Oct 08 2011
Leave a comment
Fiction, Humorous, One minute read

Wait Don’t Go! Bring Me Some Cheese!

Sure is flat out there

I saw a foreign man riding a bicycle in my neighborhood, and it inspired this post:

One summer day, a Dutch man put on his jean shorts and went for a bike ride. Out the wicker gate he flew, peddling as fast as he could, unimpeded by inclines and worries on this bright morning. He waved to his neighbors as he whizzed past: “Hallo Greta! Hallo Pieter!  Hallo Klaas!” Off he sped into the calm tilled farmland of the low country, a collage of yellow and varied greens underneath a familiar powder blue sky.

He slowed down once he made it past the last obvious vestiges of civilization and was left to silent contemplation of the surrounding cultivated greenery. The questions that had seemed so important to him in the city faded away as he was confronted with the unchanging cycle of the world around him, a rhythm that would precede and outlast him by millennia. Who was he on this green earth, a peach colored pinpoint in a landscape that stretched beyond the crusty surface of the world and into the stars? The wind tickled the tops of the green things all around, and the world answered his question very clearly in a language he could never understand.

His bike rolled along lazily, savoring the pavement. He came upon an intersection. He looked both ways and then proceeded to pass through it. At that very moment he was sucked into a vortex more powerful than both time and space, and was teleported to Zoharia Street in Mohandiseen, Cairo, along with his name brand sunglasses and jean shorts. 20 feet away and at the same time, I was returning with toilet paper from our local mini-mart and I saw this foreign apparition as he sailed along on his bike, oblivious to the world around him. No doubt he hadn’t time to recognize the sudden change of scenery or had so completely engrossed himself in contemplation of tree fluffiness that he was incapable of seeing the reality around him.

I distinctly remember he was not whistling. But still, he carried a whistle-y air about him, something that made everything else seem like an afterthought. Away he passed, out of sight and back to the re-entrance vortex where he could once again continue his summer thoughts. I thought I saw the air shimmer around him with the last preserved summer rays, but then the moment was gone, and I went home, trudged up the 5 flights stairs with my toilet paper, and began making dinner.

Tagged , , , , , ,
Oct 06 2011
4 Comments
Anecdotes, The Cairo Metro, Two minute read

I Am the Shwarma

200 people fit in here

I thought I had beaten the topic of the Cairo metro to death, that all the humidity, sweat, inexplicable haze, and involuntary contact with strangers had been discussed to its furthest extent. But I was wrong, pathetically wrong, and today I touched, tasted, smelled, and saw the depth of my ignorance.

Though I did not think it was physically possible, metro use has increased due to strikes on other forms of public transportation. Practically, this means the metro cars turn into a more treacherous, sweaty, place than they have been. People and children under 4 feet tall stand a good chance of suffocating should they dare to ride.

This morning, the women’s metro car rolls up, and it is already stuffed to the gills. I can almost see a puff of steam emerge as the doors open and a few fight their way off the train, leaving just under enough space for me. I and a few others shove our way on, our body masses absorbed into a greater entity created out of metro riders like a giant shwarma leg. A woman had to suck in her stomach in order for the door to close, and I thought to myself, “the fate of this entire train just depended upon the extra 3 inches of that woman’s newly concave stomach. Lord help us.”

For the next 6 minutes, I was tossed about like a baby at a potluck. Though I wasn’t holding onto anything, it didn’t matter since it was impossible to move independently of the nest of people I was firmly snuggled into. As a result, I was pushed against my will several times into a woman standing next to the door. I thought she realized I was powerless in the matter, but finally, at the stop where we and 80 percent of the train were exiting, she said, “Why are you pushing me?! I swear I’m getting off!”

Had I the language skills, I wish I could have cooed, “Yes, friend. I am pushing you because I alone out of the countless women here in the car can move of my own free will and I have decided to use this power to pester you, oh chosen one. I am glad you are ignoring the kinetic thread of female bodies behind me that might transfer energy and placed blame directly on me for your discomfort because I am, in fact, completely responsible. I am also malicious and worthy of your hatred.”

The metro doors open at Sadat and “plop!” a mass of women is spurted out onto the platform. Someone hits me in the back, and I’m not sure whether it was on purpose or whether they had temporarily lost control of their arm because of metro fever. As I was ascending the escalator  I thought to myself, “I’ve got to blog about this.”

Tagged , , , , ,
Oct 04 2011
4 Comments
Lists, Two minute read

Sue Me, Foodies

peanut butter is just as good

I would like to not apologize in advance for the fact that what follows strays significantly from the stated purpose of this blog. As the editor in chief and reader of this blog, I have overridden the discrepancy and made a dispensation for the topic. Furthermore, I stand prepared to be heavily criticized for these beliefs, especially by that interesting group of humans known as “foodies,” a term that is almost as laughable as “soup.”

The foodies might say I am boorish, uncouth, or pedestrian in my tastes, but I believe in something nobler than paragraph long menu descriptions. Do I love food? I don’t know. But I eat it, and I have found that often my satisfaction with these experiences has little to do with what I’m consuming, and everything to do with everything else. Thus, without further ado, I present some of my humbly correct opinions on food and the partaking of it:

If it’s good enough to be eaten once, it’s good enough to be eaten every day.

The more predictable meals are, the better. This applies, of course, to a meal’s existence and set time.

Temperature is more important than taste.

Anything can qualify as a meal as long as it fills you up. Thus a meal could feasibly consist of consist of a spoonful of peanut butter, some chocolate chips, plain cooked rice, and a Ritz cracker.

Coffee should be taken either with something crunchy or with chocolate, and it should be taken either in a café with friends or while reading something at home.

The finished product of a meal or dish as well as individual ingredients are equal candidates for consumption, without shame.

One should not have to wait for others if there is a chance of food or drink losing its optimal temperature.

It is acceptable to pick out one’s favorite parts of a dish with one’s fingers, as well as take at least one bite from the serving dish before beginning what is on one’s own plate. And the center of the brownies can be cut out if you don’t want any crust.

All noises of food consumption are reprehensible and must be concealed. Once the food enters the mouth it should no longer be heard or seen.

Texture is also more important than taste.

Spoons are the preferred eating utensil for all kinds of food.

A good meal is the happy phenomenon of when your innermost food desires are satisfied at the right time, at the right temperature, and with the right people.

Eating with company is nice unless you want to eat alone, and then other people should go away.

If you’ll notice, nothing was said about the quality or taste of food. This is not because these things don’t matter, but because (in my correct opinion) they are secondary issues. Bring on the angry foodie rampage.

Tagged , , ,
Oct 04 2011
2 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Stories, Three minute read

Reptile Wrangle!

she lives!

The characters:

Two perfectly sweet Arabic students. Both have teddy bears at home in the states (one against her will), and both love animals a reasonable amount.

One bowab (see previous post) and one bowab’s brother. Both are respectable gentlemen currently employed in the cleaning of said Arabic students’ apartment (don’t judge us. you try dealing by yourself with the relentless, powdered Cairo that coats your toothbrush).

One large, squirmy gecko. It is a wild animal, and like my sisters, it has the ability to climb on walls and hide behind curtains. If it were to be squashed, one would need more than one paper towel to wipe up the gecko goo.

One set of living room furniture, including a coffee table, a dining table, a couch that pulls apart into sections, and curtains. There’s also a bookshelf but we don’t talk about it. I probably shouldn’t even have mentioned it.

The setting:

Time: Post 6 o’clock coffee and snack break.

Weather: The autumn mildness is setting in and one Arabic student’s bed was cool to the touch when she got back from class today. It was bizarre but not unpleasant.

Location: The living room, slightly disheveled and in the midst of being cleaned by the bowab and bowab’s brother.

Who’s hungry: No one. Large sandwiches were eaten just a few hours earlier.

Begin scene:

One roommate squeals. She has seen a large slithering thing in the apartment. The other roommate is not surprised; she saw that gecko last night. They both huddle near a corner of the room and make a fuss about the wildlife in the house, attracting the bowab’s attention. Quickly, he thinks of a solution and removes his shoe. Upon realizing his intent, the Arabic students’ shrieking becomes louder as they both imagine how disgusting it would be to see a gecko of that size squashed on the wall. Also, geckos are cute.  The bowab ignores their humanitarian and “yucky” concerns equally. “He’ll just come back inside,” he says, determined to crush the gecko that is scurrying across the wall.

The living room transforms into a gladiator’s arena, the gecko its target.  The bowab leaps onto the dining room table. He aims his shoe at the gecko darting across the wall and misses. Now he apparates to the other side of the room and tries to flush the gecko out with a broom. Now he yells at his brother to stop being lazy and help him. Now his reluctant brother is tearing the couch away from the wall in order to apprehend the gecko that has crawled underneath it. All this time the Arabic students clutch each other helplessly and pray that there won’t be a huge stain of lizard innards to look at or clean up.

In the midst of the prevailing chaos, the pleadings of the Arabic students and the acrobatic feats of bowab and brother, the gecko escapes from the room onto the balcony, to the disappointment of some and great relief of others, namely the gecko herself.

End scene.

Postscript:

10 minutes later, the bowab invites Arabic students to go to his village in Upper Egypt (hint: south of Cairo) and visit his family and an old monastery, church, and Roman ruins.  Will there be more geckos to kill?

Tagged , , , ,
Oct 02 2011
4 Comments
Fake advertisements, Fiction, Humorous, One minute read

Urgent: Volunteer for Emergency Coloring Needs

We colored a lot of fish

This is a job description for the specialized kind of volunteer work friend and I have performed this and last week in preparation for the opening of the Childhood Development Center.  After inaugurating the center, there will hopefully be a horde of free labor that can do all our coloring for us, but until then, we work ourselves to the bone.

Wanted: Volunteer interested in Early Childhood Education

Location: Post-Revolutionary Cairo

Job Description:

The volunteer’s only responsibility will be to color, cut, paste, and laminate a variety of shapes and images. Nothing else will be required. Images to be colored range from little fish, flowers, and farm animals, to potato heads, shoes (sneakers), and teddy bears. Occasionally, the volunteer will be given the chance to offer input in other affairs, but this is completely optional.

Qualifications:

Ability to use a wide variety of coloring utensils, such as colored pencils, crayons, and markers (thin tipped). The volunteer MUST be able to determine the appropriate utensil for each project according to time constraints and taste, respectively.

Passion for cutting and pasting precision, as well as a significant amount of cutting and pasting experience.

An appropriate—not extreme–attention to detail, namely the ability to distinguish between different shades of colors (NO COLOR BLIND)

Ability to focus for long periods of time on mindless tasks in a semi to completely silent atmosphere.

Unshakeable faith in the fact that every little bit makes a difference.

Self-deluded that children aged 2-6 will notice the effort an adult human poured into coloring dozens of little fish, etc.

Well developed sitting still abilities, spatial awareness to avoid elbowing people.

Bachelor’s degree in International Relations, Foreign Service, or related field.

Ability to wait patiently to start eating even if everyone is present and the food is sitting right in front of you and you are starving.

Dangers/Risks:

Paper, exacto knife, and scissor edges

Strange thoughts that come as a result of a coloring induced mental state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness

Stickiness of the glue on ones’ hands

The overwhelming desire to sleep at all times

Hunger and/or thirst that will not be immediately satisfied or quenched

Benefits:

Improve fine motor and staying-awake-against-your-will skills

Remember why you never really liked coloring in the first place

Impress people when you tell them you volunteer (conditional upon amount of details given)

Sporadic free lunches and coffee

Scenic walk from the metro station along a dusty, sandy street lined with slimy puddles in Ain Shams

To Apply:

Apply in person. Bring transcript from a western University as well as a coloring sample from the past 2 years. Be prepared to discuss what communal, silent coloring means to you and how it deepens your relationship with children.

Tagged , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →
Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started