Out With Megan One More Time

Cairo, Egypt
This was one of the things I was really looking forward to about going to Egypt ... seeing the town with Megan and her friends! We started out with a rooftop drink downtown. The girl with the very short hair is Lisa, who will be doing research in Amman this summer. She told us some fascinating stories about how she is repeatedly mistaken for a boy (7abiibi) in Arab culture, and the kind of trouble this gets her into. When she tries to explain that she's a girl, she's met with disbelief or worse; sometimes she tries to play the part of 7abiibi, but if she ever slips out of character, that's much worse. Interestingly, although in Israel/Palestine she also gets scripted as a Palestinian boy by Israeli military, there she says that she can "have fun with it." Through the whole story, I kept thinking, Dr. Scalenghe should hear this!

Then Megan and I took the other girls home and put them to bed (their loss!), picked up Galaal, and went out dancing! I should go dancing more often, it's fun and great exercise, but it's all about the right people to go with....

Dervishes and Al-Fishawwi

Khan al-Khalili, Cairo, Egypt

I know it's not the real traditional whirling of Mevlana Rumi's dervishes, but it was still quite a spectacular show, seeing the dervishes whirl in Wikalat al-Ghuri on the edge of Khan al-Khalili market in Cairo. They really don't spot on some physical space like a ballerina. As I taught my students at "nerd camp," they spot on their dhikra, on the Name of God that guides them and holds them. And I see what the woman from the UU Church of Bloomington meant about the footwork being special. Dervishes don't whirl on their toes or the balls of their feet like ballet dancers. Instead, one leg pushes while the other foot turns on its heel. And not only was the dancing incredible, but the location was amazing, the courtyard of an old caravanserai.

Then we went and met Galaal for a cup of tea. There's something so frenetic about Cairo, and yet in the heart of Khan al-Khalili, the biggest market in one of the biggest cities in the world, somehow I didn't mind the chaos as I usually do. In general, cities overwhelm me, and you'd think that sitting outside of the historic al-Fishawwi Cafe in the middle of the market would completely undo me. But even as the vendors marched past, one after another pushing rugs and alabaster and jewelry and henna designs in my face, I found it oddly invigorating, and so typical of the Arab World you read about in Romantic literature....

And it was so much fun to hang with Galaal and Megan! I sure miss those guys! It would only have been better if Zoe could have met up with us, too.

Suburban Seventh Wonder

Giza, Egypt

From Giza

Okay, so they're not that small, but while the pyramids are impressive, they're not as enormous as myth (and Stargate!) presents them, and the encroaching suburban sprawl and smog of Giza does, it's true, rather detract from the impact.

As I had done in Luxor, though, I tried to imagine what it must have been like to approach such structures from the perspective of a lowly ancient Egyptian. Unless you were involved in the actual building of these monuments, it must have been easy to believe that the pharoahs who had built them were sons of the gods!

From Giza

Luxor Marathon!

Luxor, Egypt

This might go down under "Seemed Like a Good Idea At the Time" in my book.... Egypt is cheap, and since I was staying with Megan I didn't have to pay for a hotel room, but still, I was determined to be as thrifty as possible. If I was going to pay for the train to Luxor and back, I wasn't going to spend money on a hotel. But while I remember sleeping pretty well on trans-European sleeper trains, Egyptian trains are not as smooth a ride. Still, it was an awesome day. I arrived in the cool early morning to see Karnak bathed in golden light.

From Luxor

Then I proceeded across the river and headed straight for the Valley of the Kings. You can't take pictures inside, which is only one of many things that Petra could learn from the Egyptian authorities. Tourism is detrimental to archaeological sites, from flash photography, to litter and graffiti, to the very air they breathe. While Jordan has let the sudden increase of tourists in the last year trample right over the best interests of preservation, Egypt has not, forbidding photography of sensitive sites and restricting tourists to seeing only 3 tombs on a given day in the Valley of the Kings. As a result, the tombs are pristine and astonishing, most still brightly painted. It's something I'd love to chat with Chris Tuttle about some day soon.

From Luxor

Then I saw the stunning Temple of Hapshetsut. By the time I got to lunch, I was starting to tire.

From Luxor

That was when the Arabic teacher I had hired to drive me had a brilliant idea, called up some of his high school students, and put me on a falucca on the river to see the sunset.

From Luxor

Two thoughts kept running through my head. From The Wind In The Willows:

There's nothing more worth doing than messing about in boats.

and from my father:

A bad day on the water is better than a good day at work!

From Luxor

In the end, this was anything but a bad day!

Egyptian Museum

Cairo, Egypt

From Cairo Museum

Before I left, my roommate Ryan characterized the Egyptian Museum as the warehouse in Indiana Jones where they shut the Holy Grail away to gather dust, and I have to say that it's a reasonable analogy. Still, there were some truly stunning exhibits.

The most amazing bits for me were probably in the jewelry exhibits. There were the most exquisite pieces of woven seed beads, and finely etched miniature animals and other delights. There were some incredibly detailed gold miniatures of animals, not even an inch tall, that made me wonder what in the world they'd use them for. I started to wonder if ancient Egyptians carried medicine pouches like some Native Americans.... In fact, almost every piece of jewelry was not only beautiful, but served some symbolic purpose, invoking the protection of one god or another upon the wearer. I kept thinking, on my way through, "I wish Carter were here to see this!" In the jewelry as in other things, I was struck by how the beautiful and the functional were merged in most of what was on display. This is no doubt in part because what remains of ancient Egyptian life reflects the lives of the rich, but still I was struck by how nothing was incidental or disposable.

Of course, no tomb was richer than that of Tutankhamun, not because he was the richest pharoah, but because his tomb was better hidden than most. Plenty of amazing things have been recovered from his tomb, including the famous death mask, but it was the mundane things that really struck me. There were gloves, sandals, and even socks with big toes to be worn with thong sandals. I listened in as one German tour guide pointed out the incredibly fine stitching on a set of underthings for King Tut. There was a large collection of walking sticks which, interestingly, were carved at the handles with images of Nubians and Syrians and other such enemies of the state, so that the pharoah could properly humiliate them at every turn. They were displaying pieces of clothing that had been buried with the treasures, and bouquets of flowers, and all sorts of mundane things ... and that was just what made it onto display!

But some of the most incredible and fun things that I saw in the collection were models. Pharoahs and other people of wealth were buried with all the things they could possibly need when they returned for the afterlife, including all the people who allowed them to live in the fashion to which they had become accustomed in their first life. They were buried with granaries, carpentry workshops, teams of fishermen, model ships and their crews, weavers' halls, breweries, farmers ploughing and women grinding grain, even whole armies of Nubian archers. As a result, we have a very detailed picture of how ordinary people in Egypt lived, as well as the riches of the upper crust of the Kingdoms. One of my favorites was the pair of boats dragging a fishing net, weighted with stones on one side, and suspended by floaters on the other. (You're not allowed to take photos inside the Egyptian Museum, which is good archival policy, but you can find anything on the World Wide Web!)

I went out of my way to find this family portrait, too, which displays a scribe for one royal or another who was a dwarf. I guess I'm oddly drawn to the stories of marginalized peoples, but I also couldn't tell from the description in Lonely Planet what they meant by "his children are strategically placed where his legs should be."

Watch out, Pharoah!

Amman, Jordan

I'm on my way to Egypt to visit my old roomie Megan, bearing greetings from half of Amman and most of Mshairfeh with me. (And one hot valore track suit!) Stay tuned!

"Maryah Has Real Arab Friends!"

or, Heba Comes To the Village

or, Everyone Should Learn To Use a Squatter

Mshairfeh, Jerash, Jordan

From Heba In Mshairfeh

We'd been talking about it for weeks, and my work schedule finally obliged. Yesterday morning, Heba and I set out for the village. It had been almost 6 months since my last visit, and people were starting to feel like I'd forgotten them in the big metropolis, and I was starting to lose my connection to the "real" Jordan. Heba just needed, as she put it, a reality check. She's in the weird limbo of many bi-cultural kids: not quite Jordanian, not quite American, and struggling to balance the two. Negotiating a balance between these two cultures is part of what makes Heba and I such great friends.

From Heba In Mshairfeh

Dar Nasri and the other families of Mshairfeh have gotten used to me bringing my very American friend Megan up to the village, to see the real Jordan, beyond Amman and Petra. So of course they took one look at Heba and assumed she was another American. "Maryah! Does she understand Arabic?" And I would turn to Heba - "tifhami 3arabi?" - and let her field the question. In fact, Heba was a joy to take to the village, because there was absolutely no need for me to translate anything, and she always knew the right things to say at the right moment. (Of course, she didn't take belly dancing lessons from the girls, which made Megan an instant hit!)

From Heba In Mshairfeh

It's not unusual for Heba to provoke this reaction, though. Even in Amman, perfect strangers will start to speak to me in Arabic, will look at Heba, and will ask me, "tifham 3arabi?" [Does she understand Arabic?] Even I sometimes forget that she's not an American.

From Heba In Mshairfeh

But the real highlight of the evening for Heba and I was potty training! Despite having lived more than half her life in Jordan, Heba had never used a Turkish or squatter toilet, so when she could no longer hold it any longer, we slipped into the unfinished back room of Wijdan's house, and I taught Heba how to do it. She was so proud of herself, she immediately texted several friends (including my roommates!) to tell them what she'd accomplished. Now we can dress her up and take her out!

From Heba In Mshairfeh

I'm starting to think that everyone should have to use a squatter at least once in their life. At risk of sounding too much like my Marxist roommate, more than half the world's population pees in a hole, and it's not that bad! Especially in Jordan, where you have a nice ceramic base to stand on, and real plumbing out to the septic. As we used to say, "This ain't your mud hut African Peace Corps!"

From Heba In Mshairfeh

Beyond Stereotypes

Amman, Jordan

Jad was incredibly diplomatic in his blog about the kinds of questions the Danish ambassador was asked to field, but he was right about one thing: the ambassador did an impressive job of fielding them!

When it came to Q&A time, my friends and I, Danish and American, were whispering to each other, "Don't let every question be about the cartoons! Don't let this be a whole hour about the cartoons!" The event's organizers went to great lengths to make this event be about a very specific, non-cartoon agenda: how Westerners stereotype Arabs, how Arabs stereotype Westerners, and how it does all of us a great disservice! And fortunately, others in the audience seemed to feel the same way, and some good questions were asked.

I was hoping to be able to embed a clip or two by Danish-Arab comedian Omar Marzouk in my blog, but I couldn't find any in English. You'll have to do with reading some of the jokes we heard in this article. I couldn't find clips in English from documentary filmmakers Georg Larsen or Ahmad Ghosien, either, but as soon as it comes out on DVD, you should all check out "An Arab Comes To Town" about Arab Muslim immigrants in Copenhagen. Emily and I asked Ahmad Ghosien how many people declined to let them film interviews, because of course you only see in the film the people who agreed to interviews. He said, "The Danes." Not a single Arab household turned them away, but none of the Danish families they asked would appear on film. Not because they're cold people, Ghosien was quick to assure us, but because the Danes are very private people.

In fact, this was the predominant descriptor/stereotype of Danes this evening: they're very welcoming people, but not very friendly, and very private. Which, as anyone knows who has lived here, is exactly the opposite of how best to describe Arabs, who are friendly to a fault, with no concept of privacy!

Top Down

Wadi Al-Ghwayr Revisited

From Top Down

Shobak --> Wadi Araba

This was an awesome trip down Wadi Araba. It was almost like three different wadis. At the top, we saw these awesome enormous boulders littering the ravine floor, and you can hardly imagine what force the water must rush down the valley with to make these boulders do these things!

From Top Down

Then, a little further down, you had a siq like you find at the ceremonial entrance to Petra, but with incredible tracings of dark stone like some sort of splatter painting you'd do as a child. It was easy to see why men began to paint on cave walls, with these kinds of stone faces around them!

From Top Down

Then, it seemed like we were stepping beneath the water table, as you could see first water, then algae, then actual plants oozing out of the bare rock face.

From Top Down

I wish I had brought my own camera, because as beautiful as these pictures from my friends are, I wasn't able to capture some of the fascinating things we saw.
Then, as we got down to the parts of the wadi I'd hiked before, we saw yet another landscape of rock and scree, goats and camels.

From Top Down

Obama Is a Taxi Driver

Amman, Jordan

I've had great luck with taxi drivers this week. Yesterday, my German got a good workout with a delightful man who had lived for years in various German cities. This morning, as I was getting out of one taxi, the driver said, "You're not a foreigner, are you?" I nodded. "But your Arabic...!" I love these moments, and this one prompted me to remember something my mother said before I went into the Peace Corps. "This won't be like Europe," she said. "No matter how well you speak or how appropriately you dress, no one will ever mistake you for an Arab!" Au contraire! It happens every few weeks this time around.

It was another taxi driver, though, who gave me one of the best political analogies I've ever heard. It didn't start out auspiciously. I got in the cab and told him I wanted to go to Quds College. He asked, "Do you go there often?" I replied, "I work there!" Then we discovered that my supervisor had taken his cab out to the college twice. "So you're English?" he asked. "No, I'm American." Then there was a pause. Finally, the cab driver said, "Things are better in America now. It was really bad with Bush." We hashed this out for awhile, and then he seemed to change the subject:

Now, I'm a taxi driver, he said. I drive this taxi not just for my own amusement but to provide for my family. My wife and my children depend on the money I make driving this taxi. Can I do whatever I want, go wherever I want, run other people off the road? No! I'll wreck my taxi, I'll get in trouble. Can I say whatever I want to my customers? Can I shout at them, tell them what to do and where to go? No! I'd lose all my business that way. This is what it's like to be the American President. He has to respect other people, other countries, other people, or he ruins his country and everyone else's.