Category Archives: Best blog posts

Sep 20 2011
10 Comments
Best blog posts, Humorous, One minute read, Stories

Purchasing and Eating a Sandwich

The time is 10:00 AM, EET. Class is over. I have 45 minutes before “education” begins again. I am hungry.

BOOM! This is me brushing past the security guards and striding down the street. My mind is one purpose. This is me and my stomach is growling, my sense of smell heightened at the expense of both sight and hearing. I am the closest I will ever be to being part of nature: I am the predator. I seek my prey.

The sun is merciless. Men in shirts with fake vests, middle school girls in fluffy white hijabs, middle school boys up to no good— I pass by them all, my mind interpreting their forms as big sandwiches. I come across all the usual obstacles— scalding patch of sand: crossed. Steaming pile of street trash: avoided. Slimy puddle: circumvented. Overheated puppies at the pet store: cooed at.

At last I arrive. I slide into the back of the small mob pressing against a shop no bigger than an Easy Bake Oven. I know this crowd: we sandwich mobbers all want the same thing and will do anything to get it. I edge in, my hackles and elbows raised. My ordering position seems quite poor. I languish in the back; I am in a forest of surrounding men; Arabic is not my first language; I prefer asking for things politely. All indicators point to failure.

However, these are only minor setbacks. I am still foreign, clueless, and girlish. My abject appearance incites pity amongst the lunching crowd. Other patrons ask me what I want or let me get in front of them, showing me where to stand in order to put my order in. Their pity is seasoning for my sandwich. It will salt my lunch.

Today, however, I catch Mr. Man’s eye from the back of the crowd, one lone Oklahoman in a haystack of Cairenes, and he knows exactly what I want. “One?” he says. And I nod. Seconds later his hand reaches across the sea of bobbing heads and I receive my prize: a hot Egyptian falafel sandwich. With my other hand, I submit payment. We nod politely at each other through the human undergrowth. He knows he’ll see me tomorrow.

BAM! I gobble the sandwich down, enter the university gates, and swerve to throw the trash away before heading back to class without ever easing my pace.

Eat fast. Play hard. Love bats. This is my life.

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Sep 14 2011
2 Comments
Best blog posts, Stories

The Mosquito Lay Dead In My Cup

It’s all too true

(after preliminary words, the trial begins)

“I will tell the whole truth, not part of it, and nothing else besides it, truth.”

Prosecutor: Where were you and what were you doing on the night of September 13, 2011?

Arabic student: It’s hard to say exactly….yesterday seems so long ago. I think I was at home, probably working on the balcony or something like that.

Prosecutor: What do you mean by working? Were you doing your “Arabic homework?” Is that right?

Arabic student: Well, yes…..when I come home from classes sometimes I take a nap but then usually I go outside and do homework and watch the bats flap around the tree that encroaches upon…

Prosecutor: That’s quite enough! So you were doing homework. Was there anything unusual about that night?

Arabic student: No, I don’t think so….I think I remember being stressed out by how much homework I had. I was wearing a tank top I hadn’t worn in a while. Oh! I ate a big shwarma sandwich earlier that day, so I wasn’t really hungry for dinner since I hadn’t been eating meat that much and…

Prosecutor: SILENCE! QUIT YOUR BABBLING!  You say you weren’t hungry, but were there any other physical needs you were satisfying by partaking of certain elements?

Arabic student: Excuse me?

Prosecutor: WERE YOU THIRSTY? For goodness sake, is this so difficult? Were you thirsty? Go on and answer the question. Am I talking to myself here? Am I speaking English? Does my cravat frighten you? ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Arabic student: Okay, okay! No I wasn’t thirsty. I’m never thirsty at home because I always drink water out of a big blue cup covered in stylized fish.

Prosecutor: Ah ha! A big, blue, cup covered in stylized fish you say….about how many ounces do you think this cup of yours is?

Arabic student: probably about 32 ounces

Prosecutor: Monstrously large! And you mentioned you drink water, is that right? May I inquire as to the origin of this water?

Arabic student: Yeah I drink water since I think drinking juice is just like munching on sugar cubes and besides that it’s more…

Prosecutor: I will hold you in CONTEMPT! Answer my question! Where do you get this water from?!?

Arabic student: Okay, geez! I get it from the tap. I hate having to pay for bottled water.

Prosecutor: Disgusting! Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please note the complete lack of taste the defendant has shown by drinking bleach-flavored tap water from a hillbilly’s water pail. Arabic student, as you drank, did you notice anything different about this obscene cup of yours?

Arabic student: Well, the water wasn’t as cold as usual since I had forgotten to refill the plastic water bottle I fill with tap water and keep in the fridge and so I had to drink warm water straight from the tap.

Prosecutor: No you baboon! Don’t waste my time with water temperature! Did you notice any other changes!

Arabic student: Now that you press the subject, I do remember seeing a dead mosquito on the side of my cup that night.

Prosecutor: Ha! Now just so the jury can be clear on how repulsive this is, could you please describe for us the precise location of the mosquito and approximately how long it had been there?

Arabic student: It was on the inside of the cup, near the water level and I have no idea when it got there.

Prosecutor: How ghastly! You mean to say there’s a substantial chance you had been drinking mosquito seepage for a significant amount of time?

Arabic student: Well…yes.

Prosecutor: And what did you do after you noticed the mosquito’s rotting corpse in your giant cup, as a human being generally concerned with hygiene?

Arabic student: Well my first thought was that I had to get it out, obviously, and so I stuck my finger in there and took it out but then I thought it would be cool to get a picture of it, since it was kind of funny.

Prosecutor: So, as a graduate from a university, what did you do then?

Arabic student: Well I put it back in the cup and took a picture of it.

Prosecutor: Utterly vile! My dearest jury members, may we be certain of the fact that this here Arabic student willingly replaced the deceased, disease infested mosquito, back into her dirty cup for the sole purpose of capturing it on film.  And then, you surely removed it after that, right?

Arabic student: Well…no. I didn’t want to go wash the cup and so I just made a note of where the mosquito was and tried to avoid drinking from that spot.

Prosecutor: I’ve never heard anything more abhorrent! Clearly you’ve reached a new level of baseness only known to a class of human beings that completely rejects any semblance of propriety or civilization. If I understand you correctly, and I pray that I don’t, you not only continued drinking from the cup, but you didn’t even remove the mosquito.

Arabic student: Yes that is correct.

Prosecutor: When, if ever, did you undertake the removal of said mosquito and sanitation of the big, blue, cup?

Arabic student: Umm….

Prosecutor: TELL ME WHERE THE MOSQUITO IS! WHERE IS IT!

Arabic student: You see, that night was I really busy and stressed out about homework, so I….

Prosecutor: ANSWER ME!

Arabic student: I DIDN’T TAKE IT OUT, OKAY! IT’S STILL THERE! IT’S STILL THERE…. (breaking into sobs) I was going to do it eventually, but then I just got sidetracked….I…I….I don’t know what to say.

Prosecutor: A good place to start would be apologizing for the pathetic example of a human being you’ve become. Not only have you shamed you and your fellowship program, but you have shamed your parents, cousins, and roommates, both former and future.

Ladies and gentlemen, I submit to the jury the 32 oz. blue, plastic cup covered in stylized fish. If you’ll notice—and please try to hold in whatever vomit tests the strength of your lips—the mosquito is still there, part of it stuck to its original location, and part of it where the  Arabic student willingly replaced it. May you swiftly convict the defendant of all she is charged with so that justice may be dealt swiftly. I rest my case.

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Sep 11 2011
4 Comments
Best blog posts, Fiction, Humorous, Open Letters, Three minute read

I’m Cute and Furry!

I live on Cairo’s streets! Love me!

Hello there! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood Cairo street ferret! You just caught me bounding along effortlessly.

Wasn’t that adorable?  Don’t you just want to die because of how cute I am! Did you see the way my body forms perfect mini-arches with the street as I’m springing along? Weren’t you reminded of the scalloped dye cuts that your mom used when she went through that scrapbooking phase? Some people have described my cutesy antics as magical, ineffable, and transcendental. For me, it’s just my normal life. Do you know what it’s like when people are inspired by even your most ordinary actions? Is anyone moved to tears or laughter at the preparation of your morning coffee? No? Well, this might be something we ferrets alone can understand.

When I saw you leave Cairo Jazz Club, I thought I’d make an appearance so you could know there is something beautiful left in the world. I was just over there by that pile of trash doing dainty ferret things when I sensed a smoky soul in need of a lift and then hop! bounce! There I was! And then I was gone! You don’t have to tell me how much you enjoyed seeing my amiable face and bizarrely flexible body. I’ve heard every praise known to man and ferret, so anything you say will be meaningless anyways. I’m glad to do this merely as a service for those a little bit more burden-laden than the rest of us in this city.

I know you Arabic students have a hard life, trying to make it off of a stipend that only supports a humiliatingly upper-middle class lifestyle, the exorbitantly expensive restaurants, country clubs, and apartments embarrassingly out of reach. You have to deal with nightly homework in a subject you specifically came to Egypt to study. If that isn’t enough, you have class a ridiculous four days a week, and only fourteen weeks of vacation out of the year long fellowship. So I get it.

You and I are not so different. I live off of street trash and car fumes. In fact, after the Ferret Council of 1974, street ferrets decided to evolve and can now digest most forms of Styrofoam and need car exhaust in order to survive. It gives us increased flexibility and fur sootiness. I, like you, also smoke people’s cigarette butts whenever I can find them. If I’m really lucky, I inhale the second hand smoke directly from someone’s mouth. That’s only happened once before and I don’t think the man himself understood why he was laying on the ground smoking a cigarette with a street ferret tickling his whiskers, but it was a pleasant, and maybe once in a lifetime, experience for both of us. I also live my life prancing around the streets of Cairo, my slinky-like body structure allowing me to be run over or stepped on without any damage whatsoever to my person, even though my pride is always hurt. The ferret rage comes afterwards, and sometimes I crawl into the hoods of parked cars and tinker with their engines just to show them. It’s eerie how much satisfaction I get from watching things burn. But that’s what this city does to you.

So…I’m getting bored with this conversation. You Arabic student types aren’t exactly skilled conversationalists, are you? Anyways, I’m glad I could brighten your night a little bit and I hope life gets easier for you. Really, I do. I hope someone finds you and decides to pay you for just being who you are and nothing else, since that’s what everyone deserves. If I’ve learned anything from Cairo’s streets, it’s that everyone is special.

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Aug 30 2011
8 Comments
Best blog posts, Fake advertisements, Humorous, Modern Life, Three minute read

I’m Just Trying to Sweat On Some Strangers

Last night I was the proud and only occasionally unwilling participant of a house party that lasted until the sun came up. This was not an American house party, where you crank up the music in someone’s apartment and stand uncomfortably close to one another for two hours tops before you realize it is the worst thing in the world and then escape. This house party was a public party with “house” music at a club-like location somewhere near the pyramids.

I know that we were somewhere near the pyramids because I saw one as we were driving back in the early dawn. I also saw the sun itself, a fluorescent red disk rising over the Nile. And then I went home, saw I had no notifications on facebook, and went to bed. All in all it was a fun, enriching, and eye-bulging experience. Here’s an advertisement.

Saqqara Oasis: Where There Are No Worries Because Your Sweat Will Put Out the Molotov Cocktail Flames

Hey you! Yeah you with the “One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Dance floor” shirt!

Tired of squeezing into your tightest threads on Monday nights and then having nowhere to go? Do you yearn for a place where the music will make your heart feel like it’s about to explode, where the beat itself picks up you and throws you down in endless mini-earthquakes? Do you find perfect hearing a burden? If you have ever experienced these sentiments or eaten food, then Saqqara Oasis is your destination! You’ll always remember your bomb night at Saqqara tearing up the dance floor with your sick moves and hair product because your hearing will be permanently damaged and your brain seared with images of Egyptian youth like you’ve never wanted to see them before.

When was the last time you sweated so much you created a natural pattern of salt stains on your jeans and then sold them the next day at twice their original cost as haute couture?  Can’t remember? That means it’s been too long! Saqqara Oasis is your only solution. After you sweat your brains out, strip down to your boxers and cannon ball into the pool! Then climb out of the pool and GO CRAZY again! Be the dripping youth full of life that you have always wanted to be.

Are you incapable of experiencing “fun” on account of your extreme coolness? Do you get tremors thinking about your hair moving? Did you wear heels that came with a handicapped sticker? Saqqara is still the place for you! There are numerous locations at your disposal from which you can project an air of mind-blowing awesomeness while doing nothing except for staring at other people with a blank expression or bobbing your head. If desired, there is a short posing workshop before the party begins where you can learn all the latest hand, arm, and leg positions so you can put off the vibe you’ve always known you were capable of.

Have you ever felt like your hands, arms, and heart are actually a different being trying to flee from the rest of your body? Do they flail around wildly and cause your abdomen to move in an inhuman fashion to the eardrum bursting beat? Have you ever wiled out so hard that your body couldn’t handle itself? Have you ever become a music nymph in the heat of the moment? Come to Saqqara! Find your flailing friends and throw your flesh encasement around like it’s something you won’t need tomorrow!

Are you trying to inhale as much smoke as possible in an outdoor setting? Forget sheesha and come to Saqqara, where one could read by the light of the glowing cigarette butts if they weren’t too busy being AWESOME. Let us convince you that there is no better place to partake of second hand goodness. Don’t think you’re a good dancer? Our quasi-non-stop strobe policy will make whatever movements you are capable of producing seem out of this world, and just when you are getting used to making a fool out of yourself, we will flood the entire dance area with yellow light and reveal you sweat soaked youth for what you really are before returning the safety of pulsing darkness.

Saqqara Oasis: You will lose control, sweat, stay out for longer than you wanted to, go through an endless cycle of despairing of departure and then catching a second wind, and discover the heights of who you can be.

This means you too, cookie monster t-shirt.

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Aug 27 2011
3 Comments
Best blog posts, Humorous

New Pile of Dirt on the Block

I literally thought, “That pile of dirt is gold.”

Tonight, on my way to another lung-blackening adventure in Cairo, I noticed a new pile of dirt on my street. I thought to myself, “Huh, that’s a new pile of dirt.” In spite of the Ramadan craziness that ensued in the Hussein area of Cairo (think: Rockefeller center at Christmas but without squishy coats) and throughout the hours of sheesha-sitting, I couldn’t stop thinking about the pile of dirt. Something about it resonated with me.“This,” I thought, “Is what true inspiration feels like.” As the night passed, I kept reminding myself that I must take a picture of it, to keep and to hold.

Hours later I arrived back at my apartment, switched the air conditioning on, threw off half my clothes and suddenly realized I hadn’t taken a picture of the pile of dirt. My innards began to swim in turmoil. Do I let the moment pass, or do I try to seize the pile of dirt handful by handful (so to speak) and leave my apartment at 2 am in the morning to capture it on film? I think we all know what happened. The pile of dirt inspired the following.

Dear Piles of Dirt International, Inc.:

I see you delivered the pile of dirt I requested. I appreciate your patience with my order since my fax machine was broken for some time and kept on sending all of my piles of dirt requests to Toys “R” Us headquarters in Wayne, New Jersey. Apparently there is a hot new toy for city kids called “Pile O’Dirt” so there was quite a bit of confusion on both ends. I am glad to see that one request finally made it through to you, though I do have a few notes on your manner and timing of delivery.

First of all, I requested this pile of dirt almost two months ago. It was supposed to be a belated engagement present for my sister since she is in Physician’s Assistant school and one of her activities is “reconnecting with sterilized nature indoors.”  Through practice, the future P.A.s learn how to simultaneously sympathize with and look down upon people visiting their Wal-mart Clinics who are involved in agriculture. The dirt she is required to purchase and then sit in can be very expensive, so I thought I would shoulder some of the financial burden by providing it for her at a reduced cost. I just want her marriage to succeed. This brings me to my next point.

She is not studying to become a Physician’s Assistant in Doqqi, Cairo. She is in Oklahoma, USA. In fact, she lives a five minute walk away from your main office. I am puzzled, therefore, as to why the pile of dirt has arrived in here in Egypt. The form clearly stated the recipient of the dirt and her location. I even specified that it was to be carefully placed in the newly installed dirt-holding hut at her home. I don’t even recall writing my address or location on the form, though I was experimenting with a different kind of Egyptian peanut butter that night so it’s difficult to remember exactly what happened. Perhaps that has something to do with all the “Pile O’Dirts” I’ve gotten as well. Moving on.

Even had I wanted the pile of dirt for myself, the style of delivery was completely unacceptable. Your workers, supposedly the best in the field, had apparently indulged in Egyptian liquor before the requested midnight delivery. By the way, the one thing your company got correct was the surreptitious delivery at a bizarre time. Nevertheless, because their stupor or extreme ineptitude, they mistakenly deposited the entire pile of dirt outside a coffee shop where anyone could just up and take it. Not only will your workers likely be afflicted by blindness because of the Egyptian alcohol, but the pile of dirt is blocking a total of two cars, the owners of which are likely blinded by rage.

The last and perhaps most important point is that the sterility of the pile of dirt is completely ruined. That is actual litter in the photo. God knows what else has crept into it by now. Even were my sister be present, it would be completely useless for her exercise unless she wanted to better understand feral animals. Needless to say, I would like the pile of dirt removed and placed in front of our landlord’s car, a full refund, and a voucher for two free piles of dirt in the future.

Thank you for your time,

Emily

P.S. I will be writing an unfavorable review for you on Angie’s List, noting that there were sizable rocks included in the pile of dirt when I specifically requested only small to medium pebbles.

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