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.