Category Archives: Lists

Pasta, Pizza, Espaghetti

Has anyone else noticed Italy looks like a boot? Weird.

So I’m heading to Italy today. In 25 minutes I will be leaving my house to bake in the noon heat for 10 minutes before getting into a cab taking us to the airport and then getting into a big ol’ airplane and flying away for a short 9 day trip where I will sample the wonders of Rome, San Benedetto del Tronto,  and Bologna.

Goals for the trip:

1. Eat Italian food. This one could prove to be difficult. I hear Italian food is hard to find and usually expensive when you do. Luckily, there are some great websites that have miraculously located places with passable fare.

2. Drink fermented Italian beverages. I’m no alkie but sometimes the fact you  can only choose between expensive crap and cheap crap here in Egypt gets annoying. Besides, I hear there are more than 4 beer choices in Italy. Rumor only? We shall see.

3. Sit in a meadow and breathe.

4. Nap on the beach in a one piece bathing suit.

5. Find something with little blue flowers on it to purchase and call my own. Place in someone else’s bag and claim they stole it.

6. Find cool gifts for the family to replace what I originally planned to bring back for them: pyramid keychains and little piles of sand.

7. Get in as many people’s photos as possible while at touristy sites like the Colosseum and the Pope’s wax museum.

8. Go to a hair salon and get my bangs cut. Refuse to pay and see what happens.

9. Speak with an Italian accent the whole time and see how many best friends I make.

10. Verify my hypothesis that Spanish and Italian are actually the same language.

11. Take a nap at least once.

12. Claim I am the direct descendant of the last emperor and declare my rule over Italy via public service announcement.

13. Pretend to be German and wear socks with my sandals.

14. Coat myself in glue and then roll in macaroni. Run through the streets screaming like the famous Italian macaroni monster.

15. Say “Mamma mia!” as many times as possible.

16. Stare at my travel companion on the train when he’s not looking at me and then look away quickly when he suspects something. Repeat continually.

17. Politely ask flight attendants to not make eye contact with me and explain I usually sit in the first class but there was a misunderstanding with my company and they booked the wrong ticket.

18. Blend in with the locals by covering my face in pizza sauce.

19. Pick and eat my own wild mushrooms.

20. Make a new facebook friend.

21. Fight a wild boar to the death. Eat its flesh.

22. Purchase a new spear and go truffle hunting.

That about covers it. Wish me luck on my adventures that will likely center around deciding which restaurant to eat at next; nothing too scary. I probably won’t be blogging while in Italy, but as soon as I get back I will go into a blogging frenzy that won’t stop until I’ve communicated all of the awesome thoughts I had while abroad, which are bound to be many.

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Ramadominating

Saw this on the first of my many breakfast walks

The Ramadan sun sets over Cairo. A tumbleweed blows through Messaha Square. One man hurries homeward in the twilight, eager to get to his loved ones.  It appears that Cairo itself has come to a halt.

These scenes characterize the time of the break fast, when all of Cairo gathers with friends or family around food seasoned with hunger, the best of spices, and prepares to eat for the first time that day. Yet while most everyone else is otherwise occupied, this hour between 6:30 and 7:30 is my time to shine. It’s ramadominate time.

At this hour I take full advantage of the lack of traffic and prowl the streets, experiencing what life in Cairo would be like if it were pleasant, devoid of its constant din. While I walk, I also get a chance to stare at people as they break the fast together near their vegetable carts or coffee shops. Don’t mind my staring, I’m just ramadominating.

These walks I go on are only one of many ways I am currently squeezing the best juice out of my time grapes (30 rock reference), and when I say these walks I should clarify that I’ve only done this once, but have every intention of doing it again. You might be asking yourself how you can ramadominate as well. Here’s some advice that I have found helpful:

Do not go to bed before 5 am, and while you’re at it, you can forget about “morning.” True ramadomiators do not wake up before 1 pm.

Spend plenty of time on the internet looking at blogs about strangers’ “musings,” occasionally performing a half hearted craig’s list job search.

Stare at the two glasses of water that have been sitting on the table for about a week and decide they can wait until tomorrow to be put into the kitchen.

Eat Egyptian brand Ramen noodles once a week for sustenance, and peanut butter for all other meals except for dinner which you should eat in an expensive restaurant, spending more than what is reasonable for your salary, which is in peanuts.

Mooch off of people that have nicer apartments complete with un-mysterious stoves and cook things in them. In general, one should impose on others’ hospitality as much as possible in true ramadominate fashion.

Convince yourself that reading a classic novel for 30 minutes a day makes up for the fact you pay no attention to the news whatsoever and obtain most of your information in digest form from your more intelligent and well informed friends.

But expensive sample packs of Ritter chocolate and look forward to when you will be able to eat one and drink your coffee at 8 o’clock in the evening. Silently curse your friends when they make plans that interfere with this date with yourself.

This is by no means a comprehensive list of how you can ramadominate, but it contains the most important element: the creepy sleep schedule.  Eventually I plan to become completely nocturnal and sleep from 10 am to 6 pm, at which point I will be awarded the Nobel Prize in Ramadominating for figuring out the way to enjoy the best and coolest parts of the day.

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A Brief Treatment of Common Singalong Pitfalls

Our program has been blessed with incredible musical talent, including guitarists, one percussionist, and someone who plays the spoons. Though all of them are gifted, only one has compiled, of his own free will, an entire songbook full of songs he transcribed, printed, alphabetized, and then put into a binder. This songbook is accompanied by a mini-me spiral bound version that looks as professional as anything you could buy from a Christian bookstore.

Because of the abundance of musical talent, at many of our gatherings we have had the great privilege of huddling around his songbooks, flipping through them until some loudmouth sees a song they like and then calls out, “Hey can you play _____”, a question that deserves a swift slap in the face since he was the one who transcribed every song himself.

Obviously the singalongs are wonderful, especially since we have able bodied players, a songbook, and people who are literate. One would even think we had the recipe for seamless, coordinated singing that anyone would be overjoyed to hear. Unfortunately, my friend, it is not so. Despite that fact it is always fun, our singing often misses the “enjoyable for others” mark by a long shot. I have outlined below some of the causes of this phenomenon, one that also plagues buses and campfires the world over. First of all, however, let me state that I am one of the most egregious singalong offenders, and have committed every possible singalong offense hundreds of times over and look forward to doing so again in the future.

Factors contributing to less than perfect singalongs:

a. It’s hard to think of songs everyone knows on the spot. Inevitably, the first songs thrown into the mix are the national anthem and “Amazing Grace,” both of which are impossible for most humans to sing. The next ones are songs that people only think they know, “Sweet Caroline” or “Don’t Stop Believing” for example, which quickly sour as the majority realizes they only know one line that comes halfway through the song and lasts for brief 5 seconds of exhilaration.

b. No one knows all the words to almost any song, unless they’ve memorized it like a freak. One cannot live on choruses alone, yet the compulsively memorized songs are also the ones that others are most likely not to know. These are the personal favorites, the songs played on repeat in the soft darkness of one’s room during most of junior year in high school. Alternatively, the song reminds one of summer camp or an old crush, also experiences no one else will share. They will not like the song as much as you.

c. People choose songs that are inappropriate for group settings, suggesting their favorites which, as I’ve already pointed out, the entire group will not instantly love. Songs that people enjoy for their easy pace, wistfulness, and deepness will almost never carry over well in a group because they are, above all, slow and sad. Do you go to parties and try to make friends by talking about the long and drawn out death of your next door neighbor? No, you tell jokes. This is the singalong equivalent of a Lady Gaga song.

d. Famous singers generally have beautiful and/or distinctive voices. Singalong companions often do not and are also unaware of this discrepancy in vocal ability.  There are not many people that can sing like Kelly Clarkson. She won a nation-wide contest that captivated America and if people of her skill level were present at any Chuckie Cheese’s, then obviously things like American Idol wouldn’t exist. Therefore, we should not be so surprised that we do not sound like her when we sing her songs and indeed that we cannot sing her songs very well.

e. Singing along with a guitar is different from singing with a YouTube video or your car radio. For the unexperienced,  it is always difficult to find the key in which the guitarist is playing. Some never find it and continue to blissfully sing in the key they are most used to hearing while they are alone in the kitchen cooking and singing. Since they are not vegetables, everyone else notices.

f. Similar to the above foible, everyone likes to sing the song just as they hear it in their head. If they’ve sung the song many times on their own without backup music, it’s likely they’ve added cute dips and improvisations to the normal cadence, all of which the rest of the group is unaware and cannot follow along with. A group of 6 people each singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” as they have developed it in their personal repertoires sounds surprisingly similar to an ax sharpening contest.

g. Invariably, some  participants exhibit a severe lack of personal awareness while they are singing. Though you feel you are pouring your heart out during a rendition of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” staying true to the original intent of the song, to others you look like a maniac that will soon be in need of a defibrillator.

h. And, as always in groups intent on singing, the silent majority is forced to listen to the louder minority. Sorry, everyone else, even though all of you had a better song suggestions, because you couldn’t speak up in time you will be forced to listen to this really long, slow song that we don’t know very well since someone yelled it out a second ago and said it was their favorite even though it turns out they don’t know most of the words.

But, like I said, these factors in no way impede the enjoyability of a singalong, they only enrich it. The best part is that despite how much of a failure one singalong may be, there is always hope that next time it will be different, and that the person playing the guitar will know that one song you’ve been dying to sing even though it’s 9 minutes long and is about cat diabetes.

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Sowing, Winnowing, and Manuring

Today we went to the Egyptian Museum of Agriculture, a gem that has and will be overlooked by hordes of tourists for

Hands on learning.

years to come. In this context, the word museum is misleading since the Agricultural museum is, in fact, more like a playground. Here are some of the differences between a “normal” museum, and the Egyptian Museum (playground) of Agriculture:

1) A museum has guests.

The Museum of Agriculture does not have guests. From the disbelieving looks on the employees’ faces, we were the first foreigners visiting the museum since the woman or man from Lonely Planet discovered it. The other few museum patrons were there for picnicking or loitering purposes, but certainly not to see the museum itself.

2) A museum requires and undergoes regular upkeep.

The Museum of Agriculture requires but does not undergo regular upkeep. It is set up similar to the National Mall in that the museum is a group of five buildings centered around a green space that has trees and statues in it, but the comparison ends there. The statues are placed without any apparent design and the lawn and trees have been left to their own devices ever since they were planted. The museum employees are hired to be present at the museum but not to do anything to it, in order to preserve the natural deterioration process. Thus, a thick layer of dust and one case bird droppings coat all display cases, broken exhibits remain unrepaired, and all textiles within the museum are in danger of turning into dust at the touch of a finger.

3) Some museum employees are knowledgeable about the museum and its contents. There is a curator.

From what we saw, no museum employee knew anything about Egyptian agriculture or this museum dedicated to its existence aside from its hours of operation. The Agricultural museum employee’s job is this: “Sit or stand near the entrance of the hall. Should anyone walk in, stare at them. Open and close the doors at the appointed time. Avoid dusting or improving the museum in any way.” As for the curator–should he exist– he is either dead or has been on vacation for the past three decades.

The star museum employees assist people in entering the exhibits and taking pictures with the mannequins while sweating on them and gesturing wildly, afterwards demanding extra money for having clearly gone above and beyond his normal call of duty.

4) The museum exhibits are educational.

Are you getting the dusty attic feeling?

In theory, the Museum of Agriculture is filled with educational material, and yet it would be an Olympic feat to actually learn anything from it. Aside from the fact most things are unorganized and poorly labeled, you will be too distracted by the ridiculousness of the place in order to do anything besides contemplate the museum’s existence itself and the thickness of the cobwebs on the windows. The two things I took away from the Horticulture hall, for example, after seeing dusty glass case after dusty glass case of different kinds of wheat stalks and seeds, corn stalks and seeds, bread, fruits, vegetables, stages of growing of wheat, etc, were: “There is a lot of variety in the world” and “This took a long time to assemble.”

5) The museum exhibits are not to be touched so as to preserve them for the next visitors. For this reason, there is surveillance of some kind to prevent the most curious from overstepping their bounds.

In the Museum of Egyptian Agriculture, you are almost completely alone and can do whatever you want. The entire place feels forgotten if not yet abandoned. Climbing into the exhibits and taking pictures is encouraged, as well as exploring blocked off parts of the halls and rifling through anything that isn’t encased in glass.

6) The opportunity to interact with material not yet put on display is minimal.

At the Museum of Egyptian Agriculture, there is a cabinet full of documents and photos as well as bin full of antique cigarettes on the second floor of the Hall of Horticulture in a nook on the landing with some agricultural tools in it. Feel free to look at the photos and guess what they might be. Consider the very slim odds of them every being used or seen by someone who might actually be interested in the information.

7) The only fun to be had is through the joy of learning.

The best part of the agriculture museum experience was being able to run around in it like kids and cause a ruckus, feeling like we were breaking all the rules even though there were no rules to be broken in the first place. Also, the green space within the complex was a real joy, complete with nice trees, cool birds, and two little pergolas. Though using the word paradise might be too strong, it certainly felt like a land preserved outside of time and space, which I suppose is the purpose of a museum though in this case it was achieved accidentally.

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34 ways to express cowardice when confronted with a difficult test

The end of the summer portion of the CASA program is near and we are currently in what might be called finals week. Normally, final tests have some relation to the material presented throughout the course of study, measuring the cumulative progress of the pupil. In the case of the tests of Professor Harb, however, the test has no purpose aside from inspiring fear and hopelessness among her students. Let the incontinent student beware:  you might need a fresh pair of pants after glancing through the exercises on the test and realizing no amount of studying would have saved you from the ensuing humiliation.

In other words, Professor Harb’s test was difficult. After finishing the 2 hr and 15 minute long affair, I rose from my seat and limped to her desk to turn in the test, my left foot having fallen asleep while my brain was being crushed by the Arabic language. Cackling at my pain, she says, “What, you can’t even walk?” I whimper, “The test was hard….” She gets up from her chair, walks around the side of the desk, slaps me across the face, and says, “Shame on you. The test was not hard.” I made up that last portion, but she might as well have slapped me. With the one exception of the entrance exam for CASA itself, this was the hardest Arabic test that I have faced in my life, but it is over now and there is nothing left to do in Prof. Harb’s class except for doodle and drool during the 2 hours I have with her tomorrow.

But in all honesty, Prof. Harb is great and she’s probably one of the best professors in the program and I’m happy to be in her class because I learn things and she loves teaching. She considers us her children and I consider her a non-hostile life form, so it’s not like I’m unhappy in the class. But the test was hard, so here are possible routes of action I thought for the future (read: fall) when faced with a similarly difficult test.

1. Stealthily climb out the window and down the side of the building.

2. Jump out the window and end it all.

3. Jump out the window and onto the pergola 20 meters from the side of the building. Climb down the pergola to safety.

4. Hide behind a curtain.

5. Hide under your desk.

6. Hide under someone else’s desk.

7. Hide under professor’s desk.

8. Go to the bathroom for the entire class period.

9. Hide behind the projection screen and hope she doesn’t see your feet.

10. Camouflage yourself by putting the wastebasket on your head.

11. Plead insanity.

12. Plead stupidity.

13. Sit for a while and try to take the test, then pretend to realize you’re from a different class and don’t belong amongst the test takers.

14. Pretend you’re someone else and only look like the student who was supposed to take the test.

15. Kill the professor.

16. Kill the other students, then the professor.

17. Kill yourself, then the other students, then the professor.

18. Close your eyes and hope it all goes away.

19. Close your eyes, lift your hands towards heaven, and offer the test as a sacrifice to God, pleading for Him to consume it with an all consuming fire.

20. Set the test on fire yourself, claim your classmate did it, then run out of the room screaming.

21. Make a paper airplane out of the test and then set it on fire.

22. Eat the test instead of taking it, claiming to have misunderstood the exercise.

23. Return the test to the teacher with a spit mark on it saying you found it insultingly simple.

24. Report the test as an incident of abuse.

25. Report the test as an act of terrorism that inspired fear in the heart of an American.

26. Use the test as a diary to talk about your feelings and hope that’s good enough.

27. Explain that you never actually learned how to read.

28. Hide the test and say you lost it. Repeat as needed.

29. Sprinkle soil and grass seeds on the test, moisten with water, plant in the earth and watch it grow the answers. Harvest answers and turn in the test.

30. Vomit on the test. Repeat as needed.

31. Say you appreciate the offer but you really couldn’t take a test today. Make sure you’re sincere.

32. Claim a religious reason: Arabic tests are considered an abomination on the 20th of every month according to Leviticus.

33. Try bargaining with the test; talk it down from its level of difficulty.

34. Stir up philosophical questioning amongst the students, aiming for a mass walkout: “What’s the point of all this anyways? In a few billion years when the sun blows up and the earth becomes a potato chip, who will care how we did on a stupid Arabic test?

35. Take an aspirin and then take the test. Obtain a tissue for the ensuing nosebleed. Schedule an MRI to make sure everything is still okay up there afterwards.

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