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."