Fluency

So here we are, almost fifteen months in Cairo. And fourteen of those months I’ve been dutifully taking my Arabic classes.

So why aren’t I fluent already? Maybe because my impatience is as equally high as my inherent laziness, which inhibits my studying, but then frustrates me. Hey, you try living in this head.

Despite my non-fluent status, I persevere. I have even bumped up my twice-weekly classes to five days a week for the month of July. I really just need to be pushed, and I know that. I really want to be fluent, I just don’t want to put all the work in to becoming fluent (flashbacks to the French Horn incident of 4th grade and the gymnastics attempt in 6th grade are blinding).

I know what I need to do – study grammar and vocabulary. On the occasions that I do spend time daily reviewing word lists, I admit that I can see a difference. So why don’t I continue? Probably the same reason I can’t remember to take a daily vitamin for more than 10 days in a row: squirrel-like attention span.

Regardless of my inert studying abilities, I find Arabic to be a fascinating language. While there are always exceptions to rules and patterns, Arabic does have a lot of logic and efficiency that I am drawn to. I’m also realizing how difficult, wordy, verbose, long-winded, rambling and loquacious English is. (Don’t you hate garrulous folk?)

For instance, in English we would say, “I will see you tomorrow.” Five words. Whereas in Arabic it’s, “Hashoofik bokra.” Two words. The efficiency is in the verb combination.
I see – ashoof
I will see – hashoof
I will see you – hashoofik
It’s all about the prefixes and suffixes. Very clever.

And root words are key too. From the root “ktb” you get maktab (desk), kitaab (book), maktaba (library/office/bookcase), yiktib (to write), etc. Again, clever.

We are currently doing a grammar review, which is good considering I haven’t discussed participles (is that half a pinch in cooking?) or modals (I’m assuming no relation to a Henry Ford invention) in 15+ years. In yesterday’s class Suheir, my teacher, had me conjugating verbs, speed-style. She’d leap back and forth between past and present, different verbs, different subjects. It felt like mental whack-a-verb. Class typically lasts 45-90 minutes and at the 60-minute mark I felt my brain deflate. I was like a wind-up toy stuck in a corner slowing down. Luckily Suheir has great patience and good sense of humor.

My goal is to get out of Egypt with a really strong start in Arabic (or be fluent). While I’m not so childish as to sleep with my workbook under my pillow (primarily since it never worked for high school Chemistry), I do hold out hope for a USB-like device that will enable a quick upload so we can forget all this silly studying and get back to collecting nuts for the winter. Now where did I store that last one?

Islamic Women

From an outsider’s perspective, being an Islamic woman in today’s times presents some complexities. From what I’ve heard, the pressure on Islamic women and what they should wear and how they should behave and what they can or cannot do, varies greatly throughout the Arab world.

Now, keep in mind this is merely what I’ve heard and not witnessed myself (yet), but in Saudi Arabia any woman (including western “visitors” and “Dips”) has to be completely covered: hair, wrists, ankles, arms, everything. They apparently don’t require the niqab (facescarf) or gloves, but depending on the city, some, such as Riyadh, are more conservative than others, like Jeddah. In Riyadh, women are also forbidden from driving and smoking (not to mention pole dancing and distributing heroin), and it’s not uncommon to see the women all in black, including headscarf, facescarf and gloves, regardless of the weather. I’ve been told by friends here that wearing the niqab over the face is really restrictive and uncomfortable and something that you definitely have to get used to.

On the other hand, Jordan is much more relaxed in their interpretation of women in the Koran, and while there are some headscarves and occasional abayas (dresses), there is a lot of western dress as well and women are not prohibited from driving, smoking, etc.

In the middle of these two polarities, lies Egypt. The vast majority of women here wear long sleeves, abayas, long skirts or pants, and a headscarf. Occasionally you do see women here dressed in full black, with a niqab, but they're a minority. (I do wonder, though, if they consider themselves more religious or more pious that the other women. What are the mutterings within Islamic women about each other's interpretation of what's "appropriate"?) If you see a woman with flowing hair, it’s pretty much assumed she’s Christian (or a Westerner), but they are also a small minority. As a Westerner, I have never felt uncomfortable not wearing a headscarf anywhere in Cairo (though I will wear them when visiting mosques, out of respect).

However, despite not exposing their arms and legs, Egyptian women turn this into an opportunity to display their personal flair with colors and fabrics and sparkles and beads. This fashion display is especially true of the younger women, who always bring to mind a parade of peacocks or collection of flitting butterflies when I see them gathered. The vast majority take great pride in matching and coordinating layered headscarves with printed tops or skirts, and they love high-heeled stilleto-like shoes. (I have enough difficulty navigating the buns-of-steel curbs and broken sidewalks in my clunky (but colorful) crocs, definitely not adding the challenge of stilletos.) Despite any perceived oppression or obstruction the women in Egypt at least, have embraced the Islamic traditions but done so with panache, style and often a bit of flamboyance.

Picture Pages – Street Scenes

I just had to share some of the latest pictures caught from the car:

Blessings & Curses

Without question, Cairo has a lot to offer. Whether it’s Pharaonic history you seek, or Christian or Islamic history, there are endless outlets. Maybe your interest lies in the sociology of living in a city teeming with 20 million people, or maybe studying the progress of a nation caught between Western and Arab worlds tweaks your noggin’? Whatever your fancy, Cairo most likely has an outlet.

For me, I’m finding the vast array of shopping options truly tickles my fancy. Not just the everyday shopping trips to the Khan or elsewhere, but the ability to have practically anything made to order has changed my life. Truly a blessing and a curse.

The blessing is obvious, it’s great fun, you get to be creative and unique, for the most part the craftsmanship is excellent (though having a bit of flexibility helps smooth over any potential bumps when dealing with Egyptian measurements and such, which can be a bit squigy),and almost everything is well-below what we’d pay back in the U.S. Not to mention we wouldn’t even know where to go to requisition it. The curse lies in my own neurosis. I find if I see a product that I like (furniture, jewelry, lamps, clothing, etc.) my brain often whirs into action thinking how I could alter it. I’m not trying to claim that I can improve everything, but having the option to make my own design feeds my inner demons. And in Cairo, I’d be hard-pressed to find something I couldn’t have made.

This neurotic need to “make” or “design” everything myself had been dormant until I got into the wedding planning. Suddenly I found myself embodying the “Crafty Bride” persona and insisting to anyone who offered to help that I had it all under control: designing and printing and collating and mailing all the Save-the-Date cards, invitations, programs, maps, table cards, name tags, etc.; making beaded bookmarks for all the wedding party; making the groom’s cake and father-in-law’s birthday cake; making 100+ chocolate molded books as favors; and making the sign-in book interspersed with childhood photos of me and Ron. I was a lunatic.

So when I arrived here in Cairo this neurosis had been hibernating for six months, however it emerged with great gusto and I have thoroughly enjoyed feeding its needs (poor Ron). So far, I’ve had made my metallic spice rack (which I’m already close to out-growing), gallibaya’s for our Jedi wanna-bes back home, a malachite necklace, and two marble table tops (which are being “re-warneeshed” to hopefully salvage them from the morons we bought them from). I also have an alabaster chandelier in the works and some wooden wall shelves that should be delivered next week. I have facilitated two iron table bases through the Vocational Training Centre at the Deaf Unit for someone else, however I haven’t partaken of the VTC’s skills myself yet.

But the biggest, and by far, potentially most incriminating piece I’ve had made is the windowsill/wine rack/modular cube/bookcase. Essentially I designed a cat-bench, but tried to make it look less like crazy-cat-lady cat-furniture, and tried to make it something we could use in other houses. One friend also pointed out that it will be a great cappuccino bar in our Tuscan villa. I agree.



The reasoning behind it is that all our windows are almost four feet off the ground, so the felines can’t see out (I know, my Crazy-Cat-Lady lifetime membership card came in the mail already, you don’t have to rub it in). Regardless of the potential ribbing I will receive, I will say that it is thoroughly enjoyed by both Ricky and Chuckles, so it was all worth it. Clifford has never had much of a need to see outside, especially if there’s a lap nearby, so I’m not entirely sure he’s noticed its presence.

Temporarily it's quelled my design-neurosis. For a while at least. Though it never lasts long. Ron and I are both learning that new projects are always germinating where there’s a Crafty Dip Wife present.

For the Love of Penguins… and Cupcakes

Impulse purchases can be dangerous. You can find your bathroom drawers full of various Guaranteed-“painless”-hair-removal products or fifteen shades of hot-pink lip gloss with sparkles, or kitchen cupboards crammed with *Must Have!* chopper-mincer-dicer-slicers or plastic gadgets that Martha used with finesse and skill that you have forgotten whether they’re for pitting a grapefruit or making icing roses. Dangerous indeed.

In thinking about this post, I honestly have to admit that I don’t recall how I even found the book that started it all. But there it was in one of my regular-delivery Amazon boxes and I read through it with great delight and my inspiration juices were flowing.

So now I needed a reason to test my new-found hobby and our friend Ben’s birthday was the perfect occasion. And here is the end result: penguin cupcakes.



Now, they’re not as pretty as the ones in the book, but for my first attempt, and working within the somewhat limited options at the commissary, I was rather pleased.

They were received well (Ben looked like a 5-year-old being handed a Buzz Lightyear cupcake – only bigger and with facial hair (Ben, not the cupcake)), and I was told that the office enjoyed them as well.

Now that the bug has bitten, I’m looking forward to trying out others, as well as creating some new ones. Ron has put in a request for camel-cupcakes for his birthday. At least I have six months to figure those out.