrive. We walked up to the villa, which is covered in strings of lights and notice that there are lots of men around. "Ok, I think..maybe I had the wrong idea" so we are told to go up to the roof and as soon as we step out it is like I have stepped into a North American club (except that it is all women - and there were a few older women in traditional dress): I look out at a sea of short, low-cut dresses and long hair.... I look over at the women I came with and I feel like I have been transported into a movie about high school, where the young girls get to school and take off the top layer to reveal the much more revealing outfit that they weren't allowed to wear in front of their parents. Now the clothes themselves, of course are not shocking to me (although I am one of the more conservatively dressed at this point...interesting reversal) it is just that I see these women every day and I have never seen their hair or their wrists, and who are just as conservative in attitude and mannerisms as they are in dress. It really was something. Some of them take me a moment to recognize. I quickly realize that the men are just downstairs greeting and guarding while the women do their thing. There were tarps put up all around the area so you could not see anything from the street or neighbouring villas.

There is a lot of loud Egyptian music and lots of belly dancing. I am, as the title suggests, the worst belly dancer imaginable - even with the lessons that took place at this party. At one point the lady of the evening leaves and then returns, having traded in her hot pink cocktail dress for a little black number adorned with the belly dancer accessories (you know the jangling belt thing and such) and she goes to the middle of the dance floor and dances while we make a dancing circle around her and cheer her on with our clapping. This happened several times, she would disappear and come back in a new outfit belly dancing outfit (including a sparkly-purple-bikini-top-with-skirt-with-a-slit-all-the-way-up number) which was sometimes accompanied by matching props (such as a gold cane). It was quite the experience. I wish I could show you all pictures but, of course I can't. It was amazing to see a totally different side of these women. I would not have felt comfortable wearing the outfits or doing the dance moves that they were up to - me...from the West. I kept thinking "Is this really happening? Am I the shy, conservative, modest one?" - quite the unexpected role reversal. I don't even know if I can fully express this - I think you may need to be here every day to really be as blown away by it all as I was. It gave me a better understanding of what they must be like at home. Not to say that it is all belly dancing and revealing outfits but just that while the religion requires that they dress conservatively in front of men, they are just like the rest of us in the privacy of their home. There was also a woman who did henna for the bride to be - not all over the hands like in the Indian tradition but smaller ones in various places on her body - and for all of us. Once the dancing was over (around 11) they brought out tons of food and a cake that would have made me blush a little even at home, let alone here. It was a quite an experience...one that a visitor to Egypt would never get to see. As with so many things here, it left me incredibly grateful for this amazing opportunity.

I Have Found my Fruit Man....

I love everything about the fruit stands in third world countries. I love buying fruit from them. I love watching people and their interactions with each other while they buy and sell fruit. I love just seeing the stands - there is something so lovely about it that I can't quite explain. I especially like the sellers that sell from baskets attached to bicycles or better yet, donkeys. I even like seeing the stacks of empty wicker crates after they unload the fruit. Really. I love everything about them. I realize this more than ever when I look through pictures that I have taken (both here in Egypt and in other countries) and realize that there are more pictures of fruit stands than of anything else (with the exception of little Jemma) So what is it? Is it some romanticized vision of a simple life walking along with your donkey friend selling mangos? ( I recognize that this is not accurate or fair at all and odd in fact for I don't have the same silly perception of the lives of people selling ANYTHING other than fruit) Is it the way they use an old fashioned balance with weights and if how much you have taken weighs too much or too little they either add another of whatever item you are buying or take some out...without a thought? Is it the randomness of it when they turn to you and give you an amount that you owe (which of course is nowhere near the real price)? Is it nothing more than the bright colours and the way they are stacked next to each other?

Anyway, when I first arrived I was visiting different fruit stands. There was the one where the seller always asked me to be his fourth wife and the one where the man always made his son talk to me (I assume because he wanted his son to learn English) - our conversations consist

ed of "My name is Melissa", "My name is Mohamed", which we would repeat a few times (it should be known that I loved this fruit seller but he was never there when I tried to go back and some creepy man was at his stand instead). There are also many who insist on talking to me in full Arabic sentence despite my very clear lack of understanding. Sometimes they would repeat it a few times, sometimes slower, sometimes louder - as if this

would help. So it was hard to narrow it down to one but I have done it... I now have my Egyptian fruit man and life is grand. We are always happy to see each other... I try my hand at Arabic conversation and I think he thinks I understand more of what he says than I do (which is next to none) and as I leave he always gives me a present - typically a peach or some mint. But it isn't the free mint... I think that having someone who knows you are and expects you every few days goes a long way to making a place feel like home. See you tomorrow fruit man!

This post is dedicated to my darling brother - the original fruit master.