Ever wondered what a day in the life of me looked like here in Egypt? Well, me too. I'll tell you a little something about it, since I actually paid attention today.
Class at 9am. Talk about the Egyptian sitcom we watched for homework and some short film I hardly understood. Try to go home and take a nap before I have hours of homework before me. Run into my language partner (weren't partnered up with fellow Egyptians to meet like once a week for two hours) who tells me that she doesn't want me to go home but stick around at the center because there is something planned and she wants me to be there for it. She's wasn't that good at keeping it a secret so it turns out there is a Christmas surprise planned. Santa will be there and elfs too. There was already a pot-luck lunch planned (cutely called a "dish party" in Egyptian), which I was trying half-heartedly to avoid (using the fact that I had not brought a dish to the party as an excuse to continue feeling not social at the time), so I thought I would stick around.
Turns out Santa did show up. He was a she, and Muslim. Have you ever had an Arabic speaking Islamic believing Santa show up at your door? Unfortunately Santa didn't know how to announce his (her?) arrival. I enlightened her - Ho Ho Ho! She looked confused when I did so and I didn't hear the cheery sound again.
After the food and festivities, there was homework. And then there was a nap. And then there was a tram ride. I arrived right when the tram was leaving. I breathed a heavy sigh. Public transportation here is kind of like look shooting dice, you never quite know what you're going to get. I sat down and looked at some Arabic I half understood from the homework assignment. Another train came after five minutes or so. I boarded the train, put up the Arabic I half understood, and took out some Arabic I hardly understand at all.
Reading the Quran in public places is commonplace here and one of the beauties of being here. It is usually read out loud in private or in a quiet voice melodically to one's self. Here, it is understood what you are doing. In America people don't seem to know what to think. The train is slow and has many stops and nothing else is going on in it - other than heads nodding off to sleep, families boarding, guys and girls flirting occasionally, the young boys playing the run-along-side-the-train-until-you-can't-run-any-faster-and-then-hop-on game, and the very occasional disagreement which almost escalates into a fight - so why not read some Quran in time that would otherwise be 'wasted'?
I reached my destination - the previous apartment I just moved out of. I was there to return an internet router I had thought my previous roommate had bought for us. It turns out the owner of the apartment had bought it for us. Good thing he's a good guy. His whole family is amazing actually. I called his son before arriving and felt like I had arrived at the meaning of success when he thought I was a friend of his at the end of the short conversation. Besides the fact that there was a slight misunderstanding between who was speaking to who, he still thought I was an Egyptian at the end of the conversation. Score!
When I arrived tea was served. We talked about stuff. Ahmed, the eldest, is in the navy. He has a year to go. The elections and the Ikhwan and the Salafiyeen and Isreal and the Parliament. A show came on the TV. Children getting abducted for ransom. True stories. Apparently it's a problem here in some places. Abu Ahmed, Ahmed's dad, opens up the subject of illiteracy. It's rampant here in Egypt, about 40% of the population suffers from it. The conversation melts into religious talk. I'm served a piece of cake by Abu Ahmed. It's really delicious. The tea is still warm, slightly.
I walk down the old familiar street. The neighbors wonder where the heck I've been. Apparently news hadn't reached them yet that I had moved, or they just wanted to hear it straight from the horses mouth. I spread the greeting of peace to Ahmed, an attendant at the parking garage. I can keep the conversation to 10 minutes if it's only him there. If Eid, or Ehab, were around I might as well kick off my shoes. I was happy they weren't.
I went to a clothes store I had been intending to check out, "Brands for Less." I shopped and laughed with the sales people and felt relaxed because the prices were written on the clothes and marveled at how far we've come with this language and how far we have to go.
Then I went home, and did some homework. And the cool thing is, I did all the above in Arabic.
Class at 9am. Talk about the Egyptian sitcom we watched for homework and some short film I hardly understood. Try to go home and take a nap before I have hours of homework before me. Run into my language partner (weren't partnered up with fellow Egyptians to meet like once a week for two hours) who tells me that she doesn't want me to go home but stick around at the center because there is something planned and she wants me to be there for it. She's wasn't that good at keeping it a secret so it turns out there is a Christmas surprise planned. Santa will be there and elfs too. There was already a pot-luck lunch planned (cutely called a "dish party" in Egyptian), which I was trying half-heartedly to avoid (using the fact that I had not brought a dish to the party as an excuse to continue feeling not social at the time), so I thought I would stick around.
Turns out Santa did show up. He was a she, and Muslim. Have you ever had an Arabic speaking Islamic believing Santa show up at your door? Unfortunately Santa didn't know how to announce his (her?) arrival. I enlightened her - Ho Ho Ho! She looked confused when I did so and I didn't hear the cheery sound again.
After the food and festivities, there was homework. And then there was a nap. And then there was a tram ride. I arrived right when the tram was leaving. I breathed a heavy sigh. Public transportation here is kind of like look shooting dice, you never quite know what you're going to get. I sat down and looked at some Arabic I half understood from the homework assignment. Another train came after five minutes or so. I boarded the train, put up the Arabic I half understood, and took out some Arabic I hardly understand at all.
Reading the Quran in public places is commonplace here and one of the beauties of being here. It is usually read out loud in private or in a quiet voice melodically to one's self. Here, it is understood what you are doing. In America people don't seem to know what to think. The train is slow and has many stops and nothing else is going on in it - other than heads nodding off to sleep, families boarding, guys and girls flirting occasionally, the young boys playing the run-along-side-the-train-until-you-can't-run-any-faster-and-then-hop-on game, and the very occasional disagreement which almost escalates into a fight - so why not read some Quran in time that would otherwise be 'wasted'?
I reached my destination - the previous apartment I just moved out of. I was there to return an internet router I had thought my previous roommate had bought for us. It turns out the owner of the apartment had bought it for us. Good thing he's a good guy. His whole family is amazing actually. I called his son before arriving and felt like I had arrived at the meaning of success when he thought I was a friend of his at the end of the short conversation. Besides the fact that there was a slight misunderstanding between who was speaking to who, he still thought I was an Egyptian at the end of the conversation. Score!
When I arrived tea was served. We talked about stuff. Ahmed, the eldest, is in the navy. He has a year to go. The elections and the Ikhwan and the Salafiyeen and Isreal and the Parliament. A show came on the TV. Children getting abducted for ransom. True stories. Apparently it's a problem here in some places. Abu Ahmed, Ahmed's dad, opens up the subject of illiteracy. It's rampant here in Egypt, about 40% of the population suffers from it. The conversation melts into religious talk. I'm served a piece of cake by Abu Ahmed. It's really delicious. The tea is still warm, slightly.
I walk down the old familiar street. The neighbors wonder where the heck I've been. Apparently news hadn't reached them yet that I had moved, or they just wanted to hear it straight from the horses mouth. I spread the greeting of peace to Ahmed, an attendant at the parking garage. I can keep the conversation to 10 minutes if it's only him there. If Eid, or Ehab, were around I might as well kick off my shoes. I was happy they weren't.
I went to a clothes store I had been intending to check out, "Brands for Less." I shopped and laughed with the sales people and felt relaxed because the prices were written on the clothes and marveled at how far we've come with this language and how far we have to go.
Then I went home, and did some homework. And the cool thing is, I did all the above in Arabic.
That elf on the right is my language partner. She made a pretty good one if I may say so myself.
Fun fact: How to say elf in Arabic? Midget. Why? Because the idea of the fictitious winter gift-bearer and his hard working employees just doesn't really exist here. I suppose you need to have a concept of something before you start developing vocabulary around it?
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