Wow, I just read over my last entry and realized how completely stunning (read: boring) it must be to read about me teaching English. Not that I have anything much more exciting to write about lately, but perhaps that's a good thing for living in Egypt?
Two Italians are sleeping on our couch, a puppy is yelping from Noelle's bedroom, my British flatmate John is off tutoring an 8-year-old in English on a Friday (first day of the weekend here), and Ryan is planning a lesson for his upcoming tutoring session in the dining room to the background melodies of birds singing in our neighboring trees. It's a calm Friday, lounging around inside after a homemade breakfast, waiting for the midday heat to pass before we go to El Azhar Park to see the Citadel - a big fortress which holds the Mohammed Ali Mosque.
Ryan and Noelle met the Italians (19 and 22) during their Red Sea trip and invited them to stay with us for a few days. They are incredibly sweet and gracious guests who cook and clean with us and show enthusiasm for everything. Must resist the urge to adopt them. Speaking of adoption, Noelle is babysitting a friend's dog in hopes that the rest of the house will be won over by the 7-month-old puppy and desire her indefinitely. The dog's name is Sabura, meaning "patience". As our Italian guest put it at the breakfast table, it's US who have to be patient when it comes to Sabura. She's a sweet hilarious puppy but pees and barks a tad more than is optimal. But Noelle is very responsible and has a strong will, so we may be looking at a permanent new flatmate!
I finished tutoring my student but he has requested another 40-hour session with me - this time only 9 hours/week. In a very awkward moment of seriousness he told me that I am the youngest teacher he's ever had but the best one he's ever had. Then he said it was because I explain things to him as if he were a child. He elaborated by telling me that I'm thorough and patient, but the idea of me treating someone 16 years my senior like a child alarmed me. In June I start two other teaching jobs - one with Western non-native English speaking adults, and one with Egyptian youth at a summer camp - so I expect to be totally exhausted as summer sinks in. Then July my family is visiting!!!!!!!! Joy abounding.
The other day after a brain-fogging 2 1/2-hour lesson I set off along the backstreets of Downtown and walked in the direction of home but with startling new scenery. I adopted my "I'm on a mission, don't bother me" frown and tight-lipped unsmile and brisk walk to show that I didn't need any directions or harassment, and it's a real show of my raised comfort (or lowered standards, depending on your viewpoint) that through all the yelling and unwanted attention, as long as no one followed me, it was a very pleasant walk. I lost my way a few times but changed directions and found a familiar street, then veered away again, repeating the wandering pattern. I found a flashy sheesha cafe where I drank fresh strawberry juice and wrote in my journal. Then when Ryan called to meet for dinner, I had to remap myself. Using my flawless stellar Arabic, I asked for directions from a few nice people along my way, to which they responded with many unfamiliar words but I got the gist of "left", "right", "straight ahead", and "like that" (like what, though??). While I knew I had been given the long route back home, I walked through an amazing main street with beautiful lights, cafes, restaurants, fruit stands, and friendly easy-going shoppers. That's the amazing thing about Cairo: its low crime rates (and fear of endangering American tourists, under threat of the government's wrath) and enormous spread provides something new to discover all the time, even just a neighborhood away from home. When I met Ryan and John back home after at least 30 minutes of walking, we cabbed back to that area for dinner outside on a patio along the street and sheesha atop a balcony, where for once I could watch and study people more than they could me.
Yesterday morning I went for a run on the tree-lined sidewalk between the River Nile and a busy north-south road called Corniche El Nil. I felt like a ridiculous Western woman running around for no apparent reason in tennis shoes as glaringly white as my skin and lightening hair. Everyone gawked at me the entire 40 minutes and many kids yelled "What is your naaame!!" as I passed. To my shock, one man screamed "WHAT!!!" at me as I ran by, and it was all I could do to pretend my headphones had blocked out his exclamation and keep going. Then I heard him in the distance behind me: "WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME!" as if he had just recalled the full phrase, but hadn't been able to hold it in before remembering the rest. Noelle and I keep screaming "WHAT!!!" to each other to keep that golden memory alive.
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