How life is like a game of tawla

Today is my one year anniversary in Cairo. It's crazy, when I came here I remember thinking: if I can just make it two months, I will be proud of myself. Now, one year and countless "making it work" moments later, here I am with friends I know will never leave my side and  a pocketful of life lessons. This place means so much to me, I could never, ever explain enough what I have learned. But I am going to try through the similarities I find in life and playing tawla. Otherwise known as backgammon, tawla is how I spend a lot of my spare time. It goes with the ahwa scene (cafe), hanging out, smoking shisha, drinking tea and eating sandwiches from Walid's food cart across the street. It's like home base, and tawla is a great way to pass the time together.

Backgammon is thought to be the oldest board game in the world, dating back to 3,000 BC, so it shouldn't surprise anyone there's some life lessons hidden inside the strategy. The basic run down is this: There are fifteen black pieces and fifteen white. The goal is to get all of your pieces around the board, into your "house," and collect them all before your opponent does. You move by rolling the dice, and try to make sure to "cover" your pieces by not leaving them alone. If a piece is alone on a slot, it can be "eaten" by your opponent and sent back to the beginning. So there is a delicate balance of defense and risk, just like in life.
Here are some of the similarities I have found between how we live our lives and how we play tawla:





1. You have to play smart and work with what you have,  but remember that a lot is left to chance:

There is a significant amount of strategy to be used in tawla and life in general, but no matter how "good" you are, you can never plan for everything. You never know what the next roll will give you. You just have to prepare for both the best and the worst as well as you can. The future is always unknown until it's not the future anymore.














2. You can't play without taking risks: 


Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been life if I hadn't quit my job in Jordan and flew to Cairo with no plan, just hoping I could "make it." It definitely wouldn't have the series of adventures that have become my life and changed me for the better. There is not always a perfect "safe" option, and even when there is, it is not always the best option. Risky moves can pay off later.


3. But you can't play too risky and expect to get away with it every time: 

Taking risks has its role, but too much risk can make you crash and burn fast. Just like in life, you shouldn't leave yourself too vulnerable unless you are ready to deal with the consequences.

4. You should be careful what you wish for, double sixes are not always a good thing:

How many times do I keep calling out for double sixes, and then when I finally get them all the sixes are blocked and I can't move? Sometimes we think we really want something, and keep wishing for it and wishing for it and wishing for it, whether it's a new job or a gift or a special someone. Then when it comes, we realize that we don't know what to do with it, the timing was wrong, or maybe didn't really want it in the first place.

5. It's better with good company:

So many good conversations, serious and humorous, or both at the same time, have happened over a tawla board. It is a really good opportunity to bond and hang out while surrounded by the craziness of the cafe. We only get one life, so why waste time playing with people you don't even like? My current mantra in life is to only spend time with the people you want to spend time with.

6. You can't always win, but you should always learn:













There are times in our lives when we don't meet our goals, and rather seeing these moments as lost opportunities, we should see them as a chance to learn from our mistakes. A chance to analyze what you could have done differently, if there was a better way to play with the dice you rolled or not. The other player usually has something to teach you as well, if you are humble enough to listen. Then use those lessons the next time you play.

Here's to another year of tawla playing, let the lessons begin :)

I went to a classical concert at the citadel, and it was a fantastic reminder of exactly why I love Egypt

Cairo usually gets a really bad rap about being chaotic. Which it is. And if you ever forget that, just go sit in traffic for a while. But the crazy, spontaneous energy that Egyptians are so known for can create really beautiful moments, that while chaotic, should be no other way.

It was a perfect summer night. I was sitting on a wall, legs hanging over the stone blocks surrounding the venue and enjoying the breeze high above the chaos of the city. There were thousands of people in front of me, all there to watch the live outdoor concert at the nearly thousand-year old venue. The citadel is a sprawling structure on top of the city, and the concert was set in one of the ancient courtyards.

It was an amazing classical performance, but the environment was far from stuffy and proper. The crowd was fluid and alive as people moved up and down the aisles, children bounced up and down in their seats, and teenagers took selfies with their friends. Chairs in what used to be lines, were now zigzagging through the crowd as people adjusted them to where they wanted them, being careful to not move the red cushions that come off when pulled the wrong way.

I love people watching, so this was like a special treat. Thousands of Egyptians had come up to the citadel, bought a five pound ticket (less than a dollar), and enjoyed the fresh air and strong breeze. It was like all the worries of the city had been left below. The relaxed atmosphere littered with chatter and light from cell phone screens seemed perfect for the mood, rather than annoying crowd behavior as it might be seen elsewhere.

From my spot on the wall, I had a white cloth tarp on one side lining the "auditorium," my friend Weam in front of me on the stone block below, and the aisle way on the other side of me. I kept my dangling legs close to the stone so that people could pass me as they met up with friends, found seats, and went back and forth to the concession stand where they sold Doritos for two pounds and water for three.

It was never still. People who were there before we came left early, leaving seats for those who came after us. The chairs were arranged and rearranged countless times, flowing with the crowd.
A group of teenage boys sat on the blocks behind me, laughing and teasing each other the whole time. A little girl in the row nearest to me kept looking back each time Weam and I started a new conversation and would smile shyly.

An elderly man and his wife sat two rows back, dressed up in what they might wear to the opera. The husband in a formal button up shirt that was slightly too big for him, and the wife in a classy modest dress that matched her sparkly black hijab, accented by bold jewelry and red lipstick. Behind them sat a couple in their late twenties, the husband obviously had been drug along by his wife for date night, but was surviving by checking sport updates on his phone.

Past that the crowd was absorbed by teenage girls posing in front of their camera phones with their friends, families with three generations there together constantly shuffling seats as grandkids became restless, and suitors carefully escorting their blushing company to two empty chairs next to each other.

Weam and I stayed for the orchestra and a harpist she was excited to see. Both performances were amazing, but hands down I loved the crowd the most. Cairo doesn't have to be a hectic chaos all the time, it can also be a relaxed and refreshing chaos on the top of a hill, with good music, a fresh breeze, cheap Doritos, and great crowd watching.

7 times Egyptian society thought I was being a hootchie mama when I wasn't

I'm back in Egypt, just in time for the sweltering months of summer. But that doesn't mean shorts season, oh no. I have always been super self-conscious of being socially appropriate with my clothing choices while living in the conservative Middle East. Why? Because as a foreign girl, I already face unflattering stereotypes of promiscuity, mostly thanks to Hollywood and other media outlets that show foreign women as crazy sex fiends who never have good intentions. So I do what I can to not support that stereotype. I wear long pants and high-cut tops. I don't have male visitors overnight in my apartment. Sometimes, I even wait when a man is introducing himself to see if he offers his hand for a handshake first, so I don't make him uncomfortable offering him mine if he doesn't touch women outside of his family.
But I do have limits, and on some points insist on keeping my foreign standards for what is okay and what isn't. This, I am sure, has led to some moments that general society finds scandalous.

#1. When I decided to live alone

This has been the source of many scandalous theories. Why would a young, single girl want to live alone? Either she is up to no good, or she just wants to be unsafe. Maybe I just wanted peace and quiet. This has led to many arguments with my doorman about who is allowed to visit me and who isn't. After I admitted that I realized there are cultural differences, he emphasized there are big cultural differences and that me living alone was basically culturally inappropriate. I may or may not have told him that I have a life and he's not my dad. Classic. This leads to the second example:

#2. When Reda got kicked out during breakfast

Again, my doorman likes to think he knows what is best for me. One time, my very dear friend Reda dropped by with breakfast on a weekend morning (I know how to pick good friends). He somehow sneaked past Mohammad, but Mohammad has like a sixth sense, I swear he knows everyone's footsteps that lives in the building. He promptly came upstairs to kick Reda out. It was 11. In the morning. This issue has since been resolved with my landlord, who has told Mohammad I can have visitors at reasonable daylight hours. Thank goodness.

#3. When I got dropped off at the checkpoint by one man at midnight, then went back out to return with two others at 3:00am
This one sounds really bad, but I swear I wasn't being a hootchie mama. I live inside the police checkpoint that guards the ministry of interior, so the officers who work there on a regular basis get to see me coming and going at whatever hour I want like I own the place. But this actually wasn't as bad as it looked. I simply was out with an old student catching up over shisha until midnight, then when he politely dropped me off at the barricade, I made a phone call to my guy friends Bishoy and Sahm, who were still out. I will admit I looked sheepishly at the guards as I went back out to meet the guys, mumbling that I "forgot something." One beer, sandwich, shisha, and three hours later they walked me back to the checkpoint. The guard just looked up and said, "you finished? Thank God."

#4. Basically any time I get back home after midnight

This is Cairo, the city is up late. Yeah, I know proper young ladies are not supposed to be out late, but then I would miss out on all the excitement of sitting for hours at cafes drinking tea and playing backgammon. That would be a shame. 

#5. When the police at my checkpoint checked my suitcase for bombs, and my underwear was on top

This was an accident. When I was packing my suitcase in Michigan, I forgot to think about how the police would have to check my luggage before letting me into my street. Perks of living kitty-corner from the Ministry of Interior. Oops.

#6. When I wore a dress that slightly showed my knees in the metro, because I was going to an engagement after church
I know I said I am always super self-conscious of dressing appropriately, but sometimes I make exceptions. That is, if you count wearing a dress that just touches your upper shin as an exception. It was my nicest dress, and it would have been fine except for I live in downtown, which is a little more conservative. Oops.

#7. When my friend Shyla and I were walking down the street in Alexandria and jumped into a car full of boys
But they were our boys, we knew them. They were actually our ride and trying to find us. But to be funny when they pulled up, they were all like "heeeey, wanna ride pretty ladies?" Naturally, we were all like, "heeeey, let's go!" We jumped in, and there were a few bystanders with looks on their faces saying "is it really that easy?"

Why I will always be missing something

Me and my soulmate reunited after over a year.
Hello's are so sweet, goodbye's so bitter.

I firmly believe that I live in a constant state of missing something. It's a natural thing, and it can't be helped. Before I left Egypt for Michigan, I missed my family so much it hurt and I couldn't wait to see them. I was counting down the days until I would be there. But at the exact same time, I was already missing my friends who were still with me! By the time I made it home, I loved spending time with my friends and family stateside, but realized I was already missing them even though they were right in front of my eyes. I could still touch them and I already missed them. Not to mention I was homesick for Cairo, and counting down the days until I would be back. I couldn't win. The problem is, there have been so many happy moments in my life, that I can't help but miss them and wish that I could have them all at the same time. I can't help but wish that I didn't have to choose.

If only I could go canoeing with my family down the Manistee River, and still watch the sunset from the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. If only I could stay out late at the cafe with my friends, drinking tea and laughing in the hot, Egyptian night, and wake up to a Northern Michigan sunrise and go jogging down the roads that I grew up on. If only I could talk for hours at my grandmother's kitchen table, and still make it back to my apartment in downtown Cairo in time to make dinner. If only I could hold everything important to me in my hands all at one time, but I can't. There's not enough room. And sometimes I get scared that there's not enough room in my heart. I'm not sure if it is even possible. Because sometimes I get so overwhelmed trying to hold everything dear to me close. Trying to stay in touch with everyone. Trying to not let anything go. Feeling guilty when I get distracted by what is going on around me and don't think about all the important things that have made me who I am.

I feel so torn between all the worlds that have built me up to be the person that I am today. As I sit in the Detroit airport waiting to board, I am barely talking to anyone. There are only so many "I'm going to miss you's" and "I can't wait to see you's" I can say until I just want to find the exact coordinates to the spot in the Atlantic between Kalkaska and Cairo, and just sit there in a rowboat and enjoy being exactly in the middle of my two worlds. Because then maybe I wouldn't have to choose. But I obviously know that isn't the answer, because then I will just miss everyone.

I think that the torn feeling will never go away. It wouldn't make sense if it did, because those worlds are always going to be important to me. It is a natural effect of being blessed with so many amazing people and incredible experiences. But I will continue to fight the feeling of missing things while I am in the moment enjoying things. At least silence it to a whisper rather than a roar. I will have forever to miss the happy moments of my past, it doesn't make sense to miss the moments of the present. It will take a lot of work, but I have to make myself constantly remember to enjoy what I have right now, to love the moment I have right now, promising that I will cherish the memories forever.

Kalkaska, Michigan: As American as Little League Baseball and Rhubarb Pie

For some reason there is a misconception that the United States has no culture. I don't really understand this at all. It probably originated with those snooty French people who think they created the meaning of culture, or something like that. In my opinion, nowhere else in the world has as much culture as the US. There may be no distinct "American" culture because there are so many various experiences here, but there is definitely culture. I grew up in the small town culture, specifically in Northern Michigan. I want to share the culture of Kalkaska and what makes it so special. Being away for so long made me realize that not all of these things can be taken for granted, because they are just not common everywhere else.

First of all, Kalkaska is beautiful. It has four distinct seasons, I visited in early summer. I forgot that so many shades of green existed. Driving around it was just green grass followed by green bushes followed by green trees followed by more green trees, every leaf catching the sun in a different way.

It is also very blue. Michigan is the water state. No matter where you are, you can find a stream, river, pond, or lake. This makes water sports very important to life here. Kalkaska's annual festival is based on the opening day of trout fishing season, the National Trout Festival. We have the giant fish downtown to prove it.

One of my family's favorite summertime activities is floating down the river in canoes or kayaks. Nothing is more relaxing than floating in the sun (or rain, if you are that dedicated), and sipping some Michigan made ginger ale, Vernors.

On the river it is common to see wildlife, birds, snakes, turtles, fish, beaver, deer, whatever. It is actually common to see wildlife anywhere in Kalkaska. There are more trees than people so there is plenty of space for them to live. If driving around sunset, people will remind you to watch for deer, when they are especially active. No one wants to hit one of those trying to cross the road.

Speaking of driving, everyone drives in Kalkaska. The town is so small and most people don't live inside the limits anyway, so there isn't much for public transportation at all. But that makes for very light traffic, and if traffic isn't light people are going to complain about all the "fudgies" who are up here from downstate driving crazy and clogging up the roads. There are only two stop lights, and they start flashing yellow late at night because the town shuts down. But on the flip side, the town wakes up early because there is no use "burning daylight." Kalkaska is a working town, with many people working on farms, in oil or gas, schools, trucking, or service industries like restaurants or the local grocery stores that require them to get up early.

Everyone knows everyone in Kalkaska. With only 17,000 people for 571 square miles (1,480 square kilometers), I joke with my Egyptian friends that as many people live in Kalkaska as on my street in Cairo, and it's not that far of a stretch. For perspective, the entire Kalkaska County population could fit into the Michigan State football stadium more than four times. This creates a very trusting, friendly community. Just going to the grocery store you are likely to run into someone you know. And at half the gas stations you don't have to prepay for your fuel. You can fill up and then go inside to pay.

When visiting, people talk about what's important. I don't know how many conversations I had about the late frosts the first few weeks I was there. It's important because it affects all the crops, gardens, and flowers. We have to talk about when things are planted, when the apple trees blossom, who has tomatoes first, when the corn pokes through the ground, and when the strawberry fields are open for "pick your own." I made it there for both the lilac season and the early irises. Beautiful.

At Matthew's game

We also talk about sports. There is so much little league baseball in the area, the fields are usually booked for a month. I went to my share of games while home, both my brother's and my nephew's. After the game, it is hard to not celebrate getting ice cream, and then eat it on the way home while listening to the Tigers play their baseball game on the radio. Because it's summertime.

At Carter's game.

I love having bonfires in the summertime. In June, the fires might get lit before it is dark because it stays light outside until nearly ten pm. But once it does get dark, the stars are beautiful. That is a bonus of not having big city lights anywhere nearby. Another gathering activity is playing Euchre. This is a four-person card name rarely found outside of Michigan, and it's the best.

When I think about food in Kalkaska, I automatically think of Trout Town, because I worked there for so many years. And I love the trout, reubens, meatloaf, pancakes, and breakfast skillets. But I also always think of rhubarb pie. And blackberry pie. And apple pie. And cherry pie. All things that grow locally.

But of course Kalkaska makes me think of my family. Because as crazy as they are for insisting on living where it is the arctic wilderness half of the year, they are the greatest people in the world.

Islam in my life

When a religion is a dominant ideology in a society, it has more than religious implications. There are economic and social impacts on every day life. Growing up in a country built on Christian ideology, there were so many things I took for granted as normal. Living in the Islamic world, I have found them to not be normal, but rather something that can change based on what the majority believes. Basics of life are not actually basics of life when you move to a country that's dictated from a different base, a different history, a different experience than your own. Like, the weekend.

The weekend in the Islamic world is not Saturday and Sunday. I repeat, it is not Saturday and Sunday. The work week runs from Sunday to Thursday, because the holy day for Muslims is Friday. So we look forward to Thursday and Thursday night instead of Friday and Friday night. And Sundays become the dreaded equivalent of Mondays. Mind. Blown.

That's one example. I have more.

If you order a pepperoni pizza, it will always be beef or chicken pepperoni. Pork pepperoni, or any pork products in general, are not sold on the general market. There are ways to get pork, because there is an Egyptian Christian population. But it is not available in general society, because general society doesn't eat it. So there is no bacon cheese burger at McDonald's. It just doesn't exist.

The call to prayer is like public clockwork. Occurring five times a day, echoing all across the city, the call to prayer can give you a pretty good idea about what time it is without even looking at your phone. I find the call to prayer comforting, because in a culture where so much is unorganized and unplanned, at least I can count on the call to prayer being reliable. Many foreigners find it annoying, but I don't. Maybe I'm biased because I don't currently live around the corner from any mosques, so I can sleep through the early morning without being woken up by blaring religious texts. But I have been here long enough to appreciate when a mosque invests in an imam with a good voice, because it makes a big difference.

Speaking of mosques, they are everywhere. Directions to anywhere have a very high chance of including a mosque. Maybe in the form of a famous mosque as a landmark to head to, or just any mosque along the way that can tell you when to turn right or left.

Fashion is much more conservative. Even men are rarely seen in shorts, because showing too much skin is immodest. I would never wear shorts here; I would stick out like a redheaded ginger in an Arab country. Oh... wait.... The point is, people tend to be much more modest. The definition of modest varies. There are women who completely cover head to toe with only eye slits, and women who dress in tight, brightly colored skinny jeans. I have a feeling when I do visit the states again, I will feel like everyone is naked.

There isn't much of a bar culture. Don't get me wrong, this is Egypt, not Saudi, so there are bars. But they are not mainstream. It's definitely a subculture. So alcohol takes a little more effort to get, and is basically replaced with tobacco. Wow, is smoking a big thing here. While drinking is not allowed in Islam, smoking is not prohibited, so one vice has replaced another.

Ramadan isn't just a religious month of fasting, it's a life cycle. The year begins and ends with Ramadan. It is a massive event that must be taken into consideration when planning anything during that time period; it's the holiday season of the Islamic year. Marketing companies, publications, restaurants, hotels, airlines, basically every type of business has to have a specific plan for Ramadan. There are special show series, special foods, special business hours because people are up all night during the hours they can eat or drink. There are special fashion styles as people try to be more modest. There are special travel plans as people move around to visit family. For those people who do not fast, there are special strategies and inside information on what places might still be open during the day and how to stock up on alcohol. Basically, Ramadan is still one and a half months away, but we are already talking about it.

There are probably even more things that I just can't even think of because they have become so normal, but those are some of the main ones. Little technicalities that make a huge difference, and what make living here such an experience.

To stuff a pigeon... And other tales of Egyptian cuisine

The first meal I had in Egypt when I arrived last September was a healthy dose of ma7shy, which literally means stuffed. I think it's called that because what you are eating is literally stuffed with rice, and because when you are done eating it you feel "stuffed." A lot of things can be stuffed to make ma7shy, my favorite are the bell peppers, but we can also stuff cabbage leaves, eggplants, chickens, and yes, pigeons.

I ate stuffed pigeon. It's not something I ever thought I would eat, but it was just the beginning of a long list of foods I tried I never thought I would. Even more bizarrely, it was the beginning of a long list of foods I never thought I would like, but then ended up being okay with them, and sometimes even craving them.

Let's begin with the dishes in the picture on the left. Four of the plates are filled with ma7shy, the stuffed vegetables. In the middle is a duck, which I swear I ate a quarter of. For a week I was telling people the story of how I ate a duck, and afterwards walking like a duck. Ana akalt rub3a butta, wa ba3deen ana masheet zay butta. Wuk wuk wuk. The green dish is mulikhia, which is a soup/sauce made from some green leafy plant, chopped to pieces and cooked into a seasoned, slimy mess. I used to think it was awful. I ate it at people's homes to be polite and because I knew everyone loved it. Surprise, surprise, after a few months I was asking for it.

These above dishes are very Egyptian, and usually the first thing people mention when asked about Egyptian food. A list of all traditional dishes could be easily Googled, so I will only include some here. But of course, between the classic dishes, there are a lot of other things people eat on a daily basis that are not so famous, like french fry sandwiches.

I honestly don't know what's weirder... That french fry sandwiches are a thing or that I have begun to order french fry sandwiches... And liked it. You can get these delicious carbs in carbs sandwiches from little corner joints that most likely also sell fool, which is basically refried beans.You can get refried bean sandwiches, fried bean sandwiches, bean and egg sandwiches, eggplant sandwiches, scrambled egg and tomato sandwiches... Basically bread is just a medium here for anything.





Koshari is a staple in my life (and will also probably come up on a Google search of Egyptian food, because it's everywhere). It's a pasta mix, available anywhere, anytime, and it's dirt cheap. Different kinds of noodles, rice, lentils, garbanzo beans, and French-fried onions are all smacked into a takeaway container complete with twisted bags of tomato sauce, vinegar, and hot sauce. Really, thank goodness for koshari. I vaguely remember a time I didn't like it, but fortunately I got over that, and now probably eat it twice a week.

Kofta can be found in a wide range of restaurants, from high end sit-down restaurants that charge one hundred pounds for a meal to street carts that sell sandwiches for four pounds. Kofta is seasoned ground meat grilled on a stick, this picture also has some kebab stuff mixed in, all served on a bed of parsley.









This is a picture of two kofta sandwiches from a street cart because, well, it's me and let's be real, I eat cheap. Way more economical. Plus it comes with a little bonus bag of vinegar-soaked vegetables that people here call pickles.

What are these things? Not sure. Some sort of boiled bean things. You can buy them from a cart on the side of the road, or they are often served in cafes or bars. You have to squeeze the bean part out of the skin, it's taken me awhile to realize I should always aim down because sometimes those suckers shoot out all over the place. Other popular street foods: cotton candy, grilled corn on the cob, roasted yams, peanuts, and cheese and jelly sandwiches.

Yes, that's a McDonalds. There are fast food joints everywhere, like KFC, Hardees, Cinnabon, Pizza Hut, even some Burger Kings. But the prices translate into about the same as you would spend in America, so expensive compared to local fast food places, like Gad. If you do go to a McDonalds here, the menu is mostly the same, with the absence of any pork items and the addition of some Middle Eastern flavors, like kebab sandwiches.

Fateer is kind of like an Egyptian style pizza, where it is thin, buttery crust wrapped around cheese, veggies, and meat. Or it can be sweet. I really like fateer, even though it's kind of messy to eat. Not like that's ever stopped me from eating something tasty. If you get a "normal" pizza, they are usually made without any sauce worth mentioning, and are instead served with ketchup on the side.

With one of the longest rivers in the world plus coasts on two seas, the Mediterranean and the Red, fish and seafood are a big thing in Egypt. If you travel to Alexandria, the first thing people ask you is if you ate fish and seafood. Egypt is the first place I ate shrimp, squid, and an entire fish (head and all, but it was a little fish).

When I worked in the school, the most common lunch kids brought packed with them were sandwiches. Usually they were made with long bread and white cheese. Soft white cheese is very popular here. Also romy cheese, which is a strong white, sliced cheese. At first I thought it was awful, and I like strong cheese (all hail blue cheese). But eventually... Yeah, I bought my own package last week to make sandwiches for work. Oops. Tastebuds change I guess...

Sent by a friend here's some more ma7shy and mulikhia, this time served with a chicken dish. The funny thing about Egyptians and meat is that linguistically there is "meat," which refers to dark meats like beef and goat, then there's chicken. So if you order a sandwich, you ask for either meat or chicken.

Another friend sent me a picture of this meal. Notice the salad in the bottom left corner. I love the salads here, because they are usually full of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and lemon juice. Very fresh. Also note the strawberries. The perk of living in Egypt is that fresh fruit is very easy to get a hold of. Oranges. Bananas. Watermelon. Mangos. Kiwis. Lemons. Pineapples. It's great.

I will never be able to see lentil soup the same after eating it here in Egypt. Delicious! The lentils are blended together, and you can order it with butter. Popular in the winter, it's served with dried bread pieces and onions. Even when you order it to go, they still send you off with a package of onions, which is the purplish bag in the picture. This is from one of my favorite restaurants, Kazaz, which is an Egyptian fast food place where you can get burgers, fries, kofta, and most importantly shwarma. Shwarma is the meat that they slow roast in layers on the really tall poles, slice off the meat and chop it up with tomatoes and peppers.

Naturally in Egypt, one is not limited to Egyptian cuisine. This is from a Chinese restaurant, and there are also other types such as Italian, and Japanese. There are restaurants from all price ranges, sometimes I walk into fancy places and feel like I am in America. It's funny to see familiar dishes like macaroni and cheese available with a local twist, even if it's just in the name. It feels weird to ask for "mac cheese" or "mac chicken." But I suppose it's normal to put your own twist on something.

Sometimes we eat a meal with some greens on the side, and you eat the greens just like that, fresh. They are usually slightly bitter, but somehow still good. Again, I wasn't crazy about the idea at first, but when you continually eat food when you are hungry, eventually you start to associate that food as something good.

It would be impossible for me to write a blog about Egyptian food without including hawawshi. It's my fave. It's basically flat bread stuffed with flavored, ground meat. The meat kind of reminds me of meatloaf, kind of spicier. It's greasy, fantastic, and served with a side of tahini. Tahini is the white sauce made of pinenuts. If you've ever eaten Middle Eastern food, you've probably had tahini. I think it goes into hummus.

We just celebrated Sham El Nessim, which is the first day of Spring in Egypt. The holiday goes back to pharoanic days, and people go outside to enjoy the fresh air of Spring. Traditionally, people eat salted fish and raw green onions on this day. This is Sandy taking the bones out of the fish for our "family" celebration. We ate the salted herring, which was okay. There is another kind of fish, faseekh, which is more hardcore because it's kind of rotten, but we didn't eat that one.

This plate is a mess. The picture was sent to me through my phone, thank goodness because I don't even want to think about it. I know you shouldn't waste anything, but are lungs, intestines, tongue, head meat, and kidneys really necessary? But I am scared to say I won't eat anything, because every time I say that I end up eating it. For example, liver. Used to avoid it like the plague. Then I was served so much in December I got used to it. I also always said I wouldn't eat stuffed intestine. Ate that. Didn't want squid. Ate that. Nutella covered pizza. Ate that. See the trend here? Hopefully I get out of this one though. And brains. I don't want to eat brains.

The cakes here are really creative. I enjoy birthdays. Bakeries offer a wide variety of pastries and breads, even the really odd cracker bread I stumbled upon one day, as seen in the following video (filmed by Hany with a guest appearance of Menna).

The moral of the story is that I started out not-so-thrilled with Egyptian food, but after half a year it's grown on me. Now when I go out to eat, I don't think I'm going out to get "Egyptian food," I'm just going to get some food. It doesn't make sense to make a huge effort to find foreign food. It's so much easier to just eat what's around me. I like that method more, because it makes more sense and I feel more like I belong. People get very happy when they realize I know my way around Egyptian cuisine. Especially when they hear I had shakshooka for breakfast (scrambled eggs and tomato juice), because that is so local I've even had to introduce some Egyptians to it.

Egypt: Mother of the World مصر: ام الدنيا

People ask me all the time. It's a standard small talk question. It usually comes right after "where are you from?" "how long have you been here?" and "what are you doing here?"
So. Why Egypt? 
Egyptians usually ask this question with a look of concern, as if I'm lost, as if I'm not aware that there are plenty of better paying jobs in the states, not to mention the luxuries that the US provides in comparison with Cairo. Oh, I'm aware, don't worry. Foreigners usually ask this question with a look of confusion, since they just received my answer to "what are you doing here?" which was a drawn out shoulder shrug and look of confusion on my own face as I slowly shook my head saying "I don't know, right now I'm teaching English. Kind of learning Arabic. Not sure."
So. Why Egypt? 
Usually I give some logical answer. I studied Arabic and African Studies, so this is a natural cross over. I want to work with resource sustainability, such as the water of the Nile. I don't want to spend winter in Northern Michigan, there's a lot of snow there. All of these are true. But they don't hit the heart of it. They don't explain why I choose to live in Cairo. This polluted, dirty, stressful city. Where I blow black snot out of my nose. Where I get harassed in the street. Where the power gets cut off when the city is using too much. Where I have to go through a police checkpoint everyday on my way home. Where I can't wear shorts. Where traffic makes you crazy in the head.
So. Why Egypt? 
It's really hard to explain what fascinates a person with a place. I actually can't put my finger exactly on the reason why I'm so attached to this complex capital, but I know it is more emotional than a logical motivation, more rational than a romantic heartthrob, and more concrete than some soul-driven whim.
Looking back on my first half-year here, I think the best I can do is say that Cairo makes me feel alive. It's a very real city. With very real people. With very real struggles. With very real joys. All in a constant state of movement: flowing, jolting, and bustling all around and over each other. There is no escape.
Or maybe Cairo makes me feel very real, by having to face all of my insecurities and struggles day in and day out. I showed up with little to no plans and less funds. I had to adapt or die, and by die I mean go home. Really one of those "finding myself" experiences, or whatever bullshit travelers like to call it. But the crazy way I came was worth it, because I have had an experience here that could never be replaced.
Apparently, one way to really see a country is to show up with basically nothing. Then you rely on the people around you to connect you with who you need to be connected with, show you how to live like a local (meaning, not spend the money in your little wallet like a tourist), and make friends that are really friends. Like the friends that you actually spend all your time with.
So. Why Egypt.
Because this is what it's like to live in Egypt, at least in the small window of it that I've seen.
To be in Egypt is to be connected to people. Even though to some level I will always be an outsider here, the people around me have done their best to naturalize me. I have been welcomed into homes, where I eat with the family on a regular basis, see their routine, see their arguments, see their celebrations, see the kids and pets grow.
I have been welcomed into friend circles that are real. Through all of my job changes and commute changes, my friends have provided a constant for me in my routine. We have our spots that we hang out, a simple phone call is all it takes to find out where the gang is. Sometimes that isn't even necessary, you can just show up.
We're a ragtag group of young professionals, recent graduates, and soon-to-be graduates. Mostly Egyptian but some foreigners are deemed cool enough to hang. We just sit at the cafe, smoking shisha and drinking tea as people come and go, bonding over our shared confusion about what to do with our lives. It's really an incredible thing to have people that you see almost on a daily basis, and enjoy seeing on a daily basis. To get out of the house and spend time with people.
To live in Egypt is to find beauty in things that are not necessarily beautiful. Like a microbus ride in the middle of the afternoon, going up the ring road and thinking how beautiful those dusty palm trees are against the hazy blue sky, ignoring the piles of trash in the ditch and instead enjoying the pop Arabic music blaring as you whiz through traffic, past taxis, motorcycles, other buses, trucks with piles of produce and maybe a donkey cart.
To live in Egypt is to stop thinking about how different the little things are and start taking them for granted.
That the women I hang out with in their homes rush to cover their hair before answering the door.
That every pizza is served with ketchup.
That I use my phone by buying credit from a convenience stand.
That I can buy four pounds of strawberries for a dollar.
That the weekend is Friday and Saturday, not Saturday and Sunday.
That nothing starts on time.
That Nescafe (powdered coffee) is not considered coffee. Someone can quit drinking coffee (Turkish coffee) and still drink Nescafe.
That the building of my bar is half as old as my native country.
That the city is up late.
That I never hear the first call to prayer unless I am going to bed past four am.
That there will always be beggars to supply me with tissue or matches for one pound.
That I will never vacuum while I am here, only sweep. And sweep I must.
That I am always arguing with my doorman, because just my existence as a single girl living alone is culturally inappropriate.
This is life. It's only foreign if you think of it that way, and I don't want to, because this is where I live.

I don't know how to tell people that I just have this feeling that I'm supposed to be here. I have a special contentment here that I haven't been able to find anywhere else.
My obsession with Cairo does not make me believe that it is the greatest place in the world, or that everyone should love it as much as I do. No, it only confirms my belief that everyone should chase after the place that most fascinates them and calls to something inside them that they can never put a finger on. It could be Beijing, or Chile, or Ireland, or even the same street you grew up on. It doesn't matter where, just that you embrace the place that makes you crazy in the head to think of leaving it.
So. Egypt.

Queen of Trout: Thoughts of an ex-pageant queen

Exactly five years ago I was crowned Miss Kalkaska 2010. This interesting tidbit about me usually comes as a surprise to people who have recently met me, and can be a fun conversation starter after someone stumbles across random Facebook pictures of me with a crown on my head. It's hard to imagine me strutting across the stage modeling a sun dress to Rihanna's "Please Don't Stop the Music," or doing the grace walk in an evening gown, or even wearing make up, because let's be real, that doesn't happen often.

But yes, I did. I did the pageants, the parades, the festivals, the benefit dinners, the community service, the smiles and the waves, all the obligations of the community's queen and more. I loved it and hated it, and now five years later, my feelings on pageantry are still.... complicated. As with any institution, there are positives and negatives, and I feel that I cannot tell anyone that pageants are more good or bad because everyone needs to decide for themselves and their little princesses. As I said, it's complicated.

Ultimately, the underlying idea of pageants is bad. You're pitting hormonal and emotionally vulnerable girls against each other in a contest over a crown and vanity. I remember the coordinators doing a good job reminding us that in the end, we are all winners and that we should support each other and be confident in ourselves. But there is only so much you can do to convince a bunch of girls to not judge themselves and others when there is so much pride on the line. How can we not judge since the whole point is that we are being judged from even before the moment we step out on the stage in our too-high high heels? How can we not compare when you know you are getting scores and they are getting scores, and your inner-being is being reduced to a number on a scale of one to ten? How can you tell someone that beauty comes from the inside, when the judge just sees the outside masked in smiles, grace, and confidence that could be coming from the most heartless and vicious girl in the pageant? Pageants award acts and masquerades, not true beauty, and you could argue that no one actually wins. And that's coming from someone who won.


The point is, we all know the very concept of pageants is limited in its ability to truly evaluate character and maturity. But that doesn't mean that there are not incredible benefits by putting yourself in this bloodbath and trying to swim for it. There are a lot of qualities I like in myself that I owe to that pageant.

Competing in the pageant and representing my town gave me life skills that I have used in the real world every day since. Because in the real world, it doesn't always matter what you are on the inside. What matters is how you conduct yourself in front of others. Some people call this class. Some people call this being fake. Some people call it professionalism. However you see it, it's a useful tool for navigating real situations with real people, where on the inside you want to tell them off, but on the outside you maintain a level of civility as to not burn bridges that don't need to be burned.

I've learned to be okay with being the center of attention. Maybe that doesn't sound like a good life skill, but it has proved useful. It is kind of bizarre to walk around with a sparkly crown on your head and a full-length gown, it tends to draw some attention. What better way to get over stage fright and practice public speaking then when you feel like you stick out like a sore thumb and everyone's looking at you, because probably everyone is? It's perfect for future presentations. Just don't worry about it, you're already there, you already look funny, so you can either hide or rock it.

When you are a pageant queen, you are put in a lot of situations on the spot that you are not prepared
for. Host this, do this interview, go to this or that event, fund raise for this. You need to be flexible and ready to problem solve (usually among some drama), and the problems always seem to be changing, just like real life. I learned how to handle things as they came and to not show that I was overwhelmed while I figured things out.

I've learned how to deal with disappointment. I lost before I won, and that was hard. But sometimes in life we lose, and you have to keep going. I've learned how to deal with politics. Girls are mean, and at some point you have to choose if you are going to play the game or ignore it, just like we do in our professional and personal adult lives. You sometimes have to work and coordinate with people you don't like, and that's okay, because that will happen for as long as you live. So be gracious about it, it makes it easier.

I've learned how to do interviews. Oh how I've learned to do interviews! You're applying to be a beauty queen, for goodness sake. In order to stand a chance, you have to be just as, if not more, poised than any professional position you will apply for in your career. How you enter the room, how you sit with perfect posture, how you cross your ankles just so, how you smile, how you make eye contact with every judge during each question, how you must reek of confidence that you are the best candidate to represent your town; it must all be perfect and prepares you for those tough interviews down the road.

These are great skills that I am very grateful to have, and I had a lot of fun with my court that summer going around Michigan visiting festivals. They were amazing girls! But I still struggle with myself if the pageant was the right choice for me. It led me to be very competitive in things that are not critical to my happiness, like if I can play piano better than someone can sing or dance, or if I can look better in a dress, or if I can smile more charmingly. Do people like me more than they like someone else? Why is that important? It also made me do things that were just downright stupid for the sake of my own vanity. Like my farewell portrait. I made that thing ridiculously big so it would be bigger than previous queens'. Like really? On the way to the pageant, it had its own seatbelt! Eyeroll aimed at my past self.

But since it is pageant season, and those competing and those who have daughters competing are already knee deep with no way out, I will say this. The important thing is to remind yourself (or your little princess) that no matter what happens, the judges' decision does not have any weight in the value of your life. If you win, it does not validate who you are, because they do not actually know you. If you lose, it does not mean that you are worth anything less than the winner, because they do not actually know you or her. Pageants are useful for many things, finding true beauty is not one of them. Maybe in how you interact with the other girls, maybe in how you handle your defeat or success down the road, but not on the score card. True beauty is not put on a scale of one to ten.




Side note: I really loved being automatically made Trout Queen after my year as Miss Kalkaska for the Trout Festival, because I think it's a really fun title. But, when is Kalkaska going to start nominating a real Trout Queen from the community? If we can nominate an outstanding male community member as Trout King every year, I think we can do the same for the women in our community. It seems kind of lazy and slightly disturbing that we pair a grown man with a girl under the age of twenty as the festival royalty, and don't recognize the amazing women in Kalkaska. So let's get on that.

The Art of Shopping

I've never been a serious shopper. I find it takes too much effort. I have about a good hour at the mall before I become tired, hungry, and inevitably cranky with the whole ordeal. 

So here in Egypt, I am even lazier when it comes to buying things, because there are more things that make it difficult. 

Like haggling. You can buy almost anything you want off of the street, which is convenient. What is not convenient is it most likely will not have a price tag on it, and I usually don't know the going price of the random things I need, like light bulbs. So I have to ask, and try to feel out if the vendor is giving me the real price or a haggling price that I'm supposed to negotiate. It's stressful. I know my Egyptian friends would help me if I asked for a range, but they aren't always around. So sometimes I just procrastinate excessively or go without all together.

For example, I almost didn't buy gloves this winter (yes, it got cold enough for gloves) because I knew how it would go down:

Me: How much is this pair of gloves?

Icecream. Because shopping is hard work.

Vendor: Thirty pounds.

Me: How about fifteen?

Vendor: No, no. I have to take at least twenty-five pounds.

Me: I'll give you twenty.

Vendor: No, that five pounds is my profit. If I sell it to you for twenty, I make nothing.

Me: I'm only giving you twenty.

Vendor: Okay, okay. But only because you are a guest here. Welcome in Egypt.

I would walk away feeling very happy with myself and my cutting edge haggling skills because I got him down from thirty to twenty, only to find out later that the gloves only cost seven pounds. Ugh. Welcome in Egypt indeed.

The other inconvenience is I didn't know my size. I tried to buy pants, and the salesman asked me if I was a 32 or a 34, and I was like.... an 8? That doesn't make sense. So I had to discover that out by trial and error. Apparently if I was an 8 in European sizes, I'd be dead. So 32 it is.

Same thing for shoes. My friend Morgane and I went shoe shopping, and I realized it was my first time since leaving America because I still only knew my American size! I was literally measuring my foot against Morgane's to try to get an idea before I asked to try on any pairs. 

The very convenient thing about this experience is that all the shoe stores were right next to each other. I have found that to be a common theme here in Cairo. Shops congregate towards similar shops. I suppose it gets them more traffic if people can come to one location to find a certain item. One time I stumbled upon a street that exclusively sold lamps for two blocks. So Morgane and I went into around twenty shoe stores on the same street. Go into one, look around, walk out the door, go into the next door, repeat. It was very efficient, my kind of shopping. It was also very productive, we both got new shoes, and in case you were wondering, my shoe size is apparently 37.

Favorite Shopping Moment:

Morgane eventually switched to looking at handbags, since every shoe store also sold handbags. Commenting on the "Made in China" tag hanging off of one, she said: "When I was in China, I didn't feel bad about buying things made in China, because they were local."

8 things I learned when I shaved my head

Most people in my life remember me as the redheaded girl with really long hair. That makes sense, because for twenty-three years I was that girl. Please see exhibit A.

Exhibit A

People who have met me within the past year have a hard time finding me in this picture. Pro tip, I'm the redhead.

The non-redheads are my gorgeous sisters.

People ask, awww Liza! Why did you cut your hair? Answer, because those above pictures took a lot of effort, and I didn't usually look like that. Oftentimes, my hair looked like this.

It required a lot of maintenance to not look like a crazy person.

Then one day I got tired of it. We could say lazy here, but I prefer the term "efficient." Basically, I saw another girl with a shaved head and hip glasses like mine and I thought it was a pretty sharp look (is that how trends start?), and a really good way to save time every day. My brother Greg told me not to do it, I would look like an angry feminist. That's okay, sometimes I am a little anyway so I decided I could live with that. That same week I walked into a hair salon on Grand River, and walked out a completely different person.

I would be lying if I said I regretted my decision, I don't. I learned so much. And you can never replace the initial shocked reaction of everyone I knew when they saw it. How many times can you text your best friend, "hey, I just shaved off all my hair"? Not many, is the answer you were looking for.

The things I learned:

1. I have a really round head

The most nervous thought going through my mind in the salon chair, looking in the mirror with the black salon cape wrapped around me, was that I might have a funny-shaped head. It was a serious risk that you can't know until it's too late to go back. It would be much harder to justify this decision if I had a bumpy head. But I got lucky, and many compliments on the beautiful shape of my skull.


2. It's really cold with no hair
A note of advice to anyone considering shaving their head: don't do it in winter. I had no idea how much of an insulator hair was until I didn't have any in Michigan's February. Hats and scarves became my best friend, even indoors.


3. The convenience is unparalleled
If nothing else, I always credit my good grades during my last semester to being bald. This is because I saved so much time in brushing, washing, drying, and styling every day. The hair part of my daily routine literally vanished. I simply couldn't have a bad hair day. Maybe I never had a good hair day, but at least I couldn't have a bad hair day. Imagine girls, that all you have to do to your hair every day is wash it with a dime sized drop of shampoo and run a towel over it, mostly out of habit because it dries almost instantly on its own. Done. But like, actually done. And working out without that obnoxious ponytail in the way is incredible. The feeling of freedom while running, that alone was worth it. Sometimes I just want boys to shut up about how beautiful long hair is, because they really got the better end of the deal with this social norm in terms of convenience and efficiency.


4. What you look like can really affect your perception of how others perceive you
When I chose to shave my head for apparently no reason at all, I know people questioned my sexual orientation. This didn't bother me in an offensive way. I don't think placing a sexual orientation on someone should ever be an insult, and was not offended if someone thought I liked girls. But I still found myself self-conscious that maybe girls would think I was hitting on them when I wasn't, or that boys would think I wasn't interested when I was. There was just no getting around that my lack of hair was the most notable physical attribute of my body, I know people noticed. So I would add strange comments into conversations that I didn't need to, like "so that really hot guy in my class today..." or "oh yeah, my last boyfriend used to say that too." This was simply to give signals that I probably didn't need to give, based off of what I thought people thought of me. While harmless (and somewhat humorous) in my case, as I chose to shave my head and wasn't generally bothered by any stereotypes people might place on me, it made me think about how deep a role physical appearances play in how we interact with each other.
For example, I wondered what kind of behavior black men do to try to signal that they are not scary thugs to people they meet on the street. And then I got angry that they should even have to try to show that, because our society shouldn't assume that information before getting to know someone, just based off of a physical characteristic that they didn't choose. Or what do cops do to show that they are just normal people with normal lives, whose job happens to be a commitment to public service. Or what do Arabs living in the states do to not be labeled as a terrorist. When there is such a strong stereotype placed on a specific characteristic, anyone carrying that characteristic cannot escape it. It can affects their lives, thoughts, and actions, even if they do not match the stereotype at all, simply because they think people might be stereotyping them.
Humans are visual, so while we say we shouldn't judge a book by its cover, we all do to some extent. This experience definitely made me realize how much it can affect people's mentality when they are on the receiving end.


5. The good people in your life really love you for who you are, not what you look like
I know it's a common mantra that we push in society that beauty comes from within, it's what's on the inside, not the outside that counts, etc. But honestly, in our beauty-based society it is really hard to make yourself believe that all the time. But after I shaved my head, I found I didn't lose any friends. And if I did, they must not have been that good of friends anyway, because I didn't notice. My family didn't disown me, maybe they didn't like it but I was still invited to Easter. I didn't lose my job, I didn't get kicked out of yoga class, I still led song service at church. I was my own living proof that looks didn't matter, my life went on. That was a really good lesson for me to learn. There were some times that I looked really funny. The bowling pin stage. The Chia pet stage. The hedgehog stage. The Justin Bieber stage. The second Justin Bieber stage. The pixie-cut-that-was-too-short-to-really-be-a-pixie-cut-stage. I went through all of them, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I looked in the mirror and wasn't crazy about what I saw, I had to toughen up, deal with it, and still go outside, because hair doesn't grow back in a day. It's really important to remember that the important people in your life will still love you, and it's really important to remember to love yourself, because looks are not that big of a deal.


6. Moms do not appreciate you using their words against them
My mother was less than pleased with my radical decision, and wasn't afraid to tell me so. I tried to reason with her, reminding her how she always used to threaten to shave my hair off if I didn't brush it. "Mom," I said, "I didn't want to brush it anymore. I'm just being responsible." She didn't think it was funny. Now I think she is happier that my hair is long enough to be "in my face," something else she used to always scold me about, because that at least means I have hair. But I know she still loved me, and hair does grow back. It's not like I got something permanent like a tattoo, at least not yet.


7. Graduation caps, and other hats, fit way better
Maybe the other girls crossing the stage had thick, bouncing curls under their graduation caps, but they also had a head full of bobby pins trying to make that "one-size-fits-all" monster stay off the floor, or at least on straight. Win for the baldie.


8. Hair grows back, but at its own pace
Overall, I am really glad I took the leap; it was a nice twist to my roaring twenties. Yes, there are times when I wish it would hurry up and grow. But it doesn't work like that, and it's fun (and sometimes awkward) seeing all the different stages. Like the most recent "Velmster" stage, as I like to call it. At least the Justin Bieber stage is over.