Fear

After a long hiatus, I'm back at the blog.

Last June, I returned to Egypt from Turkey. I was burned out from my job in Istanbul. I had no time to make friends or enjoy the city that people told me was awesome. I was generally unhappy. I missed my crew in Cairo, missed the sense of community and the way of life. Things are more difficult there, but at the same time more real.

After six months in Sisi's Egypt, I left and returned to Istanbul. I had been there for his takeover, but this time it was stifling. The cult of personality, the hostility toward those who did not accept the official narrative without question, became too much. People began to joke about being disappeared, informed upon, detained--jokes that are only actually funny when there's a chance it may happen. One day, traffic was stopped for a VIP on a major street in the middle of rush hour. The driver I was with started irately honking--the cabbie next to us half-jokingly told us to stop or we would all be detained. Friends would post things on facebook with the disclaimer "Don't inform on me" (haha).

One night I was out to dinner with friends and we started talking about politics. I told them to hush, to speak quietly. They thought I was being paranoid. We went home and read about how that day, journalists were arrested in a cafe downtown for the same crime. And don't even get me started about journalists. Journalists who do not have international attention--Al Jazeera guys--are left in prisons, forgotten, held indefinitely without charges and without any venue to justice. By virtue of being "only" Egyptian, of having the wrong passport. Of working in their own country.

I wasn't the only one who left. My Egyptian friends began to leave in droves--for masters, for jobs, for anything. Those who stayed largely disengaged from politics. It's the only way to stay sane, one former activist told me.

On the fourth anniversary of January 25, I came home from dinner with my friends, opened Facebook and Twitter, read about a peaceful protester getting killed by bird shot. Social media circulated a photo of her, blood coming out her back and mouth, a shocked expression, with a friend frantically grasping her waist. Later, we learn the police attempted to accuse one of her party members with her murder. Then the Muslim Brotherhood. Police refused to call for help for the shot woman, and also arrested those who tried to help her. They dragged the men away, left her dying, slumped on a plastic chair in the middle of downtown Cairo.

Now, her party members have been slammed with charges of participating in an unregistered protest, with up to six years in jail. This, as the likes of the Mubaraks and Habib al-Adly walk free.

I finished a bottle of wine by myself that night. Her death was the nail in the revolution's coffin.

It of course didn't end with me leaving. Ahmed Samih, the director of the Andalus Institute for Tolerance and Anti-Violence Studies, a leading human rights activist, was detained following a raid on his office. He is also the head of Radio Horytna and, incidentally, my first employer in Cairo. His case is just one of many in an attempt to stifle civil society. Radio Horytna is a nonpartisan, unaffiliated online news portal. Because Egyptian news is controlled by the government and total shit.

Egypt had become like that--an endless cycle of lost hope, repression, jumpiness. I would open the news and get angry every day. I would drive to my house from the gym--maybe 15 minutes--and get stuck in multiple checkpoints. When I was with Egyptian males, they would get pulled over and harassed by the police. The police were making the point--we are back, and we are back with a vengeance. Their presence was ostensibly about protecting the people, but in reality their presence is keeping the people down. I see that here in Istanbul too-tens of heavily armed police standing in the middle of Istiklal, a pedestrian shopping street, with their hands on their automatic weapons, riot gear in hand. Who are you protecting? Who are you serving? The people you are only too antsy to shoot?

Turkey recently passed a law allowing security forces to use live fire against protesters with firecrackers or anything like that. In the middle of the afternoon on Istiklal, surrounded by shoppers, tourists, and random passers by, I've been in the vicinity of a protest that erupted and firecrackers start going off. What is to happen then? Judging by the police's use of tear gas and water cannons (indiscriminate), I--and many others--are less than comfortable.

There are also reports Turkey just banned Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. It's a losing battle, my friend. The information is out and people will always find a way to access it. You will just be chasing your own tail.

But when it comes down to it, who are these governments afraid of? What do they fear? Is it the very people they serve?

NOTE: I write this with recognition of the limitations and acts of violence of the police in my own country. I am writing about MY experience. I don't live in the US so don't accuse me of ignoring brutality elsewhere. 

A cop on every corner

The morning after the removal of Morsi from power, I was astounded to walk down from my flat and see a white-uniformed police officer. After about a year and a half in Egypt, I could not recall seeing one before. As I walked to the gym, I was taken aback by how many there were now—not just one but a handful. Also some APCs, but that was a different issue. Citizens were going up to the officers, shaking their hands, thanking them for their service, and celebrating the ousting of the erstwhile president.

Today, over a year later, the police are still on the street. In recent months, there has been an uptick in checkpoints in and around Cairo. From my house to a location about twenty minutes away, I was stopped at two checkpoints. These checkpoints are often in the middle of busy streets, in the middle of rush hour. Traffic, already jammed, stops. What are they checking for? Ostensibly, terrorists. Since Morsi was removed from office, Egypt has experienced a wave of bombings and armed attacks, mostly aimed against members of the uniformed services. But there’s a sense of unease whenever I have approached a checkpoint, whether I am with a foreigner or an Egyptian.

On the ground, it feels like these checkpoints are aimed at you. You drive up and you get scared. What do I have on my phone? What do I have in my purse? It’s a similar feeling whenever I go through any kind of airport security here. One guy a few months ago was arrested for possessing a drone—a motorized helicopter toy for his kid. There are many stories like this, and after hearing them over and over, you realize it only takes one guy who decides your two laptops mean you’re a spy and ma’salama, hope you enjoy Egyptian prison.

When I first arrived in the early summer of 2011, I was at a grocery store and a policeman tried to cut in line. All the people behind him said absolutely not, you go back in line. He did. Hard to think that would happen now. Because the checkpoints are a show of force, a sign that we’re back to business as usual.

A few months ago, there was a break in in one of the apartments in my building. The victim of the theft, a diplomat at the Russian Embassy, hired plainclothes police to find out what happened (because, of course, regular police can’t do it). For days, random men sat in the lobby. One day, some random guy came up to me and asked who I was, what I was doing here, am I registered to be here, and wanted to see my passport. Random Egyptian man with no uniform—absolutely not. I asked to see his badge, which he did not show to me. He told me he was police only. He followed me into the elevator and rode with me to my apartment. He kept on asking these questions—and only of me, not of my fellow elevator passenger, an Egyptian. Not wanting to get my roommates involved, I gave him a photocopy of the passport when we got to my door, hoping that would be enough. Twenty minutes later, he and four other large, plainclothes men came to my apartment and rang the doorbell. Absolutely did not answer it—never would I answer the door with five strange men standing outside. But they stayed for a long time, kept on knocking on the door. It was threatening, and in no way would it ever be acceptable for five strange Egyptian men to go into a girl’s apartment. My roommate said they were just doing it to scare me—and it damned well did. I messaged my journalist friend who I was supposed to meet for dinner that if I don’t show up, he should write a story about how these guys were sitting outside my apartment. Only half-joking.

During the Mubarak days, these checkpoints were rampant throughout Cairo. Police would detain random people, torture them, and get them to admit to unsolved crimes. Or just detain them, disappear them for no reason whatsoever. And slowly, that feeling of invincibility of the uniformed services is coming back.

All of this is taking place during a time where press freedom is nonexistent. Local newspaper editors agreed a few days ago to not publish anything critical of the government—we are in a war against terror, after all. All NGOs will have to register with the government under a new law that critics say will infringe on the organizations’ independence, give the government undue sway over what they do. To be honest, democracy and human rights NGOs will be nonexistent or token in Egypt in about a week. Bassem Youssef and other lesser-know open-minded media folks, such as Yousry Fouda, have resigned, silenced by pressure from the government. Egypt’s human rights practices are under fire in the UN, and local human rights NGOs refuse to cooperate with the international organization, saying the pressure and threats they have received from the government is too great. Because what is a better way to convince the world “Egypt is open for business,” Egypt is “moving forward,” Egypt respects human rights than to threaten human rights activists. They talk about—and most likely do—monitor social media, the Internet. To actually see these changes taking place, to feel the fist of the state clamp down on the press, on activists, on any form of dissent or even opinions, is suffocating. 

The government announced plans to create civilian, neighborhood watch-type organizations with the power to detain. They ask people to inform. My friend today posted a story mildly critical of the government, and I commented, “You only say that because you hate Egypt.” He responded, “Don’t report me to the police.” Haha, funny joke.

Prayer of Fear

Prayer of fear by Mahmoud Ezzat via Mosireen.

Giving voice to those that support neither the military or the MB.

"The battle is murky...

...We stood like corpses, watching the massacre, the blood on our chests.
Are we winning, or in line for slaughter?
Is the question shameful, or is silence worse?
Should we scavenge the spoils, or count the corpses?
Did we open the way, or is the path destroyed?
Did the matryrs find justice, or do they weep in pain?...

...Can oppression be a gate to justice?...

...Whoever refuses to cheer divides us. A traitor, breaking rank, out of place."

Update from Egypt

I have been asked for an update on the news in Egypt. I am honestly hesitant to say anything anymore. Each time I write something, I get attacked for my point of view. Even when I'm not expressing my point of view, but rather recounting events, I am criticized. I'm not sufficiently pro-military in this us-versus-them environment. I'm not ikhwani, I'm not Al-Jazeera, but I've been called such by more than one person over the last few weeks.

On a personal level, what's going on makes me sad. I'm losing friends. I have Egyptian friends whose political points of view--they're all moderates--are vilified by friends and family. I'm disheartened  that I feel like I can no longer say I am uncomfortable with the killing of over a thousand people (some were armed, but many weren't), or the indiscriminate use of force, or arrests without charges, or military arrests of civilians, or crap charges against politically moderate or anti-military people (I guess I actually did say it. My apologies to everyone in Egypt who I just offended). Many are supportive of this because the actions are targeted against the Muslim Brotherhood and its supporters, whose opponents see as posing a threat to not only the Egyptian identity, state, and individuals.  My concern is that eventually the powers that be will turn on you too. SCAF was not exactly the protector of the rights of Egyptians.

Just to summarize, on August 14 the Egyptian security forces cracked down on Muslim Brotherhood sit-ins in Rabaa Adaweya and Midan Nahda. In the days that followed, over a thousand people were killed. The MB kept on having marches after the dispersal, during one of which there were reports gunmen shot automatic weapons across the 15 May Bridge, traversing the Zamalek enclave. There was a video that went around showing MB supporters pulling police officers out of their tanks and beating the crap out of them. The stories my journo friends told me about the scenes following the crackdown--I can't even recount them.

For awhile civilians went down to "augment" the security forces in fighting back against the MB. Any semblance of an independent media outlet here is shot. In one day, 36 prisoners were died from tear gas inhalation. They were apparently kept inside a military vehicle during the (incredibly hot in August) day and began pounding on the sides demanding air. Security folks shot tear gas into the enclosed space to quell the uprising. Later that night, 25 military recruits were executed point-blank coming back from leave in the Sinai. Churches left unprotected by security forces were burned by angry MB supporters. The military imposed a curfew from 7pm--ridiculously early--until 6am, which was later pushed back to 9pm and now 11pm as people stopped paying heed.

"Non-compliant" media is under attack--literally. The lead correspondent for the Wall Street Journal was attacked at a standoff outside a mosque by anti-Morsi folks; he had to seek protection inside a military vehicle.  A journalist for the official flagship newspaper, Al-Ahram, was shot dead at a checkpoint after curfew--despite the fact journalists are exempt from curfew. The military said he did not stop at the checkpoint, but his passenger said he was making a u-turn when killed. His passenger, also a journalist at Ahram, was detained after countering the official accounting of events. There were a few other journalists who were killed during the crackdown. Al Jazeera offices were raided and its journalists detained (Al Jazeera, affiliated or controlled or something by the Qatari government, is incredibly unpopular here for Qatari support of the MB and unbalanced coverage).

Liberal politicians and activists were charged with espionage (April 6 founder Ahmed Maher) and "betrayal of trust" (against Mohamed ElBaradei, Western darling and liberal politician). Yesterday there were reports of a dismantled bomb at a train station in Egypt's second city, Alexandria, and today a homemade grenade was thrown at a Cairo police station.

In general, things are relatively calm now. The MB have been unable to marshal much support. There are sporadic gunfights but life is slowly getting back to normal--normalish. People are depressed and many who can are leaving. And while things are calm, there will be serious ramifications for a long, long time. Hopefully masr will come out of this better than not only a few months ago, but better than three years ago. 

The not-coup coup

Yesterday was zero hour. The military had given the president 48 hours to fix, I'm not sure what to fix but basically everything, or they would introduce a "road map" to move the country forward. People gathered around 4:30pm to watch the expected military announcement. In true Egyptian form, the announcement was late. I went over to a friends house to watch the coverage. Walking over there, the streets were deserted. It was creepy.

Despite the official silence, slowly snippets of information leaked. The president had been told at 7pm he was no longer president. He and senior ikhwanis were placed under house arrest. The military moved its APCs, tanks, and personnel around major gathering sites on both sides and secured important  places.

Late at night, the head of the military, General Sisi, came on TV and announced what we all knew. The president had been removed from office, the head of the constitutional court would succeed him, liberal darling Mohamed El Baradei would be the country's prime minister, and the constitution--much maligned by the liberals and opposition--had been suspended.

Much of Cairo erupted in cheers. People ran around the city, honking horns, bleeping those damn vuvuzelas, shouting, "Masr!" and celebrating the power of successful political organizing and people power to realize change. 

Misr 25, the Ikhwan's TV station, and other Islamist-affiliated stations went black. Al Jazeera's offices in Cairo were raided. Understandably, the mood in the pro-Morsi rallies was reported to be despondent. 

When I woke up this morning, life returned largely to normal. There are still a lot of flags around, still a lot of honking--celebratory, not the normal Cairo honking. I met up with friends for lunch and am making plans for a pool day tomorrow. Here at the restaurant, people are talking about normal things. Twitter and Facebook may be alight with politics, but people are happy and want to enjoy themselves.

The police, absent for months, are now back in the streets. It's a miracle. 

There are a few signs, though, that we are living in a post-not coup coup. I walked by APCs en route to the gym. There are a lot of them on some of the bridges around here. Helicopters continue to fly overhead. 

Many Americans are leaving this weekend, partly because of summer vacation--foreigners flee during Ramadan and the summer months--and partly because of the situation here. I don't quite understand leaving now, though. Leaving before the removal of the president makes more sense. There is the possibility of the ikhwan lashing out.  If they are pushed underground, they will lash out violently. That threat will never go away, but foreigners and Egyptians alike cannot leave Egypt forever. These kind of threats are everywhere, in the US, in Europe--unfortunately today no one can escape them.

People are really pissed at America. Their anger deserves a blog posting on it's own, but I got into a fight with someone on Facebook who threatened Obama. Disagree with his policies, I don't care. But if you threaten my president I will kill you. 

Mass panic

On Sunday, Egypt's opposition movements are planning on holding major demonstrations against the Muslim Brotherhood-led government. An activist movement, Tamarod, Arabic for "rebellion," claims to have collected 15 million signatures demanding Morsi step down. The expected major demonstrations have been prefaced by a sort of mass panic. People here see 30 June, the date of the demonstrations and the year anniversary of Morsi's ascendance to power, as the last hope to save Egypt. The ruling party and its allies have done little to quell fears of violence, saying in one breath it would be open to negotiations and in another calling the opposition "kufirs," or "disbelievers," and vowing to meet violence with violence.

Perhaps more worrying, the opposition itself seems to be bent on violence. Without massive violence, they rightly surmise, there will be no political change. Only with massive violence will the army be forced to step in and take out the Morsi government--this, to many, is the optimal result.

I had a conversation today where I was asked if I was optimistic about 30 June. What does it mean to be optimistic, I asked. Would I be optimistic to hope for little violence--which would mean Egypt's politics stay the same--or optimistic to hope for violence and an overthrow of the government.

I, for the most part, expect a repeat of the clashes in December after Morsi's power-grabbing presidential decree. I honestly cannot picture Egypt descending into chaos--I use this as a relative term, of course. Many think it's already chaotic, although I think it's at an uneasy balanced point. Everything is constantly in flux, and yet nothing ever changes. It'll be ungodly hot, the opposition is divided, and thus far the Muslim Brotherhood says it will not go down on 30 June. They have so far allowed these protests to go on and let them die out--perhaps the smartest course of action in terms of international attention. The Muslim Brotherhood can point to the demonstrations and say there is increased freedoms, and the demonstrations eventual peter out.

Whatever happens, there is only a week for the change as Ramadan soon starts. No one will go down when they're hungry, tired, and hot (which I, selfishly, am thankful for, as my mom is scheduled to be in town).

But there are many expecting mass violence, blood in the streets. It's an existential crisis on both sides. The opposition sees the Morsi government and the Muslim Brotherhood in general as just as bad, probably worse, than Mubarak. They are utilizing religion to steal power, and the opposition wants nothing less than to overthrow the government.

The Muslim Brotherhood, however, is unlikely to give up power, as they too rightly surmise that negotiating, that stepping down would mean prison in the best case, death in the worst. Last month, a senior Muslim Brotherhood member's son was beaten to death in a small town in the Sharquia governate. The murder was in retribution for the son's alleged shooting of an opposition activist over a Facebook post critical about his father. Opposition also openly call for the assassination of the president and killing of his supporters, neither of which are conducive to negotiations.

All anyone here can talk about is what they think will happen. Most people expect massive violence. Our office is closed on 30 June and people are being told to stock up on food, water, and money with the expectation of empty ATMs. There are huge queues at the petrol station, caused partly by a disel and gas shortage, partly because people are panicking and trying to get as much gas as they can. My boss, worried about a crazy young female foreigner, is trying to get me to leave town.

Anger is boiling at the United States, which is perceived to have stood behind the Morsi government. On the one hand people say the United States has not come out forcefully enough for its values and against the government, and on the other hand say the United States has been too supportive of the Muslim Brotherhood and unwilling to stand up for its values and beliefs. In other words, the United States is at once perceived as doing too little and too much meddling. I am up to my eyeballs in anti-US sentiment, although I am yet to give up on trying to explain the United States' complicated stance.

People have said this all before, however, and nothing has come of the demonstrations. People have gone down, said their spiel, and gone home. Demonstrations were followed by isolated clashes at night, but life went on semi-normally. 

No camels, no green card

Walking through the streets of Cairo, especially in the more touristy areas, foreign girls are often propositioned--jokingly--for marriage in exchange for camels.  "How many camels?" the shopkeeper in Khan el-Khalili, the largest touristy souq in Cairo, will often call out with a laugh. It's funny, I laugh, shake my head and keep walking. They're not serious, they just want to get your attention and business.

I'm worth 8 of these animals. Apparently 15 if I was obedient.

This isn't a phenomena limited to Egypt. I've had the same thing happen in Morocco, in Jordan, in Lebanon, probably every Arab country to which I have traveled. They know foreigners have certain stereotypes of Arabs and are happy to play on it for a joke.

My landlord came by my flat the other day because a mohandis was to come over to fix my AC--which has been broken for over a week. Unfortunately, the mohandis' phone was closed so I had to sit in my hot living room with the landlord for an hour, entertaining him and making small talk.

The conversation took a bit of an interesting turn when he proposed, in all seriousness, that I marry is brother. Or son. I'm really unclear which. The man he would like for me to marry is apparently 35, living in Lebanon, and working as an accountant for the Saudi king. For me that's all kind of gross. Saudis. This man does not want to marry an Egyptian woman. They're apparently lazy and don't like to clean.

If I married this man, he wouldn't just give me a room, but an entire flat. I'd be set in Cairo, khalas. But wait, I thought. Didn't my husband-to-be live in Lebanon? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of marriage, living in different countries?

Could he have a photo of me to show is brother/son? He would give me a photo of the dude in return. He couldn't wait to call whoever this guy is and tell him he found a perfect woman for him in Cairo.

My landlord was incredibly sneaky about the whole thing. There was this entire lead-up to the arranged marriage and I didn't even realize what he was doing until it was too late. I was stuck. I had no idea how to nicely extricate myself from the situation, especially since he was a guest in my house and I couldn't think of a way to kick him out nicely.

One of my friends later asked why I didn't take my landlord up on the offer. There were no camels offered, I responded. My mom would never agree to such an arrangement without proper payment.

"No camels, no green card!"

I need a vacation

I would say I think I need a vacation, but I most definitely need a vacation. Most days I think about the fact I found a real, paying job in Egypt; made my dream happen; work out on a gym on the Nile; have awesome friends and family around the world; etc, etc, etc and think man, this is all baller. 

Most Egyptians are aghast when I tell them I love it here. "Why?!" they ask incredulously. The people, the food, the energy, the vibe, the lifestyle.  If I wanted an easy, fake life, I would have stayed in DC. 

But lately I've been getting easily frustrated. Frustrated with so many things, but for the sake of this post I'll focus on the purely Egyptian things that make me angry.

Egypt's political scene has devolved into an endless series of pointless protests and statements. The institutional opposition, the National Salvation Front, is led by three out-of-touch failures of politicians. Every time they are mentioned in the news I wish they would go back to their golf courses in 6 October and cushy overseas jobs and disappear from the Egyptian political scene. The opposition on the street is just as bad. All they do is sit and protest. Literally, every weekend they call for protests. How has that worked out every weekend for the past two years? You have no alternatives to the current system yet? They have nothing tangible to offer the Egyptian voters, and worse yet don't seem to care. They are content in Tahrir and on Twitter and on CNN wallowing in their sorrow and smugness. Parliamentary elections are coming up in April-June and all they're doing is bitching. They don't deserve to win elections. I hate them all.

You have all heard horror stories about the sexual harassment here. I would be lying if I said it wasn't a problem. I'm getting frustrated with these fuckers calling out and making noises when I walk on the street. I never supported corporal punishment until I came here. It is usually pretty easy to ignore them. In fact, one of my friends came up to me on the street going, "Psst! Hey!" for about 5 minutes and I barely noticed. He thought I was mad or something, I just honestly tune that stuff out.

But I lost my temper with one of these guys and he nearly broke my finger, to make a long story short.

A huge disclaimer: for every dbag who hollers, 20 walk by me without even a glance. 

And the sexual harassment and discrimination is not only limited to the shabaab on the street. 

Don't even get me started with the wine. What I would do for wine that is honestly delicious. French, Virginian, Californian, Lebanese, I don't care. I don't want to drink Egyptian wine anymore!

I also want to go to a restaurant and drink a cocktail because it tastes like heaven. Mafeesh cocktails that taste like heaven in Cairo.

I hate that this post is so negative, but I don't want to give the perception that everything here is easy. And I don't want to only document the good. I just want to get out for a weekend so I can come back rested, level-headed, ready to rock, and able to appreciate the people and aspects of life here I love so much. 

My brain hurts

Overload.

I'm sitting here trying to explain what's going on, but there's no way to encapsulate everything that has happened over the past day and a half.  There are so many moving parts, so many groups, so many nuances, and I don't want to rush to conclusions. My brain hurts from information overload and I don't feel like I can put coherent sentences together. But I'll try.

The political situation here remains very fluid. Last night there were clashes outside the presidential palace, located in a suburban area called Heliopolis. Two nights ago thousands of Egyptians protests outside the presidential palace, in Tahrir, and cities across the country. These protests were largely peaceful.  Last night, what appears to be pro-Ikhwanis attacked the anti-Morsi protesters. Incredible clashes ensued, four people died and around 450 people were injured. There were reports of birdshot, rifles, bludgeoning, crazy stuff. I'm a little mentally exhausted right now, but it was bad. Tanks have been deployed and the military is saying they will enforce a 3pm (30 minutes ago) curfew. I believe people are still on the streets.

Outside the Presidential Palace

I've been let out of work early the last two Tuesdays because of massive protests.

Things are incredibly inflamed right now. There is so much anger on Facebook and Twitter and just in general.

On a separate but somewhat related note, I have to be honest, I'm getting really sick of the anti-American sentiment in Egypt's upper class right now. It's worse than anything I experienced in the Bush years.  My roommate took a photo of this sign, which has also been circulating on twitter, saying, "Obama, your bitch is our dictator."

Every day I'm bitched at because Obama is supporting a dictator, because the US isn't demanding the Egyptian regime codify human/women's/etc rights, because the Western press is not covering whats going on, or not covering it correctly.  I just sit there as people scream at me. When I try to interject, try to give my perspective or what I believe is that of my governments, they just get even more angry that I'm not seeing things from their perspective. It's not a debate, it's not a conversation, they're not listening to me. To them, it's even more evidence that I am/the USG is an Ikhwan supporter. I have people getting pissed off about the coverage on the Huffington Post. THE HUFFINGTON POST! It's not even real news! There is so much shit for Egyptians to be pissed at, why be pissed at some douchebag sitting in his mom's basement in rural Idaho opining

More updates to come. 

He yelled at me.

As you may know, I sometimes work out in the ladies' gym at Gold's.  The greasy, skeezy guys in the main gym are just sometimes too much to handle.  I feel so uncomfortable upstairs most of the time.

Yesterday I was leaving after a workout in the ladies' room and my friend who works there saw me leaving. He's the nicest, most respectful person at the gym. He asked me if I had already worked out, and if I worked out downstairs. I told him yes, and when asked why, I explained it was because of the boys upstairs, how they're just too much sometimes, how I feel uncomfortable.

He got so pissed--maybe a bit annoyed with me, but mostly pissed at them. He said "f*ck them," that I shouldn't let them push me around. Something about me kicking them in the face, too.

It is a little easier said than done, but I was thankful for his reaction and the obvious disgust on his face when talking about the guys who make me so uncomfortable.  Will I continue working out in the ladies' gym? I think there will be days when I succumb to the sanctity of the testosterone-free bubble, but hopefully knowing he will be super annoyed at me for being a wuss will motivate me to get upstairs and work out when I want, how I want. 

Please, eat my cookie

Living outside the United States changes me.  Before I moved to Bologna, I was a workaholic.  Long hours on the Hill wore me out. I never wanted to go out--especially on a school night.  Getting me to go to happy hour, especially one a little far away, was difficult. Even on the weekends I wanted to be home by 1am.  I was just so tired.

Then I moved to Italy for a year. Yes, Italy is incredibly inefficient. I'm really not sure why the Bolognese did not clean up their dogs' poop. And is it really necessary to have a national holiday every other Monday? Everything was closed Sunday anyway. I just want to go to the damn grocery store and it's never open.

But yet, Italy taught me to take a step back and enjoy life. Life is about the people you're with, what you experience. It's not about the job. Yes, you should be happy with what you do. But, for the first time, I was in an environment where you are not defined by your job, as is the case with DC. Italy was about the people I was with, the opportunity to travel, trying new things. 

I've been in Egypt less than two months, and I already see I have changed.  I have seen countless Egyptian dawns--not because I woke up early (in DC, I would wake up at 5am to beat the traffic) but because I was up all night. Sometimes on a school night. And not tired the next day.  In fact, after staying up all night I'm still ready to go, enjoy what the next day holds.  I try to eat healthy, but when you're hanging out with a bunch of guys, you learn to be adaptable. I actually ate I think Little Ceasar's last weekend. I haven't eaten that--or Dominos or Pizza Hut--in years.  

I have never really liked sharing food. I joke it's because I only went to two months of first grade--they taught sharing in the months I skipped.  There have been a couple of times I either grudgingly or didn't want to share, much to the surprise of my friends. This weekend, I went out for burgers and got a cookie. My friend sat down next to me, looked at the cookie, asked if it was ours (he asked if it was "ours," not "mine," which in hindsight is telling), and ate it. At first I was shocked--shocked!--that someone ate my cookie. That really doesn't happen in the US.

And then I realized I was being ridiculous. I'm actually embarrassed that I, for such a long time, was not used to sharing my food. I didn't really want to write about it because I was so ashamed. Especially since this guy in particular has been nothing but welcoming, sharing, and all-around awesome. But, hey, I'm growing and part of this blog is sharing the good, bad, and ugly about both my experiences and myself.

The difference was further highlighted a few nights later when I went out to dinner with some American friends.  A few of them were working out the bill down to the last half pound (Egyptian pound is the currency here), completely unwilling to pay more.  But my Egyptian friends--okay, it sucks if you pay more than what you ate, but when you eat out with friends, it is what it is. You're with your friends, having a good time. It's not about fighting for every last pound. 

Now, my friend who ate my cookie and will probably read this and laugh (I hope), I am more than happy to share. 

Confession: Sometimes I work out in the ladies' gym

A few days after I arrived I joined the Gold's Gym here. It's a really nice gym, comparable to what you would find in the States. I love it. I love the gym! Running is fun. Wahoo!

My gym!

Inside Golds are two gyms--the mixed gym is an entire floor, with cardio and weights. There's also a tiny women's gym inside the changing room, with two treadmills, three ellipticals, two bikes (I think) and some weight machines smushed inside.

Despite the ladies' gym being subpar, there are times I find myself working out in there. It honestly just gets too much upstairs. Some of the guys are nice, but some are just leery. There are some super beefy guys with muscles so huge there is no way they came from Allah.  I've caught guys flexing their pecs back and forth and checking out their own abs. And they just stare.

Makes me feel gross and dirty. And that's before I break a sweat.

So I retreat to the safety of the ladies gym.

 I feel like I should be like, screw them. I'm going to work out when I want and where I want. But... but...

What does this mean? I'm not entirely sure. But whatever it means, it makes me feel sad inside.

We read Arabic, motherf***er: Protests in Cairo

That's right. Americans can read Arabic, too.

The US Embassy here and the Muslim Brotherhood got in a Twitter-spat when the Ikhwan posted on their English-language Twitter feed they were thankful no embassy employees were injured during protests in front of the embassy in which protesters scaled the embassy walls, tore down a US flag, and replaced it with a black Islamic flag. This, despite the fact their Arabic-language feed wrote, "Egyptians  revolt for the Prophet's victory in front of the US embassy."

Protests have erupted across the Middle East and spread to many countries around the world, including Indonesia, India over an anti-Islam movie that insults the Prophet. In Libya, armed militants attacked the consulate in Benghazi and killed US ambassador to Libya Chris Stevens and three other embassy employees.

The US embassy pointedly highlighted the discrepancy in the feeds on its own handle.

When I saw this I was furious. I spent the last few months trying to persuade my Egyptian friends to give the MB a chance. And now this--they're just playing with fire. Feeding the frenzy.

While no US embassy employees were killed during the protests this week, I think what's going on in Egypt is a bigger problem than what happened in Libya. In Libya, initial investigations seem to show the protests were commandeered by militants armed with RPGs and SAMs. Unfortunately, this is something the US knows how to deal with. The Libyan government immediately came out against the attacks, apologized to the United States, and vowed to work together to eliminate future attacks. The Egyptian government, on the other hand, merely denounced the VIDEO for the first few days, demanded the US bring those behind the video to justice, and support the right of Muslims to defend the honor of Mohammed.

The response of the government and the Twitter exchange above really show how what's going on in Egypt is potentially a much bigger problem.  The protesters are not just driven by anger about the movie--they're sick of being humiliated, sick of their government, sick of US policies, angry with their circumstances, and frustrated. This frustration will be a lot more difficult to address, especially as it is quite nebulous. Why exactly is everyone so pissed? What can the US do to make them not pissed? Everyone is pissed for about a million reasons, and nothing the US can do will make everyone happy.

AND THEN the MB called for Friday protests. People were going to protest anyway, did the party in government really need to call people to the streets? The protests turned out to be pretty violent, with two people dead. I left central Cairo for the suburbs on Friday. My apartment is really close to the square and I didn't want to get stuck or worse.

What did I do instead??? Had a baller time--future blog post coming soon on my weekend!

This morning the Central Security Forces, federal police I think, stormed Tahrir and the area around the embassy and forcibly dispersed protesters. They are now stationed around the area, holding an uneasy calm.  I drove through in my cab this morning and no tent, no person was in the center of the circle--it's the first time I had ever seen that. Police in riot gear were standing everywhere, with huge military trucks and ambulances parked around the streets leading to the square.

Ahram reported that a government official who visited the area after the raid was met with applause from locals.  

The rough life I lead

Three days of work, five day weekend (at the sunny and impossibly blue North Coast).
Two days of work, and then tomorrow--back to the beach! I'm actually quite lucky to have returned to Cairo early, during Ramadan and for the Eid holiday, since the workload is incredibly low and we get so much time off. It's been a nice transition, but I am worried it's making me lazy.

I was there. And tomorrow, I return!

The best part of the past two weeks has not been the beach, but instead all the awesome people I've been meeting.  Friends of friends, people on the street and at my gym, just about everywhere. A fellow SAISer who is in town for about a week introduced me to one of his friends, the one who was awesome enough to let me crash their bro-mance outing to the North Coast. His friends are hilarious. One likes country enough to have some songs on his iPod (at first I thought he was messing with me). Another is just so funny and all we do is make fun of each other--I put ice down his swimsuit and he called me fat.  My favorite moment so far was laying in the grass with a bunch of new friends at the beachhouse, looking at the stars, listening to the waves, and generally goofing around. Seriously, so amazing.

 Despite how awesome everything has been, there have been incidents that highlight the fact that all is not well.  Harassment spikes during Eid--apparently some men think in return for being pious for a month they can be douches during the holiday. A friend walked me home last night after a movie, but we had some not too pleasant encounters.  I was worried mostly for him, because I knew if something were to happen he would have to step in for me.  Also, I also had to ditch a taxi who was driving me around for too long, asking for my number and being a creeper. 

The good outweighs the bad, however, and I think that is something lost during a lot of the talk about Egypt and harassment. Because while there are some men who suck, I have met many, many more who are just awesome, funny, and want to ensure this crazy khawaga (foreigner) is safe.

See you soon, Cairo!

I am now sitting in the Cairo airport waiting for my flight out. I may be a little worse for the wear-- a bruised and scraped knee, without a pair of proper pants, and a bit intimidated by what lies ahead. Despite what Rupak says, good things happen to those who make it happen and I'm going to make it happen. I'm going to do this. And it'll all work out.

So instead of saying goodbye, I say to all my friends here, "See you soon!"