All About Japan! (INCREDIBLY IRONIC)

UPDATE: E/June08 - So, ha. I have to laugh at myself. I just found this in my draft folder from when I got back from Japan last October. An ironic way to leave a post, doncha think? Check it out:



Hello folks. I know I've done a pretty crummy job of keeping things updated. I will attempt to improve in the future.

In the meantime, I have a lot to report! I finished my first month of work, I had my first vacation, and I got to see one of my best friends for the first time in aaaaaaaages!

So now I'm back in Saudi doing laundry and attempting to unpack and I figure I should attempt to write down the fabulousness sometime before I forget it all.

Woopah!

I've got my clothing, I've got an exit-reentry visa, I've got a lot of well-organized and well-labled binders and baby, I'm a-goin' to Japan!

Sorry for the total lack of communicatiano. I have been.... scottish dancing and eating curry! And iftaring at chilis! And... life is so good.

More to come.

Ramadan Kareem!

Hello all. Sorry for the blogging hiatus for the last week or so. Things have been.... not busy, exactly, but distracting.

Ramadan mubarak everyone! Yes, the holy month of Ramadan started here in Saudi Arabia last Thursday. I did my very first intentional fast on Saturday (those of you who were around during the funness of my last Ramadan in Saudi will be aware that I have done plenty of unintentional fasting before) and I have to say that it's much harder to fast on purpose. Suddenly, food seems so very attractive when you tell yourself you can't have it. It's also not at all fun to get up at 4:30 to eat before dawn - but obviously not eating before dawn is even less pleasant. And I did more than this - I did the very typical Saudi thing, watching for maghrib (sunset prayer) on TV as the azan (call to prayer) was recited in Mecca and Medina, breaking my fast, and then I followed that with the VERY traditional (at least in modern times) Saudi sitcom of Tash ma Tash. And for those of you unfamiliar with this Saudi phenomenon, it's not quite a sitcom. It's more like SNL, in that the same actors play a variety of characters. Each episode presents some sort of tragicomic look at Saudi society; it's become quite scandalous in recent years, having a "Terror Academy" show last year and just yesterday airing a highly dramatized episode showing an honor killing.

This show is, of course, in Arabic, and in a very strong Saudi dialect of which I understand not a word (wala kalima, as we would say in Arabic). I can get the gist, though, from the fact that it is HUGELY overacted. I also hope to one day perhaps understand some of it, but since Saudi friends tell me there are bits even THEY don't understand, I feel like perhaps I will have to have patience.

Speaking of Saudi friends, my dear Dima (and her mother, grandmother, and the entire rest of her family) were kind enough to invite me to their Friday family gathering for iftar and dinner. I felt a little like I did going to meet the ex-Queen two years ago, because I knew I would be expected to speak some Arabic which, of course, is blatantly terrifying. But it turned out wonderfully. Granted, I didn't say much, but it's hard to break into a vernacular-language conversation occuring very fast and with a lot of overlap. But I took a lot in, and understood a fair amount of it (albeit generally scattered words only - putting the whole thing together will take a bit more time). Her whole family was extremely nice to me; one of the four-year-old (I think!) little girls brought over her English workbook (with lots of prodding from her father) to show me the vegetables and the milk and other supermarket items. I dunno if she was reading, or if she'd memorized it, but it was very impressive. If only American children could be taught second languages from this early an age. I also spoke to one of Dima's cousins, the only one in the house who remained fully covered the whole night (face, hair, etc). Her name was Basma, and it was a bit disconcerting to realize mid-conversation that I probably won't recognize her if I see her again, but she was delightful to talk to. And of course, Dima's grandmother and the other older members of the family were extremely friendly (apparently Dima's grandmother used to be an amazing seamstress! I ooze with jealousy.) although it was hard to communicate with them since my Arabic is stilted. In the future, inshallah, it will be better.

AND, um, aside from that, work is really picking up, which is fantastic because a) I hate being bored and b) I am figuring out what I'm doing. I am really digging in, and I think I may one day actually be good at this job!

Phew. That was a lot of random catching up. I have nothing of particular interest to announce, unfortunately, beyond the fact that I have recently discovered a fantastic not-quite-blog The News of the Weird, which collects fantastic and ridiculous news stories from around the world. I say it's a not-quite-blog since it's syndicated in a number of newspapers and does have a fair amount of journalistic integrity. I have been back-reading the archives because it's so entertaining. Here is, thus far, my favorite piece:

Good News / Bad News: Stevie Long, 4, was successful in scaring off two home invaders who had been holding a gun on his mother, her boyfriend, and four children; Stevie had quietly excused himself, put on his Mighty Morphin Power Ranger outfit, grabbed a plastic sword, and then burst on the scene, yelling, "Get away from my family!" The startled men fled empty-handed. The bad news is that a counselor, after talking to Stevie, said that the kid "fully believed he morphed" into the Power Ranger. (from News of the Weird, December 4, 2006)

Finally, I want to mention briefly that my littlest little sister is starting college today/tomorrow! Yay for Alice! Many congratulations to her, may life be lovely.

And on that note, I will go watch an episode of Star Trek and read Guns, Germs and Steel, my most recent book.

Farewell!

Mean People Are Awesome

Regarding the following ridiculous and wonderful set of photographs:

Elisabeth: people are so weird.

Rachel: you mean ppl are AWESOME.

Elisabeth: i'm a mean person?

Elisabeth: what?

Rachel: no.

Rachel: by saying that they're weird you meant awesome

Elisabeth: ah.

...

Elisabeth: but yes.

Elisabeth: people are awesome

Elisabeth: and fabuloso

Rachel: AND fabuloso

Striding into the future!

Hello all,

I am feeling hugely optimistic today about life and, above all, this fantastic place where I work. Sure, some things get done in interesting time, and some things aren't always wonderfully organized, and some things are frustrating and/or really entertaining, but this place is really an exciting place to be. We had new employee orientation today and it's not that they said anything that was particularly new, or motivating or inspiring, but I got to meet a lot of people that I remember from last time I was here and, more importantly, I got to meet and talk to a lot of the new employees (like me!). And there are some really, really fantastic people here. And everybody seems very excited about things. And some of the new Vice Deans seem extraordinarily positive and upbeat and energetic, and I think that will really push us into the future. Anything is possible!

And things are improving every day. What everybody has to remember when judging this place is that it was opened in 1999. That makes it less than a decade old. As one woman said to me once, can you imagine what it must have been like to be Yale College at under a decade old? They were Puritan ministers, all of them, concerned with converting the heathens and saving the world one well-covered sinful soul at a time. I recently watched a movie with Julie Andrews in it called "Hawaii," about a minister from Yale and his wife (he had to marry Julie Andrews kindof sight-unseen because missionaries were only allow to go abroad if they brought wives with them, so as to avoid being tempted by the local heathen women as they ran around bare-breasted). I mean, it was a very entertaining film. But at the end of the day, that's what Yale was like until.... I mean, pretty far on into its history. So this place is, comparatively, doing pretty darn well. Do you suppose Yale had a curriculum review process at the age of 8? Probably not. Do we? You bet your socks. Well, sortof.

Anyway, I know I spend a lot of time here commenting on how ridiculous everything is (I made my first recon mission into the men's wing the other day -- this was something different from discovering the hidden man across the hall from me -- and it turns out they have their own little coven in the middle of one of the academic buildings, where all of the male professors have their offices, and the man in charge of IT stuff, and all of that. A very useful location to be familiar with.). And some things ARE ridiculous. But for every ridiculous thing there is something fantastic. Like the fact that we apparently have a 93% retention rate, which is apparently something of a miracle, I am told.

Additionally, we are really pushing the envelope on women's education and women's place in the workplace, and i think few people outside of Saudi Arabia realize how much progress has been made. The mere fact that there ARE male professors is kindof amazing; men would never have been allowed to teach young women in the past (and sure, girls who want to take classes with male teachers still need to get permission from their fathers). We have the first undergraduate Architecture and the first Engineering programs EVER for women. We have opened three new majors in the space of the last five years, and we only graduated our first class in 2003.

I just want to highlight the fact that if there was ever in the world a place with nearly unlimited potential, it is here, and now. There really isn't a more exciting place a person like me could be working.

Inshallah things will continue to be fantastic!

In the meantime, something to add to the list of ridiculous things. Ramadan starts at the end of this week sometime (this is not the ridiculous thing), and during Ramadan all normally 8-4 hours are shortened to 10-3 (this is the ridiculous thing). So, in addition to having nearly two and a half weeks of vacation at the end of Ramadan for Eid and whatnot, classes barely meet and people barely work. All over the country. And NOW you know why I am concerned things which are left until Ramadan will never get done. I mean, I understand that people have very different priorities during Ramadan, and that is as it should be, but to practically shut everything down for a full month is... extreme, in my opinion. Especially because, coming at the beginning of the school year as Ramadan does this year, it makes it unfortunately very likely that classes won't really get any momentum going until AFTER Ramadan ends - which is late October! No wonder the Fall semester this year feels like it's going to be a mad-house.

That's all I have to say for the moment.

Mommy, there's a man in the closet!

I have just discovered something: EC has an infestation of men. They are everywhere, hiding in the woodwork like hard-working pixies, or the shoemaker's elves.

I had always assumed that the office across the hall from mine was empty and not in use, since it was always locked and didn't have any sort of sign outside and because I never saw anybody using it. But today! Somebody came with a set of keys and opened it and stepped into an alternate universe! An alternate universe where there was a MAN sitting in the room, under lock and key, doing who knows what.

It was shocking and appalling. In all of my time at EC, I have never known that there were men hiding under my very nose.

Haraam!

Bite me, Rachel. If I wanna post again, I will

I just made myself a sandwich for dinner, made of ingredients purchased at the store where I keeled over this afternoon.

And I just want to tell y'all....

This sandwich? It tastes like victory.

walk like a man

so after surviving another summer of arabic eloquance and death at middlebury, i have now migrated back to the warmer, less civilized side of the country (god bless) and have set up shop in SF. unfortunately this is a rather lonely little shop bc the internship i was anticipating has been pushed back 2 weeks. just long enough to make spending a ridiculous amount of money on this rather lovely little apt totally unnecessary. however, i have managed to come to terms with this unfortunate waste of my (parent's) money. it was hard, but i am strong.

so ive been availing myself of the delights of san francisco. the plays, the museums, the transvestites.

on my way to SF i stopped in louisiana to visit relatives and one kind family friend warned me - upon hearing that i was living by myself in SF - "now rachel, you have to be very careful in SF. it's a big, dangerous city. someone might break into your apt and mistake you for a man."

....you know. bc the only reason id be in danger would be if i were i man.

....bc everyone in SF is gay.


get it?

anyway, parilee + boytoy moved out about a week ago, leaving me with a box of her stuff for me to mail. this i do not begrudge her, especially after remembering the various blowfish decorations and library books i left behind last time i left stanford. this box was a bit larger than my blowfish though. id say it was about two and a half feet long and a foot and a half tall. totally full. weighed as much as i do. this is not baby box. this is over-weight unhappily unmarried auntie box.

this morning's adventure commenced when i remembered that i should have mailed it on monday (i had been using it as a bedside table) and with a sudden burst of enthusiasm i decided to mail it immidiately. look at my dedication, parilee! i figured it would take all of 5 minutes - theres a post-office in my building - so i dont bother to change out of my pjs. in retrospect, i probably should have at least changed into some less see-through pants (white pants. black underwear. i am all class), but maalesh. i grab my purse and sort of kick/push the box out the door, into the elevator, and out into the main section of the building. lots of apologies all around as i almost run it into 3 different people. i get out into the lobby, and the floor goes from carpet to wood. shiny, slippery wood, and the box no longer wants to move as easily. after learning from the doorman that the post office is on the other side of the building (of course), i walk back over to the monster of a box, take a deep breath, and start pushing. its all physics, right? friction. and leverage. push with your legs. right. so i put my hands on the corners of the box closest to me, take a deep breath, and PUSH. the box moves all of 6 inches. my frictionless flipflops (which are, may i point out, attached to my feet) shoot out backwards about 2 feet. there's a timeless moment as the rest of me hovers about a foot above the ground, cartoon style, and then i drop. full frontal splat. awesome. i scramble up, sit on the box and quickly look around. gotta keep my dignity here. no one's laughing. ok. deep breaths. is there any other possible way of doing this? ............................no. ok. i am practical. i can do this. i do not care if i look like an idiot. i am above the opinions of others. i am going to get this damn box to the damn post office and send it. right now. so i get back up, and do it again. and again. every time i push the box my feet slide backwards about the same distance the box moves forward. so there i am. bent almost double, wearing a less-than-decent (but cute) pajama outfit, pushing (sort of) this gargantuan THING in a vaguely silk-worm-esq manner - 30 degree angle, 130 degree angle - across the front lobby. the bustling, busy lobby.

i dont think my dignity will ever recover.

luckily about 10 minutes into it a guard takes pity on my poor, belabored form, walks up, grabs the box (without even a mother may I) and carries it the rest of the way with me trotting along behind him. i must have thanked him 20 times.

of course once i get to the post office i am informed that the box is not strong enough to be shipped. so, sitting down in the middle of a california state post office in my pajamas i proceed to unpack parilee's entire life and pack it up into 3 other, smaller boxes. an hour and much attention later, ive earned twenty million friend points, the postal lady hates me and ive managed to send all three boxes. success! i rock.

more normal adventures include wandering SF, exploring the MOMA (mmmmmmmmyum), forgetting to go to jersey boys, buying a new ticket, going to jersey boys, and wearing my new cute work shoes everywhere but to work. oh and i figured out how to use my oven AND my laundry machine. i give you permission to admire me from afar.

oh! and i have the california state YOYO championship to go to tomorrow. how much do you wish you were me right now. yeah. thats what i thought.

Shop 'Til You Drop

So. This is an embarrassing post, because it's an embarrassing situation. Let me just quickly say that Dima is officially my favorite person in the universe. And I am officially .... not cool.

I was so proud of myself earlier today, too. I actually managed to feed myself! I cooked noodles, put a bunch of sauce on them and voila! my first meal in my new home! I sent everybody I know giant letters about how much I rock, and how super competent I am. And then Dima, bless her soul, agreed to go shopping with me (we both had to go to Jarir and Panda so we decided to do a joint trip even though her stuff took a lot less time than mine did - she's friendly like that).

So we went to Jarir, we went to Panda and... wow. We had both forgotten that school starts TOMORROW. So everyone in the universe was out getting school supplies from Jarir and groceries from Panda. And add on top of that the fact that Ramadan starts at the end of this week and.... well, it was a madhouse. The largest quantity of Saudis I've seen in one shopping mall in a while... and that's saying something.

And I guess the combo of all of this got to me in the end because as we stood in the checkout line, after an hour of shoving our way through people and looking for groceries, I started to feel dizzy. And then I was dreaming happily...and then I was being rudely reawakened by Dima, since I had passed out on the floor. And then I was dreaming again. And then I was passed out. And then I was sitting in the makeup aisle while Dima ran to get me a couple of little bottles of orange juice, which I chugged sitting on the floor. And then... well, then I was fine, and we bought the stuff, and brought it up here, and whatnot and... here I am.

This happened once to my sister in the gold souq in Riyadh. Only she got a giant gold bracelet out of it, and I just had to pay for all of my groceries. Good times. At least the floor in the makeup aisle was cleaner than the floor of the shop in the gold souq.

A good time, overall. Especially the dreaming bits. I feel like they were interesting dreams, if only I could remember them.

So. As Dima said afterwards, "Talk about shop 'til you drop!"

Amen, sister.

Change of Plans

Hi all.

I woke up at 7 so tired I could barely move, and I decided that no beach was worth this. So I begged out, and slept another five hours, and I feel GOOD. New projects for the weekend will have to be a) work stuff, b) find food (I'm responsible for my own food now!), c) .... yeah that might be it.

In very interesting news, the Arab News ran a piece yesterday (which I can't find online or I would link to it) that stated that Nepal Airlines sacrificed two goats yesterday to the Hindu sky deity. Apparently they've been having trouble with their airplanes. May their God be appeased.

UPDATE: I found this article cited on the Reuters site - Rachel found it and sent it to me. Ah, it's good to have a sister that thinks the same way you do.

Yes, that's all I've got for now. It's a lovely afternoon and I intend to enjoy it.

They Call Me THE WHITE CHICK

Even though I'm tired, it is imperative that I record the ridiculousness of the evening so that I can remember it later. And it was a ridiculous evening. I really love Team Fabulous. And I think there's an excellent chance that we actually will start bowling on a weekly basis. We ended up going bowling and then going to dinner at a new restaraunt (affiliated with Pizzaria UNO) called the Chicago Grill which is kindof down the street from the bowling alley. Overall, a fantastic evening.

So we went to this place called Ice Land (two words) where they have a bowling alley. Near as I can tell, there is no reason to call it ice land. maybe there's a skating rink in there somewhere? I dunno. Anyway.... man, my typing is screwy now. The computer they put in my office is mainly Arabic, which means that the formatting in Word is all screwy and works backwards, even when you are typing in English. This means that in order to move the cursor this way -------> I have to push the button this way <-------- . So now I've gotten used to doing that and so here, on my nice English computer, I keep moving the cursor in the wrong direction. Anyhow, so we went to Ice Land. And by the way, apparently I cover my head like a pro now. Yes, Dima says she could barely tell I was a white girl. Go me! And, what's even stranger is that it no longer feels weird to have it on. I haven't gotten to the point where I feel naked without it - please, God, spare me that - but it doesn't feel bizarre any more. And I can get it to stay on pretty well, too. Yessir, I am on my way to being Saudi. And, if I do say so myself, I don't look half bad with a covered head.

So we found the bowling alley (with a sheesha bar attached) and got shoes and hiked up our abayas and went and bowled. And it was lovely. We were all quite bad, but it was a good time anyway.

The hilight in terms of entertaining comments must have been Dima. I got two gutterballs in a row, giving me a fancy zero on my scorecard, to which Dima says: "It's because you're a Christian." Thank you Dima, for that religiously tolerant point of view. Ah, it's good to know that your friends love you and are willing to keep you company in hell.

Also, we got to come up with bowling names. Dima was Dimzi (shocker), and Penny was... Penny.... and Mona was Melvi... so none of these are surprising. I suggested the Bozinator as mine, but instead they decided to name me The White Chick, and I think unfortunately that that name might stick.

Plus, we were endlessly entertained by the group of guys (two brothers and a third) who were "bowling" in the alley two down from us, who kept staring at us. Well, when I say "us" I mean "me". They were blatently staring at me. Like, STARING. Not surreptitious glances. Full-on can't-take-my-eyes-off-you staring. It was creepy. Luckily, they were young and stupid and had greasy hair, so I found it difficult to take them seriously.

I did, however, manage to secretly get a picture of them when I was pretending to take a picture of Dima (you can also see them laughing in the background of the picture of me, above, although it's not that clear).

There was also a little girl (teeny tiny) who seemed entranced by the whiteness of my skin. Apparently, I am noticable. Who knew? We spent some time sitting in chairs, as well (Penny compared the lounge area to an airport lounge, and I feel like she was pretty spot on) and hanging out, because of course it is haram to bowl during salat. When we were taking our shoes off at the end of the bowling extravaganza creepy guy came over and sat down right next to Melvi, despite the huge number of empty chairs that were available. I almost threw a very American fit and hit him in the face, but I wasn't mad so much as I was entertained, so whatever. Be creepy, creepy guy. Maybe if you stare at me long enough I'll go out with you. And then we went and hung around Toys 'R' Us for a while, playing with stuffed animals and fencing with foam swords and generally making a nuisance of ourselves (it's good to be silly) and then drove over to the restaraunt, where we had to beg to be let in because it was 'isha prayer and everything was locked, but when Dima looked pathetic and said "but the Ministry [of Preventing Vice and Promoting Virtue] will come take us away if we just stand out here!" they let us in the back and we got to sit down, cackling. And eat and drink and be merry. As one does.

Also, I am sortof a teeny bit learning my way around! Like, I know now three things that are on the same road with Ice Land, PLUS I accurately identified al-Andalus street and knew that there was a Panda on the other side of the ship roundabout. Heck, I practically know this city like the back of my hand already.

Future plans, however, include stealing a map of Jeddah from Dima and posting important landmarks all over it (namely malls and roundabouts and restaraunts) so that I can find my way around when the girls and their lovely drivers aren't there to drive me around. And Dima's driver Ramadan blatantly laughed at me today when I was singing "I will survive" loudly (and probably obnoxiously) in the parking lot of the Chicago Grill while we waited for Melvi's driver to show up. I think he finds me entertaining. Which is good. I like to endear myself to the people who are capable of transporting me.

Tomorrow we're off to the beach! Me and Dr. Annette, and some of the other staff here in the residence. It should be a good time... if I can avoid getting burned as thoroughly as I did this time of year LAST time I was in Jeddah; my face swelled up so that I looked like some kind of lobster-colored caveman. It was quite attractive. I hope to avoid that look this year. But I have to get up really early to get there (8:30 - who gets up at 8:30 to go to the BEACH?) so I'm off to bed now. Although to be fair I'll probably get to the beach and take a nap in the sun.

I was talking to Dr. Annette today about travel plans. That woman has gone EVERYWHERE. She is my travel guru. This past summer she and a bunch of highschool friends walked a couple of days from the border of Portugal into Spain to a pilgrimage site that has been around since the Middle Ages. Dr. Annette, her friends, and a stream of pilgrims, all wandering down a dusty road in southern Spain. How cool! I seriously want to do this sometime. Anybody with me? That's it for now. Off to bed.

Day Two: still kicking, like a kicking rockstar!

I don't have much ridiculousness to report yet from the work end. There's a ton of stuff I have to do, but I feel like that's a good thing, since I spend eight hours (or more) a day doing it. So, yes. Work is satisfactory. What is MORE satisfactory is the overall way I spent yesterday. Here is my schedule.

7am - wake up (sortof)
7:15am - wake up again
7:30am - wake up for real, put on clothing
8:00am - work begins (it's bad news, don't you think, that I am already pushing the limits of how late I can get up, and it's only my third day?)
4:00pm - work ends. Stuff happened in between, but none of it is worth commenting on here.
5:00pm - I go out!
7:00pm - I come home
7:30pm - I go out again!
11:30pm - I come home

LOOK at me. I am so BUSY. and FANCY. and COOL.

Okay, so let me tell you about my excursions. The first was a landmark event - the first time in my more-than-five-years in Saudi that I went out of the house alone. Obviously, I had a driver, but the important element is that when I got to the mall, I got out alone, I went in alone, and I did my shopping alone! Last time I was here as a student I was required to bring a maid with me whenever I left the dorm, and before that when I was here with the family I can't imagine why I would have gone out without a family member or a friend... so! I am finally a free and independent woman. Doing my own shopping, buying some books and laundry detergent AND A SIM CARD. OH YEAH BABY. I have a cell phone. It is such a relief. Not having a cell phone made me feel like I was missing a limb. In Saudi, the cell phone is, in fact, a limb, and without it.... I arrived three days ago, and yet whenever I tell people I don't have a mobile they look at me like I've just told them I didn't bring any clothing with me. Yes folks, not only am I going to work naked, but I am doing it WITHOUT A CELL PHONE. The horrors!

Of course, for the first hour or two of owning this SIM card it wasn't working, and I was throwing myself hither and yon in frustration, wailing and gnashing my teeth. But then Penny, darling lovely Penny, touched it with her magic fingers and suddenly it worked. Ah, the joys.

So after my adventurous single-woman excursion, Mona picked me up for a Team Fabulous dinner at Caspar & Gambini's, the neat modern restaraunt that I enjoyed so much last time I was here. I had mint with lime (yum!) for the first time this trip (I will have to learn how to make it) and met one of Penny's friends, Lamees, who seems fantastic. I'm making new friends already!

Also, for reasons I cannot reveal, I may be required to go to Hyderabad, India this summer. Who? Oh yeah. That would be me. Ha! Writhe in jealousy, you wanna-be awesome people! I am the real deal! I'm so awesome I get to go to India over the summer! here will be an event. And I am going to be the weird white girl who dresses in a sari and makes a fool of herself for her friend's entertainment. There was some discussion that pole dancing might be involved, but I think that before I go that far I should probably take some pole dancing lessons. After all, if I'm going to be a shameless American hussy, I should at least do it with style. It would be really embarrassing to be an awkward shameless American hussy.

Anyone know of pole dancing classes in Saudi Arabia?

There are a ton of other plans in the works which are all very exciting. Suffice it to say my sister was jealous of me yesterday. And this is the sister who spent last year in Cairo smoking shisha and being awesome. She's jealous of ME. Ha!

Okay, off to work! Hopefully I will get some time to sit around and be bored this afternoon, maybe do some laundry, take a nap, etc. Being fabulously popular and busy takes its toll on a girl after a while.

Bwahahahahahah!

I am Employable!

Hey there blog fans, something amazing happened today. I began my employment, which implies that I am employable. Can we say ego boost?

Of course, since this is Saudi Arabia, nothing is simple or to be taken for granted, so of course my first day was full of its own joyful ridiculousness.

They sent me to go get pictures taken and blood drawn. Of course, nobody bothered to tell ME this was where they were sending me - instead, they talked about it in Arabic all around me, so that I vaguely had some idea of what was going on, and then they sent me out with a driver who didn't speak much English, and I guess I was just supposed to assume he knew what he was doing. Luckily, he did. Thank goodness for trustworthy, competent drivers. Where would we be without them?

Not that it was clear to me in the beginning that he was competent or trustworthy. He took me to a supermarket first. "Okay," I think to myself, "he probably has an errand to run or something." But he motions me out of the car. Or, I think he motions me out of the car - it was pretty unclear exactly what he was trying to communicate to me, but I got out of the car anyway and followed him in. We walk towards the fruit. "Ah," I think, "I'm an idiot - he only wanted to buy himself something to eat. I shouldn't have come in." But we move further back, into the vegetable oil section (since it's near Ramadan every single supermarket in the universe is selling vegetable oil by the gallon. I, myself, bought a full 4 litres the other day because it was the SMALLEST QUANTITY AVAILABLE). And then through the vegetable oil section into the non-food section. "Okay..." I think, "We're here to buy.... a microwave. Clothing for his children. A tent for camping...." And then, in the midst of my confusion, we arrive in the back corner of the store where a teeeeeeny tiny little camera shop has been cleverly hidden. And in this teeeeeny tiny little camera shop there is a man who doesn't speak, and his camera and computer and a printer. So he takes a picture of me, downloads it onto his camera and starts... airbrushing my face. "It's okay," I say, "I am just using this for my igama, it's not necessary for you to touch it up." And the picture on the screen is gigantic, you can practically see my pores from where I'm standing all the way across the room, and the driver is standing there, and you can tell that he thinks it's really awkward that this guy is scrutinizing my enormous digital face right in front of me. And I agree. Awkward. The guy finally looks up from my nose and forehead in order to tell me he has to fix my face because of the pimples. Pimples! Well, I'll be. He knows at least one word. And thanks, dude, for talking about my acne (which, by the way, is not that bad, thank you very much) in front of my random driver and... I mean, come on, just print the stupid pictures, I don't want to stand here looking at my giant face any longer!

So, that was a good time.

And then on to the blood-letting. I went to a Bangladeshi clinic where the woman at reception spoke some language which was neither Bengali nor English but some incomprehensible amalgam of the two, and directed me to give her my igama repeatedly, which I repeatedly said I didn't yet have, explaining that this was why i needed the blood tests. And after lots of wrangling I got sent upstairs to room number 8 where my blood was drawn unceremoniously. But I was impressed by the amount I was not afraid of getting random diseases from dirty needles. Everything seemed a lot less sterile than I am used to, but not so much as to be actually dangerous.

SO, yes. All was good on my first day. Of course, not much got actually accomplished, but at least I'm on my way. Striding forward.

Money, Money, Money

Must be funny... in a rich man's world.

Note: You can tell that Saudi is a cash culture because at an ATM you have the option of taking out anywhere up to about SR5000, which is more than $1000. Gotta love it. You buy your CAR with cash here.

Exciting!

Elisabeth here. Posting from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

I had to wait a day to post this because I was too tired to infuse a post with all of the enthusiasm it deserved. I have arrived! Let me repeat that:

I HAVE ARRIVED!

I'm also hungry. One moment while I fetch myself some leftover chicken...

...

Yum. Anyway, so, I arrived in Jeddah last night, at the airport. I was exhausted, because my BMI flight over was less than fantastic. So those blankets that they wrap in plastic and give to you? Yeah, not actually clean. In fact, my pillow was disgusting also. Both my blanket and my pillow were covered in crustiness and... well, it was totally gross. They gave me new blankets and pillows when I complained, but it's not like I trusted the plastic wrapping to guarantee cleanliness any more. And I didn't have any free seats next to me, so I had to sit up the whole time. You can tell I'm getting spoiled when I complain about having to sit up the whole time.

I did, however, finish a fantastic fantastic book. Waiting for Snow in Havana by Carlos Eire. Who happens to have been my professor for Reformation Europe last year. He is a great lecturer, extremely entertaining, and his writing is FANTASTIC. Highly recommended. Very, very interesting.

I just opened the curtain on my window and guess what? NO BARS! And not even fogged out! I have a giant window that looks right out onto the fabulousness of Effat's back yard! Now I can REALLY tell I'm staff rather than student!

I am so easily distracted. I wanted to tell you about my chicken but it would ruin the surprise.

SO, I get off the mostly-uncomfortable BMI flight (and my neck is killing me, by the way. Whiplash! Yay!) and into the Jeddah airport, where everything goes fine until the guy at passport control asks me "You have baber?"

Huh? I mean, I get that he's asking for a paper. But... well, I'm carrying many papers, and none of them were specifically designated as "papers for the passport guy". So I say no, I don't have the baber, and he sends me over somewhere else. I start to panic, but in a quiet way.

Luckily, after giving another guy my passport and him staring at it for a "buttock-clenching" fifteen minutes (I got this phrase off of BBC's Planet Earth, and I am now very fond of it) he stamped it and waved me through. And then there I was, in the baggage claim area, waiting for some random Samir to identify himself to me and take me away. Now, I can probably get in a cab and be okay on my own, thank God, but it's much easier to go through customs if you have a man there with you, because the security guards hardly ever stop somebody with an official-looking helper-person. And this was particularly important for me, since I had a load of DVDs and a couple of books that I would really rather not have taken away from me...

As luck would have it, my British SIM card would let me make calls in Saudi, for some exhorbitant price, so I called Samir. And, in the 15 seconds of air time that my three quid bought me, we established that he was standing right next to me. Phew.

So, we find my bag, blah blah blah, boringness, and I am totally zoned out, thanking God it was this easy, as we walk out of customs. And then I hear a loud cough. And another one. And I look around, and I have just walked past a giant sign that says

LIZ

And next to it another one which says "Alizabet Bosley. Efat Tugz". And behind it, Penny and Melvi and Dima! Team Fabulous came to meet me at the airport! Well, everything was happy after that. Of course, I had my own EC car to take me here, so I came here, and they followed me, stopping off for Al-Beik on the way! So now you know the secret of how I come to have chicken in my fridge! I had Team Fabulous and Al-Beik my first day here! It was like a dream come true! I think somebody took a picture of me, looking rapturous, as I bit into my chicken sandwich for the first time in a year and that sweet taste of garlic filled my mouth.

And then, of course, they stayed much too late in my new residence and poor Dima got locked in, which meant we had to wake up Mrs. Inaam to let her out. Yes! Mrs. Inaam! I bet she loves me already!

Woohaha. Causing trouble in the big city already. I am such a rebel.

Speaking of residences, the room is really sweet. Two levels - bed on top, bathroom, kitchenette, and seating area downstairs. And an air conditioner with a remote control. I am so high tech!

Aaaaaand... yeah, that's about it. The most exciting thing to happen post- al-Beik was the discovery that my phones DO have a number, and now I know what it is, so anybody who wants to call my land line, let me know and I will give you the numero. Of course, with luck, I will never be in my room. Not that it isn't lovely. And! Free internet! Ah, how things have advanced while I was away!

This afternoon will involve my first foray into Jeddah proper, as we go find a Panda of some sort so that I can buy shampoo, and toothpaste, and some food, and some laundry detergent. All of the essentials.

So, now that you are all up-to-date, I am going to get back to unpacking my tiny 20kg suitcase which has to last me the three weeks until I get my iqama and can claim my shipment of everything I own. And maybe write down a list of things I have to do. I love lists!

The end.

Ahoy, ye sandy seas!

As everyone in my family is well aware, we have a problem. We are addicted to the Middle East. And, since Rachel left Cairo last year, the family presence in the region has been sadly.... diminished. Thus I am taking one for the team and returning.

Three things I am excited about:

1) bilingual business cards
2) tupperware
3) frequent flyer miles

(4) going to the Amazon. one day.)

Shut up. I'm allowed to have four things if I want.

aaaaaaaaaaand im leaving

a friend of mine asked - in complete seriousness im sure - for a final report on all things accomplished in egpyt. boredom overcame my original idea to send him the script from cleopatra, and the list can be found below. you can make up your own mind as to how much is true. and there are def parts in there that you shouldnt even bother trying to understand. my tendancy to have running inside jokes with myself can get away from me at times.

Things accomplished in cairo:

Learned to cook eggs
Married 3 egyptian men. Divorced 1. Had nothing to do with the mysterious disappearances of the other 2.

Worked 7 hours total

Spent so much time at marriot pool there is now a drink named after me

Attempted 1 military coup

Bribed 2 guards

Was thrown out of 1 govt institution as result of failed bribe

Was arrested at 1 jordanian border checkpoint

Learned 3 arabic curse words

Learned 4 arabic words total

Amended the constitution – with connie’s permission – to allow study abroad American female students to inherit presidency from Mubarak in place of mubarak’s son

Imprisoned 8 members of muslim brotherhood

Had 5 conversations with cab drivers concerning universal hatred of pres. bush

Had 1 conversation with cab driver concerning American culture = premarital sex

Attempted to bargain 19876 times

Succeeded at bargaining 0 times

Discovered the art of cutting mangos (YES)

Called internet company 56879 times over period of 3 months. Was issued 1 restraining order after supposedly “threatening” said internet company operator

Discovered the label I should be shooting for is not “hipster” but “stoner”

Developed ‘glare of death’ – only to be used on level 10 creepy Egyptian dudes

Declared war on 1 zionist entity (necessary when staying in egypt)

Rejected 6 attempted converstions to islam

Seriously offended 5 pious muslims

Was subject of 1 unnecessary mass email to dorm list concerning Hispanics (hah)

Was charged but never convicted with burying 1 evil RA – with a bit more silicone then is natural if you know what I mean – alive under pyramids

Converted 1 egyptian to American consumerism = devil worship

Participated in 1 riot

Spent 4 weekends camping in desert

Rolled down 11 sand dunes (awesome)

Fell down 5 (trickly little devils)

Ruined 1 ipod

Killed 1 computer battery (bloody...macs...)

Traveled to 1 malarial infected region

Took 0 doses of malaria medication

Was checked into 1 egyptian hospital

Smoked 1356 shishas

Was informed only prostitutes go to favorite shisha café

Disregarded above information

Was propositioned 11 times

Accepted 1 proposition in exchange for private jet

Crashed 1 private jet in sahara desert

Ate 1 pilot after crashing private jet in sahara without food (tastes like chicken)

Died 1 tragic death

A random something.

ملء السنابل ينحنين تواضعا والفرغات رؤوسهن عوالى
"The wheat greans that are full (of wheat) bend down
And those that are empty, their heads are high."

I got this from a friend today and thought it was lovely (and appropriate to so so so many people).

Also, I am officially done with college. Assuming I didn't fail any of the things I just turned in, I'll be all graduated within three weeks. And then it's off to the real world with me (or as "real" as you can really call Saudi Arabia).

Foreign types with the hookah pipes say - Walk Like an Egyptian

my taxi driver this morning was entertaining. i flag him down and lean in the windown - "gama'at amrikia?" he nods his head and i jump in as the car behind us gets bored with waiting and leans on their horn. "shukran" i tell the taxi driver - i am always polite. he nods his head and turns his music up. and starts singing along. loudly. this only lasts for a few minutes though before he turns the music back down and starts singing his own, special little song. "bonjour papa bonjour mama!" he yells. then later "jackie chan!" this is, mind you, what i caught. totally didnt understand most of it. he is also steering the car with his knee most of the time as he gestures wildly at the other cars and motions to imaginary figures in the seat next to him.

i tell you this not because this is very unusual - while this taxi driver might have come across as a bit less mentally competant than your average egyptian, he is by no means unique among taxi drivers. ive had taxi drivers drive me to the wrong side of the city, on purpose. theyve insulted me and asked me to marry them, marry their sons. one tried to discuss pre-marital sex in america with me, and then ended the conversation with a proposition. theyve run into things and ppl and down the wrong side of the road, usually at speeds i try not to think about. but this is egypt - no one is totally sane here. i recently met a friend of a friend who was visiting egypt for a conference i (sort of) attended and she made an observation that i think will communicate the general feel of cairo fairly well. being in egypt is very much like being the only sober person at a party where every single person is on LSD. and totally hammered. if you stay at the party long enough, and partake in the entertainment, the party will begin to make more sense to you. but there's no way youll ever catch up to them - theyve had waay too much of a head start.

Hey sweet annie, dont take it so bad

you know that summers coming soon
though {CAIRO} is choking under salt and dirty sand
and it seems the sun is hiding from the moon
your daddy told you when you were a girl the kind of things that come to those who wait
so give it a rest girl, take a deep breath girl...

not too deep though. less than a month to go! ok ive passed the nostalgic phase and i have entered the GET ME OUT OF HERE phase. not that im not planning on attending that rooftop shisha partay tonight. sweeeeeeeeeeet.

so i live on this island in the nile called zamalek. its one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in cairo so, i mean, it tries at least. at life. and other things. it sort of failed last week though when someone managed to cut off electricity to the ENTIRE ISLAND. and guess where i was at the time. i was in an elevator. between floors. with 2 egyptian guys. there i am just minding my own business - ive got my headphones in, listening to the kinks or something and doing my best to ignore the two other ppl im crammed into this 2 foot wide elevator with when suddenly: total darkness. and the elevator stops moving. and that lovely cairo summer heat hits us. now elevators in egypt dont have doors so we knew by the concrete wall where the door to a floor should have been that we were between floors. and i understood from a conversation one of the egyptian dudes had via cell phone that the electricity was out on the entire island, and that it could last for 2 and a half - 3 hrs. i am briefly hysterical at the thought of spending that much quality time with the other elevator occupants. one of the egyptian guys informed us authoritatively that we would run out of air shortly (which was total bull - i doubt even the places in egypt that are SUPPOSED to be airtight actually are) but it was enough to get the other dude panicking. after listening to him hyperventilating for about 3 minutes, i put my headphones back in and tried not to make comparisons to coffins, or think about whether egyptian elevators required electricity to stay up. it took us about an hour to get in contact with the building management - they dont have emergency elevator phones in egypt. and the bowabs hadnt bothered to check the elevators when the electricity went out, instead deciding to congregate on the bottom floor and have lunch. but we did eventually manage to get out when i got a friend to inform them of our predicament and they manually lowered the elevator enough for us to squeeze out onto the 17th floor. definately a bad day to wear a skirt. in my quest to find someone to let building management know that there were ppl suffocating in an elevator 18 floors up i called about 10 of my friends.

me: hey hey how are you doing
friend/potential rescuer: good good whatsup
me: well... im ok. you arent, by any chance, near my building are you?
friend: ummm no im at school/work/the zoo/another country
me: riiiiiiiiight...so you arent going to be near the building anytime soon, are you?
friend: no... why? ...is that someone crying in the background?
me: yeah well im sort of trapped. in an elevator. with 2 strange egyptian men. its dark and about 100 degrees... and no one knows we're here. you know, bc zamalek has lost electricity. i dont suppose there's a coup going on or anything, is there?
friend: i dont know... i could check i guess.

unfortunately no coup... no explanation either. ah well such is cairo. i suppose im lucky they could figure out how to move the elevator sans electricity instead of just saying "ma'alesh" and leaving us in there. this was followed, of course, with me having to walk down 17 flights of stairs. bitches.

Apathesia

is that a word? hmmm i dont care. why? because i am feeling, well, apathetic. this is very strange for me... but i currently seem to be apathetic about pretty much everything. politics. what country im in. what language im speaking. guys. friends. who i hang out with. what we do. whether i do anything. even what music im listening to! well, within limits of course. im not going to be listening to beyonce anytime soon... paradoxically, i actually have motivation to do school work and read those interesting books i could never quite get up the energy to read. i dont know how i feel about this new state of being - mainly because i cant quite get up the energy to care. as a result of this new motivation i am actually getting rather excited about middlebury this summer. hmm. im doing my school work and dont really care about my tan............ the pollution in cairo must finally be affecting my brain. tragic.

oh, there is one thing i am faaaaaaaar from apathetic about. get ready. get excited. ALICE IS COMING TO STANFORD. hold on class of 2011. 2011. blech. i can barely say it. not that i can really say anything with this 'class of 2009' label i keep dodging. its all very unfortunate. anyway im kind of ridiculously excited about my younger sister being at the same college as me for TWO YEARS i cant wait to be the "cool (slightly corrupting?) older sister" i know i was destined to be. no really. so next year is going to be sweet. immidiate family! on my side of the country! (in the SAME country!) will the wonders never cease.

sooooooo yeah life is good, if a little low key. no emotional drama. whats with that? not that i live a very drama-filled life normally or anything. but i usually have, well, feelings on different subjects, she says being deliberately vague.

ah well.

oh! wait i have a good story that definately provoked some feelings. soooo i have a group of guy friends i hang out with from time to time and one of them had a party a while back where he met a girl friend of mine. we'll call them... ahmad and sara, ok? going for the generic here. anyway ahmad meets sara and decides that she's cute, whatever - wants to see her again, wants her to come out with us, wants to have her children, etc. i convey this msg to sara like the good friend i am, and she expresses a certain amount of...distaste for the idea. apparently this 'my chemical romance' was not meant to be. i hesitate to convey this msg back to ahamd, however, bc of the awkward reactions he has had to similar situations in the past.

ahmad: well, did you ask her?
me: yeah...
ahmad: sweet when are we getting together
me: well, here's the thing... she's not really interested
ahmad: you told me she didnt have a boyfriend
me: yeah...
ahmad: so whats the problem?
me: she's just not interested. in you.
ahmad: i..dont...understand...

ah sweet self-confidence... so anyway i put off discussing the matter with him, figuring sara and i were leaving soon anyway so i could preserve the sweet memory he had of sara by just not having them see each other ever again. good plan? well mumkin not. ahmad was a bit more persistant than i expected him to be - it got to the point where he was calling me up preeetty regularly wondering why we werent hanging out with sara. and again at this point it was too late for me to make up some ficticious boy friend bc im good friends with sara and it would be a little weird for her to have a bf i just happened not to know about for the last 4 weeks/ had forgotten to mention. sooooooooo anyway (this is all quite a build-up and i apologize) i was in a cab with another friend of mine and somehow this topic came up and i explained my entire predicament to her, in full. you know, i didnt want to hurt ahmad's feelings but dammit sara just did NOT find him attractive, but it had been so long that i really didnt have any excuse not to do SOMETHING, etc. about 3 min after we had moved on to a diff subject my phone beeps at me - txt msg received. i take it out. speak of the devil! its a msg from ahmad himself. a little confusing though... it reads "interesting conversation. check your phone". "whatever could he mean by this?" rachel asks in confusion. then, a lightbulb of comprehension goes off. no! its impossible... but she has to check anyway. yes! somehow, as a result of some still undiscovered event, my phone had CALLED ahmad JUST AS WE WERE HAVING THAT CONVERSATION. and ahmad heard THE WHOLE THING. now, i never lock my phone, so admittedly the phone does random things by itself sometimes. but, i mean, HOW did this happen. ahmad (remember, not his real name!) is not the first name in my phone book. he was also not the last person i called or the last person who called me or the first on any possible list my phone could have accidently opened to by itself. soooooooo basically god decided to step in and solve my mushkalla for me, in the most honest way possible. now ahmad knows EXACTLY what sara thinks of him. he also knows exactly what i think of him. luckily i like him (thank god) so i didnt say anything too harsh. i mean, there was a word or two i might have edited out has i known he was going to HEAR the whole thing, but honestly who predicts these things? but yeah... definately spent a few hours there torn between being hugely amused at the whole situation and dying of embarassment.

so, i still have the capacity to feel, is basically the moral of this story.

oh and dont worry we're still friends. because i know you were all really worried about that. but come on. awkward situation much?

getting deep

so im leaving cairo in a little over a month and ive started looking at things in a 'soon all of this will be but a distant memory' sort of light. suddenly everything is rosy! well, sort of... i mean, we ARE still talking cairo here. im reminded of my very last time ice skating before my family moved to saudi way the hell back when - i remember putting on my ice skates and very deliberately and with great ceremony stepping out onto the ice with the full knowledge that it would be the last time in a long time. (riyadh has one ice skating rink and its men-only. obviously the site of a woman in ice skates would be too much for your average saudi guy to handle.) i reeeeeally liked ice skating, so my last skate was very dramatic. saying goodbye to the ice and all that. the best metaphore i could come up with at the time - as a 5th grader - was the typical comparison to flying, but i have to say that 10 years later i havent found a metaphore thats much better. of course we're talking flying not in the tiny-bird-frantically-pumping-to-stay-aloft sort of flying but in the im-an-ignorant-land-animal-who-knows-nothing-about-flying sort of flying. ice skating... dude ice skating was FUN. but anyway i feel like everything i do in cairo now is really deliberate. im actually paying attention (unusual for me) so as to be able to describe it to ppl back home. although most of cairo is pretty much indescribable. aaand thats not necessarily a compliment. but dammit im going to MISS cairo. yeah i very much have a love-hate relationship with this crowded, polluted city full of obnoxious men and with the general efficiency of a toaster oven feeding the entire NFL, but it sure as hell has aspects to it i have never found - nor anticipate finding - anywhere else in the world. and trust me, ive looked. so it looks like ill be back here eventually - inshallah for CASA. lets all cross our fingers, shall we?

ok it is now 11:39pm and i am giving up my previous plan of going to the gym and heading home to dance around in my room a bit (thats for you libby) and then crawl into bed and finish my musharraf book. the excitement of my life overwhelms me at times... but hey whatever floats your boat. and my boat is currently floating on the barenaked ladies, a soft pillow and pakistan's war on terror. bite me.

Phooey

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

i just wrote a blog. and then bc my DAMN COMPUTER is broken and can no longer function unless its plugged into the wall, of course i knocked the plug out. losing everything i had just written. DEATH. there is a vast mac conspiracy to DRIVE ME INSANE. and i bet the egyptian govt is in on it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

so. i am certainly not going to re-type all of that. suffice to say there was some deep thought. and some not-so deep thought. and a political rant, which was a first. obviously it was not meant to be. god is telling me something.

anyway shout out to anybody who made my younger sister's admit weekend at stanford entertaining.

so today is 'international day' at AUC. spare me. the saudi tent brought a camel onto campus. i think thats rather presumptuous of them... i mean, saudi is certainly not the only country that has camels. there's also a horse and carriage which a) is really random b) how did they even get that on campus? i feel like they would have to disassemble it just to fit it through the gate and c) the entire courtyard is covered by stairs so unless that is a very special horse, that carriage has about a 3 foot radius to move around in. but no big deal. the norwegian tent had waffles. and the american tent tent set the iraqi tent on fire. kidding kidding just kidding.

generally, life is still continuing as far as i know. i suppose there's always the possbility that im in a continuous loop of what is the last day of my life bc my mind refuses to accept death. star trek anyone? anyone? but assuming that this is not actually the case, cairo is still standing. im reading about 5 books at once because when you dont have internet in your apt you need to be REALLY dedicated to find enough ways to procrastinate. and so far so good on the malaria front. thought maybe i had it last thursday but it turns out that i just had to let athena out of my head.

ok im bored of blogging now. sry youre only getting appreciate about a quarter of the actual effort that went into this blog, try not to be too bummed about it. aaaaaaaand im off to lunch. maasalama

A Triumphant Return!

Hello there blogland. It's been nearly a year since I last had anything interesting enough to say to merit a post. Life in an American university is certainly not a bad experience, but it doesn't provide the day-to-day excitement of life in Saudi Arabia. Mostly, my year has been spent getting ready to graduate and wishing, desperately, that I had already done so.

And now I have exciting news to announce: next year I will be returning from whence I came. Yes, the prodigal daughter is going back to Saudi Arabia, this time as an employee, to be "Coordinator of International Partnerships." I am really, really excited.

More to come.

So please be kind if i'm a mess. Cigarettes and Chocolate milk

cigarettes and chocolate milk - these are just a couple of my cravings. everything it seems i like is a little bit stronger a little bit thicker a little bit harmful for me.

speaking of rufus wainwright i rode a motorcycle for the first time yesterday! and i know i know donorcycles straight from the devil 103% chance of fatality etcetc but dude it was FUN. motorcycles are sort of the thai version of taxis so we took one from the pier to the bus station. to be honest it was incredibly painful - my shoulders were virtually skinless by backpack strap at the end of the ride. but the pedels vibrate so your feet get all tingly and the wind is in your face and a number of other cliches about freedom and adrenaline and i know ill never buy a motorcycle but i might look upon the idiots riding around on them with a bit more understanding from now on... and mumkin in the far distant future when im feeling particularly mohawk and tatoo-esk... you never know. i bet a red motorcycle would go splendidly with those red heels i bought over break.

anyway so yesterday after a long day of traveling we...wait for it... got a massage. at the hilton. and it was, of course, maahvelous darling but around the time the woman started exfoliating my armpit i almost ruined it. i mean, i had managed to keep my cool through the little plastic underwear (i swear they looked like diapers) they gave us to put on. i even managed not to smile when the woman tried to help me dry off after the shower. but the exfoliation of the armpit was the last straw. there i was - butt naked on the massage table - totally unable to stop laughing. and this wasnt giggles. we're talking belly laugh here. im sure i was disturbing the peace or whatever. and everytime i managed to stop id immidiately think of WHY i was laughing and start all over again. i mean, it tickled so for sure that didnt help. but i am obviously far from sophisticated enough to be able to keep a straight face when a small asian woman is exfoliating. my. armpit. my urbane exterior was cracked, irreparably. im sure she had no more respect for me. EYE lost respect for me. i need to work on my maturity level here. i have far overestimated myself and i shall have to write to my highschool class and let them know that they might have misjudged who to dub 'most sophisticated'.

this will not, of course, keep me from going back tomorrow. you know i always say when you cant do something once, try try again! so i must, for the good of my character, go get another massage. after all im doing the masseuse a favor too. can you imagine their normal customers at a hilton in bangkok? yick. skeezy old white men. yick. remind me never to become a masseuse.

ps

woops and forgot to mention. my sister is a god. alice got in bloody EVERYWHERE so for those of you of the correct opinion, you are welcome to write to her and encourage her to go to stanford. for those of you with any other opinion, you are welcome to go stuff yourselves.

there is a very cute little thai boy staring at me. i dont really know how to respond to that. ok. i smiled at him. dammit he's coming over here. i have to remember: no encouragement! they never go away. reminds me of another subsection of humans.... stop CALLING im not even on the same side of the country as you anymore! right. oh dear im attracting a whole crowd of them. back to the bungalow! mumkin a midnight swim?

wouldnt you like to know

why do guys insist on having facial hair? i ask you, honestly. the curly mustaches, the perfectly trimmed beards, the not-so-perfectly trimmed beards, the partial beards that they obviously trim every morning into perfectly geometric shapes on their chins, the SIDE-BURNS oh god the side-burns. this is a public service announcement. you might think you look good. you might think youre being edgy and would fit right in with the art-nouveau crowd wearing all black and smoking cigarettes in a basement cafe that only those "in the know" go to. but trust me. from a girl who knows these sorts of things, (my past life was spent in just that sort of cafe before i got bored and genetically engineered the camel), you dont. oh, and it definately does not mask your weak chin. we can still see it! really. in fact, the hideous little hairs sprouting out of it just serve to draw MORE attention to it. so just stop trying. in fact, you should really revel in your ugliness. take advantage of what god gave you. go stop traffic or something. be the before picture in the before/after plastic surgery commercials. marry a chinless girl and have chinless children. or better yet, marry a chinless girl and dont have ANY children. stop the chinlessness!

anyway, on that note i apologize for being a blog failure. i do mean to write here. i write blogs in my head all the time. but then i tend to me a bit too lazy to actually write them. plus, i dropped my boring islamic law lecture, so i have no forcibly-free, (well, 'free') time to blog. but i will try to be better in the future.

currently i am in thailand. it is my spring break and going to iran didnt work out for a number of reasons the main one being that the iranian govt is being spiteful and kidnapping british soldiers and generally throwing tantrums that involve not giving americans visas. i mean, the american govt picks on everybody. so its your turn? get over it. aaanyway when we realized iran wasnt going to work out martine and i sat down for lunch and basically said something along the lines of

rachel: so what do you want to do then?
martine: i dunno. go somewhere else?
rachel: where?
martine: india?
rachel: south africa?
martine: kazakstan?
rachel: cambodia?
martine: thailand?
rachel: thailand.

so we bought tickets to thailand that afternoon and here we are. and we have 2 full weeks which is sort of sweet. of course it also means missing a week of school but what are taking years off for, after all. and my teachers understand. sort of. but we've been here for about a week and have spent a bit of time in bangkok getting lost and buying useless souvenirs, a bit of time in the south crisping ourselves senseless on the beach, and quite a bit of time traveling. but ive always liked the feel of going very fast over narrow, winding roads so im ok with that. (am i being serious? am i being sarcastic? wouldnt you like to know) most lately, we went to ranong (which is a city on the myanmar border - burma? what are we calling it these days? how i do love to be PC - and is quite possibly the ugliest place ive been, well, ever). we had an...interesting experience where our thai taxi driver sort of decided we should eat dinner with his family, so we did. after turning down whiskey, beer, and a number of types of drugs, and almost turning down "light" which i assumed was yet another sort of drug until it became clear they actually meant "rice" - silly me - we headed back to our ghetto hotel and martine proceeded to get a lovely little case of food poisoning. thats what we get for fraternizing with the locals.

today we made our way out to an island off the coast. lonely planet had described it as "off the beaten path" so we figured, hey. we live in cairo! we're hardcore! we shouldnt be doing what the NORMAL tourists do. we're going to go "off the beaten path"! well, when they say off the beaten path they mean OFF the beaten path. like, you cant even see the path from here. THERE IS NO PATH. instead, there are bungalows. these bungalows have beds. that is all. and we spent about 2 hour wandering the island in hopes of finding something a bit more...luxerious. a flushing toilet? maybe a fan. i mean, come on. is a fan so much to ask for in 100 degree heat? oh yes. yes it is. we are spoiled spoiled first worlders who have no right to ask for such frivolous amenities. for shame. i mean, the bungalows dont have ELECTRICITY. (notice the irony of me complaining about this via the internet. of course, this is probably the only computer on the island. and we have our own tiiiny little satelite up on the beach. adorable) oh, and english? yeah none of that either. how do we get off the island? god only knows. swim? oh, and martine and i finally make our way to the bungalow, collapse on the bed (after untucking the mosquito net, which we then promptly tucked back in, sort of interfering with our much-needed collapse) and look up to see the world's BIGGEST spider sitting up on the wall, watching us. we're talking like, the size of my hand here. and it lurked. and lurked. and is still lurking for all i know. martine went back to lie down so it has probably eaten her. oh oh oh and i forgot the best part! malaria. oh yes. apparently this area is quite malaria friendly. and we dont have mosquito repellant, never mind anti-malaria medication. but no big deal. i mean, what could possibly be a better reason not to turn in my 2000 word paper (due 24 hrs after i get back in cairo) than having MALARIA? am i right?

but yes. we made it hear safely. and will inshallah leave here safely tomorrow. morning. actually i probably wouldnt mind staying here a bit longer (i mean, its goorgeous. i just spent about an hour hanging out on the beach watching the sun set and listening to the shins. arent i emo. and hey, i can be hardcore. i have a backpack. im backpacking! im cool. ha.) but martine is still feeling off from the food poisoning so she doesnt want to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary. so we're heading up to hua hin tomorrow and we'll hang out there for a few days. where they have air conditioning. ah air conditioning... and fewer spiders. and more prostitutes, according to lonely planet, but hopefully they wont be lurking above our beds. did anyone ELSE know thailand is the sex-capital of the world? mumkin i should have done a bit more research...

...and the government creates more drama...

soooo i dont know how much all of y'all (my texan side coming out) know about my state dept internship... experience. but there has been a rather interesting update.

i originally applied to an internship at the american embassy in beirut for this summer back in nov when everyone and their pet hamster was applying for the embassy internships. i didnt hear anything back and, comforting myself with the thought of the total lack of time and effort on my part that went into the application - always a good excuse - i forgot about it. so i was not expecting the email i received in late january from the state dept congratulating me on the internship i received at the "school of languages, foreign service institute, dept of state". have you heard of it? i havent heard of it. no one has bloody well heard of it. but it was at the state dept so, despite the fact that i hadnt applied for it, i - generously - decided to hear the lady out. i write her back a "hey nice to hear from you what are you talking about" email and dont hear back from her for about 3 weeks. at this point id written her 2 more emails and had decided that i must have hallucinated the first email and some woman at the state dept thought she had a new stalker. buuuuuuut eventually she writes back apologizing for the delay and the total incompetence of beaurocracy in general and wants to get to know me, be my friend, etc. so, still totally confused as to what this internship was, where it would take place, what the school of foreing languages was or did or whether not not it actually existed, i wrote her back a loong email pretty much asking her all these questions plus a "and btw how did you get my application in the first place?" ps. oh and a "does this mean i didnt get the internship i ACTUALLY applied to?". i felt pretty justified in my total ignorance and im afraid that might have come through pretty clearly in the email... but again that was ok bc, i mean really, THEY had contacted ME, right?

so this morning i check my email again and - quite exciting - i have an email from her in my inbox. her email went somewhere along the lines of "um... you DID apply to this internship... you checked foreign language institute as your second choice... you suck." oh and "there are plenty of ppl who DO want this internship so if you dont, let me know so we can select another candidate". ooooooooooooooooooooooh sweet humiliation i have the brains and tact of a camel in heat how the HELL should i respond to that??? and do camels go into heat anyway? deathdeathdeathdeath talk about great first impressions. i havent even met the woman and already she knows that a) i applied to an internship i know nothing about and didnt bother to research b) i am totally incompetent bc i couldnt even find the institute's website, which she ever-so-kindly sent me the link to to clear up my confusion and c) i have the iq of a caterpillar.

so yeah i should write back to her... luckily i was planning on doing middlebury anyway. hopefully she wont add any sort of 'warning: due to suspicion of total stupidity and inability to spell, this girl should not be let within 5 miles of the state dept' to my permanent file. which already includes, no doubt, 'lived in saudi arabia + lived in cairo + visited west bank, iran, syria and lebanon + owns 2 passports for 'educational' purposes + liberal tendancies = possible terrorist. thats me; another day, another chance to burn bridges. whatever. ill spend 9 weeks in a hole in vermont being eaten by misquittos and swimming in humidity and ill be HAPPY about it. masquittos. mesquittos? hears hoping no one important ever reads my blog.

moving on... so im sitting in the AUC courtyard having finally registered my computer on the network. well, "registered". i illegally got the password from a friend who had illegally gotten the password from a friend... but it amounts to the same thing. so instead of going home after my class i have chosen to seclude myself with my computer, and sooth the sores of my aim-withdrawal by soaking myself in gmail, facebook, and blogger.com.

plans for this weekend include my roommate's norwegian class tonight = 15 college kids + unnecessary norwegian vocabulary + duty free alcohol. following this there will be house parties, dancing and creepy taxi drivers, in that order. tomorrow my roommates and i will be joining a group of ex-pats who apparently go running the desert every friday afternoon, and then go out drinking afterwards. how had i not heard of these ppl before? i can feel the spiritual connection. i also have grand plans to start writing my paper for the class with j.b. who is, btw, a god. i want to be him when i grow up. sans mustache. seriously my class with him is awesome. maybe im just seminar-deprived, but i can actually feel that class shock my brain out of its cairo-coma. god bless.

good news for all of you ppl out there is im really enjoying being back in cairo! none of that what-the-hell-am-i-doing-here-when-i-could-be-at-stanford depression i expected. so i wont be coming back for spring quarter unless something goes horribly wrong. :( sry darlings. i do miss you all! but cairo is... well... i mean come on im going to iran for spring break. woot. assuming, that is, that israel manages to restrain itself. can a zebra change its stripes? is a frog's bottom waterproof? these are the important questions we must all ponder.

ok the sun has dissappeared so im going to retreat back to zamalek. mumkin go to the gym? mumkin take a nap? how well do you ppl know me? ok im off. muah.

The Productivity of Boredom - Welcome Back!

So im sitting in Islamic law class bored out of my mind and I thought, what does one do when one is bored in class? You update your blog! Kids, don’t try this at home.

This class will seriously be the death of me- my teacher is this tiny arab man who sits in a chair at the front of the class room – legs too short to reach the floor – and profounds on the evolution of Islamic law. He waves his arms and pauses at inappropriate moments for three – count that three hours. And mind you the very name of this class made me drool and im thrilled to be taking it but… but. and of course you have the requisite guy-everyone-imagines-taking-out-back-and-shooting in the class. This one’s like 3 feet tall with this abnormally small head. It really makes me want to squoosh it for some reason, monty python style. Except his face looks like someone else got to him first - All of his features have been placed maybe an inch or 2 too close to his chin –his non-existent chin - leaving a wide expanse of forehead that develops startlingly large wrinkles just above his eyebrows anytime he talks. Which is ALL THE TIME. I want to pull his stupid blue baseball cap down over his face and chuck him out the window. And I swear to god he’s wearing a toupe. I spend most of the class coming up with devious ways in which I could accidentally arrange for a giant hook -out of those toy vending machines. the ones that are impossible to beat? seriously its all a scam- to come out of the sky and pluck it off his head. And if its real hair then he would end up dangling from a giant hook protruding from the sky which would be almost as entertaining. I haven’t found a giant hook. but ill keep you updated.

Anyway sorry about the 4 month blog hiatus. Blogs are like hygiene. They don’t exist without routine. Am I wrong? Am I wrong? … Maybe hygiene was a poor choice of comparison since I would prefer to keep my friends. Exercise also works. But, well, so I spent the weekend in the desert being hardcore and bedoin-like. Now, one does not shower in the desert. In fact, one doesn’t really do much of anything in the desert beyond the occasional cleaning of one’s fingernails when one feels the need to demonstrate boredom. The art of demonstrating boredom is important even in bedoin culture. So hygiene seemed particularly relevant.

But I get ahead of myself. So… since my last blog. To do a total recap, I went to Sweden over eid holiday in october to visit mathilda and spent the 10 days I was there feeling very short and brunette. We watched grease, etc.
While I was in Sweden the youths of Egypt decided to rise up in large groups and exert their rights to grope unprotected females, and the Egyptian government decided to let them. Who needs personal responsibility when your society quite rightly lets you blame your actions on immoral females provoking uncontrollable lusts through inappropriate hip-movements? Seriously the American govt should really look into this. My world makes so much more sense now.
Sooo November meant I could dress modestly and not melt. Good times. Eight of us took a trip to Jordan over a long weekend. Very long story ask me about it sometime im too lazy to write it here. Winnie! visited in December. Official shout-out to her for braving terrorists and camels to come see her dear friend Rachel. Almost directly following that I went to Jerusalem with joey (exams were between the two but theyre sort of a formality at AUC. As is homework. And classes in general) and it was there at the holy of holies that I came to the conclusion that god doesn’t really exist. And decided to be a religious studies major. yay irony. Then I went home and quickly remembered why I had moved to Egypt as my toes turned blue in my cute shoes. And visited Stanford and developed intimate relations with parilee’s couch.

So now im back. Ive changed apts and im living in zamalek, an island on the nile. Im on the 21st floor of a building on the main street in a beautiful apt owned by the guy who writes nancy g___’s song lyrics (yes, he is my neighbor). The view is unbelievable – it actually gives the impression that cairo is an attractive city. My flatmates are both Norwegian with the adorable accents we all secretly wish we had. Damn yankee parents. We have weekly Norwegian lessons with a group of friends that involve Sweden-bashing and alcohol. We also go through about 10 eggs a day. Protein, yes. Also advantagious in that ive learned how to use my stove. Ill find me a husband yet!

Oh! And im going to iran over spring break. HOW COOL IS THAT. Although apparently Israel is negotiating with the US for a clear air-way over iraq in case they decide to bomb iran. As martine would say “wtf. Jesus in a bucket” which I think adequately describes my feelings on the matter. Hopefully they’ll hold off until after april 12th. Book recommendation: “We Are Iran” by…um… ill get back to you on that. It’s a collection of Iranian blogs. Absolutely splendiferous. Why aren’t I taking farsi again? Ill put that down on my list of things to do. After Hebrew. And before plumbing. Actually maybe before Hebrew. Iran rocks.

Anyway. Its half an hour before this lecture is supposed to end. Do you think I can leave now? Decisions decisions… it’s a small class so I wont be able to slip out without everyone noticing. But they’ll just assume I have something important to do. Ha. Like I ever have anything important to do. Yay Egypt. Oh god Stanford is going to eat me when I get back.