Holiday shopping in Cairo – Expat-Style

Holidays in Cairo are apparently marked by the sudden influx of Christmas Bazaars. They’re everywhere! Our embassy newsletter had a full-page list of them so you could plan your life around finding that quintessential macramé potholder – Pharaonic style, of course.

A few friends had expressed interest in going to one being held at the Nile Hilton. We had heard from others that in years past this bazaar was great. Well, it was big at least. When we all thought of a Christmas Bazaar, we thought crafty stuff. Apparently the big thing for expats in Cairo who don’t have access to a Commissary like we do, is alcohol. There were towering stacks of beer and wine from all over the E.U. And that was basically it. Through the throngs, and I mean throngs, of people and baby carriages and big frosty glasses of Heineken (at 10 in the morning), we found two or three tables selling non-perishables, and that was about it.

There were four of us who went, in two pairs. At one point Kristen called me to see if we’d arrived. I said we had and we were by some Swedish Glogg stand. They were inside the main area, working through the Heineken crowd. We’d never find each other. So Susan and I just left. But not before Susan took me to her favorite shops within the Nile Hilton and warned me against others (who were overpriced or just over-snooty). Susan is a consummate shopper. Not only does she know where to get practically anything, she knows who to ask, and how to bargain. It’s great fun going on a shopping adventure with her, so when she asked if I was game, I said sure!

We started out grabbing a cab to see if we could find a certain bookstore that she wanted to see. They have funny hours, so she jumped on the chance to catch them when they’re open. Our taxi driver at one point turned too soon and was two blocks away but on a busy one-way street, so he suggested we just walk. Susan, in no uncertain terms, told him to drive around the block and get us to the address as agreed to. With a heavy forced sigh, he did.

The shop was great, but in addition to books it also had a lot of vintage black-n-white photographs of old Cairo, cards, wrapping paper, postcards, etc. At one point I wanted to know if they had a certain photo that wasn’t matted or framed, just loose. So, to my utter delight, my simple sentence of “Andik bas suura?” (Do you have just the picture?) actually got a positive response instead of a confused look. I was flying high.

From here, Susan walked me all over Garden City (downtown), showing me good rug shops, towel and sheet shops, book binders, everything. It was nice to have a guide. At one point, we stopped in front of a lingerie store (surprisingly there are lots and lots of these all over Cairo – so despite the outward appearance of conservative abayas, apparently Victoria’s Secret might have a niche here, though she’d definitely have some competition!). We saw a pair of underwear in the window that had, for whatever reason, taxi symbols on it (seatbelt, the red hazard triangle, a license plate) and found them funny so we went in. First we poked through the fuzzy pajama sets and lounge-wear and heavy robes but didn’t find anything of interest so we asked about the taxi underwear and were immediately invited to an upstairs portion of the store. Here was the good loot! Satin and silk, feathers and lace, and some bizarre unmentionables we won’t mention. We found the taxi wear and then Susan asked if they had any “Monika” outfits. The saleswoman excitedly said yes and showed us a leaning stack of boxes marked “Monika” and “KoKo.” I asked, “What’s Monika?” “They love Monica Lewinsky here, and there’s a whole line of naughty lingerie named after her,” Susan told me. Now, I guess I’m more naïve than I thought, but I was really surprised by this. And these were feathery, boa-like, outfits. Completely ridiculous. Susan bought one for her sister.

From here we wandered through a few more stores, but nothing could top the taxi underwear and Monika-duds so we eventually headed home and met Ron for lunch. Ahhh, Christmas-time shopping in Cairo – taxi underwear for everyone!

Thanksgiving – Cairo style (replete with corpse)

So we’ve had our first Thanksgiving in Cairo. Instead of the usual Tofurky (for me), cold weather, falling crunchy leaves, driving to New Jersey and shopping with girlfriends, our weekend started with a wonderful Thanksgiving Eve dinner outdoors on the hills around Cairo at Al Azhar Park gazing at the Citadel, followed by some evening shopping in the Khan, and a taxi-stationwagon driver who repeated “No Bloblem,” the entire evening, even when the car was seeming to sputter out next to the City of the Dead (not an ideal location for a bunch of stranded expats). I did get some good photos of Cairo at night and a great photo of a triple-bread-head, though.

Thanksgiving day itself was pretty much just like any other day for me, including laundry, scrubbing litter boxes, and picking up deworming meds for Albert at the local pharmacy (thought that was a little odd, but apparently “pet meds” can be gotten there too… or these were human deworming meds… ewww). Ron had set aside the day for starting his final (not sure how much starting was actually achieved though). We had invited some friends over, but everyone had plans, so in the end I just made a vat of stuffing for us, some corn on the cob and used our last package of smuggled veggie sausages from Wales. I attempted a new pumpkin pie recipe but it actually turned out inedible (didn’t think that was really possible), so in the spirit of giving, we “donated” it to the compost pile.

The day after Thanksgiving, when I often used to find myself with girlfriends heading to the Mall (not at those crazy early hours – no sale is worth that), instead this year Ron and I went with two friends on an all-day tour of the pyramids – finally! We saw the oldest pyramid, known as the Step Pyramid due to its layered construction, at Saqqara. And the most famous pyramids at Giza. I’ll post pictures separately, but suffice it to say, it really was astounding and fantastic!

The final day of our weekend, Saturday, Ron buckled down and dove head-first into his final. Some friends from the office had planned a five-hour yachting trip up the Nile so I decided to give Ron some quiet and went with them. The day was beautiful, the yacht was gorgeous and we were in high spirits as we breezed up the Nile. It was supposed to be just a relaxing trip, checking out the sights along the shore of the Nile (a lot of people washing clothes, washing dishes, fishing, some even wading despite the cool weather). The city stretched on along with us, though things did thin out eventually, become more industrial then turn into more farmland as we got farther and farther from the city.



Our ultimate goal was to head 10 miles (16 kilometers) up the Nile to the Barrages. These were built in the early 20th century to help with British irrigation and agriculture reform projects to divide and control the water flow with a series of lochs and canals. They were placed just before the Nile splits to form two branches, Damietta to the east and Rosetta (where the Rosetta stone was found) to the west.


Along the way we saw a nice assortment of family boats (I’m not sure if these are lived on, or just worked on and used for travel, but apparently they make great drying racks, too).



At one point, between the snacking and relaxing and gazing and gabbing, I jokingly said to someone, “Look, it’s a body floating by us.” Sadly, the Nile is full of garbage, and some areas are worse than others. We guffawed appropriately and as the boat continued drifting on, I watched the floating item come closer and got a weird feeling as I stared and suddenly realized that there were two feet floating behind the black mass. It WAS a body! Floating facedown, just showing the lower back and black heels of tennis shoes. I reiterated my initial statement and we all stood up to watch it float by. I may have a forensics degree, but it didn’t take one to know that there wasn’t any urgent need to fish him out. He was definitely deceased. One of us suggested to the captain that we contact the police and let them know. The captain got very tense and whispered forcefully to us that it would be best if we just forget the whole thing. It was quite obvious he desperately wanted us to sit down and shut up. He said that if he contacted the police he would be dragged in for questioning. He told us that a few years ago another body was found in the Nile and the police refused to touch it, they just let it go. Apparently it just creates too much hassle, paperwork, investigations and all. Interesting approach. The captain said that when you find a body, you should just put your hands on the side of your face to act as blinders (his demonstration helped clear up any confusion).

So we did nothing. Though we did gape at each other quite a bit and everyone was suddenly more diligent in looking at the floating debris. One of the men who has visited Cairo off and on for the last 13 years, said this was the fourth body he’d seen in the Nile. Sadly later on I also saw a dead donkey or something with fur partially submerged. Gives a new meaning to river garbage … And it adds to the horror when seeing the locals washing their clothes and dishes, and fishing in it.

Less than an hour after our lesson in Egyptian forensics, we heard some sirens behind the boat and our captain was slowing down. We were actually being stopped by the Cairo version of the Coast Guard! You have never seen a more innocent looking group of people than us nine expats. I think we all sat a little straighter while the captain and crew chatted with the police. At one point they asked if we were all Americans, we said yes, from the Embassy (never hurts to add that), and then they concluded their business and we were allowed to continue on. Believe me, nothing was mentioned of our earlier finding (though we thought about it). Apparently this is fairly common for tour boats on the Nile, but I can’t deny it gave me cause for pause.

The rest of the trip was, thankfully, non-eventful. The Barrages were impressive, from a distance, the weather turned a little cloudy, we passed more interesting family boats, and no one spotted another floater. I was sad to think that this man’s family will never know what happened to him. In a city of 20 million people, is life really this inconsequential?


We made it home just after dark, and it was nice floating in to the dock surrounded by the lights of Cairo. I hopped in a cab with two other women who were heading my way, and less than 3 minutes later, our driver slammed into another car, smashing out his own headlight (and smashing my knees into the dashboard). Our security lessons have told us to get out of a cab that has had an accident, and leave the scene – there have been cases where the expat passenger has suddenly been accused of being the cause and reparation has been demanded. However, in this case, we were on a bridge, with traffic streaming past us and there was no where to go. So we sat. The drivers argued, but luckily got back in their cars and drove across the bridge to where they could pull over. At this point, we all got out, flagged another cab, and continued on. All in all, it was a very strange Thanksgiving weekend, but I’m coming to expect no less from life in Cairo.

The Meeting of the Minds… or Paws

So we got the okay from the vet for Albert’s feline leukemia and feline aids test results (both negative), so we were finally set to arrange the big feline introductions.

I admit that I was a little nervous, considering Chuckles’ size and strength (I’ve never met a cat with a stronger grip, paw-wise and jaw-wise), however Chuckles doesn’t have a mean bone anywhere (some would argue he doesn’t have a bone, but there must be a frame of some kind under all that… muscle). As soon as we brought Albert out to the living room, Ricky dashed around the edge of the room hissing and secluded himself in our bedroom. Poor thing.

Chuckles, however, took on a more cautious, but curious, attitude and did a lot of watching at first as Albert zipped about squeaking a lot. Then Ron, a.k.a. The Instigator, got involved and suddenly there was forced interaction, with the help of a kitty toy.


For the most part, things are good, with some actual pounces performed by minute Albert on Chuckles, and chasing being instigated by both Chuckles and Albert (without the aid of Ron). Chuckles is being a great sport and while there have been a few heavy-handed smackdowns on Albert, they were nothing he couldn’t handle. We keep telling Chuckles to fully enjoy his new squeaky toy while he’s here.

So, for the next few months while Albert lives with us, we’ll be able to enjoy some kitten antics (lots of flops, spills and tumbles), and we can test our patience (mine is amazingly short-fused, but Albert does tend to enjoy being a parrot on my shoulder which gets old). He likes to launch himself at either of us when we’re standing, splatting against our leg like a Velcro-kitten from which he then proceeds to climb up us (we’re getting him used to getting his claws clipped). He screams incessantly if anyone is in the kitchen, goes near the kitchen or says the word kitchen (we need to break his “I’m-a-starving-street-kitten” mentality). He loves toys, which include Chuckles’ tail, was quite intrigued by his first Christmas tree, and is particularly fascinated with electrical wires (yummy and fun for chewing) and hot lightbulbs (which he tries to examine by climbing up inside the lamp). I’m thinking a lack of nutrition early may affect brain development.

All in all, he’s been a fun addition. And luckily Ricky is now willing to put up with him in the same room, though he tends to perch above him and glare; willing him to disappear with just the power of prayer.

There’s an Eid a’coming… so we’s a’going…

Eid al-Adha/el-Kibir is fast approaching. It typically begins 70 days after the end of Ramadan and in Islam commemorates Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son for Allah. But Allah rewards Abraham by substituting a lamb in place of his son for the sacrifice. This leads to the current feast of the Eid (Feast of the Sacrifice), which is celebrated by sacrificing lambs… all over the place. So Cairo is full of lambs and goats right now, but not for long.

We knew months ago that we wanted to get out of town for this “holiday.” A friend who was here last year at this time said that Zamalek in particular had blood running through the streets for days. I’ll take his word for it. Initially we thought of just going up to Alexandria on the Mediterranean for a few days, but then we talked about going on a proper vacation to celebrate our belated anniversary. (Ron’s online course is done as of tomorrow – YEAH!) So we started discussing locales. Considering the time of year, December, a lot of Europe was not necessarily what we were looking for. I suggested Jordan or Tunisia, but Ron begged to go somewhere “not sandy.” And considering he hasn’t left Egypt since April, I can understand. So suddenly I had a thought – Madagascar. It’s been on the top of my must-see list for over a decade – they have over 70 living species of lemurs – pure Heaven! So I spent the next four weeks, reading guide books, researching online, talking with travel agents and essentially going full steam ahead.

It took a lot of planning. Madagascar is a large island off the east coast of Africa, and there are only so many flights going into and out of the country per week. Plus, once you get there, you can rent a car, but you’re not allowed to drive it, so you have to hire a driver as well – some speak English, some don’t (French and Malagasy are the two primary languages). And then there’s the added fun of there being a limited number of roads that are actually passable. I did find a great travel agency in London whose employees specialize in African countries, so the gentleman I dealt with had actually been to Madagascar. (I was quite delighted with this, and realized that I rarely deal with a travel agent who’s actually been to the place I’m going – what a novelty!) So, with Sam’s help, we set up a 10-day tour focusing on lemurs, lemurs, and more lemurs, with some giant chameleons thrown in, and lots of beautiful birds. Madagascar really is amazing. Not only does it have species of all kinds that cannot be found anywhere else on earth, but it also has diversity reaching from rainforests to desert to mountains to beaches. I think you could spend months there and only see a sliver.

So the remaining issue was how to get there. The primary option was Cairo, through Khartoum, Sudan, to Nairobi, then on to Madagascar. Considering current conditions, Ron and I were none too thrilled to spend any time, even if it was only on the tarmac, in Sudan. So that led to a bit of flight juggling, but I was able to find a flight that went from Cairo to Nairobi, then another airline for Nairobi to Madagascar. This did leave us with a 12+ hour layover in Nairobi coming back, which wasn’t great, but we were willing to do it. On a Friday morning, I sent in our payment details to Sam for the tour and was planning on finalizing the flights the next day. That afternoon I got an email from Sam saying that he noticed our flight into Madagascar had been cancelled. What? Are you kidding? He wasn’t. Maybe due to the Hajj that would precede the Eid, Kenya Air decided to pull a flight? Who knows, but now our whole trip had to be moved two days forward or two days back. Plus, the flights, providing we still wanted to avoid Sudan (yes, please), now had us going from Cairo to Dubai, Dubai to Nairobi, Nairobi to Madagascar. At this point there were actual tears of frustration forming. My dream trip was crumbling before my eyes. I felt that fate was sending up flares left and right telling us this wasn’t the time to go. So I cancelled everything, and became quite cranky for a few days.

But, still wanting to celebrate our anniversary, and desperately wanting to get out of Cairo, we persevered and opted for Rome, Italy. I know, such suffering. It just took a bit of a mind flip to go from rustic and lemurs to ancient beauty. But I’m a toughie, I can do it. So in about four days we had our airline tickets booked and hotel booked, and I’ve bought two guide books (I can’t do anything new without buying a book to accompany me). So for December 8 through 18, we will be traipsing about Rome, enjoying the blood-free streets (hopefully), reveling in architecture and art, and wallowing in pasta. And despite being to Italy before, I’ve never been to Rome, and neither has Ron. We may take a jaunt to Naples or Florence as well, but we’ll see. I’m not feeling as compelled to over-plan this trip. We’ll relax and enjoy it. And the lemurs remain in first place, so hopefully we’ll be hanging with them in the near future.

Carrots & Fossils (but no fossilized carrots)

Our weekend trip to the commissary had a lovely detour this weekend. Before we hit the highlights of Silk soy milk and stuffing preparations, we took two friends to go explore the Wadi Digla Protectorate (like a national park). It’s this amazing 30 kilometer landscape of rock formations, valleys, hills, caves and desert, and is full of petrified wood and fossils dating back 60 million years (apparently it was once a riverbed reaching from the Nile to the Gulf of Suez). It was designated an official protectorate in 2001, and for the most part is in fairly good litter-free conditions.

We only spent a few hours poking about, and didn’t get to explore any caves (we hear there are bats – yeah!!), but it was great fun just wandering, driving about, stopping and finding all kinds of fossils! At one point as the three of us women were wandering and taking photos, I heard this banging and looked around to see Ron smashing rocks. ?!?!? Are we four? But after a few futile attempts to get him to stop banging rocks, I just let him bash away. We definitely need to bring our nephews here (Colin – 5, and Max – 2 ½) so all three “boys” can bash rocks.

We did take this opportunity to finally try out our 4-wheel drive on the Jeep. Sadly, we first had to sit in the car and read the manual. (Hey, I’m a Cabrio girl, what the heck do I know about 4-wheeling? How to drive and tie your hair back, that I can help with.) So I believe we successfully put the Jeep through the 4-wheeling test, without reenacting any Jeep-flying-over-sand-dune-advertisement antics.

After our explorations, and once we’d all reached definite parched-state, we did our shopping and then headed home. Saw a few fun sights, but not as many as usual.

However, Ron, feeling a whim, decided that we should stop and buy some carrots from one of the street vendors on the way home. We’d heard that the red carrots that are in season are really good. So we randomly chose one cart, pulled up and attempted to buy one kilo of carrots. As the seller and Ron bartered back and forth, he stood there and “peeled” a large carrot and handed it to me. I took it, but did not taste it as I had watched him “peel” it with a rusted mini-scythe that I had a strong feeling had also been used to clean under toenails at some point. When he saw I wasn’t tasting it, he peeled a smaller one, took the big one back, slit it down the middle, and handed it back to me, so now I had two and felt like I was holding carrot popsicles. But I still didn’t taste them. The bartering continued, as he desperately wanted us to buy about 10 kilos, or fill up our backseat with carrots. Ron kept reiterating “ONE KILO”, and at one point the man turned and muttered something and Ron said, “I think he just cussed at me.” Fair enough, we finally managed to get a smaller bushel, but probably about 2-3 kilos. As we drove on, Ron delighting in the ability to buy carrots from our car (that and smashing rocks, big day), we realized that we were now passing carts that had smaller purple carrot-looking things, which suddenly dawned on us were the actual red carrots. We had just argued over regular carrots. So, feeling confident from our first purchase, we pulled over again and our friend, Lindsey, got out to get us some red carrots. This exchange also took an inordinate amount of time. At one point she thought he said, “Do you want them in a bag?” and she said yes. But he really said, “Do you want them in the trunk?” which certainly implied a larger quantity. It finally worked out and the carrots, despite looking like purple gnarly hobbit toes, actually tasted really good – lighter and sweeter than regular carrots. Either way, we now have bushels of both in our kitchen. I think carrot muffins, carrot soup and carrot stuffing are on the menu for Thanksgiving this year.