Good Pigs, Bad Pigs

We are back in the thick of things this week. School has re-opened after being closed for almost a month, thanks to the H1N1 pandemic. For the record, we closed the school on our own accord as a safety precaution. A person from the Ministry of Health in Cairo came to the school and wouldn’t leave until we “volunteered to suspend our operations,” had absolutely no influence on our decision. 

...and get plenty of rest

Cover your mouth

During that non-student contact time we’ve had to turn our campus into a distance learning institution, which meant posting assignments on-line and pray for the best since our students had no prior training or experience doing this. Being that this occurred during Ramadan, the schedule between the teachers and students varied greatly, meaning they were way out of whack. Our day stated and 9 am and ended at 3 pm…about the time most students were getting started with their day. Since this process was new to both teachers and students, there were lots of questions that resulted in filled e-mail in-boxes and tied up phone lines. Ana had it much worse, in that she had 10 classes to plan for, whereas I had 5, including an AP class. We became slaves to our computers well past midnight since the night/evening time was when most students were awake.

Cover your mouth redux

She lives with chickens

In the end, was this format for delivery of instruction effective? The bigger question being, did the students learn? How do you evaluate their performance? Without sounding accusatory or malicious, the student culture here is different. Students have a tendency to “help” each other; they work in groups at school and at home to fulfill their homework obligations. In a western sense this might be regarded as cheating and there are instances of outright copying. But what do you expect if you assign handouts and fill in the blank assignments? Does the act of correctly answering a question equate to learning? This made me think about my teacher preparation program and how I was taught growing up. I would say more so now than ever, there is a lot of pressure to seek the” correct answer,” as if a test is the end product of an educational experience. There are exit exams back home students take to graduate and what do they really mean?

In the culture I grew up in, we place a lot of emphasis on the individual, that is not the case here by a long shot. Individualism and being alone in this culture is viewed as something sad and undesirable, it would be disrespectful to the family to move out of the house unless you are moving abroad for school /work or getting married. Some of the local teachers even told me there is a stigma parents face if their grown children leave home for other reasons than the ones previously mentioned. To bring my point home, one of my students wrote a powerful monologue about the loss of her brother; she reflected how she would go into his room for a pep talk, the smell of his aftershave in the bathroom, his overall presence…it moved me. You know what happened to her brother…he got married and moved a couple of blocks down the street, but to my student that loss had a profound impact on her…who am I to define what loss means?  

Pork haters don't shop here

Getting back to the Swine Flu, there is talk that we might close school again. When we were in Cairo I was reading the paper that the public teacher’s union wants to scrap the year. It is more than likely that there will be school closures perhaps for the entire country. The sad thing is the purpose of closing schools is to keep people from gathering…what a joke. Ana and I went to the mall when the schools were closed and it was packed, as are the streets, no matter where you go, people everywhere. Egyptians just go on with life. I suppose if the government wanted to make a concerted attempt to contain the spread of the virus, they might want to close public gathering places like they did in Mexico City, but I’m willing to wager a kidney this won’t happen. However, there is good news for us, there is pressure to keep the foreign and private schools open, it just goes to show that social class and the dollar has its’ privileges.
While we are on the topic of pigs, our friends at school Seth and Krystal have taken us to the dark side, to Monaco, a Coptic butcher shop who sells the “P” word…PORK. The shop was spotless and sterile, more so than a doctors’ office, I’m not a huge fan of meat much less pork, but when you can’t have something, you get stoked. We bought a half kilo of bacon and it was exciting to see them slice it up in front of us, yes, it is the small things in life. As soon as I post this, I’m gonna go fry it up in the pan!

Let the good times rolls

Full speed ahead!

Bacon!

One last comment about pigs… Last March, President Mubarak ordered all the pigs in Egypt to be killed due to the H1N1 pandemic. His decision has created a new problem since the country relies on pigs clean up the garbage. There is plenty of trash around town, any takers?

Hello Cairo

Ana and I had been speculating when we would take a weekend jaunt down to Cairo, well my friends, that weekend finally arrived. There is quite a bit of history in the city of 12 million and it has to be taken in doses. Ana had been bugging me about going to the pyramids (the well known ones in Giza) and I told her, “we’ve already drove past them twice and we ate lunch while looking at them, what more do you want?” Somehow I don’t think I persuaded her, it’s just matter of time before you see the obligatory posting of an American couple posing with camels and pyramids. Just in case you’re wondering, both the pyramids and Sphinx are located in Cairo, actually in the burbs to be more precise, they are what Newark is to New York and if that isn’t the best of both worlds maybe I should also mention that KFC and Pizza Hut are right within walking distance...it would be a lot sweeter if there was a Walmart as well. I admit it, I haven’t exactly been excited or the least bit proactive in getting up close and personal with the remaining wonder of the ancient world. Perhaps the documentary I watched on the Discovery Channel when we had free cable was sufficient enough to satisfy my cravings.

We tagged along with our friends Huck Finn and Jill Milk on a train ride from hell. We remained convinced for the duration of the ride that the passenger car was trying to simulate a walk-in freezer. The mixture of blowing cold air and cigarette smoke pouring out of the vents next to our feet plus random stops in the middle of nowhere for up to thirty minutes at a time was a little too much. We took matters into our own hands and hijacked a pair of seats when one of the smokers went to go do his thing, we figured that if he likes smoking so damn much maybe he’d like to sit next to the vents and go hog wild with second hand smoke. To add insult to injury, I took his paper and started on his Sudoku. When he returned he reclaimed his paper and found another seat.

We finally disembarked into human Tetris an hour and half after our projected arrival. Huck Finn knew all the tricks to avoid getting ripped off by taxi drivers, so we headed directly for the metro station and took a tram as far as we could and caught a cab to Harry’s Pub (located in the basement of the Marriot). Harry’s was pretty spectacular, an old murky bar with decades of cigar and cigarette smoke embed into its wooden walls. If you are singe man on a business trip and looking for some company for the evening chances are pretty good that you might find some here. We finished our pricey but worth it imported Belgian beer (non-inclusive to the 10% tax and the 12% service charge) and crossed the street over to Maison Thomas for what is billed as the best pizza in Egypt (owned by a Coptic family equals ham, beer, and wine). Delicious indeed. After our filling meal we walked to our hotel in the heart of Zamalek (an island on the Nile River in central Cairo-home to many Embassies, museums, the Cairo Tower, expats, and best of all...trees).

Untitled

The following morning, Ana and I walked on a bridge across the Nile to catch a taxi to historic Islamic Cairo to go to the Khan el-Khalili (the mother load of all bazaars established in the 14^th century-there is even an argument stating that if it wasn’t for the Khan, Columbus wouldn’t have discovered America) It is said that you can buy anything there; jewelry, clothing, spices, crafts, kidneys, etc. To tell you the truth we didn’t have the full-on Khan experience mainly because we went on a Friday, the Muslim day of prayer. Many shops were closed but that didn’t hamper our joys of exploring the labyrinth layout of the streets and swanky sales pitches like “come into my shop, I have something you have never seen before.” How could we not be curious? I’ve seen my share of souvenirs, crafts, and sweatshop crap over the years, so I was sort of hoping for something more exotic than a “stuffed jackalope,” needless to say I felt a little slighted when the shopkeeper produced an assortment of magnets and rulers. The junk and the bootleg selection was tops, Ana noticed a child’s shirt with a yellow ducky and the phrase “Lucky Dick” on it. We did manage to splurge and buy a wall hanging for our poor old bare walls. Overall the Khan was enjoyable and needs further investigation. We left in agreement that the Grand and Spice Bazaar in Istanbul trumps this one.

Our new wall hanging

8th wonder of the world- The Bearded Building

North of the Khan Khalili

The second part of the day was spent in Zamalek exploring boutique shops and enjoying Thai for lunch. It confirmed that we miss our selection of food offerings back in San Diego. In addition to missing food, clean air also ranks high on the list. The air quality in Cairo sucks, literally sucks the life out of you. Denver’s historic brown cloud and LA’s smog would be like a fresh tank of oxygen in these parts. At the hotel I did a little research on the air quality and the reports paint a pretty grim picture. We ended the evening with a bucket of KFC and some slaw at the foot of the Pyramids tossing chicken bones to the camels chanting U-S-A, U-S-A. Ok, not really. We did manage to have three-hour plus dinner with our friends at The Moghul Room in The Mena House (a hotel you can’t afford). The fare is Indian like you’ve never tasted set to the backdrop of a live trio preparing to seduce your taste buds. The interior was crafted all the way down to the salt and pepper shakers (which the owner thought we wanted, so she eyed us a couple of times). It was the high point of the trip.     

Yummy for your tummy

And just like that we were back on the streets of Giza hailing down a cab to haul us back to our little island. The main thoroughfare was congested and crowded, the driver dodged children and families trying to cross the road. After several minutes of that nonsense he opted to backtrack and hop on the freeway. Since air conditioning isn’t an option in cabs, this meant getting pelted with chunks of dirt and debris accompanied with warm air at high speeds weaving in-between semis and the occasional pedestrian.

Sights of Zamalek

The train ride back to Alex was a little less freezing and the smoke was replaced with ringing cell phones and crying babies, you have to compromise somewhere.      

First Hash Experience

We decided to join our friends from school on our first Hash House Harrier experience. The event was described to us as “runners with a drinking problem” or “drinkers with a running problem.”  It is an international social/drinking/running organization with no rules, only traditions, as each chapter (kennel) is bound only by title.

El Hashers

The HHH in Alex meets once a week at the Portuguese Club (an expat bar tucked away on a narrow side street off a major avenue). It is literally one of those places where you have to go with somebody who knows where it is as there are no markings. In our first time going there, we were lead down a dark street to a metal gate. The leader of the group knocked on the door and we are let into a waiting chamber of sorts where the doorman checked for member ids and issued visitor passes to us non-members for a couple of bucks. After the initial check-in, you are asked to sign-in their log stating your name and county of origin. Once this formality is completed you may venture past the second set of doors into what feels like a temporary trip out of Egypt.

The P.C. is fitted with the basic amenities of what you might find in a typical pub; there is pool table, darts, food, music, sheesha (hookah), and drinks. The beer selection is meager (Stella, Sakara, and Heineken); there is only one brand of wine offered and maybe a couple bottles of spirits...the bare essentials. 

The Hashers (runners) gather at the P.C. between 3:30-4:00 pm every Friday (our version of Saturday) for pre-running socializing, then at 4 pm we are ushered out to a van or taxis that will take us to the run location. For this event we took a couple of taxis out past the city limits into a small farming community. The trails are already pre-marked with clumps of shredded paper, as to distinguish real trails from the fake ones. The objective is to locate the “real” trail and to make it back in time. In total the run is approx. 5K. 

Our marker for the run

Dates!!!

There were five of us that opted to walk, which was lead by Zach from Ohio. Zach has been living in a hotel at a mall for the last six-months, his company had sent him here for what was originally going to be a two-week gig. The walk was pleasant and most of the locals wondered what the hell foreigners in shorts were doing running around their fields dodging, sheep, goats, and oxen. We waved and said hello to them and they welcomed us. It is amazing what a smile and a wave can do.

 Egyptian Pee-Wee Bike

Friends

More Friends

At the end of the run we gathered around one of the hashers SUV, which carried the table, water, beer, and of course the ceremonial cups. The tradition is that each person is recognized for something and they have to stand in the middle of a circle and chug beer from the cup and toss the remainder over their head while the group sings a song. In our case, Ana and I were recognized for being newbie’s. Click on the video below for the song. 

New Kids on the Block

Only one of the taxi drivers returned so it was a tight squeeze getting everyone back to the Portuguese Club. From the get go the ride was already an adventure. The driver thought he’d save some time and drive backwards on the highway for a short distance so he wouldn’t have to drive an extra 2K to make a u-turn. Hey, where there’s a will there’s a way. I did manage to get a few seconds on video.

Duct Tape magic

Back at the P.C. we ended the evening with dinner, drinks, and darts. Ana and I opted to walk home since we were penniless or I should say pound less. The 45-minute walk took us through some new lively areas we haven’t been to. The key was to follow the tram tracks back home.   

                 

Small Eid versus The Pepsi Drinking Copts or Jesus and the Swimming Nannies

For the record, Ana and I had willingly spent our Eid holiday trip deep in “the blue company” (aka Pepsi) territory. If my brother still worked for Coke, I suppose he’d be calling me Judas.

Eid ul-Fitr is a three-day Muslim holiday marking the end of Ramadan; to us foreign hire teachers this translates to “five-day vacation.” Traditionally, most of the staff seizes this opportunity to escape Alex and explore the amazing sights around Egypt. In my case, if it hadn’t been for the mighty Craigslist, a good chunk of us might have been stranded inside our compound.

Saint Malcolm

The consensus among the group (5 couples and Saint Malcolm) was we all wanted “quiet” and “beach.” I did a little research and found a lady who was renting a villa on the Red Sea, an hour outside of Cairo in an area called Ain Sukhna (lit. hot springs). Ain Sukhna isn’t really a town per say, it is several independent weekend home/resort/condo developments centered around a KFC and Pizza Hut on the way to the Suez Canal. The complex we stayed in was called Wadi Degla and most of us agreed that it was a Coptic community. The Muslims were definitely the minority…as to say we saw hair and bikinis.

One of the teachers summed-up the pains of our daily routine by professing, “we got up, ate breakfast, went to the pool, ate lunch, went to the beach, took a nap, ate dinner, went to the pool, had a beer, and went to bed.” That’s all folks. In other words, no efforts were made to better ourselves or humanity.

View from our villa

I would like to note that while kicking sand around with my feet Jesus appeared…sort of. It was an image of Christ on a tile from a broken bracelet buried in the sand at the Red Sea, coincidence? The water was turquoise, clear, and extra salty in addition to being home to tiny crabs suffering from a serious case of Napoleon Complex as most went out of their way to spar with all available toes. A member of our group found a sand dollar the size of personal pan pizza (see…I told you that were locked in a Pepsi controlled community) and his wife discovered a KFC bag in her underwater expedition near the boating dock.

Pool that had a sign banning nannies from swimming

The fun in the sun ended when we piled in van back to Alex. On the drive back home we encountered a toy pistol totin' walad (little boy) and his younger brother situated in the back of a pick-up truck with the family goats. The boys first smiled and waved then pretended to shoot at us while dad and the three amigos puffed away on cigarettes in the cab. It was a Kodak moment. We arrived home a little more cooked on the outside. When all was said and done, we figured our adventure set us back about the cost of taking a family of four out to the ballgame including parking, hotdogs, and Cokes…maybe not that expensive.

bang, bang, bang, gotcha with my 9

just chillin' with the goats

Thank Heaven for...

...Egyptian style

Surfing in EG

I have officially branched out in regards to making a friend outside my circle of co-workers. I discovered a handful of surfing videos in Alexandria on YouTube, so I took the initiative to drop the guy an e-mail. Mohamed and I exchanged correspondence for almost two weeks until we finally met this weekend for a jam session. It just happens that he is a metal drummer so we went over to his friend’s studio space and rented an hour for about $5 (the fee included drums and amps).

Last Wednesday a swell rolled into town and Mohamed sent me a text letting me know which beach I should go surf. When the final bell at school sounded, I was halfway up the fire escape changing clothes (a bad decision-just in case you are wondering). By the time I reached the balcony all that was missing were my board shorts. I grabbed my board, scrawled Ana a note, and made my way towards the gate. Once outside the compound, hailing a cab proved to be challenging. Most drivers looked at me then at my board and kept driving. One of my students yelled at me from across the road asking where I was going. I told her “Shidi Basher” (the neighborhood where the beach is). She told me that's where she lives and offered to have her driver take me there since it was on the way. I politely refused and she told me how she can't stand to see people wait for a cab and insisted that I go with her and her friend. How could I say no? I practiced my Arabic with the driver while the girls chatted in the back trying to figure out their evening and college plans. I was dropped off and that was when, metaphorically speaking, the spaceship landed.

When I emerged from the car, a) I was wearing shorts (look everyone, I'm a foreigner) and b)I was in possession of a puffy silver bag. If you have been reading my blog you might have already gathered that Egyptians are a curious people. If something is out of the ordinary, expect to have every eye in the joint checking you out. I over estimated my drop-off point by a mile, which meant towing a huge bulky bag along the busy, hot, and humid Corniche. I made the mistake by pausing to check out the waves along the way, this attracted swarms of salesmen who tried to persuade me to come to their beach.

The deal about the beaches here are that some are public while other are private and since I don’t read Arabic, I am unable to distinguish between the two, but it quickly becomes clear when someone wants your business. Once you pay the general entrance fee you can upgrade by adding a towel, inner tube, table, chairs, umbrella, snacks, drinks, etc. to your tab. Going to the beach is a family and social event and most customers spare no expense.

I decided on a beach and entered with one of the solicitors and was immediately greeted by his sales team who guided me to my spot on the sand. They were ready sell me all the upgrades and quickly became dumbfounded that all I wanted was an area to lay my bag and towel on. A discussion ensued amongst them, if I had to guess, it had to do with what they were going to charge me. The spokesman of the bunch, meaning the one who knew how to say “20 pounds” in English was in charge of collecting my fee. I replied “lac!” (no!) and showed them that I only had a 5 pound bill on me. Disappointed, they huddled around and discussed their options further. Now all the beachgoers were starting to get involved. At this point, I was ready to leave as I gathered my things and started to walk away. The guy gently pulled me back and took my 5 pound note and definitively stated “no umbrella” and “no chair.” And just like that the situation was resolved as the group dissipated back towards the entrance.

6:30 am view of the road and beach

Since I still had everyone’s undivided attention, it was time to change into my rash guard which meant taking off my shirt. For those of you who have seen me without my shirt you understand why I’m nicknamed “Chewbobca” and why there is usually a team of researchers trying to throw a net on me when I emerge from the water. As far as tattoos are concerned, they are a rarity in this part of the world; you could say that I was “exotic” that afternoon. Next, I put on my socks and fins and for the less-than-eventful grand finale I unzipped my bag producing a lime green body board. After attaching the board’s leash to my bicep I walked a couple of meters into the warm waters of the Med.

While I was attempting to catch waves and collecting jelly fish stings, I started to hear the sounds of someone blowing a whistle getting closer. I eventually turned around  and saw what looked like a lifeguard pointing at me yelling “heneck” (go over there lit. over there). Of course, a blowing whistle, a foreigner with strange looking objects never attracts any attention right? No nets this time when I came out of the water, but still plenty of eyes. I packed up my items and walked about another mile down the beach meeting and talking to several kids along the way who wanted to practice and show off their English.

On the cab ride home, I managed to dump plenty of sand on the back seat in addition to having a small conversation in Arabic with the driver. At one point while waiting in traffic he asked if I was a Christian while he showed me his Coptic cross tattoo. I responded “Catholic.” Somehow it was fitting that I ended up in his cab.

Porking Up with The Swine Flu

It has been a rare week. Schutz American School is officially closed from today until the 26^th of September due to the H1N1 Virus (swine flu). There has been one confirmed mild case in the seventh grade (Ana teaches social studies and I teach art and have advisory with that class, as to say it was one of our students).

So what is the school going to do? In order to meet contact days two options were considered; extend the year or transform into an on-line institution for the next two weeks. We have a meeting later this morning to figure out the logistics of how to implement the on-line curriculum. When the announcement was made yesterday, the students were elated as most thought the next two weeks was going to be an extended vacation. Sorry kids.

From the beginning I have been a little suspect about the school shutting down. I’m going to play conspiracy theorist for a minute. Fact, several parents and students were unhappy that the school year started before Ramadan, other schools in the city don’t start until the end of September or early October. The previous week an attempt was made to disrupt school through an anonymous letter threatening to bomb the campus (after hours). As a result several government agencies got involved in what turned out to be a hoax. However, the third time is a charm, the H1N1 virus sealed the deal. It has been reported that the source of outbreak occurred at the Sporting Club (think: Country Club). Many if not most of my student’s families belong to the club and socialize there, membership is a pretty big deal. When we arrived in Alex we thought there was some sort of mayoral election with all the campaign posters and bumper sticker. Nope, just the Sporting Club presidential election. By the way, it is a volunteer position. Despite the Club reporting 20 or so confirmed cases of the virus, their doors remain open. I’ll leave it at that.

The host and the hostess

The good news is that if Ana and I were turkeys we should be nice and plump by the time Thanksgiving rolls around. We can thank all the iftars and outings we have been attending, there has been no shortage of social life since we arrived a month ago. Last night, the resident staff all went to an iftar hosted by my mentor. She was quite the hostess! Her family, home, and the spread were all amazing and as a bonus there was karaoke.

Outside their Home

Tex and Massimo belting out "White Wedding"

Lianne, Joseph, and Mike avoiding the karaoke

Pudding that rules!!!

3 of 15 dishes served

Tonight will be attending another iftar with the school board members then we’re off to the Portuguese Club (bar) with Tom Palmer (a visiting author from the UK that the school is hosting). Unfortunately his trip was cut short due to H1N1.   

(Update: It seems that the Sports Club closed its' doors as of 09/09/09-now we know this swine flu business is serious)