Bush came to the Middle East yesterday morning: I was at Manar's house and we happened to catch the pomp and circumstance of his visit to Israel live on every news channel.
Amid the backdrop of the plane and mixed American and Israeli flags, Bush descended, greating Olmert like an old friend. Children waved American and Israeli flags, and Bush and Olmert both gave speeches about the strong friendship between the two states. Because it wa live al-Jazeera had no translation so I translated a bit for Manar.
Why the show? Everyone who has talked to me about the visit, including Manar, immediately rolled their eyes. "And he's going to achieve peace? Yeah, as if we don't know what side he's on." We already knows what side he's on, so why make a big show about it? It only makes everyone on the other "side" all that more certain of the pun my Arabic teacher has repeated nearly daily since Anapolis - ana bolees - Arabic for "I am the police". Bush isn't interested in real peace or in the Palestinian people, just in control and Empire etc. Do we really need singing Israeli children or the image of six-pointed stars and stripes to reconfirm the suspicions of the non-Israel lovin' world?
But maybe I should give Georgie a little credit. Maybe, just maybe the show is a sign to Israelis that America really really supports them and Bush really really loves them, so when (please let it be when, not if) the American president requests difficult sacrifices - like "stop building those settlements that you've been saying you would stop building since Oslo" - the Israelis will oblige, secure in the knowledge that Bush really really loves them and cares about their security and is only asking because these sacrifices are neccessary.
Or maybe the love-fest is just straight-up love for Israel, no matter how it may play on al-Jazeera.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I Cut my Hair
Everytime my hair grows long, I begin to think that I chould cut this shit off. I imagine myself with short hair - it is a glamorous, sexy image, and not me, but a French girl in the 1960s. Then I cut it and I remember - too late - that I look more like a dickonsonian street urchin boy with short hair.
But I had been saying I need to cut my hair for two months now, and finally yesterday I asked Ruba to take me to where she gets her hair cut - her hair is quite nice. I wanted it a bit shorter, and with "sidesweep bangs". Ruba introduced me to the stylist as her Irish friend (why?) and though I know "bangs" I tried to mime "sidesweep". I don't believe I effectively communicated the message.
So now I have heavy blunt bangs like I haven't had since 8th grade. The rest of it awkwardly frames my face with poof. I look 17. I need to step away from the scissors, because everytime I try something they end up raping me.
BUT, the cut was only 100 lira ($2)! I'm thinking maybe the only solution is to cut it shorter, as at that price I'm willing to have my hair maimed every week!
But I had been saying I need to cut my hair for two months now, and finally yesterday I asked Ruba to take me to where she gets her hair cut - her hair is quite nice. I wanted it a bit shorter, and with "sidesweep bangs". Ruba introduced me to the stylist as her Irish friend (why?) and though I know "bangs" I tried to mime "sidesweep". I don't believe I effectively communicated the message.
So now I have heavy blunt bangs like I haven't had since 8th grade. The rest of it awkwardly frames my face with poof. I look 17. I need to step away from the scissors, because everytime I try something they end up raping me.
BUT, the cut was only 100 lira ($2)! I'm thinking maybe the only solution is to cut it shorter, as at that price I'm willing to have my hair maimed every week!
Hey, well, the lights are still up.Saturday, January 5, 2008
Oh, the Love for Syria Grows Evermore
My contact was bugging me last night but I was in Jerimana, far from my home and its contact solution. So I went to a pharmacy across the street from my friend's house and bought a tiny bottle, costing 125 lira. I had a 1,000 note and a 50. She didn't have change.
"Malish, hati al khamees hala' wa al-baqiyya ba'deen" (doesn't matter, give me the 50 now and the rest later).
I blinked. Later? I asked. Ya, she said, later. When you have the rest.
This is not my local pharmacy, my face is not known at this establishment, I don't even live in this neighborhood, and it was my first time in this pharmacy. But still, the trust!
I went back a few hours later when I had change.
"Malish, hati al khamees hala' wa al-baqiyya ba'deen" (doesn't matter, give me the 50 now and the rest later).
I blinked. Later? I asked. Ya, she said, later. When you have the rest.
This is not my local pharmacy, my face is not known at this establishment, I don't even live in this neighborhood, and it was my first time in this pharmacy. But still, the trust!
I went back a few hours later when I had change.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Back Home
After 10 hours at the border, Rachel got the visa and we went home. Home! I love to travel, but there's always a sigh of relief to return to the comfort of home, back to a familiar bed, even if it doesn't have sheets because of a recent electric blanket fire.
Having the other passengers go ahead without us when it was clear we would have a wait awhile, we had to negotiate a ride from the border to Damascus. In Damascus, we all passengers got out somewhere random and shared a taxi into the center of the city, during which the driver repeatedly asked me why I would not marry or at least give my phone number to the nice Jordanian sitting shotgun. How old are you? he asked, guessing 15, maybe 17?
When I got up to go, the bulge in my jeans pocket gave away my excuse that I didn't have a phone (my excuse I don't want to get married until I'm 30 was met with "I would wait, won't you wait?" by the taxi driver and "yes" by the Jordanian student).
At home, I inhaled chicken and dumped heated buckets of water over myself (there's only enough water pressure for the shower in the morning). Abu Mazen and Iyad questioned me about how much I know about the differences between Shi'ism and Sunnism, and Abu Mazen tried to convince me that believing Jesus is the son of God and God himself is kind of silly - I've told the family I'm Christian - my atheism is best not broadcast. I walked to Bab Toma to catch a micro, looking at all the Christmas lights still up. Ah, home.
Having the other passengers go ahead without us when it was clear we would have a wait awhile, we had to negotiate a ride from the border to Damascus. In Damascus, we all passengers got out somewhere random and shared a taxi into the center of the city, during which the driver repeatedly asked me why I would not marry or at least give my phone number to the nice Jordanian sitting shotgun. How old are you? he asked, guessing 15, maybe 17?
When I got up to go, the bulge in my jeans pocket gave away my excuse that I didn't have a phone (my excuse I don't want to get married until I'm 30 was met with "I would wait, won't you wait?" by the taxi driver and "yes" by the Jordanian student).
At home, I inhaled chicken and dumped heated buckets of water over myself (there's only enough water pressure for the shower in the morning). Abu Mazen and Iyad questioned me about how much I know about the differences between Shi'ism and Sunnism, and Abu Mazen tried to convince me that believing Jesus is the son of God and God himself is kind of silly - I've told the family I'm Christian - my atheism is best not broadcast. I walked to Bab Toma to catch a micro, looking at all the Christmas lights still up. Ah, home.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
I Really Really Hate the Fucking Ferry
This having been my fourth time on the Arab Bridge ferry between Egypt and Jordan, I feel I am somewhat qualified to comment on it. It is a living hell.
The trip between Damascus and Cairo need not be the ordeal it is, rendered thusly only because of the ferry. I personally love buses. Bus across the Sinai, followed by bus to Amman, bus to Damascus? Sign me up! But that little stretch between Egypt and Jordan, that little sliver of water the Gulf of Aqaba, usually takes close to a day to cross.
Why the ferry? Oh, Israel, you hateful little slice of a country. Seriously, do you need Eilat? You have another ocean for ports and beaches. But no, Israel decides that they need Eilat, necessitating the Arab Bridge.
Eilat is sandwiched between Taba in Egypt and Aqaba in Jordan. But does the ferry make this short route? No! It goes all the way down to Nuweiba on the Egyptian side. This itself is hardly the source of all the misery, as the actual trip takes an hour (by ferry - three and a half by barge).
There is one ferry and one barge a day. Only. Arrive at the Aqaba port at say, 2am, and you have yourself a good 12-hour wait until you kiss the sweet Egyptian soil. Arrive in Nuweiba at 6am, because it is the only real option from Cairo is the 10pm bus, and you have a good 14-hour wait to greet Jordan's dirt.
This is with the ferry. The barge, only 10 dollars cheaper (out of freaking $50 from Jordan to Egypt, and $70 from Egypt to Jordan) seems to be a lower layer of hell that even my cheap ass refuses to descend into. Arriving at Nuweiba at 5am (our driver was crazy fast) there was a line of men boarding the ferry. At 5pm when we started boarding our ferry, the barge was still in Egypt. I think they were going to leave soon. So those poor bastards were on that damn barge all day before it even took off.
Our ferry was supposed to leave at "oh, about 3 maybe, God willing". So we sat down in a little run-down ahwa after waiting around 2, maybe 3 hours to buy tickets, ordered coffee, tea, ate La Vache Qui Rit cheese and bread, and smoked shisha. Met a kid from freaking Mason, Michigan (right next to the old hometown - I believe we are rivals) who lives in Amman. Hung out with a nice Palestinian boy, and met some British dude who I let remain in his delusion that his Egyptian shisha for 200 guinee was "a steal" (the most expensive of my three had cost 60).
Ladies first: I know I have griped about this in the past, but it is nice getting to cut a whole bunch of men for being a lady. However, I really, really hate the foreigners first rule. We're in Egypt, and all the Egyptians are told to stay back while the foreigners buy their tickets, board the ferry, etc. Even worse, it seems as if the western foreigners are pushed ahead of the Arab foreigners. This trip was the worst I have seen this phenomenon, as literally the first bus (buses take you from the terminal to the boat - no just walking the 200 meters allowed) was all westerners. We had stayed back, cause there's no reason to get flustered - boat's gonna leave when it's gonna leave.
Previous times, there has just been a hustling of ladies to the front: Arab ladies, Egyptian ladies, American ladies. I prefer this as it means I don't have to wait long AND I don't have to feel like a giant shit for getting special "Western treatment". I'm getting regular ol' lady treatment.
We finally got into Aqaba at about 8pm or so, and were saved waiting by Rachel. On the boat they take our passports, and then in the arrivals hall we wait. After 20 minutes, Rachel says fuck this and walks into the office, 5 minutes later walks out with our passports and we get out before the rest of the foreigners. "What did you say?" I ask.
"Marhaba," She says. (Hi).
I hate the boat, especially since there's no alternative. How to get from Egypt to the rest of the Arab world? Israel ain't exactly an option for most people. So the shitty service and exorbidant price of the Arab Bridge continues.
There's more to hate, but I have only so much time to dwell on such unpleasantries. I am at Dera'a, on the Syrian - Jordanian border. Somebody's visa expired and we have to wait while a new one is issued. In Sha Allah.
The trip between Damascus and Cairo need not be the ordeal it is, rendered thusly only because of the ferry. I personally love buses. Bus across the Sinai, followed by bus to Amman, bus to Damascus? Sign me up! But that little stretch between Egypt and Jordan, that little sliver of water the Gulf of Aqaba, usually takes close to a day to cross.
Why the ferry? Oh, Israel, you hateful little slice of a country. Seriously, do you need Eilat? You have another ocean for ports and beaches. But no, Israel decides that they need Eilat, necessitating the Arab Bridge.
Eilat is sandwiched between Taba in Egypt and Aqaba in Jordan. But does the ferry make this short route? No! It goes all the way down to Nuweiba on the Egyptian side. This itself is hardly the source of all the misery, as the actual trip takes an hour (by ferry - three and a half by barge).
There is one ferry and one barge a day. Only. Arrive at the Aqaba port at say, 2am, and you have yourself a good 12-hour wait until you kiss the sweet Egyptian soil. Arrive in Nuweiba at 6am, because it is the only real option from Cairo is the 10pm bus, and you have a good 14-hour wait to greet Jordan's dirt.
This is with the ferry. The barge, only 10 dollars cheaper (out of freaking $50 from Jordan to Egypt, and $70 from Egypt to Jordan) seems to be a lower layer of hell that even my cheap ass refuses to descend into. Arriving at Nuweiba at 5am (our driver was crazy fast) there was a line of men boarding the ferry. At 5pm when we started boarding our ferry, the barge was still in Egypt. I think they were going to leave soon. So those poor bastards were on that damn barge all day before it even took off.
Our ferry was supposed to leave at "oh, about 3 maybe, God willing". So we sat down in a little run-down ahwa after waiting around 2, maybe 3 hours to buy tickets, ordered coffee, tea, ate La Vache Qui Rit cheese and bread, and smoked shisha. Met a kid from freaking Mason, Michigan (right next to the old hometown - I believe we are rivals) who lives in Amman. Hung out with a nice Palestinian boy, and met some British dude who I let remain in his delusion that his Egyptian shisha for 200 guinee was "a steal" (the most expensive of my three had cost 60).
Ladies first: I know I have griped about this in the past, but it is nice getting to cut a whole bunch of men for being a lady. However, I really, really hate the foreigners first rule. We're in Egypt, and all the Egyptians are told to stay back while the foreigners buy their tickets, board the ferry, etc. Even worse, it seems as if the western foreigners are pushed ahead of the Arab foreigners. This trip was the worst I have seen this phenomenon, as literally the first bus (buses take you from the terminal to the boat - no just walking the 200 meters allowed) was all westerners. We had stayed back, cause there's no reason to get flustered - boat's gonna leave when it's gonna leave.
Previous times, there has just been a hustling of ladies to the front: Arab ladies, Egyptian ladies, American ladies. I prefer this as it means I don't have to wait long AND I don't have to feel like a giant shit for getting special "Western treatment". I'm getting regular ol' lady treatment.
We finally got into Aqaba at about 8pm or so, and were saved waiting by Rachel. On the boat they take our passports, and then in the arrivals hall we wait. After 20 minutes, Rachel says fuck this and walks into the office, 5 minutes later walks out with our passports and we get out before the rest of the foreigners. "What did you say?" I ask.
"Marhaba," She says. (Hi).
I hate the boat, especially since there's no alternative. How to get from Egypt to the rest of the Arab world? Israel ain't exactly an option for most people. So the shitty service and exorbidant price of the Arab Bridge continues.
There's more to hate, but I have only so much time to dwell on such unpleasantries. I am at Dera'a, on the Syrian - Jordanian border. Somebody's visa expired and we have to wait while a new one is issued. In Sha Allah.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Tunisian?
It's been a little strange coming back to Egypt, having forgotten most of my Egyptian. Well, not exactly forgotten, because I know what I'm supposed to say: mish instead of mu, delwaty instead of hala, etc, but when I speak naturally the Syrian comes out. I try in Egyptian and sound awkward.
Syrian is mostly understood, so often I say fuck it and speak in Shami. This leads people to think I'm Arab, usually Lebanese (with my coloring - none - Lebanese is the most likely). Everytime this happens I'm super excited.
Man: Are you Lebanese?
Me: No. Thank you!
Man: Thank you?
However, yesterday at the bank, getting dollars for the Nuweiba ferry, I was doing the transaction in Arabic when the teller switched to French. I told him it would be better if we continued in Arabic, since it's better than my French. "You're not Tunisian?" he asked. What?
I'm used to being mistaken for French. At al-Fishawy coffee house the other night, a couple asked me to take their picture in French, and I obliged, asking if they were French. No, Lebanese. I immediately switched to Arabic and was all "I live in Syria!" and they were all "We're in Damascus like every other week!" Awesome!
But Tunisian?
Syrian is mostly understood, so often I say fuck it and speak in Shami. This leads people to think I'm Arab, usually Lebanese (with my coloring - none - Lebanese is the most likely). Everytime this happens I'm super excited.
Man: Are you Lebanese?
Me: No. Thank you!
Man: Thank you?
However, yesterday at the bank, getting dollars for the Nuweiba ferry, I was doing the transaction in Arabic when the teller switched to French. I told him it would be better if we continued in Arabic, since it's better than my French. "You're not Tunisian?" he asked. What?
I'm used to being mistaken for French. At al-Fishawy coffee house the other night, a couple asked me to take their picture in French, and I obliged, asking if they were French. No, Lebanese. I immediately switched to Arabic and was all "I live in Syria!" and they were all "We're in Damascus like every other week!" Awesome!
But Tunisian?
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