all things go, all things go

Well everyone, this is it: the farewell post. I wanted to take this time to write some things that I love -- and am going to miss -- about Egypt, and the Middle East in general. Here they are, in no particular order.

1. Street food. Many people complain about the food in Egypt, but I don't agree. True, it's far from gourmet; if that's what you wanted, you'd be better off in Morocco or Lebanon. But for cheap, delicious, and occasionally greasy local street food on the go, you can't beat Egypt. My favorites: tall glass of mango or guava juice, or banana with milk (sounds weird, but it is so good!), or as'hab, a juice made of sugar cane; fuul, aka stewed fava beans with tahina and salad and sometimes hot peppers, especially from Mah'roos, aka Biblical fuul, aka the fuul place in Garden City; koshari, the classic Egyptian vegetarian peasant dish made from rice, noodles, chick peas, fried onions, lentils, spicy red sauce and some of that garlicky/vinegary stuff on top; fiteer, a kind of fried dough eaten with honey as a dessert or with veggies and cheese or meat as a meal; and of course fatta, which is rice, fried pieces of bread, chicken schwarma, and taamayya (garlic sauce) on top. So good. All of it. Now I just have to find a decent Egyptian restaurant in New York.

2. The call to prayer. When it comes to speaking Arabic in Cairo, Egyptian Ameyya has been much more useful to me than the classic fus'ha I learned at Northwestern. But there is something so beautiful about classical Arabic: when it's written, I love the calligraphy, the flowing script, whether its the inticate designs on Islamic buildings or sprawled across a store front or on the cover of a book. And I love the sound of it, the allahu akbar echoing around me five times a day, marking time and filling the streets and alleys. Hear it at 4 am? Stayed out too late. Hear it at 9 am? Woke up too early. Hear it at 6 pm? Time to start wrapping up work and head home. Though I am not going to be joining anyone at a mosque to pray, I really like hearing the call to prayer sound around me; it reminds me that this city, my home, is filled with people coming together to share something special every day.

3. Chilling. I don't think I can emphasize the relaxed, chilled out nature of this country. Egyptians have a flexible concept of time, and are often late; I respond well to this. Everything is late: buses, scheduled performances, parties, people. I don't think I could live in a country where everyone places such a high premium on time. Everyone is very relaxed about everything; one of my favorite Egyptian words is malesh, meaning: it's OK, no worries. Bus is late? Malesh. Air conditioner broken? Malesh. I seem to be locked out of my house? Malesh! And one of the things I have learned to do here is stop worrying about time so much. I am not usually in a rush, and it's been pretty great. It makes some people anxious, and I will admit that I have moments of wishing things could run more efficiently. But it's worth it for the laid-back atmosphere all around the country. I have chilled all over Egypt: by the Red Sea, by the Mediterrean Sea, in Upper Egypt, on the Nile, in several types of desert, in Siwa, in tents, in Mosques, with Bedouins, and more. In Basata, I took off my watch for four days, and it was heaven. The most popular set-up I see in Egypt is incredibly conducive to chilling: mats and rugs and oversized pillows on the floor, a long, low table, some shishas and trays of tea, all shoes left by the entrance. You can lay out, you can lay back, you can nap or read a book or play a game of tawla/shataranj, you can forget that you were ever supposed to be doing anything else. And if you're late to whatever you were supposed to be doing next? Malesh.

4. Cairo, in all its faded glory. (Get ready, this is a long one!) In the days before Nasser took over, Cairo was a international city. There were gilded buildings and chic pastry shops, and a dignified sort of feeling to the city. Now, many of the streets have been renamed and the facades are cracked and all that grandeur has begun to crumble. Going to have a beer on the rooftop of the Odean, or passing by Groppi's in downtown, or sitting in of the Farouk-era, Victorian-style chairs in my apartment: these are reminders and relics of a more glamorous time. It's true that Cairo is not a beautiful city. But it's intriguing and interesting, and never boring.

I love the Nile, especially at night. During the day you can see the garbage washing up along the shore if you look too closely, but at night it whispers past, just a few buildings away from my Zamalek apartment. In Upper Egypt, down in Aswan, you can take a small boat back and forth across the Nile, where it's wide and quiet and sparkling blue. For three days on the Nile cruise, you can gaze off the side and see quiet fishing villages on either side, and animals, and it's beautiful. But my favorite thing of all is to get on a felluca with a group of friends, whether it's three people or twenty, and just sail and talk and chill. Some of the best conversations I've had in Egypt have been contemplative ones on the Nile. I love, whether sailing or walking along the corniche or on someone's balcony, to watch the Nile at night, gently reflecting the neon lights of the billboards and hotels, silently and eternally flowing north to the Mediterranean.

I love the minarets of mosques piercing the skyline, I love walking in the streets because there are no sidewalks (or because the sidewalks are not passable), I love the way things are built on other things so that in the same city there can be a building from medieval times across the square from an Ottoman one, I love the noise and chaos and energy of the city. They say New York is the city that never sleeps; in Madrid, they said "Ellos que dicen que Nueva York es la ciudad que nunque duerma no conocen los madrilenos" (those who say New York is the city that never sleeps don't know people from Madrid), and now I can safely say that Cairo is truly a city that functions on its own inner clock and rhythm. Everything is open past midnight, everything delivers, it is not unusual to find traffic even when it's 3 am, and the streets are crowded no matter the hour. When I first got here I considered it is the most overwhelming place I have ever lived, and now that assault on the senses is both familiar and welcome; I would not have it any other way.

5. The people. I don't even know how to put into words exactly how awesomely amazing the people I have met here are. They are from all over the world, they speak a dozen different languages, they are fun and silly and fascinating. They shared their cultures and opened their homes; they have opened my mind, as I can only hope I have opened theirs. Some I saw every day, some only once a month, but I always felt welcomed and supported. They are my Cairo family, they are such a big part of what made my year so great, and I will miss them more than I can say.

Cairo is not a perfect place, and neither is Egypt. But I'd rather think about the things I love instead of dwelling on the negative. So with that, I will say goodbye to you. I hope you enjoyed reading about my life in Egypt this year as much as I enjoyed writing. Thanks!

orientalist architecture

My farewell post is coming soon, I promise. But first: some photos of one of my favorite neighborhoods in Cairo. Islamic Cairo has many beautiful mosques, which I find so innately peaceful. You take off your shoes, women make sure their hair is covered, find a spare bit of carpet and enjoy the quiet. I like the beautiful vaulted ceilings and striped arches and the minarets you can usually visit if you provide a little baksheesh (tip/bribe).

It's the way I had always pictured the Middle East.

At Al-Azhar Mosque, one of the most famous in the Middle East. It also has a school attached, Al-Azhar University, which is one of the oldest universities in the world.

A view of the Citadel and Mohammed Ali Mosque from an Al-Azhar minaret. Everything in the middle is part of Islamic Cairo.

The Al-Ghoury Mosque, school and tomb in Islamic Cairo. It's very centrally located near Khan al-Khalili, and is one of my favorites since it's really beautiful inside.

Stained glass windows in the Al-Ghoury Mosque.

Me in the mosque. Note the gorgeous arches...sigh.

Climbing a minaret! This is where the muezzin come to sound the call to prayer.

This is in the Mouayyid Mosque down by Bab Zuweila. To those who have never been in a mosque, the indented area on the left is called a mihrab, and it indicates the direction of Mecca (i.e., the direction in which one should pray). The stairs on the right is where the Imam will go on Fridays to deliver the sermon.

Bab Zuweila, one of the oldest gates that was an entrance to Old Cairo. These minarets you can climb normally with a legitimate ticket, but really, where's the fun in that?

moving day again

The contract on my apartment was up yesterday (July 1), so that means the last few days have been a blur of packing and moving. I am now relocated to a few floors below me, staying with some friends (actually, many friends: several other guests in addition to me mean that there are currently six people staying in three bedrooms and on a couch).

Leaving the apartment was a little bittersweet. I know my landlord (well, I suppose he is more like the manager, but he is the one who collects the rent and who I deal with), Mr. Adil, likes me because I speak Arabic and am nicer to him than other roommates who shall remain nameless (or, in this case, initial-less). He calls me "Miss Leeza" and said he was sad I was leaving (I said I was sad as well...even leaving the landlord is hard!). We kept the apartment in good shape (and with considerably more stuff than it came with), and he told me that he would keep the rent at the same level if we wanted to stay (we can't), or if we knew someone else who wanted the place (we don't). When he came to collect the keys, he was teasing us and joking. Initially he said to me "enti mushkila" (you're a problem), and when I got mock-offended he smiled and said, "la', ana araf. Naas kwayyesin, naas kwayyesin." ("No, I know. Good people, good people.") Saying someone is from good people is a very high compliment in Egypt, so that made me really happy. the building I live in is famous for having lots of foreigners and some people feel it is not an "authentic" Egyptian experience, but I have really enjoyed living there.

Packing was interesting: I have been trying to avoid needing to ship a package home, and luckily I was able to ditch some stuff here. I am donating some things to a local refugee service in Cairo (serving mostly Sudanese, Somali, Ethiopian and Iraqi refugees, I believe), and threw away some other things. Let's just say that Cairo's dusty streets, a lack of paved sidewalks and many other things have conspired to kill all but 1 1/2 pairs of my jeans, and nearly all my shoes. I get a pedicure, and by the end of the week my feet are gross again. Suffice it to say that some things were not even worth donating. So I have one large suitcase containing winter clothing, sweatshirts and other items I will not be needing in the next three weeks, and I intend to leave it closed and ready to go. The other one I am living out of, in addition to a duffel bag that I can use for travel. Hopefully this foresight will also make it easier (and faster) to actually pack when it is time for me to leave in three weeks.

Today was my last day of work. I have been saying goodbye to people this week, and although I am looking forward to the traveling I am doing in the next few weeks, I am still sad to leave. I helped select my replacement and feel that I am leaving the magazine I edit in good hands, and I guess that helps, but not a lot. I have begun applying for jobs back in the US already, and am hoping to at least have a few interviews lined up for when I go back. In the meantime, I guess this means that, freelance work aside, I am temporarily unemployed as of 6 pm tonight. Uh-oh!

bahrain costs just 90 LE

Last night at my friend L's house, I played a game of Bank el-Haz, the Egyptian version of Monopoly (haz means luck). Instead of purchasing properties named after streets in Atlantic City, you can buy countries and cities in the Middle East -- Damascus, Cairo, Jerusalem, Casablanca, Beirut, Riyadh, Oman, Algeria, etc.

But the game is a Nasser-era relic from what we guess to be the early 1970s, which means that the UAE (including Abu Dhabi, Dubai, etc.) is non-existant, and other Gulfie states, like Bahrain, are the cheapie properties available at just 90 LE (in current prices that comes to a whopping total of about $18. Qatar was also a steal at around 150 LE). It also means that at the time the game was made, there were very close ties between Egypt and Syria, so all the most expensive properties were in those two countries -- Cairo, Damascus, Alexandria and Aleppo in the first tier, followed by other locales in Egypt like Aswan, Luxor and Port Said.

The principles of the game were similar to Monopoly: purchase or trade for a monopoly, then build on it, etc. Instead of houses and hotels there were rest houses and markets, but it's the same idea. There's a banker and a jail and GO, and even chance cards, etc. Everything is in Arabic, so it was slow going for me whenever I needed to translate one of the chance cards, but overall it was a lot of fun. It was definitely a simplified version of Monopoly, but for the novelty it was pretty great. I think next week we will go back to Scrabble.

my stylish swine flu mask

This was a weekend of weird (and fun) cultural experiences. On Thursday night I went to a stand-up comedy event at the Sawy Center. I have heard about comedians performing before in Cairo (there are several well-known comedians, especially Egyptians, thanks to popular specials like Axis of Evil and Arabs Gone Wild), but I always skip them because I was pretty sure they would be in Arabic. My friend L heard about this one and said it was supposed to be in English, so I decided to give it a shot. It turns out that it was an evening hosted by well-known Egyptian-American comic Ronnie Khalil, and featuring some amateur and established Egyptian comics...in English and Arabic. First there were four performances in Arabic, an "interlude" by Khalil (in English, making fun of the Obama speech), and then four performances in English, including a much longer set from Khalil.

I had an initial moment of panic when I heard that half the sets would be in Arabic, but surprised myself by understanding more than I expected. It helps that they were all speaking Egyptian ameyya, which is what I have been studying this year, and that my friend L was there to help translate the jokes I didn't get. I understood the most in the first act, and found him to be pretty funny. One of the next three I understood barely anything (though no one seemed to find her too funny, so I think it was OK), one I sort of understood, though he used a lot of slang I didn't pick up on (really, how am I supposed to know the words for "to hit on" and "PMS"), and the third I also picked up on some, others went completely over my head. But that's OK, I am still pretty proud of myself for what I did get. For the English set, the first two were so-so, the third was a radio personality from Nile FM, and he was really funny, and Khalil went last and he was hilarious (not to mention quite a hit with the ladies in attendance).

The best part of the whole comedy evening, though, was the Official Swine Flu Panic. About 10 cases of swine flu have been found in Zamalek (the Cairo neighborhood in which I reside, thank you very much). They are all AUC students, and the entire AUC dorms have been quarantined (as in, 150 people trapped in a college dorm and unable to leave), with classes canceled through June 15. Since the show was in Zamalek, the venue was passing out free face masks and politely requiring people to wear them. What really happened was that everyone took a free mask and then promptly took it off upon entering the hall. Still, enjoy this photo of L and I modeling our fancy swine flu masks:


Then on Friday, my friend A3, who teaches English to Sudanese refugees downtown, was invited by some of her students to come to a hip hop show they were having in their church. I went with her, and though we stood out by being the only non-Sudanese refugees present, it was definitely an experience. They opened the show by having "praise and worship" (in Arabic, but accompanied by electric keyboard and a great deal of singing), and after several of the hip hop groups had performed, there was a break for the pastor to get up and share "the word" (aka a sermon?), also in Arabic, but which appeared to be about Adam and Eve. I have been to church services before (with my Tanakh class in high school, to get into St. Paul's cathedral for free in London, other cathedral-related experiences as a by-product of living in Madrid, etc.), but none quite like this. Anyway, A3's students were quite good, or at least the ones we saw.

The third was later on Friday, when I went with some friends to see a ballet at the Cairo Opera House. It was the tour of the Canadian National Ballet, and it wasn't really traditional -- it was a much more modern take on dance. There were two acts, each a separate performance; although the first part was interesting, the second part was really fantastic. The music for the piece was traditional music from Southern Italy (according to the pamphlet), and was performed live on stage. Very enjoyable. Also, much like the last time we went for the opera, we were able to pay for the cheapest tickets and then were moved up to like the fifth row because there were so many empty seats. It's a shame more people in Cairo aren't coming out to support the arts, but I do appreciate the benefits of being one of the few who do so.

Anyway, I did other things this weekend, including a futile search for ice cream (seriously it's like 95 degrees and I would kill for a Ben and Jerry's right now), a friend's house-warming party, and more. Now that my time here is winding down, I am looking forward to making the most of all my remaining weekends.

exodus

I will be departing Cairo in about 5 hours to go to Israel. I will update later from there, but to get you in the Passover spirit, here is a video from The Prince of Egypt. Enjoy!



Personally, I am excited for my own little Exodus from Egypt to Israel for Passover (though to be fair, I don't feel like I am fleeing or anything since I like it here). But it will make many of the passages in the Haggadah so much more applicable this year!

And as another fun bonus, at my Arabic less today, my tutor taught me how to say "split the Red Sea," so when I am on the bus with an intense look of concentration I can explain what I am trying to do. For the curious, it is: Fil Pascua dee, ana eayza ae'sem bahr al-ahmar zay Mussa. (Literally: This Passover, I want to split/divide the Red Sea like Moses.) Impress your friends!

and then i got locked in the bathroom

Here's an embarrassing/funny story about something that happened to me yesterday. First, you should know that my apartment, though I love it, has (or rather, had) a distinct doorknob problem, in that many of them were missing. Actually, not missing; it's not like we had them and then lost them, it's that we rent an apartment with a doorknob deficit. We could have gotten them fixed, but...we're lazy. Or we kept forgetting, either way. Anyway, the missing ones included the outside doorknob to the bathroom (solution: when you exit, leave the door open behind you so the next person can get in. This was never a problem for us), and the inside part of the front door. I know you're thinking that if we had no way to open the door from the inside it would be difficult to exit the apartment, but A2 is quite handy and he made a makeshift doorknob out of tape and maybe something else (don't ask), and it has been working fine for almost four months.

So yesterday morning I took a shower before going to work. As I went to exit the bathroom, the remaining doorknob (the one on the inside of the bathroom door) literally broke off in my hand. And if you'll recall, there is no doorknob on the outside, meaning it would be tricky for someone to come let me out. Problem. I tried to fix/reattach, but McGuyver I am not, and it didn't really work. Luckily, there is a small window above the shower that opens into a small courtyard-ish thing, where other apartments also have bathroom windows. Sometimes we can hear other people chatting or the radio, etc.

I opened the window, and then realized that I have no idea how to say "help" in Arabic. It's up there with useful words I should have learned, like "fork" or "towel" but never did. Anyway, I managed to get out, "Hello, is anyone there? I have a problem. I am in the bathroom and the door won't open." Someone heard, asked which apartment I was in, and said she would send up security. Sure enough, I soon heard someone ringing the front doorbell repeatedly. The following conversation then took place:

Me: That's the right apartment, I hear the doorbell.
Girl upstairs: Why don't you go let him in?
Me: ....stuck in the bathroom. Can't get out.
Girl upstairs: Oh right. And you can't get out at all?
Me: No. That's why I need help.
Girl upstairs: Can you call the police?
Me: I don't have a phone in the bathroom. And I would rather not.
Girl upstairs: OK, one minute. [Yells in Arabic with someone else for a minute.] We will get a locksmith. Wait there.
Me: Still not going anywhere.

Anyway, there is a locksmith on the first floor of my building. So they must have gone to get him, and soon after that he came up, unscrewed the lock on the front door, and came and rescued me from the bathroom. After sharing a nice laugh with the very amused bowab (doorman) who accompanied him, they went ahead and replaced all the doorknobs that were missing/broken. Total time spent locked in bathroom: about 30 minutes. I am not too traumatized, and on the bright side we now have all working doorknobs in our apartment. For now.

office nostalgia

Though I didn't get time off for Thanksgiving, the whole country is going on vacation next week. We have off a full week for Eid al-Adha, a Muslim holiday commemorating Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son for Allah. It coincides with Hajj, the annual pilgrimmage to Mecca that Muslims are obigated to make at least once in their lives, if they are able. To celebrate my time off, I will be going to Jordan for seven days with N, where we will see Petra, Amman, and many other things. Check back next week for photos (though we are flying there, so hopefully few travel horror stories).

As some of you may remember, a few months ago I mentioned that my company might be moving to a new building. Well, they've been getting it ready for a while and it looks like it will finally be ready after Eid. Which means today might be my last day in this office (though some departments will still be here, so I am sure I will visit). But still: here is a photo of the view of Mohandiseen as seen from the balcony in our office. The new office is on the block to the right of the building with the blue windows.

hollywood's arab terrorists

Last night I went to see Body of Lies with some friends, and it was kind of funny because although we did not know it when we chose the movie, the whole thing takes place in the Middle East. Jordan, Syria, Iraq, UAE -- pretty much everywhere but Egypt.

Anyway, it was hilarious to be seeing it here in the Middle East for a few reasons. First, it was cool that I could understand some of the Arabic, especially the parts that were in fus'ha (classical Arabic, which is what I studied at Northwestern). In the beginning they had this extremist Muslim decked out in typical Hollywood Arab gear making a threatening video that happened to be in Arabic -- but they had him speaking in fus'ha, which people don't really speak. People were laughing in the theater -- probably not the intended effect. I will say that it was weird to see a movie in which all the villains are Arabs here in Egypt. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone feels marginalized by that kind of movie, but the theater was pretty full and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, so maybe not.

But yes, there were many other typical Middle Eastern moments in the movie. At one point, one character is trying to cross the street and almost gets hit by a car, so he angrily slams his fist on the hood of the car. We were all cracking up because that has happened to all of us in Cairo (seriously, crossing the street could be a national sport), so it seemed so appropriate to see it on screen. Another character is referred to as Ya Pasha, which is very Egyptian (though here it's pronounced more like Yeh Besha); it's an honorific title left over from the days of the Ottomans and is kind of like the equivalent of "Sir." Plus they drank lots and lots of tea in lots and lots of 'ahwas. When we foreigners laughed along with the Egyptians, it kind of felt like being in on a giant inside joke that would not have been the case if I had seen the movie back in America.

homework and gossip

Lately, I've noticed myself understanding more and more of the Arabic spoken around me. This is particularly gratifying because when I first got here, that was not the case at all. True, I studied Arabic at Northwestern for a number of years, but the Arabic spoken in the classroom (fus'ha, or classical Arabic) is the language of the Quran and literature like 1,001 Nights, not the street Arabic I hear on a daily basis.

It was somewhat frustrating for me to find out that a lot of what I knew was completely impractical -- people would understand what I was saying but then reply in Ameyya (the Egyptian dialect), or ask me to repeat myself, or just turn to a friend and say "She doesn't speak Arabic." It turns out that what I learned was a really good background (it has helped an incredible amount with my studying), I just needed to build on that with some of the more useful stuff. And besides, it's from those classes that I know how to read and write in Arabic. (And I have to say that while my handwriting in English tends towards messy, my penmanship in Arabic is really nice. I have super-awesome handwriting.)

Recently, though, I just feel a lot better about my communication skills and my ability to express myself. Last week our TV was broken, and I was able to successfully talk to my landlord about the repairs. When two Egyptian friends were talking about plans for that evening, I realized that I no longer needed them to translate their conversation for me. I chatted with the eldery woman who lives next door while we were waiting for the elevator. I very rarely use the Spanish words for things I have forgotten (this used to happen all the time).

I think a lot of this is due to my tutor, E. Our lessons are pretty informal -- he teaches one-on-one out of his Zamalek apartment, where we have tea while we chat and review my homework. At first I was annoyed to have homework again (seriously -- did I not just graduate?), but I find that I am pretty motivated to do the work since I really do want to improve. One of the reasons I wanted to come live in Egypt for the year was to become fluent (or at least more proficient than I am now), so I am glad that I am on track to accomplish this goal.

The other great part is that through word of mouth, E is the default tutor for my extended group of friends. That's how I found out about him in the first place -- when I said I wanted to learn Arabic, three different friends gave me his number. Still, it's kind of funny because he always knows everyone's business and is a bit of a gossip, with the result that he sometimes knows things about me before I have told him myself. A1 told him about our new apartment during her lesson, so that when I showed up the next day, the first thing he asked was how the move went. I can think of several classes at NU that would have been a lot better if they'd included some gossip with all that homework.

feeling breezy

Last night I went to a good-bye dinner for my friend W, who has gone to work in Switzerland. We had dinner at this Korean restaurant, and while I am now familiar with several of the dishes on the menu (thanks to Jaye for that one!), I have to wonder if it's really possible to find authentic Korean food in Cairo. I'm guessing probably not, though it was still good. Afterwards I went over to my friend N's to hang out and watch movies -- have successfully gotten her hooked on V Mars, so obviously this is excellent.

As we were walking over to N's apartment for said movie night, we realized that we were experiencing something all too rare in Cairo summers: a breeze! I mean sure, sometimes I get hit with a blast of delightfully smoggy air when I ride in taxis with all the windows down, but it's hardly the same thing. In Chicago I was a chronic weather-checker (this is most definitely the fault of my mother, who considers the Weather Channel legitimate entertainment. Hi Mommy!), but there is no real point in that when I live in the desert in the summer. Every day is the same: ridiculously hot and very sunny. One morning it was cloudy when I woke up and I almost went into shock, but it was all cleared up by the time I left for work. It is not scheduled to rain until late October, maybe November. Still, last night it was around 85 degrees (that's about 27 Celsius for those keeping track), and with a nice, cool breeze that made it downright comfortable outside. Exciting!

Kind of a lazy weekend, though we all wanted to go out as much as possible in preparation for a month of not going out at all. Even though some places are still open (like the always-awesome, expat-filled British Club), enough people in my extended group of friends are Muslim that we want to be respectful. Plus, who knows if I will ever be in the Middle East again during Ramadan? It will be cool to get the authentic experience. Anyway, we went out Thursday and Friday nights, including my first-ever trip to After 8, this really cool place downtown. It's rather smoky with a small dance floor, and they often have DJs or some variety of live music. It was a lot of fun, though the DJ was kind of weird -- odd combos of techno, hip hop and baladi music.

Baladi is kind of all-purpose adjective to describe something typically Egyptian. Literally, it means "national," (balad = country), but people use it to describe anything. For example, the little grocery stalls all over are "baladi grocery stores," and when I stopped buying Herbal Essences shampoo (so freaking expensive) in favor of the cheap Egyptian brand, I could justify it as "baladi cosmetics." And so on.

Also, Egypt starts daylight savings time early, so we in Cairo have already fallen back one hour. Yes, I did enjoy my extra hour of sleep, thanks! So this means that until you slackers in America catch up, there is a 6-hour time difference instead of a 7-hour one (for the East Coast -- people on Central now have 7 hours instead of 8, etc.). This might make it a bit easier for you to catch me, at least temporarily.