I've been back in Egypt for a little over a week and it feels good to get back to normal life after our extended vacation. Things in Cairo are not much different than they were before, except for the presence of tanks and the 11pm or 12am curfew (it changes constantly) that makes having a social life tricky. It seemed like the whole city was still celebrating when I got back, lovers strolling in Tahrir Square and families taking pictures of their kids standing on the tanks. It's quieted down a little - while there are still protests every couple of days, they're mainly the various industries demanding higher wages from anyone who'll listen.
A high school friend, Lili, came for a visit last week, arriving in Cairo the day before I did. Hosting her and having a reason to go sightseeing was actually a great way to say hi to the country again. On the day before Lili left, she, Tori and I took a noteworthy day trip to Alexandria. While walking towards the sea from a tourist site, we passed a women on the street selling the usual cheese and lettuce, but by her feet she had two pastel-colored crates, one packed with baby chicks and the other with ducklings. We paused to coo over them and watched fascinated as another woman stopped to buy a couple chicks. The vendor picked them up and stuffed them into a sandwich-sized plastic bag. It occured to us that we too could have a tiny plastic bags of adorable fluff for less than the price of the train ticket home. And since they were destined for the dinner table anyway, we could keep them while they were cute and give them to someone comfortable with killing and cooking them afterward without feeling guilty. So we spent a few minutes brainstorming how and where we'd keep them, who we could pass them off to when the time came, and the availability of plastic kiddie pools in Cairo. We also decided that since we'd have to be comfortable with handling them, we needed to practice picking them up. So every time a chick climbed onto its cellmates' heads and dived into the crate of ducks, where it'd be trampled (suicide mission?), we scooped them up and petted them as they squeaked in displeasure. Finally, though, we realized that it'd be hard to sneak baby ducklings into the classy restaurant we had picked for lunch, and decided to (maybe) come back later.
We ran out of time, though, due to our second adventure, which started off unpleasantly with a drooling guy who was either drunk or mentally ill following us around and mumbling about Mubarak and Gaddafi. A couple of teenaged girls attempted to help us shoo him away, then insisted on taking pictures with each of us in turn. Later, on the walls outside the fort, we ran into them again with their group of friends, bellydancing to music from a cell phone. At their insistence, we (tried to) join in, and then were asked to teach them (and the crowd that had gathered) some "American" dances. Unfortunately they weren't that impressed by the macarena OR the hokey pokey. We played Red Rover, a modified Capture the Flag and a stupid Egyptian game where you take turns hitting someone whose back is to you, and he guesses which one was the culprit, until the fort closed, then strolled along the bay with the girls, eating cotton candy until we had to get a train. The three boldest girls each linked arms with one of us, and Lili's incessantly chatted at her in rapid Arabic, seemingly unable to understand that Lili had a three-word vocabulary, tops. At one point they decided to see what we'd look like veiled, and then took about a million group photos, which I'll try to get from Tori. So we didn't end up getting our ducklings, but we did leave with six phone numbers and promises to meet up again one day.
I had done a little sporadic editing in France, and went back to work this week with a vengeance, since March's issue is late and we want to get it out as soon as possible. I switched magazines last month and I'm glad I did - I might not be the biggest fan of style magazines but I adore my coworkers and our laid-back office. I've got three stories in this month's issue: on career choices for mothers, the plight of the horses that tourists rode by the pyramids back when there were tourists here, and Egyptian women activists of the last century... I'm pretty proud of all of them. The magazine's not online but if anyone's dying to read them I can try my luck at scanning!
We did end up losing our apartment :'( Alex's company initially said that they were afraid that in the event of another evacuation, we wouldn't be able to get to the airport if the bridges were blocked. But they did end up letting people who live in Zamalek, which is on an island, go back, so we don't know exactly why we can't. For the first four days, Alex stayed in a fancy hotel by the airport and Lili and I stayed at the apartment; we've since moved into a company apartment in my old neighborhood, Garden City, which is swarming with soldiers and tanks, and, imho, is the least safe neighborhood of Cairo after downtown. But, the apartment is pretty great - it's got a huge balcony that extends from the living room to the bedrooms and a beautiful view of the Nile and the British embassy's grounds. We're there temporarily, hoping that the company will reverse its decision and let us find another apartment in Garden City instead of making us move to the suburbs. But it works for now.
And pretty soon we will be three! Next week our puppy will finally be old enough to leave his mother, and either Alex's mom or sister will bring him along on a trip to Egypt, or Alex will take a few days off to go to France for some skiing or to pick Wilbur up. We have a few more days to pick out his official name, which will go on his passport and official documents and is the source of much controversy and grief. Like hurricanes, purebred puppies are given names starting with the letter of the year - with is "G" in 2011. Suggestions are welcome!
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