Tag Archives: travel

Mar 08 2012
22 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Two minute read

How to Eat Mayonnaise Out of a Jar

I spell yoghurt with an h. Sue me.

This morning while wearing a cardigan I became hungry in the middle of class. At that moment, I pulled a jam jar filled with plain yoghurt out of my purse and started to eat it (the yoghurt). To the common observer, I was eating mayonnaise. Not only that, I was dipping McVitties Digestive biscuits in the mayonnaise. These delicious biscuits (better referred to as tea cookies for the American reader) are usually topped with Nutella, jam, peanut butter, or all three. Putting mayonnaise on them is ill advised and would likely result in the nausea of all parties involved, especially the biscuit. Yet this is what my classmates saw me doing.

While looking for an appropriately sized container for 6 oz. of yoghurt earlier that morning, I hadn’t thought of the fact that using a jam jar would make me look like a mayonnaise gobbling creep. To be honest, it’s not certain that anyone even noticed me as I was sitting in the corner with my jar, spoon, and white dairy substance. I certainly wasn’t looking at them, engrossed in the delicate effort of eating yoghurt out of a jar without making clinking sounds.

Later on, while despairing in the computer lab because of a lost internet connection, I noticed the striking similarity between my yoghurt lined jam jar and a jar that had once been full of mayonnaise. This was not the hope I had been looking for. “Ew,” I thought. Then I wondered how my classmates had reacted, if they had even noticed at all. How would they have responded to the strange sight of a fellow student slurping down mayonnaise and cookies in the morning? I can only imagine their thought bubbles….

“That’s disgusting.” “Not again.” “Does she know how many calories that has?” “I want a bite.” “ “….Mayonnaise shakes!” “How long has she had that in her purse?” “I would like some to put on my hair.” “She’s a monster.” “She’s a psychopath.” “She’s my hero.”  “I should avoid her.”  “I need to talk to her more.” “Is she single?” “Is this a cry for help?” “I shouldn’t have come to class today.”  “I miss mom.” “I don’t miss mom.” “Here comes my breakfast.” “And I thought the putrefying cat would be the grossest thing I saw today.” “She needs to leave Egypt.” “I hope she stays in Egypt.” “Am I that weird?” “She can do this but I can’t smell my toes in public?” “She’s got it all figured out.”

I can certainly agree with the last fictional statement. I do have it all figured out. Next on my hit list is drinking water out of a toothpaste tube.

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Mar 05 2012
45 Comments
Egypt, Humorous, Two minute read

The Cairo Expatriate: A Rare Breed

The loons are in the center

It is my personal theory that people who want to live in the Middle East are mentally unbalanced. Most humans do not willingly exchange their comfort and familiarity at home for discomfort and alienation abroad. Therefore, those that do make this trade probably feel ill at ease in their own culture and are likely insane. Indeed, most of the expatriates I’ve met suffer from heightened social awkwardness, an awful family from which they have fled, disgust with their culture, feelings of isolation at home, various kinds of guilt, and/or bad breath. Not surprisingly, the severity of the mental imbalance and personal issues is multiplied tenfold when it comes to long term expats in Cairo, a city of bad food, crowds, and some of the worst pollution in the world. If living here appeals to you, something is wrong.

My suspicion that Cairo expatriates are a bunch of eccentric loons was validated last night at an AUC event. As I gazed around the lounge of the Cairo Windsor Hotel, decorated with desert animal antlers and a Boston College pennant, I realized I had found myself in a kind of expatriate birdcage. Each party attendee was odd in some way, much like an exotic bird with its own story and quirks, the kind of strange pet that is hard to love and misunderstood by outsiders. The more I observed, the more I felt an ornithologist examining the fantastic plumage and social behavior of rare and valuable species.

Some expatriates have come for business, others to hunt mummies, and still others—the most pathetic ones—study Arabic. Some expats have been here for decades, growing stranger with the years and watching as new crops of expatriates come and go, while others come just for a year or two while they’re trying to figure things out. Each one hates Cairo in a way, though many of them also love it because in this city they’ve found a place among freaks like them.

New blood comes in and refreshes the stock every now and then, but still it runs strange. At expatriate parties, I often have to be prepared for bizarre amounts of eye contact, awkward introductions, unorthodox worldviews, and hazardous dance moves.

To be honest, I fit right in.

The best part is that Cairo is a place for everyone else, for those that didn’t fit in back home and want to start anew in a place where the cost of living is cheap and everyone recognizes you from the facebook pictures of a friend’s friend’s party.It’s a weird mix, but on the bright side, even boring people are a little interesting. We welcome you if you want to come, but prepare to get strange.

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Feb 29 2012
31 Comments
Egypt, Fiction, Two minute read

The Mummies of Niagara Falls

view from pyramids on a clear day

Today, Cairo was besieged by a dust storm, its air becoming the color of cinnamon. As a result, the sunlight that warmed my apartment was the color of a slightly dehydrated person’s urine. As I napped in the urine light, I dreamed of jumping into a pool with my clothes on. I don’t think it was a coincidence.

Unfortunately, the effect on both air quality (including taste), and visibility was not so pleasant. But perhaps the biggest shame of all is that this entire dustastrophe is likely caused by a stupid mummy from Niagara Falls.

Mummies are known worldwide to be needy, wrathful, and prone to outbursts of childish rage. Anything can send them over the edge and make them call down all kinds of ridiculous curses on Cairo*: hordes of seedy politicians, shark bites, annoying fashion trends, etc.

Though all mummies are moody, there is a group of particularly infamous mummies at the Egyptian Museum in Niagra Falls, Canada. Colonel Sydney Barnett purchased these mummies and transferred them to Canada from Egypt in 1850, back when Egypt was legally selling national heritage for a quick buck because there was a lot of it and it was just lying around anyways. A few decades later,  Theodore Roosevelt called these mummies, “a group of genuinely awful creatures.”

There are nine mummies in the Niagara Falls Egyptian collection, but only four have coffins.  The ones without coffins are named Slappy, Silly, Sally, Socky, and Stumpy, and the ones with coffins are named Sammy, Sudsy, Stubbles, and Trent. According to museum curators, these mummies have been nothing but a nuisance and a bother since they arrived in Niagara Falls. Slappy and Trent never stop complaining about the cold, and the endless grumbling really pisses off Socky and Stumpy. Sudsy and Stubbles both resent tourists’ “sausage fingers.” Sally has a crush on one of the museum curators and never shuts up about it. Sammy and Silly squabble endlessly over coffin rights, while Sudsy continually asserts that he was the Colonel’s favorite when everyone knows it was actually Socky, and all of them constantly try to annoy one another by poking each other or throwing stuff at each other’s cases. It’s a nightmare.

Between the nine of them, they’ve called down 203 curses on Cairo since moving to Niagara falls, one of which indirectly caused the Arab spring. Their life in the comfort of Canada has made them unbearable, petulant, self-important beings that forget they are essentially raisins wrapped in toilet paper. This current dust storm is probably just another effect of their brattiness. If I had to guess, I would say that Stumpy probably made Trent mad again by saying Trent wouldn’t be so cold if his wives had ever actually loved him, which is a low blow and doesn’t really make any sense.

On some level, though, I guess I can understand how that makes Cairo deserve a dust storm.

*Curses can only be called upon Cairo, not any other city.

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Feb 02 2012
10 Comments
Anecdotes, Humorous, Three minute read

My Ear Infection: Party on the Inside

bring on the ear infection rock surfing

I have an ear infection. Yeah, I said it. My ear is crawling with infection. Perhaps that’s too much disclosure for the blogosphere. Just because I read the forums on Web MD religiously doesn’t mean I want to discuss everyone’s medical charts, especially my favorite authors on the web.

But now it’s out there. I’ve got an ear infection and it sucks. This is also not a ploy to get people’s pity. I don’t want or need your pity. I’ve already had cookies baked for me against my will and yes, they were inappropriately tasty. You see, I was raised on the plains of Oklahoma, where personal illness is usually treated as a case of sissy-hood. We believe most things can be cured by ignoring the pain and/or rubbing bacon grease onto the affected area. In the case of internal pain, the grease is rubbed onto the lymph nodes so the lymphatic system can carry its healing qualities throughout the rest of the body. It’s a highly developed system.

Unfortunately, bacon grease is hard to come by here in Egypt, so I was unable to pour any into my ear at the beginning of the infection and simply tried to ignore it. The infection proceeded to get increasingly hard to ignore, and I was forced to go to the university clinic, where I was given medicines of dubious names and qualities. I’m now taking a few  pills in a variety of shapes and colors and waiting for everything to go back to normal when I can pretend like this whole “being sick” thing never happened.

I feel like there’s nothing dumber than saying you can’t do something because of an ear infection. To me, it feels equivalent to saying, “Oh, my thumb hurts so I can’t come to your bridal shower,” or “My forehead is bothering me so I won’t be able to make it to the awards banquet,” etc. It’s such a small area of your body, but when it hurts, it hurts in spades. If you have healthy ears, kiss them both right now and be thankful. You could also have someone kiss them for you.

I was laying in bed last night, unable to sleep because of the bright, throbbing pain in my ear. I thought to myself “I am in hell,” as it crackled and sparked, reminding me once again of how awesome my other ear feels. (Again, I don’t want your pity. I’m just trying to use my pathetic example of hardship as blog fodder). Then I realized that I was seeing the pain in my mind’s eye as bright colors and shapes. I think at one point there was a recurring abstractly shaped fish figure that had pink and white stripes and I would see it as I closed my eyes even though I was still awake and wondered  if I would be able to skip school for this.

Now here I am in the morning and I’m not skipping school but I am going to the white desert again. At least I can continue my tradition of being sick before camping trips.

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Jan 29 2012
4 Comments
Fiction, Humorous, Three minute read

Captain’s Log: Return to Cairo

A fire roars in the captain’s quarters

I could do an obligatory post about returning to Egypt and re-falling in love with Cairo, but I saw a bare-assed man taking a dump this morning while walking back to my apartment, so I decided to delete that chapter of my return story.

Instead, I will tell a dark tale of hardware and how the fates conspired to make an Arabic student computer-less for an entire four days. This is my story. Some details have been altered to make it more interesting.

The Captain’s Log

“I’m pretty sure I left my converter at my apartment in Cairo.” I thought to myself while steering the Seamstress down a canal in Amsterdam. “Why would I take it to America? I don’t need it there.”

“Drevets!” the skipper yelled, “Let’s rope it up! Them tourists gettin’ more annoying by the second. I cain’t stand them much longer.”

“Right-O, skipper.” I said, “We’re here anyways. The pancake girls will be down soon with our snacks and then we can eat and get out of here. You know, I’ve got a lot on my mind nowadays, what with the winds and the endless darkness. Say, do ever remember me mentioning a converter, like for electronics?”

“No ma’am, captain. I ain’t never seen nothin’ of the sort.”

“Okay. Thanks, skipper. Well I guess we should get a move on, shouldn’t we.”

Later that evening, as I rested in the captain’s quarters at the Hilton Hotel Amsterdam, nursing a glass of whiskey with the hotel dog curled at my feet, the converter still occupied my mind. What had I done with it? Could I have left it in America?

My computer’s battery was not going to last long. I had already used it to help navigate the canals, since the last time I sailed those waterways was thirty years and a universe ago. Those were different times back then, different dreams. I sighed and took a sip of whisky. It was a long time ago.

I boarded the captain’s plane the next day feeling hopeful. I was, after all, a rational person. I was a ship captain, for God’s sake! They don’t just give anyone these puffy captain’s bloomers and special caps. The converter was in my captain’s apartment back in Cairo. It had to be. I was sure of it. My computer was functionally dead by now, and the prospect of a delayed revival chilled me to the bone, more threatening than the winter winds of Amsterdam.

I arrived in Cairo, was enveloped by its cloud and dusty musk. Taxi-ing across the city towards my captain’s apartment, I waited and hoped.

The taxi stopped. Five flights of stairs were climbed. A door was opened. Another door was opened. A light switch was turned on. A converter was not found.

It is not here.

It is not here.

It is not here.

The words echoed in my mind’s blackness.

I saw but did not see. I heard but did not hear. My computer stared at me, mute, a dumb beast. A light flashed on the router, the internet’s waves flowing through me. Yet I was cut off from the life blood. I exhaled slowly. “ ‘Captain’s Log: Return to Cairo’ will have to wait,” I said to myself, and I was completely alone.

End

Postscript: I bought a converter a few days later and it cost less than one dollar so I fully expect it to blow up and/or melt but, on the other hand, I have internet. Sweet, sweet internet.

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