Luxor and the Valley of the Kings!

Back in Egypt, after the felucca ride and the temples, we arrived in Luxor, a grand, stiflingly hot city with big temples and lots of irritating horse carriage drivers. These first two are the view from the roof of our hotel, where there was a nice pool and tables to eat at. We were the ONLY guests during our stay (the hotel had six floors, it felt so lonely), so it was never crowded.

Downtown is interesting, as the remains of Luxor Temple are smack in the middle of it. Across the street is the entrance to the souq (bazaar, market; below), where I walked many times but never ended up buying things.

It was sort of embarrassing because the second day we went to eat at a restaurant that was reached by walking through the souq, and I tried to just charge through and make no eye contact with the merchants, but every other person shouts, "Oh, I remember you from last night, ketha ketha ketha..." (blah blah blah in arabic, which I just learned and really like). Then later that night, I was walking back through to the entrance, and almost at the gate I saw two little girls who looked so cute, and they told me their names, and asked me mine. It a stupid lapse of judgment, I smiled and said "ismi Kristine," after which I waved and walked on. "KREESTEEN!!!!! KREESTEEN!!!!!" they both shouted at the top of their lungs once my back was turned. Then all the guys working at the little shops joined in and started addressing me by name when they made their annoying pleas from my attention. It was awful.

This is the mosque built at the edge of the Luxor Temple, in front of which is this nice square to hang out at. I was waiting for others from my group and I sat here and talked to Ben for a while. That guy in the left bottom corner of the picture kept giving me funny looks. Not creepy, just like he thought I was really strange. Here is one part of Luxor Temple in the early of the morning, when we were en route to the Valley of the Kings, on the West Bank of the river (all the other stuff is on the East Bank).

There are dozens of hot air balloons in the sky every morning. I love how it looks. So much that I actually rode in one, a decision which rather surprised me when I made it.

After getting off the boat, we got on donkeys!!! We were on the side of the road, and kept getting in the way of the vehicles.

Mine was named Ali Baba, and he was a charmer. Never tried anything crazy, unlike several of the others. I would have done anything to keep him, but apparently that is allowed on GAP tours.

The Valley of the Kings is where a bunch of tombs for Pharaohs are, including King Tut, but we didn't go in his. We saw three others: Ramses II, Thutmoses III, and Merenptah.

Thutmoses III's tomb was the most intense by far, in the worst way. You had to climb some stairs to get there, that's okay, but then you have to go down a really steep incline once inside.

And inside was horridly foul smelling and so hot that several of us were nearly hyperventilating. It was NOT worth it, not in the least.

Here we are resting after enduring this hell.

Merenptah's tomb was the coolest for sure. Instead of being empty, there was a huge sarcophagus with a carving of figure on top. I was so caught up in the excitement that I momentarily "forgot" that there was a ban on photographs inside the tombs. Well, I obviously wasn't slick enough about it, as the "guard" caught me before I started and screamed at me. Luckily he caught some guy at the same time so I didn't get yelled out alone. I can definitely say it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my decade. I hadn't even taken the picture yet. Then he took me in a corner and made the international "gimme some cash" hand gesture, and I was so angry I could hardly handle it so I gave him one pound (20 cents US). He looks at me in disgust and says "only one pound?" In my view, you can't publicly humiliate someone for something they haven't even done yet then expect grateful payment for it. It he'd been more discreet I would have given him five pounds, but in this case, not a chance.

Much to my delight, we got back on the donkeys to go to other sites on the West Bank, so I was reunited with Ali Baba.

Kom Ombo and Edfu

These are two temples between Aswan and Luxor. First we saw Kom Ombo, which is dedicated half to Sobek, crocodile god and creator of the wold, and half to the falcon god Haroeris.


Apparently there are crocodile mummies here, but I didn't know it at the time and I felt so ill I could hardly walk straight.

Below is Edfu, which was rather grand. It was built between 237 and 57 BC, for the god Horus, and it the best preserved temple remains in the country!



That's Seth! I wanted to try to get Sethy a hat like that, but as usual I was too lazy.

And here is Isis.

Here is Ptah, next to an engraving of Ptah!! His real name is Cyrus, and when we first talked about Cyprus, I was stunned by how much he knew about the island compared to most people I've met who haven't been there. He said, well with my name, you kinda have to. People always say, "oh like that island?" when he introduces himself. Then he gets to say, no, that's Cyprus, with a 'p'. Ptah is a badass god: hear is an except from a description:

"It was said (in the Shabaka Stone) that it was Ptah who called the world into being, having dreamt creation in his heart, and speaking it, his name meaning opener, in the sense of opener of the mouth. Indeed the opening of the mouth ceremony, performed by priests at funerals to release souls from their corpses, was said to have been created by Ptah. Atum was said to have been created by Ptah to rule over the creation, sitting upon the primordial mound."


Birds!!!

About the Maid

I really thought my family was different. I thought my maid was happier than the maids at my friends houses who tell their students all sorts of sad things and aren't allowed to leave the house. Two girls in my neighborhood were even asked to buy phone cards for their maids because they weren't allowed to go to the little supermarket near us to buy them. Some maids don't get their pay. But surely my host mom didn't do those things.

Well, the family was at my host dad's oldest son's for iftar when I got home at 6:40 or so. Sara was eating, and got some food out for me. We started talking about the Philippines, I was asking some questions and what not. Eventually she unloaded on me all the stuff that I'd been hoping she wasn't experiencing. She had been here for three years, she wanted to leave earlier, but the mom begged her to stay till March. I wonder how much choice she had? She was promised 200 US dollars a month, but since arriving she's only been given 150. She was also promised to get one day a week off, but doesn't. I can attest to that, she's been cooking and cleaning every single day since I arrived. When she asks permission to go with her friend (another maid working nearby) to go to Mecca Mall, which is like two miles from the house, she is not allowed to, no matter when she's asked. She hasn't been allowed to go these whole three years.

Then she got into the little things. She picked up one of my bowls from the table and set it back down, saying - when I do this for you, you say thank you; they never do. I had no idea what on earth to say...There isn't anything I can say, or do. At least she gets along great with the kids, and they are really nice to her. But what a miserable existence. We were told to expect this in orientation, but I felt like my specific situation was unlike this. But then we watched Friends, and she seemed happy to watch something funny...

Thoughts I Thought on Sunday

They have oranges here that have green peels!!! On the outside they look like big limes, but they taste just like normal oranges!

Even though it’s frustrating to have a curfew and live so far away from everything in the world, I find that I really like being part of a family. I realized that the only family that I’ve felt pseudo-adopted by since leaving Seattle is Kristi’s, and I like that feeling of the parent-child dynamic, and wondrously stocked kitchens, and other things. It is comforting in a way I probably shouldn’t need at age 23, but alas, I still like being a kid sometimes.

I really don’t like eating with my hands. Especially not in front of experts.

Burger King has an iftar special: long chicken sandwich, hamburger, fries, soup, pop, and water for 3.250JD, which is about 4.50USD. Oh my god, I can’t imagine eating so much fast food after fasting all day; sooo gross. But my friend and I are going to try it tomorrow just for the sake of doing iftar at Burger King. Burger King! We’ve heard that Pizza Hut and KFC also have iftar specials…

I knew that someone in the group was bound to be true bff material, and I think I found her yesterday. How do I know? We’re taking the same two area studies classes, and she’s buying the required reading for two other classes as well, just to read for fun (I only got the readings for one extra class). We both want state department internships in central asian countries, any 'stan will do. We both idolize the same random former ambassador, me because he is friends with Ambassador Bell and came to speak for the World Affairs Council, her because he is an alum from her school and spoke there. She took Latin in high school, and a few minutes after we had been talking about languages, she took a break from studying to write down a list of the languages she wants to learn. And finally…we’re both going to India (with two other girls) more because the flight was so cheap and we thought it would be funny to go to India, than because we had some long-standing need to go to India.

So yeah…I’m going to India! Right at the end of the semester in December. I don’t know what we’re doing or where we’re going, other than the fact that we fly in and out of Delhi. I just hope it will be an exciting adventure and that funny things happen.

At the coffee shop near the university that I go to most days, they ask your name every time you buy something. I don’t know why, but they type it in the register and it shows up on your receipt. On Friday, the cashier asked my name, I said ‘Kreesteen’ and he goes, “Okay…C…R…” and before I had time to correct him, the guy at the espresso machine yells over, “No! K!” I felt really special.

This leads me to something else, which is my annoyance with the fact the other girl in the program with my name gets all annoyed when people mispronounce her name. Is it really that big of a deal? I’ll correct people if I feel like it is someone who needs to know my name like my program director, but not bitchily like she does. I actually like being called different things; it makes me feel like I have multiple identities!!

On to the most important thing. Yesterday after I left for the afternoon, Rana, one of my program directors, visited my family to find out what things I was doing wrong and in what ways am I a bad host daughter. But apparently they have no complaints!!!!! I went to the office before class, incredibly nervous, and as I walk up to Rana, she gives me her default deadpan stare. I hesitantly ask, uh...so...how was, my...family...? She maintained the severest expression, until saying, "well......they love you!" I don't think such a powerful sensation of relief has ever rushed through me before. Rana said she asked over and over in every way possible, trying to find any thing that they have a problem with, but there was nothing! Wow. I'm awesome.

Level Four

The Language Center at the University of Jordan is where all our classes are, both Arabic and areas studies.

The program, CIEE, decided that for level four of Arabic only, there would be one class that was all CIEE students, and one for all the other international students. All the other classes are mixed. While I am pretty sad about that, we wonder if it is because they know we don't really belong in four. Well, there's nothing we can do about it, so I'm just glad the people in my class are nice. Today we had several non CIEE students come in every once in a while and sit down, not realizing that they belonged in the other class. Someone would eventually tell them, and they would leave. For one woman, the teacher told her: "This class is CIA just, you are in other section." We were like, NO, NOT CIA, don't give the foreigners that impression!

We have two teachers, one Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, who is incredibly nice and a great teacher. The other guy, who taught today, is, well...different. The volume of voice escalates, to a very high level. It felt a little like boot camp, but for some reason at the beginning of class when he was first talking in English, I found it too hilarious to handle. I was biting my lip and tongue, but a small bit of laughter escaped. I don't know if he noticed, but it was bad. I don't know how the others excersized such self-restraint. He is so intense there's no way to keep a straight face, at least for me.

We read a news article on Monday, and I know the Arabic for the following words and phrases:

military officials

land mine explosions

to make an ambush

acts of violence

rebel forces

to make war

to be killed (I learned for the first time how to makes verbs passive!!!)

dangerous

to be wounded

presidential elections

tension

to make operations

convoy

attack

I can tell this is going to be infinitely more useful than Al-Kitaab (the standard US textbook).

Dinner for One, Please

Before Ramadan began, I would get home at different times each day, and soon after I arrived one of the kids or Sara, the maid, would ask: "you want eat?" And even if I said, "oh sure, I'll have something small," it wouldn't matter. A feast would be prepared, just for me. Do you see all that food - ALL FOR ME. What the hell kind of person can handle such a thing. I realize it's a hospitality thing, but gracious, it's also disgusting.

So that's the kitchen table, by the way. Since there are now four kids and two parents, when we all eat together two people are standing. Sometimes they bring in some chairs from the terrace, but usually not. I feel uncomfortable that I always get a chair, but I sure as hell don't want to stand either! I like that meals (at least when no other relatives are there) are taken really informally and casually; it's nice to feel relaxed among these strangers.

Yesterday was intense. After the gym I was really tired, I went to a cafe by school and got a bottle of water. Then a girl from my program came in a got an amazing looking smoothie. I asked what flavor it was, and she said just try it. Entranced, I grab a straw, take a huge gulp, then as soon as the flavor hits my mouth I realize what I've done, my eyes fly wide open, and I bolt upstairs to the bathroom to spit it out. Right next to where my friend and I had been standing were three guys who work there, and everyone gives me these intense looks of shock and confusion. "Uh....I'm fasting....I forgot....sorry about that." Really, really unfortunate.

For iftar last night we went to the apartment of one of my host mom's brothers. The has six brothers and seven sisters!!!! All from the same mother! They range in age from 27 to 52. And most of them were there last night, with their kids. Crikey! I got really lucky, because one of the younger brothers recently married an American of Jordanian descent, and she was so nice. After dinner we sat outside with a few others smoking a couple different hookahs. We had margarita, citrus mint, and roseberry flavors! It was a delicious evening.

Today I desperately wanted to break the fast. The last two days have been especially challenging because there was no milk in the house, so I didn't have my 4am breakfast muesli. I now realize that this makes a huge difference, and I bought milk today. I got home at 4:30, and I was so grumpy (I had walked really far in the heat with my laptop on my back to get my books, but the copy center didn't have the books for any of my classes!), I tried to read for a few minutes, then fell asleep and dreamed, for real, that it was still Ramadan, but I was in a strange place with strange people and I chose to break the fast early. It was wonderful. Then I got woken up ten minutes before iftar and didn't feel as bad as before.

The Long Felucca Journey Into Night

We left Aswan on a felucca, bound north. We embarked in the afternoon, and spent a full two nights on the things (we had two, eight people on each), stopping every couple hours to swim or eat. It really was like a dream at first. The wind in our faces, laying on a massive cushion...

On the right is my roommate Tracey, from Carnation. She had a rather strong personality, but I found her to be a great roommate overall. On one of the last nights a few of the other girls told me they didn't think they could have roomed with her, even thought they both liked her, she's just one of those people. But I found that I liked her a lot more when it was just the two of us then when she was in a group. We had a ton of fun chatting and giggling before sleep. She's just a total 20-something trapped in an older body. I thought it was hilarious that she would flip out when people would ask if she was one of the college-aged girls' mother, and I saw her birth year on Khaled's sheet: 1966, making her plenty able to have borne a 2o year old.

The man on the left is the father of the girl second from the right who is lying down. Sometimes he would talk about things that any daughter wouldn't want to hear about, like his internet dating, and she would be like "DAD! Please stop talking about this!" And then like fifteen minutes later he would ask why he shouldn't talk about something like that. It was awesome. Sometimes it was awkward when he would ask her questions about her Mom (who was meeting her in Israel after she left Egypt, he was going home) and their travel plans. She would then respond with, "Da-ad, you already asked that three times today." It definitely reminded me of childhood.

I was hoping you would be able to see the awesome design for our cushion covers: teddy bears and soccer balls!!!

The landscape was rather picturesque: lots of sand and lots of trees. What more could one ask for?

This was the first place we swam. And probably the start of my sad sad weeks of pain. But it was totally worth it: it was so refreshing, and the current was awesome!

This is where we slept the first night. We had pulled up to the shore, but we hardly spent any time off the boats. The others gathered wood for a bonfire, I would have helped but I was texting and didn't realize that we were expected to do any sort of work. These little Nubian boys kept coming up and sitting next to me, trying to read my text messages and get me to ride their donkey. I was tempted, but I was scared the donkey might run away with me. We all had dinner together on one of the boats, then a big group of us played card games for a long time. It was awesome, except for all the retarded Canadian rules. These people, they have no idea what they're doing! But we ended up playing BS, and the rules were pretty much the same, and it was the first time in probably a decade that I'd played it, so I had a blast.

This is where we stopped for the second night. The swimming here was definitely the best, and we actually did make a bonfire. Then a bunch of Nubians came and started playing music for us and dancing. It was a great evening.