kay abroad

Inauguration Day!

2009-01-23T20:57:00.013+02:00

It took nearly 45 minutes to get from where this pictures was taken to outside.

Yes the cold was painful and trying to get off the Mall at the end was bizarrely difficult, but it was overall probably the neatest experience I've ever had.

Now the question is: did any of the hundreds of pictures random people took of my friend and I holding our "Free Hugs" sign get published?

Proof of Life

2008-07-17T14:47:00.002+03:00

There ARE aliens! Ancient Serbs made sculptures to prove it.

Really?

2008-07-17T14:20:00.003+03:00

This is Serbia, not the south. You may need to click on it to see the outfit in all its glory.

Yum

2008-07-17T10:54:00.000+03:00

Budapest street fair food! Ahh, sausages...

Yuksam

2008-07-16T12:00:00.004+03:00

Ah, the boys playing soccer in front of the hotel.

(India, December 2007)

It used to be prettier

2008-07-14T18:03:00.001+03:00

Before the typhoon or whatever ripped through.
Wadi Shab, Oman, March 2008.

Kay Goes Intrepid!

2008-05-31T23:35:00.002+03:00

Well I've met my group. There are twelve of us in addition to our tour leader, Amanda, who is sweet and young and British. All tour participants other than myself are Australian (the company in Australian). I'm also the only person in my "age group." There are two 31 year olds, the rest are all rather old, but adventurous types; most have done Intrepid trips before and see it as a special way of travel.

It's also disconcerting that seven of them have already been traveling together on a linked Intrepid tour, plus two old lady friends did the same thing the rest of them did but a few days earlier. So now I feel self-conscious about not being able to talk about Vienna, or Poland, or the Czech Republic, or Slovakia....

But everyone is really nice; I love that the middle-aged guys ran up to their room to get beers when we made the move from the lobby to the breakfast room during our 45 minute welcome meeting. And our first dinner was walking to an outdoor street festival to get beer and sausages (really really good sausages).

The two 31 year old have been friends since kindergarten. I want to be all friendly with them but I can't help this feeling that they're a tiny bit weird. At one point, Amanda was telling us that all the cities we were going to weren't dangerous but naturally we should follow precautions one would employ in any of our cities at home - like, would you walk around late at night by yourself there? And one of these girls goes, "Well of course! And leave the door unlocked too!" I admired the way Amanda just went on talking, it was just weird and a bit awkward to say that in a voice nearly shouting.

All of them do something I find outrageously funny: apologize to me every time they say the word "America" or "US" even though they aren't saying negative things about it! The other 31 year old (I'm still working on the names; it's only been a few hours) was talking about her problems getting cash after her wallet was stolen. She had a Mastercard and they weren't giving her Hungarian Forints, so she asked if she could get US (I'm sorry) dollars. One of the other ladies was talking about a trip: oh, when we were in America (I'm sorry), we went to blah blah... The way they do it is just hilarious!

Somehow I got miraculously lucky. There are five pairs of people (three couples, two set of women friends), me and some guy named Bruce who didn't show up at the welcome meeting or dinner. This means I'll get a private room almost every night! When I arrived today, the receptionist told me I had a single room, and I get to it, a huge bathroom (relatively) and a king-sized bed! I just sat down unsure whether to just stay in bed all day or go out and actually see stuff. Soooo comfortable, wow. I did a good mixture of both. I mean, I like bunk beds a lot, but it's a special thing to have a nice hotel room all to yourself.

I went to a gyro place today and asked for one, surprised to find how nice the man working there was. His English wasn't great, but he asked where I was from then commented on how much he liked Seattle's basketball team, not something I get very often. I totally assumed he was Hungarian, then he volunteered that he was from Iraq and I was so delighted I just starting spouting Arabic at him. We were having a nice simple conversation until I asked why he lived in Hungary...but then of course he said three of his daughters and his parents were killed in the war. I said I was very sorry, but wasn't really sure how to continue, so it got awkwardly quiet until he kindly offered that he liked American people he only hated American government. I've had the same conversation so many times in Jordan, it felt weird to repeat it in Arabic in a city like Budapest. One plus was that when I was paying, two Hungarian guys my age were inside ordering, and they said something to me in English, I responded, then talked to the guy more in Arabic. I think it was the only time in four days I felt serious respect from a Hungarian!

Bulgaristan

2008-05-29T22:17:00.005+03:00

Menus in Bulgaria have entertaining English, here are some of the delicacies we came across (all quotation marks from the original menus):

Wolf Bites
Platter "Wolf's Hunger"
Wolf Salad (a dish of various meats and some cheeses, as well as the interesting inclusion of "homework dry")
Fillet "Minion"
Liver in a Hunter's Way
Mushrooms in a Shepherd's Way
Sauce "Tartar"
Salad for Drinking "Fox"
Big Sandwich with Forcemeat
And many many things in earthenware pots.

The food overall was fantastic, lots of salads and vegetables. Many salads include heaping portions of yoghurt, which frightened me at first, but now I'm having trouble going back to "normal" salads.

The three hostels i stayed at in Bulgaria were the best three hostels I have ever stayed anywhere. I feel bad for my friend Marya, because this is her first time staying in hostels and the rest of her hostelling life will just be a disappointing search for one like those in Bulgaria.

Marya and I went to a bookstore in Veliko Tarnovo, the first city in Bulgaria we visited, because she didn't have a novel in English and wanted to get War and Peace. I was looking at postcards and she said to me from a shelf: "Oh, hey, they have books in English." I didn't hear, but a middle-aged guy standing her near goes: "Yes, they do, and they can read them too." Poor Marya was so stunned she couldn't get any good retort out and just sort of stuttered "Uh...I didn't mean...I was just..." They didn't have War and Peace, so we just awkwardly rushed out of the store.

The Lonely Planet has been wrong about many things in many cities. The locations of several places have changed. This has led to very sad problems, but despite the fact that my friend speaks far better Arabic than I and is rather smarter; I have discovered that I am FAR superior at reading maps and navigating than she is. This has brightened my spirits in those difficult times of being lost.

Hungarians really don't seem to like me at all. I don't much care, because I love Budapest more than anywhere else and I'm going to move here someday and learn Hungarian and be rude to them back.

On the way into the Taj grounds

2008-04-26T08:33:00.000+03:00

If we had gotton there ANY later it would have been somewhat disappointing. It was nice to enjoy a few minutes of sunset and the darkening of the sky while we walked around the grounds gave a pleasant slightly eery feeling.

It was okay, I suppose

2008-04-19T12:05:00.004+02:00

We weren't there five minutes before I knocked over a plant; it's pot then knocked over two more on the step below...it was a disaster.

This is looking back at the entrance to the complex.

Sorry it's a bit blurry when it's small. The sign says:

PLEASE DO NOT TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES HERE

You can't really tell, but the lone figure in the middle, to the left of the crowd, is me!

Who could ask for more preciousness?

2008-04-17T11:08:00.008+02:00

Maybe I've put up too many pictures in this post, but whatever, they're just so cute! This is Goat. If I could bring one home, this would have to be the one. Mom....???

Halloumi String Pepperjack.

As soon as you grab the right spot they are in utter bliss.

Jibne liked the bow too!!

Gouda and I have quite a mental bond.

It's the best when all four cats sit on the couch between Shelley (my roommate) and I. I really feel like we're a family.

Jibne's nipples look painful!!

Here's a view of the living room. Jesse, who lives in the apartment above us, is in the chair on the right with Jibne; he adores cats. Andrew, who lives across the hall, hates cats and finds them disgusting. But sometimes even he is obviously overwhelmed by these babies' charm.

Kitties!!!

2008-04-13T18:13:00.006+02:00

I have a lot more from the past week (their month birthday celebration and all), but they aren't on my computer yet. Five kittens were born in my roommate's bed while we were out of town for the weekend on March 9. The mother had been hanging out in the evenings with us for the past month and half, and we knew she was preggers, but had no clue we'd left the kitchen window (her regular point of entry) wide open. As we had named the mom Jibne (arabic for cheese) each of the babies were obnoxiously given cheese names. Keshkawan, the orange one that Jibne is delicately holding above, was everyone's favorite, and also the first to die, after one week. The next day I woke to hearing squeals as Jibne was trying to squish one of the gray tort(e?) twins. It had seemed like Jibne was sick, she was acting really crazed and such, so when we got home to discover that she had succeeded in squishing to death a second baby, I had a vet come and make a house call (!) and he said she had eclampsia and was delirious with fever. Oh. But after that everything was much better, and let's be honest, six cats are a bit much to try to manage, so I'm just happy we have the ones who survived.

The fluffy black boy hiding in the back is Gouda, and he's the biggest as well as the most chill and charming. He often sits for hours with us on the couch, totally content not to terrorize around like the others. In the middle is Goat, she's painfully adorable, and squeals less than the others. And then we have Halloumi String Pepperjack in front, who has great potential for cuteness, but her face still looks a little weird. She's the littlest, and the most obnoxious, but she likes to lay out of her back, belly-up, and it's so entertaining.

Just wait till you see them with their bows on!!

I'm Not Very Good At This Posting Regularly Thing

2008-02-24T10:01:00.007+02:00

I was all set to put up the pictures from the Taj Mahal today, until I discovered that they are only on my laptop, not on the external hard drive thing for some reason. So here are some of the pictures from when Ben and Seth came in December. This was our first day in Amman, wandering around. I show you this bizarre round building, the Le Royale Hotel, so that if you happen to be in Amman in the next few months, you can easily find my apartment, right around the corner from this monstrosity.

This is the "downtown" - aka the older part of the city where you can buy cheap stuff. Most of West Amman (where everything, you know, important, is) is modern and western looking, this is the only neighborhood that looks terribly "middle-easty."

This is the al-Hussein Mosque, sort of the center of the balad ( short for wasit al-balad, or "center of the country, but by country we mean city").

The Roman Amphitheater...looks vaguely out of place here, but charming nonetheless.

The entrance to my favorite arabish cafe, Jafra.

The inside of Jafra, at a strange angle. Were you trying to be artsy or something Ben?

Hahaha.

Thanks for visiting big brothers! Miss you!

On the Ride From Delhi to Agra

2008-01-14T16:12:00.001+02:00

The street in front of Hotel Relax again.

I love how Hindi looks so much! It felt exciting to be in a country where I couldn't even read; Arabic doesn't feel terribly foreign anymore.

I was so thrilled they have camels on the streets. Ana uhibb jimaal. I love camels.

It's kinda small, but it says: "Don't Come That Close. I'm Not That Kind Of Car."

These were really sad monkeys. The guy with their leash held one up to my window which was opened a crack and the monkey put its little fingers in...it was half frightening and half super depressing.

Nice guys!

Marya didn't want to ride a camel. They didn't care.

Delhi

2008-01-14T11:22:00.000+02:00

Assorted views from the terrace at our Hotel (Hotel Relax, actually quite nice apart from the dirty sheets and lack of heat at night). The people who worked there were incredibly friendly, and arranged a car to take us to and from the Taj Mahal (4.5 hour drive each way) about 30 minutes after we checked in.

Cows!

This is were we had our first chai, aka "milk tea." Life hasn't been the same since.

al-Hind?!

2007-12-15T20:32:00.000+02:00

The parking lot of the Delhi airport is sand.

The Taj Mahal is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, anywhere.

I knocked over some potted plants on the Taj Mahal grounds, and was laughed at loudly by some Indian bitch.

Chai here is something really really special...I won't be able to go back to the chai I used to know and love. This saddens me.

Chicken tikka masala is much the same as it is in your country. But the naan is perhaps a little better.

India is the most colorful and visually spectacular place I could imagine.

There are small monkeys here. They are very cute, with precious hands and fingers.

There are lots of hippies travelling here; I've never felt so preppy in my life. Why does it seem that only strangely dressed folk seem to want to come here?

They don't speak Arabic here, but it's fun to speak Arabic to them when they try to sell you things.

I think I need to come back here.

Tomorrow I am flying to the Sikkim region. Look it up; there's mountains there.

I have a lot in common with Lawrence of Arabia

2007-11-07T11:16:00.000+02:00

We've both hung out in Wadi Rum!!! Though he was leading a revolt and I joyriding in the back of a pick-up, that's okay.

This was our first group trip (late September), a weekend spent in the spectacular desert of Wadi Rum and the ruins of Petra, both in the south of Jordan, about a three and a half hour drive from Amman. Our first activity was to take a long ride around. It was AWESOME. I think just about everyone in the program has liked Wadi Rum the most out of everywhere we've been.

Kathleen got a call from her host Mom while we were riding about; it was hilarious to watch her talk on her cell phone in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

Aren't Lauren's colors fantastic?

There were some pretty rad land bridges.

Ha! Shadows! That's me, Kathleen, Kristin, Lauren, and Tina.

Kathleen and Kristin ran down then sand hill, then instead of walking around it, which they could easily have done, they proceeded to climb back up...it wasn't easy.

This is Oday, our program director's son. He really may be the cutest child ever.

Camels!!! I love camels. These were probably the first I'd ever seen without saddles and clothes and stuff.

Okay, you can't see it at this size, but if you look at the big picture, you can see little carvings of camels in the rock!

Maybe I shouldn't put this up, but Kathleen asked for a "candid" shot of Lauren and Tina, and Lauren heard "chocolate" shot. As she was eating candy bar, she kindly opened her mouth. LOL.

We stopped for sunset at a big rock good for climbing about on.

Everyone should go to Wadi Rum. Seriously.

I Miss You, Cyprus

2007-11-05T18:12:00.000+02:00

As you undoubtedly know, I went back to Cyprus for the Eid four-day-weekend three weeks ago. It was all wonderful happy-ime, and here are a couple of pictures. The above is just a view of Brew, my favorite hang out ever, in Nicosia, while the rest are from other places.

My four friends from the CIEE Amman program also came, though on slightly different flights than I, and they were staying in Larnaca, the one city I've never really been to, so the day we arrived I met them at their hotel and and wandered around. We found these designs on beach nearby: a sun, and a bunnyface!

There was a bus into town that we took that afternoon. Katie, Rudy, and Kelly are at the bus stop as Ellis gazes into the distance.

Larnaca, along the waterfront.

This is just a random building that I always pass in Nicosia but had never taken a photo of before.

On Sunday, we took an excursion to the Turkish side, to Famagusta on the east coast, then to Kyrenia on the North Coast. Right outside of the bus station is this creepy statue. I like it, I think it's of Ataturk, but I'm too lazy to actually look it up.

Famagusta is best known for being occupied. Well, the whole north is, but the main part of Cyprus' formerly greatest resort town hasn't been touched since the 1974 invasion, and it looks bizarre from the outside. There is a nice hotel right up next to the fence, so one can lounge on the beach in front of shells of skyscrapers.

Please note the arrowed sign for "Beach Bar" at the bottom. I was amused anyway.

The Turks don't want to do anything to the city precisely because it is so dear to the Greek Cypriots, and right on the border, so by keeping it as it was they can continue to use it as a bargaining chip...

About a kilometer away is the old town, which is really lovely. And so peaceful, not busy, I could vacation here again, no problem.

As Pravin and I went to get a drink at a cafe on the main strip, we ran into my friends from Amman!!! They hadn't even been planning on going to Famagusta, but all just happened to be there at the same exact time. It was almost too insane for me to handle. That's Rudy in a taxi, as they were venturing into a different part of the Turkish side.

Haha! Do you remember asking for this?

Kyrenia's harbor. It was a lot more fun without 80 mostly irritating Americans!

Nine years is too long to feel this way

2007-11-03T07:40:00.000+02:00

I’m sorry I acted annoyed with you in public.

I’m sorry I resented your charity toward other families and people in need.

I’m sorry that I thought I didn’t need you.

I’m sorry I ridiculed your hammer pants.

I’m sorry I didn’t like going to your churches.

I’m sorry I said no to seeing the symphony in October 1998.

I’m sorry I drank some of your wine then lied about it.

I’m sorry you never took me on the road trip through Europe that we talked about.

I’m sorry that you probably thought I didn’t love you.

I’m sorry I’m not a Christian.

I’m sorry that you struggled so much.

I’m sorry that we never got to read some of the same books together.

I’m sorry that I know so little about you.

I’m sorry I was so obnoxious in the theater during “A River Runs Through It.”

I’m sorry I didn’t think I had anything to learn from you.

I’m sorry I’ll never know if you would have enjoyed or hated “The Da Vinci Code.”

I’m sorry about that time I said Jesus’ mother could have been a prostitute just to piss you off.

I’m sorry that I’ll always wonder if I had hung out with you that weekend maybe you would have changed your mind.

I’m sorry I sometimes use you as an excuse for not dealing with my own problems.

I’m sorry I always got you really lame birthday and Christmas presents.

I’m sorry I thought I was ashamed of you.

I’m sorry I’ll never know how long you’d been planning it.

I’m sorry you were alone in your last moments.

I’m sorry you couldn’t find happiness in this life.

----------

Also, I'm sorry to any of you that I was a bitch to during my high school years.

Choosy Kays Choose Subway

2007-11-01T21:09:00.000+02:00

Ummm...I'm really not sure how this happened...

My Solitary Syrian Sojourn

2007-10-28T17:45:00.000+02:00

Syria believes in me!?! Awwww...thanks Syria!

Common knowledge about getting into to Syria is that if you don't get a visa in your home country, you don't get into Syria (unless Syria does not have diplomatic representation in your home country, in which case you are unfairly more than welcome to get it at the border). Americans aren't allowed to get visas at the Syrian embassy in Amman, and the ones they issue in the States are valid for only three months.

Well, apparently things are a little more flexible than that...I don't know how often, but we hear that Americans are sometimes granted visas at the border, you just have to wait for a long time for approval while the border faxes a photocopy of your passport to Damascus and someone considers the matter for several hours. A group of maybe ten student from my program went over the Eid weekend two weeks ago, only one of them had a visa, and everyone was eventually allowed in.

I took this to be a great sign. I was supposed to try with several people, including the one who has a visa and had been over Eid, so she would know what to do. But everyone changed their minds!!! They tried to convince me to wait till next week, but I just could not handle spending another weekend bumming around being unproductive in Amman. So I started calling hotels after school got out at one, and after five tries I found one that wasn't booked. Then I went to the bus company street, and the taxi driver pointed to one that went to Damascus, so I went and bought my ticket. I tried to explain to the guy that I was going to have to wait at the border for a longer time than the others on the bus, and were there any other buses in the evening after my bus leaves? He didn't understand, telling me the bus would wait for me, so I just got on hoping maybe there would be taxis at the border, though my friend had told me that it wasn't really like that, everyone goes straight through. I figured maybe the guards would be able to call me one if it came down to that, but for some reason I just wasn't that concerned. It was definitely the first time I ever attempted to gain access to a country with so little awareness of how to do it.

The bus was wonderful, no one sitting in the seat next to me, my discman was working consistently for the first time since buying it, there was a nice Czech couple sitting by me... My favorite part was the sign as we left the city limits of Amman. It said:

Good Bye ,
From Amman

It is about hour and a half or so to the border, where we all got out first to pay our departure tax ($6.50, which would be really frustrating to have paid if I didn't get in), then to peruse the duty free store, then finally to the Syrian arrival hall....

a great place to spend some time

The were two windows for non-Arabs, "Line for the Foreigners" and "Private for the Diplomats." I was delighted that there was no one working at the foreigner window, so we got to be diplomats! I felt considerably less special when I got to the window. I hand him my passport, and all of a sudden it seemed like it would have been smart to have a prepared a better speech than "Umm...I'm sorry, I don't have a visa..." He flips through it, and gives the universal "what the hell am I supposed to do with this?" look. And says "Visa from embassy! No visa here!" The Czechs are behind me, and I can feel their pity seeping into my back. I just start babbling, about how I've been outside of America for more than three months, and I was told I couldn't get a visa at the Amman embassy, and that my friends got visas here two weeks ago, so I thought it was okay now, and I even brought a copy of my passport because I heard that maybe they'd like to fax it somewhere???

He gives me a rather hateful glare, takes all my document stuff, and points to the seats against the wall. I'm not really sure whether he's going to give me any more instruction, or if the waiting began then, so after a couple minutes I go to get my bag from under the bus, and the sweet bus man didn't understand (English or my situation as I attempted to explain it in Arabic), so he followed me in and talked to the border man and I managed to understand from him that I wait till seven, then probably get visa. It was a bit before 5:30 then, so I was feeling quite lucky. I sat in my chair, listened to music, or the groups of men who would periodically stand near me and try to make guesses at my nationality. I was too apprehensive to read anything, so I entertained myself by examining the enormous visa price chart posted above the foreigner lines.

This is a really fuzzy picture I took because I didn't think it would help my case if they saw me taking photos in this area, but you get a peek at some of the better features! Each country have two prices, listed to the left of the name, one fore single-entry, the other for multiple. A lot of states had the same prices for either, including the US and a lot of European states. The average price ran from 10-28$, but holy cow, look at Democratic Kongo!! $200/252!!! (I hear they're not big on democracy in this part of the world, maybe that's why...) In the right corner you can perhaps get a glimpse of the FREE boxes, only four states have this privilege: Malaysia, Makedonija, Korea North, and Yugoslavia. Interesting, given that I'm fairly sure Yugoslavia isn't around anymore!!! Nigeria was the next cheapest, at $4/4, while the US ($16/16) was cheaper than many of the European countries, much to the shock of the Europeans I was chatting with in line, hahaha.

My favorite misspellings from the board include Bologni, which I was puzzled by for some time until I sounded out the Arabic: Bulunia, changed the B to a P, and realized it was Poland!!! I admit, I was entranced by the board. I must have looked a bit crazed, because I couldn't help giggling everytime I saw a funny spelling.

At 7:15 I went up to the counter to check on things, luckily it was a new guy, and he was far friendlier, he told me they still hadn't gotten a fax yet, so I went back to my seat, and sat... I had a Jordan Times (the English daily) with me, so I started in on a sudoku, then the word scramble, then the scrabble, then another sudoku... Then around 8:30 a group of older, filthy men with big smiles exposing their horrifying teeth gathered around me. The main one was from Syria, and he wouldn't stop talking to me even after I had stopped attempting to conversate with his difficult Arabic and continued to repeat, "ma bafham, asifa." (I don't understand, sorry.) Then he and his buddies kept asking how I was going to get to Damascus (something I was beginning to worry about myself), and who I was going to stay with, and why don't I just take their bus? I had a distinct impression that the "bus" may just be a big dirty van filled with big dirty men, so I just kept repeating "La, shukran, ma bafham." (No, thank you, I don't understand.) Oh, they were creepy!

At this point I did have a bit of a crisis in confidence, and started to think maybe it was a bad plan to try it all by myself, but at the same time, I would have felt so guilty at making my friend come then have her waiting around when she would have have able to go straight through with her visa. After nine I started making little bargains with myself, like, okay, at 9:30, I'm just going to go up there and say I give up, and ask how to get back to Jordan! Secretly hoping that they would feel bad for me and grant me the visa. Then at 9:20 I changed it to 9:45, and at 9:24, the guard calls me to come over, and all the old men around who knew how long I'd been there cheered a little. I still don't understand why so many old arabs were made to wait for long times, but I would still get the prize for that day, if such a prize were awarded

I walked up to the counter, and looked at the two guys questioningly. "Yes" they say, very seriously. "Yes?!?" I respond. Then all smiles break out: "Yes!! Ahlan wa sahlan!! Welcome to Syria!!" I almost started to cry, for like the fifth time that afternoon. But it wasn't as simple as it appeared. I'll save you the painful details, but it took another half hour of going from building to building, doing things wrong, almost paying my 16 dollars twice. I did cry during this awful saga, but it was okay, cause I got a visa!!!! Finally I'd gotten everything together, and was back at the "Private for the Diplomats" counter, then guy hands me my passport, and says "welcome to Syria" again. I stand there, unsure, and ask "what do I do now?" He grins, "go to Damascus!" All I can do is sort of whimper, "how...?"

He stands up, tells me its okay, then goes to the first guy at one of the arab counter, says something, points to me standing dumbly in the middle of the hall, and this guy (about thirty, really well dressed), walks up to me and says, "Damascus?" I nod, "na'am" (yes). "Passport, finish?" "Na'am..." "Okay, this way." I follow him out to his super fancy car, in which his friend and him were going home to Damascus in from Aqaba (Jordan's Red Sea party town). They push aside their laptops and briefcases and deposit me in the back seat.

The driver spoke a little English, but his friend didn't at all. While we waited for the driver to deal with some passport stuff, I sat, feeling so wretchedly awkward, and asked the friend in Arabic if he was Syrian, and what he had been doing in Jordan. He was all shocked I spoke Arabic, then we all chatted, turns out they are engineers in Abu Dhabi, and are home for vacation. We cruised down the freeway listening to fantastic Arabic music and I nearly hyperventilated with happiness. I had no clue how similar Syrian 'ammiya (colloquial arabic) was to Jordanian, and they taught me several Syrian words and phrases, which proved to be really helpful, because I ended up having more trouble than I expected asking things in Jordanian and not being understood. It is so hard to get out of the habit of saying things in Jordanian even when I now the standard Arabic for it.

From the border it is a bit over an hour drive, and they dropped me off at a taxi who claimed to know my hotel. Well, he had misunderstood "french tower" and took me to the Hotel Brazil. It was around midnight, and the driver wouldn't even look at me when I said this isn't the hotel. Immensely discouraged, I went up into the Hotel Brazil and asked if they knew where the Hotel French Tower, "Burj Faransi" was. They didn't, nor did they speak English, but they were so amazingly helpful, gave me water, started making phone calls. I had the number in my Lonely Planet, but they insisted on making their own calls, so I ended up speaking on the phone to man at the French Palace Hotel. I don't know this, and I tell him my name, and he says he doesn't have a reservation for me, and they are booked (as is the Hotel Brazil, by the way). But then I discover that it is the wrong hotel, so I dictate the number from my guide and finally get a hold of the French Tower, who luckily didn't give away my room. He then tells the Brazil guy directions to give a taxi driver, and the other Brazil guy walks me outside and gets a taxi for me.

I'm like, now there is no way things can go wrong! The driver drops me off at a hotel, I go inside, surprised at how nice it is, and tell the receptionist my name. He is totally bewildered and goes, "Yeah, I just talked to you, this is the French Palace, not French Tower!" I was just dumbfounded, and about burst into to tears, but then he tells me the French Tower is very close, across the street and up a few blocks, the dot he drew made it appear that it was right by the circle up the street, so I set out confidently.

I examine every single building on the way to the circle...nothing. I sit down on the sidewalk and wonder why the hell I ever thought I was should come here by myself. Then I start to meander the side streets, and come upon some sort of police hut, and ask him about the Burj Faransi. He knows it, and gives me directions in Arabic that I totally understand! I head down the side street he directed me to, and there are no hotels, it is all residences. I walk as far back as I had come, and happen upon a gaggle of teenage boys, who I ask, not expecting them to actually know. They discuss amongst themselves, then one of them gestures me to follow him, and actually walks me all the way back to the main street, while holding my hand, lol. It felt so hilarious. Right around the corner, after the "nightclub" was a bellboy waiting for me in front of the hotel , which I had walked right past because there was NO SIGN WHATSOEVER. As we go to the elevator, a random old man walks by and exclaims "oh it's you! I saw you before, but I didn't know it was you!" Thanks, that's really comforting.

When I got off the elevator the receptionist puts his hands up and goes "What?! What happened?!" I felt like some sort of disaster child. The he got me tea and vodka and fresh orange juice and gave me a discount for my room, which was awesome, because my guidebook was three years old and the price listed is more than ten dollars cheaper than the current price. I met a disgruntled gentleman as I checked out who commented to me in the elevator that it was pretty expensive here, huh? He asked me how much I payed per night, and I sort of mumbled something, then he volunteered that he had paid $38 for a night!! I paid $25 :).

So there, I got into Syria without having a visa previously. I'm not sure I recommend this route, but I did have a lot of fun that day despite my struggles.

Mall Encounters

2007-10-24T14:58:00.000+02:00

I step onto an escalator at Mecca Mall (very much the place to be) and the nicely--dressed young man in front of me turns around, sees me, and gives me a funny look. "You're not Jordanian," he declares in English, slightly suspiciously.

"No...are you?"

"Ughgh...no, I am certainly not Jordanian." His face fills with disgust. "Stubborn...stupid...irritating...I hate Jordanians..."

We step off the escalator. "Where are you from?"

"Lebanon. You are from Paris?"

"No, America."

He grimaces. "Oh, I don't like Americans either."

I gather that this conversation is over, so I walk toward the exit doors. As I am almost outside he shouts across the walkway, "You are ruining the new world you know!"

I give him a thumbs-up sign and yell back, "Thank you!"

Wow! That was certainly the first, and will probably remain the only, time in my life that someone has assumed I am from Paris!!! How delightful!

Obligatory Photos of Arab Children

2007-10-21T17:54:00.000+02:00

They are pretty damn cute.

A WonderoftheWorld-ful Place

2007-10-19T15:16:00.000+02:00

Egypt is really bitter that the pyramids didn't make the "new seven wonders of the world" cut because they were part of the old group, but personally, I think Petra a more impressive. Well, more exciting anyway, because there is so much to explore, whereas with the pyramids you just stand there and stare up at them. I just wish I had been with Indy.

Hot Air is Incredibly Hot!!

2007-10-07T12:01:00.000+02:00

A funeral.

Notes min Al-Urdun 2

2007-10-06T20:57:00.000+02:00

See how all the buildings in the background are white? I can't remember if I mentioned before that it is actually a law that buildings in Amman have no color! It makes it really hard to become familiar with the different neighborhoods. There are some Roman ruins on top of one the hills, and we visited them the first week while on a small tour. Did you know that Amman used to be called Philadelphia? It's true. It was also originally built upon seven hills, much like another slightly more famous city, though nowadays it covers something like 27 or 29 hills.

تسوّس

tasawwasa

"to be eaten by worms"

Notes min Al-Urdun 1

2007-10-04T11:37:00.000+02:00

If I don't start small, I'll never be able to get all the pictures of my life up, so I'll try to post one photo and arabic word or phrase of the day more often than not. These are the four girls who live in my neighborhood with other families. Sometimes we all take a cab together, and I enjoy siting in the front seat when this happens.

صدّق أو لا تصدّق

saddaqa au la tusaddiq

"believe it or not"

Every time my teacher tells us something he thinks will surprise us, he says: "Saddaqa au la tusaddiq! It is true! Arabic is flexible like Tom Cruise!" Which is apparently a movie reference that I totally didn't get, so for the first week of class I wondered if he had Tom Cruise mixed up with someone else.

Al-Aqsur

2007-10-02T08:48:00.000+02:00

Luxor. In all honesty, I didn't love Luxor all that much. Too much hassling, too hot...it just didn't feel right in a lot of ways. But the sights were certainly fantastic. And I did have good Thai food one night.

This is at the Temple of Luxor in the middle of downtown. Karnak Temple, a few kilometers north of the city center, was quite a bit more spectacular, but I have no pictures. We saw a sound and light show at night there, which is an activity I highly recommend. Masses of people were there, and you're all slowly guided through the temple by lights and booming voices telling you stories of the ways of the ancient Egyptians and impersonating Pharaohs. Totally cheesy, but a blast nonetheless.

On the waterfront is a splendid place to walk.

I am without comment, except for, W.T.F.?

Sorry...which way is Salah El Din Street?

I cannot believe I was able to get Khaled to pose for this!!!

Hatshep-what?

2007-10-02T08:02:00.000+02:00

Hatshepsut, who reigned from 1479-1458BC. She was the daughter of a Pharaoh, Thutmose I, and married her half-brother. They ruled together until he died, then she took over. Apparently she wanted her own daughter to succeed her, but a son of her brother by another wife ended ruling after she died. People say she had a really successful reign, but I can't really comment on that; I wasn't around back then.

This is her mortuary temple, and by the time we got here, I had stopped enjoying then donkey ride. You know what is really awful? Donkey trotting. This one was of the hottest afternoons while in Egypt - usually I tried to be all like, I don't understand why people whine about how hot Egypt is in the summer. It's not like unbearable or anything. Well here, you better believe it was unbearable. Oh well...I wandered around in a daze until I could get some peach iced tea at the cafe nearby.

I have been assured that the paint, both here and in the other tombs we saw that I wasn't allowed to take pictures in, the paint is original. I have some amount of trouble grasping how hardcore this paint must have been, but if the tour guide says so, it must be true.

This is my friend Heather, and Cyrus is the one standing in the back looking awesome with his button-down shirt wrapped around his head. They have these nice vehicle that shuttle you the three block-length distance from the entrance to the base of the temple. One of my tour companions said she thought it was ridiculous to drive such a short distance. Khaled said, "well you know you can walk if you want to." She didn't walk.

These are somewhere else in the West Bank: the Colossi of Memnon - two statues of the same guy, Pharaoh Amenhotep III, and they were supposed to stand guard at the entrance to his mortuary temple, but now they are all that remain. This picture is pretty small, but I assure you, they are MASSIVE.

Luckily we didn't ride the donkeys back, we took these cool trucks!

Jess was having a little trouble with the heat. Zero air circulation in these things; they felt sort of like trucks that should take people to prison.

Luxor and the Valley of the Kings!

2007-09-30T00:02:00.000+02:00

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.

Amusing News Brief of the Day

2007-09-26T16:30:00.000+02:00

From my CFR (Council on Foreign Relations) Daily Brief email of news and such:

"John Edwards unveiled a plan to combat HIV/AIDS domestically and abroad by investing $50 billion over five years to provide universal access to HIV/AIDS, tuberculosis, and malaria around the world. He also says he will eliminate U.S.-owned bilateral debt for the poorest countries."

I would imagine they meant universal access to medicine for the above afflictions, but one can never be too sure...

Kom Ombo and Edfu

2007-09-25T13:09:00.000+02:00

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. The whole time we were there I had that Bob Dylan song from Desire stuck in my head. But I could only remember the first two lines or so ("well I married Isis, on the fifth day of May..." or something like that), making it really really irritating. So back on the bus I listened to the song to hear the lyrics...and naturally it's hilariously bizarre. Here are some of my favorite parts:

We set out that night for the cold in the North. I gave him my blanket, he gave me his word. I said, "Where are we goin'?" He said we'd be back by the fourth. I said, "That's the best news that I've ever heard."

The wind it was howlin' and the snow was outrageous. We chopped through the night and we chopped through the dawn. When he died I was hopin' that it wasn't contagious, But I made up my mind that I had to go on.

She said, "Where ya been?" I said, "No place special." She said, "You look different." I said, "Well, not quite." She said, "You been gone." I said, "That's only natural." She said, "You gonna stay?" I said, "Yeah, I jes might."

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

2007-09-24T20:56:00.001+02:00

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 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

2007-09-23T13:39:00.000+02:00

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

2007-09-19T11:49:00.000+02:00

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

2007-09-17T20:10:00.000+02:00

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

2007-09-16T16:31:00.000+02:00

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.

These Days

2007-09-15T19:54:00.000+02:00

Please allow me to jump to the present, and share some thoughts from home and Ramadan life. (I am unable to upload photos at my current location.)

I love it when my 13 year old brother prepares his cornflakes; he first grabs enormous handfuls of the cereal from the box rather than pouring it into his bowl. Then he pours milk into a plastic measuring cup, adds sugar, and whips the mixture vigorously. After a minute or so, he’s convinced that the sugar has been satisfactorily blended in; he pours the milk into the bowl. The whole process is very methodical and serious; it is a delight to watch.

I finally got a sleeping companion! Up until last night, every time I would try to carry the kitty into my room she would escape my arms before I made it. Well, last night, she was sleeping on a kitchen chair, and I scooped her up and ran to my room too quickly for her to understand what was going on! After a minute or two I didn’t even have to hold her down, and she seemed quite content except after I sprayed bug repellent on my legs and feet. The aroma was obviously displeasing to her, and she jumped off the bed and sat by the door for five or ten minutes, but eventually returned, and she stayed until breakfast. I feel very triumphant.

Ramadan started Thursday. The night before my family was telling me, it’s okay, not everyone in the family is fasting (the dad takes too many meds, the daughter is six – kids generally begin fasting at seven, and the 13 year son “isn’t always very good at fasting”), so I could eat whenever I’d like. I said, “no, I really want to fast. I want to try.” “No Kreestin, no problem, you eat anytime.” “No, I won’t be eating. I am going to fast.” “All day, no eat?” “If you can do it, so can I!” Ah…it went on. No one believed I understood, or could do it. Which just made me more determined than ever. So Thursday when I got home and told them I hadn’t eaten or drunken (?) anything, they were tremendously impressed. It made me happy because I had felt like they thought it was stupid that a non-Muslim would fast, but I realized that it was more that they didn’t want me to feel in any way like I was obligated to do so.

The not-eating is the smallest trouble of the fast. It is the desire to put food in the mouth that is a far bigger issue, if that makes sense. I wasn’t hungry during the day (breakfast was had at 4:30am, iftar-the break of the fast-at 6:51pm), but I just wanted to be nibbling on something! Not drinking water was also extremely hard. I had decided the previous night that I wasn’t going to abstain from water, that’s silly and not all that healthy, but once I got up it just felt oddly wrong to take a drink. I had a water bottle with me, but I only took one sip all day, to wash down a pill. The most intense challenge happened around 2:30pm, when two friends and I were at Carrefour, the mega-wonder-grocery-store-land. For some ungodly reason, there was an OPEN Cinnabon stand!!!! Tears nearly came to my eyes as the fresh-baked smell assaulted my nose.

Hahaha. I just got an email from my mom in which she said: “every time I feel hungry I think of you.” That’s one of the most charming things anyone’s ever said to me!!

Yesterday was shameful. I met some friends at Books@Cafe (aka “Books” in the local parlance; not surprisingly, a bookstore-cum-coffee shop) and my plan was to order a bottle of water and that was that. Well, when I went up to the barista, I was on auto-pilot and asked what I ask every time I’ve been there: “what kind of drip coffee do you have today?” HUGE mistake; he just had to say hazelnut, the jack-ass. It was like I entirely lost control of my speaking organ. So there I was, with a massive cup of hazelnut aroma coffee, and I drank it. I didn’t enjoy at all. I was angry, but I feel that I learned my lesson. Today I had a bottle of water after going to the gym, but no big mishaps.

I find that from roughly 3pm on, it is extremely hard to read. My head gets just foggy enough to prohibit progress beyond a paragraph every five minutes or so. Maybe I should find something easier to read, though. I’m out of novels, and I looked through every shelf at Books, and was unable to locate a SINGLE novel that I had ANY desire to read. And I’m not talking about a couple shelves, they have an extensive fiction section. The problem being that massmarkets far outnumber trade paperbacks. After every half hour or so in the café upstairs, I would get myself re-encouraged that there must be something, anything, down there that had missed…and I would return and pore over shelf after shelf…of absolute crap. Luckily I can go to the school library tomorrow, and surely find something!

I find that I’ve been enjoying commenting on the music of my café environments. One of the ways that I knew Books was so for me was that they played the entire first album of Dido and followed it with Bone-Thugs-N-Harmony. Fantastic. And here, at Costa Coffee, the were playing James Blunt’s CD, then switched to LL Cool J. Also rather fabulous.

Real school begins tomorrow. I'm far from thrilled. Despite the fact that I left quite a bit of the placement test blank, and the other parts I know were filled out abominably, and when in the oral portion I was asked to give four reasons why I would prefer the mountains to the beach for a vacation, and I gave none, other than saying "I like" and then miming "hiking," I was placed in level four out of six!!! They say they know what they're doing, and I should trust the people who evaluated me, I'm terrified. My vocabulary base is minimal, embarrassingly so, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to keep up. Two things make me feel better about it though. First, the primary teacher for level four is one of those sweet kind people who give you the impression that they genuinely what to help you learn. I know that he won't be cruel to us. And secondly, there are two girls who were in my colloquial course who liked to whine about how it was too easy, and blah blah, he moves too slow, yadda yadda. Yeah, they both got placed into level three!! Ha, it gave me a small bit of pleasure to discover this.

Assorted Aswan Photos Around My Hotel

2007-09-13T11:11:00.001+02:00

This is the big square in front of the train station, about a block from our hotel. It would have been more pleasant to walk in this area, where the waterfront is lined with parks, if everyone wasn't staring and making comments at you.

These are the views from Tracey's and my hotel room at the Marhaba Palace Hotel. It was definitely my favorite hotel of the whole trip, largely because of the fact that when keys were being passed out, Tracey randomly selected the only suite!!! We had such a massive beautiful room. And the pool here was the best of all the hotels as well. They even let me swim at night (the sign said it closed at five) with a bottle of beer! A delightful couple of days were had in Aswan.

I would always welcome a chance to let Marhaba puts me together again! I also like the idea of "internet coffee" - is that like where you press a button and a caffeine fix is programmed to your brain?

Abu Simbel

2007-09-13T09:59:00.000+02:00

This is really a fantastic temple, three hours south of Aswan, on Lake Nasser, which supposedly has the highest concentration of crocodiles in the world.

We were supposed to depart at 4:30am, to meet up with the convoy that makes the trip with police escort (you can't go any other way). Well, we all dutifully met in the lobby at 3:45am, drank tea, nibbled on breakfast, waited...and waited...until around 5am Khaled informed us that the bus hadn't shown up, he couldn't get a hold of the bus driver, and the convoy was leaving as we spoke. Awesome. So we agreed that we would try the 11am convoy, even though the heat would be oppressive and the lighting a little less beautiful.

But it turns out we got lucky!!! There were maybe 10 other people there in total, the whole time we were visiting, and in the morning convoy, even in low season, there are hundreds and hundreds of tourists getting in your way. We all were thrilled with how things went. Khaled had never gone on the 11 o'clock convoy before, and he thinks he's going to sugggest to future tours, I love it when things that seem awful turn out fantastically!

Ramesses II had these built into the rock in the 13th century BC. They had to be relocated in the sixties to preserve them from the rising height of the Nile in response to the construction of the Aswan High Dam. So the temples were cut into pieces and reassembled a couple hundred meters back. I can't even fathom how that kind of project actually happens. It cost 80 million US dollars.

Oh, tree friends. I thought they were cute.

This is a temple to Ramessses II's favorite wife Nefertari. She is the only wife to get such a lavish dedication. Most wives would just be represented as mini-statues between a Pharaoh's feet or something.

The only bad portion on the experience was the three hours each way on the bus. The bumpy bumpy, bumpy bus. And even thought the air conditioning was on, it still felt a bit like an oven.

The landscape was interesting on the way down, but really not at all on the way back. I liked seeing the bus stops in the middle of absolutely nothing that would periodically pop up. And I did get to see some desert mirages...it was eery!

Kitchener's Garden Isle

2007-09-06T12:26:00.000+03:00

Elephantine Island

2007-09-06T11:23:00.000+03:00

Here there is a Nubian village (Nubians are an ethnic group, blacker than the rest of the Arab-looking Egyptians, from this area of southern Egypt and the Sudan, who are mostly Muslim but have a distinct history). In truth, I do like to see small towns like this, but it feels gross to be part of the endless tourist parade, oohing and ahhing at all the cute little houses and children.

The Aga Khan's Mausoleum and Surrounding Area

2007-09-06T11:17:00.000+03:00

Felucca Riding in Aswan

2007-09-05T13:14:00.000+03:00

Aswan is the southernmost large city in Egypt. Many of us thought it was our favorite city in the country (sometimes I count myself among this group, sometimes not). The Nile is beautiful here, and there are lots of islands to visit near or in the city.

A boy swam up and started singing at our boat. He wanted money. Khaled wanted to throw coins for him in the water and see if he could catch them before they sank.

The Big Irritating But Still Fun Bazaar

2007-09-05T12:54:00.000+03:00

Khan al-Khalili. It ended up being the only place I actually bought souvenir stuff. It would have been more fun if everything I bought didn't get offered to my friend Jeff a minute later at a lower price!! I need to learn to be willing to walk away, but I just can't do it!

In the middle of the bazaar there just happens to be a cafe dedicated to my favorite Egyptian author, Naghuib Mahfouz!! They had the best hummous I had in Egypt too. I went several times.

These are just random Cairo shots. from sort of around the Khan al-Khalili area, maybe?

Life As a Fahmawi

2007-09-04T12:45:00.001+03:00

I will put up more from Egypt, for reals. But now I'll do a little profile of my family here for people I haven't spoken with already. The people I live with are Baba age 74, Mama age 48, A1 age 15, A2 age 13 (both boys), and S age 6 (girl). Can we all say holy wow, a 74 year old with a 6 year old daughter?! And Sarah is the Filipina maid, she lives at the house and feels almost like part of the family, you know, in the unwanted stepsister kind of way...

At first it was horrendously awkward. The family agreed to host me less than a week before I moved in, and they had been getting asked by my program for years to host a student, but had always said no. Naturally I realized that I had to make sure I make a wonderful impression, and when I am nervous about doing that I get...well, you all know how I get...

I tried so hard to make good conversation when I was picked up Thursday evening, but as the father, I, and occasionally the mother sat on the terrace drinking tea, the conversation was rather stilted after a half hour or so. But we kept sitting there. And sitting. And drinking tea. And eating grapes. I was completely overwhelmed by the feeling that I was totally unwanted. But they were nice, the kids and the mom just stared at me a lot. We had dinner, watched a Jackie Chan movie, went to bed... It's possible I hated the world that night and felt like a made such a massive mistake. Then I met some friends at a cafe the next day and found out how nice all the apartments for people who had opted out of homestays were, and I really felt like I'd made the wrong choice.

On Saturday, the eldest son of my host dad came over with his kids from his previous marriage, his terrifying new wife, and her parents and brother. Now this was by far my the worst afternoon of my year. The wife had this ballistic hatred of cats, and every time the family's charming kitty would come close to the windows she would look away like it was causing her physical pain and the expression on her face was way too ridiculously dramatic to not react to. Well, her brother caught me trying to hold back a smile, told her, and then she just hated me. There is something unquantifiably miserable about having the individuals sitting on each side of you talking shit about you to each other in a language you don't understand but know enough of to know they're talking about you, and it isn't nice things. Everyone pointing at me during all the conversations going on between everyone throughout the whole afternoon didn't help either. A, my 15 year old brother, kept giving me these pitying, I'm sorry you have to be here for this looks.

But finally it ended. Later when I was playing with Katrine, the cat, and my host dad brought up and laughed about how his daughter-in-law hates cats. It felt good to know I wasn't the only who thought it was entertaining. And by the way, the cat acts like how cats are supposed to!! Meaning, she will actually sit in my lap when I place her there, unlike some cats I know.

Sunday was infinitely better. It seems I just needed to start class to feel like I was doing something with myself. Every day I feel more and more happy at the house, and comfortable with interacting with everyone. The kids are so much fun to be around. They aren't terribly noisy or rowdy, they are just very sweet, and I feel like they like having me around, which of course makes me happy.

The house itself is incredible. The dad built it before the city had expanded this far, and so it is on a pretty big lot with gardens and assorted fruit trees. The outside looks like an Italian villa, vines decorating the walls, terraces and patios galore. The inside is comprised of two large floors; the main one is where my room, the boys' room, master bedroom, office/library, living room with big comfy couches and the tv, huge kitchen where we eat when there aren't guests over, plus the massive elaborately decorated sitting room with the main dining area. It is so much bigger than I was expecting!! On this floor there are also three full bathrooms! And downstairs are the maid's room, the laundry room, a spare room, another enormous sitting room, yet another full bathroom, plus the gargantuan bedroom-sized shower I use due to its location next to the big sauna, which is identical in every way to the sauna at my Gold's Gym in Richmond. I was really weirded out. I feel like I am a rich high schooler; I like it.

My room is pretty big, though a lot of it is taken up by my HUGE bed. I think it is probably more than a king, it feels like the largest bed I've ever slept in, sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to find my way off. It doesn't quite feel like it's "my" room though, as I'm expected to make the bed every day and keep it very clean.

The problem I am discovering is that I am expected to sit with the parents when they have guests. But I have no idea how long I am supposed to stay! Someone will arrive, soon after one of the children will summon me to join them, I go, I shake hands, I sit quietly and try to understand what words I can pick up from the conversation, usually not many. Then I nibble some fruit, say how god I think it is, then sit quietly some more. I expect that it would be fine it if I didn't stay long, but I never know what to do, so I just sit, smiling away silently.

Last night a nice couple was there, and they didn't want any of the fruit or cookies piled high upon the table, but in that delightful forced hospitality dance they ended up finally taking some. The woman, on my right, sliced a baby cucumber in half and offered a piece to me. I did the hand wavy thing and said "la shukran" (no thank you). She just stared me in the eyes, and I was sure I could feel her saying to me, "These people are forcing me to eat this food I don't want, and you better believe you're going to help me." I am so sick of eating.

Big Stone Triangles

2007-09-03T11:01:00.000+03:00

I've gotten too lazy and distracted to finish uploading the rest of the pictures I was going to add, so here are a couple from the pyramids.

I love taking pictures of people posing for other cameras. Here is Thoth, aka Alan, aka my dad. He sired me with Ra's sister, according to our group's rather unique interpretation of egyptian mythology.

The guy in blue is Khaled, the guide/tour leader for the GAP trip. He was so fantastically awesome. You should be jealous cause you didn't ever get to hear his jokes and see his funny little tongue-wag thing that accompanied them. I wish I were as cool as Khaled.

Sarah and her mom Donna only sat on the camel for a couple of minutes. I wish I had been that smart.

City of the Dead

2007-08-27T02:01:00.000+03:00

On Day Two Mahmoud took me to the City of the Dead, one of the large cemetaries in Cairo. It's actually also a city of the living, as several poor families reside in the houses that surround the graves. At first I felt really uncomfortable when people would give the 'what are you doing here?' look, but most everyone was quite friendly, especially the kids with their giggles and pointing and hellos.

The previous day Mahmoud said he would wear a white t-shirt Sunday so that he could be as white as me. I didn't believe him. But apparently he wasn't kidding.

My First Egyptian Day

2007-08-25T13:24:00.000+03:00

Okay. I arrived in Cairo pretty late Friday night, August 3. On Saturday I left the hotel intending to walk around, saving the touristic stuff for once I was with my tour. It so happened that after an overwhleming and stressful 30 minutes I made a friend, Mahmoud, while attempting (and failing miserably) to cross a big street. We walked through some pretty areas, crossed the Nile, et cetera...

Then all of a sudden I find myself convinced to go to the pyramids "the Egyptian way," aka around the back, possibly illegally? I did see my guide give a cop some cash, but who knows, everyone has to give cops money as far as I can tell. That's Mahmoud above. He started crossing the street, not realizing I stayed behind to take a picture. Then the cars starting coming, and he had to recross in order to guide me through the traffic. This was before I was very adept at "walking like an Egyptian." Nowadays, I cross with only a small suppressed amount of fear. It's kind of exciting to see how close the cars will get to you as you weave between them. One of my prouder moments was when I realized that I had just crossed a busy street, dodging the cars instinctively, while typing a text message on my mobile!!! It's really quite fun.

So on a camel I went...trotting around the sand, a horrible and delightful experience simultaneously. We entered the pyramid area through this fence here. I felt really awkward.

I have more pyramid pictures from when I went the proper way, I post them later.

My camel's name was 'Banana.' My guide was very sweet to her. I think he loved camels a lot.

After a traumatic mobile phone purchasing experience, we went to see the Sufi dervishes do their whirling. It was fantastic. I had never seen them before, and was struck by the look of pure joyous ecstasy on their faces as they spun incessantly. It was really beautiful, and very exciting.

Everything I did that first day was wholly unexpected, and so much better being with an Egyptian. It may sound extreme to those of you who haven't been here, but I really don't think I could have handled this city on my own. Now, it's infinitely better, I know my way around (well, somewhat...), I wear headphones when I walk alone to shut out the comments, I look at the pavement to avoid the stares...and luckily I have friends to walk with frequently, so I can smile and talk and look wherever I want. I will try my best to post a lot more tomorrow.

Misr

2007-08-11T19:04:00.000+03:00

So I can't post pictures now, but I have taken a lot. Someday they'll be up here.

I'm in Luxor right now, and the young guy who runs the internet cafe is playing Celine Dion. That "it's all coming back to me now" song - it's fantastic.

My group is really great. I am startled that there is not one person that I dislike!

We have been staying at far nicer hotels than I anticipated. I imagine that is because most people don't come to Egypt in August; my first hotel in Cairo had a total of four people staying there. Apparently everyone else is afraid of the heat; pansies. Down south I admit it can be a bit brutal, but Cairo was mild compared to Nicosia for the last few weeks! And it really isn't humid here, not that I've noticed.

Okay, he just started singing along with Celine!! This place rocks.

We took a two day/two night felucca (traditional sailboat) ride up from Aswan (the southernmost major city). It was one of the most relaxing and wonderful experiences of my life, until I got tired of sitting and my stomach started to hurt and I wanted a shower real real bad. But I did swim in Nile several times; I don't think it likes me very much. I'm pretty sure the Nile made me feel shitty, but I'd so still do it over again! The current was so powerful, I wanted to just float my way up to Luxor.

I danced around a bonfire with the Nubians. They don't let you sit out.

Everyone in the group has been assigned an Egyptian deity by someone who has a guide with detailed descriptions, and some of us now actually call each other by this name more often than not; especially with Thoth, aka Alan, it results in painfully hilarious conversations. He also now likes to speak in the third person; for example, about my firewood: "Allow Thoth to inspect. Thoth approves."

Ah, Hotel California is on now. I have to go eat dinner: "Beef Cubes with Cumip baked in Casserole" (sic).

Things I Miss About Cyprus

2007-08-06T10:22:00.001+03:00

The Galicia iced tea and the Rosé from Paphos at Brew. The wonderfully nice owners of Brew. The music at Brew. Everything about Brew except for the lack of AC.

Enjoying a fine glass of Maredsous 10% outside at Plato’s accompanied by that fine Plato’s popcorn.

Hanging out in the Intercollege cafeteria, sipping a frappe, chatting with people or putting pictures up on this blog.

The chicken souvlaki and the halloumi pita at Gyromania; tzatziki, salad, and fries inside. Damn that’s good stuff. And the rice and salad at “The Green Place” which tastes exactly like the Continental’s!

Walking into my air-conditioned apartment after being outside for just about any amount of time.

Sitting in the living room, the only white American girl amid all Nepalese guys, and being strangely unbothered by not understanding what was going on in most of the conversations. Okay, sometimes I wanted to know, but really I just enjoyed listening to all the funny-sounding foreign sounds.

Watching the incredible pool player at Reckless make outstanding shots over and over. Also the tasty (raspberry?) shots the owner of Reckless would send over to us.

Taking long walks up and down the funny walkway trail thing a few blocks over from my flat, talking on the phone or listening to music.

Being driven around the city at night on the back of a scooter, the cool air in my face, headphones on…completely perfect.

Mr. Brown’s Cappuccinos, in a small can. I could drink like five a day if I didn’t restrain myself.

Texting, texting, texting. Oh God, I never knew before how much I love text messages, even though they sometimes lead to unfortunate misunderstandings.

Ummm…mushrooms (!!!). I know, it’s insane, but the way these things were made at Casa Vieja and Zebras…I can’t even describe how disconcerting it was to enjoy it. But oh how I did.

The pitchers of sangria at Casa Vieja, especially when they were free!

Moufflon Bookshop. Tons of books, crammed but orderly shelves, friendly and knowledgeable staff… Exactly what I want in a bookstore.

Greek Music.

Sitting by the fountain under Plateia Eleftherias at night with a few Carlsbergs.

The arduously long walk into town from home. It felt so unbelievably satisfying to hit the top of Ledra.

The coolest of Columbia’s incredibly varied taxi driver’s, who said that he liked how I laughed because it was “from the heart.” I’m glad somebody appreciates it!

Nepalese food, despite the occasionally intense pain of the spiciness.

All the places I never got around to visiting.

Allou, where one’s frappe comes with an unordered but very welcome glass of water and candies!

Murphy’s. Okay, maybe some mildly bad decisions were made there, but I still thought the place was great!

The weekend GLS trips. Yes, it was often terribly irritating to be with such a big group, but I’m thrilled that we got to see the places we did.

Tony’s. Despite the fact that the number of times we tried unsuccessfully to go far exceeded the number of times I actually went…I still loved the chill laid-back atmosphere and assorted nuts; just not on sickeningly humid nights.

The sub shop next to Reckless where one could get the most satisfying veggie burgers one could imagine at three in the morning.

Talking about how much we loved a certain song, then having it randomly come on a few minutes or hours later!!! And this didn’t happen just once or twice, it was seriously eery.

The fact that there are such an abundance of cafés and bars that play music I love, of all genres.

How nice to me so very many people were.

How bizarrely small of a country Cyprus is, increasing the chances for odd coincidences! One almost is led to believe in fate.

And…

You, perhaps :)

I'm Pretty Sure This is Cairo

2007-08-06T10:02:00.000+03:00

Yeah, I went on a two hour long camel ride at the pyramids. And I haven't walked or slept normally since. This is Ghanim, who led me and and my camel around the sand. Every minute or so, he would turn around on his camel and ask, "Good happy?" Yes I was indeed good happy, just really really uncomfortable.

I'll share more later. But first I have to recount what happened this morning, when I met the woman who will be my roommate throughout the tour:

Tracey: "So where are you from, 'Kay'?"
Kay: "Seattle."
T: "Really, I grew up in Seattle!"
K: "Oh wow, what part?"
T: "Well, Carnation, actually."
K: "WHAT!!!! I GREW UP IN CARNATION!!!"

Dude, wtf...how is that possible?

And what else? She recently finished her PhD at Virginia Tech, making it apparent that I will go on no organized trip for the rest of my life without a roommate from Tech (If I didn't mention it before, my roommate in Nicosia went to Tech (and was the only person in the GLS group who did), and actually knew my roommate from Moscow, who went to Tech).

The world seriously creeps me out sometimes.

Alone

2007-07-29T16:46:00.000+03:00

Lisa, Alaina, and Heather, my roommates, are all gone. So is nearly everyone else; it feels tremendously strange. I like to pretend they just left for a couple days and that I am not myself leaving any time soon. This is outside our flat, at the Intercollege Hostel, by far the awesomest place to live in town. I'm going to miss it so much. I did change my ticket though, so I leave this Friday, rather than tomorrow as I had so incorrectly originally planned. Maybe this week I get less lazy and actually post some pictures!

The Akamas Peninsula

2007-07-18T12:45:00.000+03:00

A friend and I found a "traditional boat tour" which drove alongside the coast and stopped for several hours for swimming in the "Blue Lagoon" and a traditional lunch. It was one of the most relaxing days of my whole life.

Hell yeah I'll have a slice! (By the way, he scrubbed raw garlic on them just like Mom and Dave do! My friend had never heard of such a thing. I felt so lucky to come from such an intelligent family.)

Best lunch ever. Like, EVER.

Nothing is quite as awesome as a Greek dance party with the chef to traditional music.

The Giants are Coming!!

2007-07-10T14:21:00.000+03:00

Kyrenia

2007-07-10T14:03:00.000+03:00

The Kyrenia (Turkish side) harbor presents one with the all-important question: Efes (blue) or Carlsberg (green).

I'm feeling a pretty strong urge to watch Captain Ron.

The Kyrenia Castle is really lovely.

And what castle is complete without mannequins being tortured?

The guy above is set up looking down on the woman below.

Super creepy.

It's hard to tell with the picture this size, but someone threw her a pepsi can. How considerate; I bet she's thirsty!

Napping in the shade: nothing in the world sounds better than that.

It Was the Summer of '07

2007-07-02T18:47:00.000+03:00

Yeah..."fantastic" doesn't even begin to describe it...

Wow.

I'm actually not exaggerating when I say his voice sounds amazing - somehow it really hasn't changed since the eighties. I wasn't expecting the songs to sound so downright rocking live.

You wish you had this shirt.

A and J got slightly less cool shirts than I, but still pretty awesome. On the back of both of course are the tour dates/locations: Bryan's totally the new David Hasselhoff; all the stops are in Europe!

Not just probably, I'd even go so far as to say quite likely

All lit up, he looks sort of like an angel, doesn't he?

While I don't have any shots of myself jumping around or dancing at the concert, my moves probably resembled those of these weirdos I saw recently on the Mall

It was really impossible to get clear pictures. Sorry.

Some people were really excited about Bryan

He played (thumpingly) every song I knew, and then a bunch more that I had never heard. But the Cypriots and others sure knew the words. It was so great.

Kourion and Paphos

2007-07-02T12:36:00.000+03:00

Why have the Mediterranean behind the stage? So that when the whole town was gathered for a play, they could see invading forces!

Most of Cyprus looks like the above.

Ah, free banana shots... I have to say, they looked a lot more appetizing in the moment than they do as I look at this picture. They tasted like little runts candies!

Niyati enjoys the most delicious dessert in all the land. I wish I could take nonblurry pictures after drinking wine.

How did this manage to come out so eery!

Beverages should never look like this. No!

And one of the most bizarre conversations I've had in a long time was with this British girl (she must have been drinking from those fishbowls too). You have to imagine a drunk screaming trashy British accent to get the correct effect:

"You're Americans!! Oh my god, do you know, what's the name of that British girl that Ross married! You know, on Friends!"

Why, oh why, do I have to know these things? "Emily."

"EMILY!!! YES, EMILY!! Oh my god, Americans always tell me I sound like Emily!! You don't think I sound like Emily! Do I!?!"

Her friend enters: "OH MY GOD, you know EMILY!! From Friends!! The girl Ross married!! We don't sound anything like her, DO WE?"

Ha. Hahaha. Ha.

2007-06-29T09:36:00.000+03:00

Cyprus Bearista sends his love to all you brats who think you're too good for Starbucks.

Larnaca: the Church of St. Lazarus

2007-06-28T13:12:00.000+03:00

Apparently I'm fascinated by lonely birds. I never knew that about myself before.

Hala Sultan Tekke

2007-06-27T02:20:00.000+03:00

A mosque in Larnaca

I'd imagine that these puppies never have before and never will again receive as much attention as they got from the massive group of us.

It felt a little thrilling to be the only one who could actually read the letters. I didn't understand most phrases (except of course la ilaha il-allah, no god but God) but I did know some words!

For those who've seen it: isn't this a lot like the poster or cover (I can't exactly recall) for that Israeli movie Walk on Water? Beyond the fence are the "Great Salt Lakes of Larnaca." I like salt!

I like palm trees too.

For those who have asked, and for any that I may call -

this is my cell number:

357-99-129-253

357 is the Cyprus country code

I don't have a voicemail.

It wasn't me!

2007-06-26T13:00:00.000+03:00

But whoever did do it is awesome!

No, He Isn't Winking

2007-06-25T04:17:00.000+03:00

Sad this is, the poor guy was really sweet and just wanted some love. I imagine he doesn't get much these days. If only we could get him a patch, he'd look way more cool and a lot less freakish.

(Here's another so you can see his normal expression.)

Somebody Wants to Cuddle!

2007-06-24T13:14:00.001+03:00

You know, when Heather first saw your friend in the kitchen, it didn't bother me that much. I thought we could live together in peace; you keep to your dark corners and we to ours. Then when I saw him in the cupboard under the sink, still, I was ready to go to bed, and I didn't care if he hung out near our trash. But when you scuttled your way from my backpack, across the room, and into my bed while I was laying on it, I stopped being fine with you. You think because you are nearly as big as a rat that you can just take over the room I paid for? Well I have news for you: you can.

I was run out of my hotel room by cockroaches. Part of me feels pathetic, but I so didn't know they came that big.

Refreshed

2007-06-21T22:12:00.000+03:00

Tuesday: Sitting in class, listening attentively, and all of a sudden the corridor outside is filled with a noisy gaggle of people. I can see a bunch of heads through the door window, and it was so distracting that my teacher went out to see what was going on. He comes back about twenty seconds later and says "this is really weird, guys...they're giving away iced tea. I'm going to go see if I can get us some!" After a minute he reenters with three people dressed in this weird imitation nurse garb (the length of the girl's dress would have fit in nicely on the set of the original Star Trek), each bearing trays, styrofoam cups, and boxes of peach iced tea. They pour us all cups and hand us flyers for the contest to win a six-month supply of Kean Iced Tea.

My teacher looks at Jason and me the minute they leave the room: "You don't get that in Richmond much, do you?" No, we really don't, and that's a shame.

The contest: "Simply telephone our automated hotline and record a message, telling us who you would most like to be refreshed with and why?"

Oh, wow...

The problem with attempting to do homework at a bar

2007-06-21T00:32:00.000+03:00

D: Excuse me, are you on internet here?
K: Well, sometimes, it fades in and out.
D: I am Demetrios! I am Greek!
K: I'm "K----". I'm American.
D: American! You are from America! Where?
NewYorkMiamiMaineNashvillePittsburghOrlandoChicagoOhioKaaansas? Hollywood! New Jersey!
K: Whoa...no, Seattle.
D: Ohhh, yes, I know of Seattle!
K: Great!
D: Why would you come here! So boring in Cyprus! Have you been to Greece?
K: No.
D: Oh, wow, Greece is like twenty times better! I came here to work with my friend seven months ago, but we are so bored we are going on a plane to Athens tomorrow morning at 6 o’clock. It will be so much better! Come, you must follow me to Athens!
K: Oh, no thanks, I have class tomorrow at 10.

Stop! Hammer time!

2007-06-20T00:23:00.000+03:00

Joinging the gym was one of the best choices I've made so far. I've now seen a fantastic assortment of Greek soap operas. The best mullets are there, and so, to my gleeful surprise, are Hammer pants. Last night I walked past a pillar and discovered this middle aged guy wearing massive billowing American flag Hammer pants (maybe he's still celebrating Flag Day!). I couldn't help it, I just paused in shock, my eyes widening, and he saw my face. It was disastrous, I tried to turn around really quickly and hit my foot. I could feel him glaring at me. I'm not always so good with the locals.

Gal: about the mullets; I'm working on getting some good glamour shots for you, but the camera's never handy as they saunter by, and I don't think it would help how much I stand out at the gym if I starting photographing the funny-looking guys. But in the meantime, I've unearthed a poster I happened upon in Moscow that reminds me of you!

If you did get a mullet, we'd have to find a way to recreate that picture when you were wearing my Long John Silver's hat! If you wanted a copy of the original, I could always post it here...

If I live on an island...

2007-06-19T13:25:00.000+03:00

...then I have two questions:

Where are the polar bears?

And how come I don't get to vote anyone off?

Troodhos and Omodhos

2007-06-18T11:01:00.001+03:00

Our excursion organized for this past Saturday was to the nearby Troodhos Mountains, more or less in the middle of the island. The plan was to drive to the small village called Troodhos, from which there are many nature trails departing, take some pictures from their nice little square, hike if we’d like, have lunch at a trout farm nearby (or 'troo-it' as our guide said), then visit the town of Omodhos, known for it lace, wineries, and a really intense concoction made with the residue of grapes from the wine-making process mixed with white wine called zivania. (I was told by one of our teachers, not someone trying to sell the stuff, that the women of Omodhos all live to be over 100 because they throw a shot of zivania back every day. I’m not that hard core.)

Forty out of the eighty-one of us chose not to come along in favor of going to the beach or just doing anything other than look at trees. This meant we had only one bus and were on the whole a lot less overwhelming than when we all adventure together. We drove for about an hour, then an irritating buzzing sound was coming from the dashboard. We pulled into a gas station, the bus turns off, and we’re told that we’ll be taking a five-minute break (I was reminded of the Moscow city tour, when we would take some breaks to see landmarks, and some because “the bus needs time for rest”).

Then our teacher (Angelo – the ‘g’ is hard and this is a female name) tells us that we can get out and get something to eat or drink, it’s going to be another five minutes. I tried one of the bizarre gourmet flavors that Lays potato chips puts out, “Thai Sweet Chili.” (The others I’ve seen are: “Four Cheese and Red Onion” and the best, “Oven-Roasted Chicken and Thyme” – it terrifyingly tastes exactly like chicken. I’m sure Dave would love it.) Are these in the States? None of us had seen them before.

The bus wasn't going anywhere. They called for another to come get us in order to resume the trip, but as that would take around an hour, anyone who wanted to continue walking toward our destination was welcome to (it was nine kilometers uphill to Troodhos). I thought it was great that everyone decided to at least try (though two or three did end up turning back; it was about eighty degrees). Anticipating the hiking opportunities, I had brought along my walking shoes in addition to flip-flops. I now made the colossal mistake of putting them on. Not only did it soon feel like I was walking with two little easy-bake ovens at the bottom of my legs, but I had forgotten that I had just damaged one of my big toes in a mishap with one of the many ruptured sidewalks in my life. Ohhh, the pain. I was trailing near the back of the group, fearful of pausing for long enough to change footwear while everyone else continued advancing. I wondered if I would make it, I felt so pathetic….

Thankfully, we took a decent break after a mile or so, and I released my toes from their torment. After resuming our ascent (we were on the shoulder of a road, it wasn’t like a real hike or anything), I was able to remain at the head of the group, rendering my view unobscured by a bunch of panting Americans. It made a huge difference; I sort of felt like we were on a pilgrimage. Though I’m pretty sure that you aren’t supposed to be drinking a canned “cappuccino” (or rather, “kapoutsino”) and listening to Middle Eastern pop music on an ipod while pilgrimaging.

An old mine.

That way to Troodos!

Look at everyone trying to hide in the shade of the tree. Suckers.

We made it six kilometers before the new bus met us. I was a little sad; at that point a lot of us wanted to keep going so that we could feel the sense of accomplishment at reaching Troodhos on our own. We didn’t even end up stopping at the Troodhos square in order to get to lunch as quickly as possible. I’d really love to go back and hike around, it was a lovely area. After lunch (they say hoomoos here, it was a little embarrassing when I wasn’t understood while requesting ‘hummus’), we journeyed on to Omodhos (bear in mind that ‘dh’ (delta) is pronounced, in both modern Greek and Arabic, as the ‘th’ in “then”).

Delightful village, lovely church, charming walkways, enchanting wine, but most importantly, the most adorable kittens ever. I felt like Lennie. I didn’t let myself pick them up, because I knew if I did, I would crush them with my love.

Expecting someone?

I'm totally ensorcelled by these candle displays in the Orthodox churches.

That little girl was far too cute for someone in so much pink.

I like the idea of seeing this bike....

....cruising through these little streets.

I wish it were my job to sit on this chair and demonstrate how to taste wine.

Anastasia and I loved the white at this place, but oddly for me, the red was just bad. I've never been to a town where one can just wander the streets, popping in at random to receive free wine tastings. I may return.

Treasures!

Kolossi

2007-06-17T15:51:00.000+03:00

Near the port city of Limassol (Lemesos) stands this charming medieval castle built by the Hospitallers (Knights of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem) in 1454. The original castle on this site had housed Richard the Lionheart (did you know he got married in Limassol?) and the Knights Templar. The buildings were fine and all, but I personally was captivated by the draping trees and vibrant flora of the grounds.

What castle is complete without an adjacent cafe? While the frappe here may not have been as good as at the cafeteria, the ambiance is unsurpassed.

You All Know What Day It Is...

2007-06-14T09:06:00.000+03:00

...FLAG DAY 2007!!!! Woo-ooo...

I don't know about anybody else, but I certainly made my preparations yesterday and bought a flag of the Republic of Cyprus.

The problem with this holiday here is that every day sort of feels like Flag Day, when one has a clear view of the mountains behind North Nicosia. That's okay, though, I'll still feel...patriotic...today.

Potential highlight of this Flag Day: being the resident of the apartment who has the pleasure of waiting around between six and seven tonight to receive our new bedsheets and relinquish the old ones for cleaning (my roommates all have class). It will be sort of like getting Flag Day presents!

Update: turns out I was in fact able to spend a half hour in DC! I randomly selected a machine at the gym last night because it was in front of an open window. After a minute I look up at my little tv (each machine had one), and despite the fact that all the other screens around were playing Greek soap operas, mine just happened to be a documentary on the city of Washington!!!!! I couldn't read the Greek subtitles, but I saw great views of the White House, Capital Building, the inside of a few of the Smithsonian Museums (K2 - I looked for us, and Jack, inside the Air and Space! But I think it was filmed in the 80s, so no luck), and even pandas chomping on bamboo at the Zoo! (I never realized the panda's eating habits could be so mesmerizing.)

It was too bizarre of a coincidence; it all felt like a a huge prank or something. It's hard to be sure with these things, but I feel fairly confident that this was Yahweh's birthday present to me.

Mari?

2007-06-12T19:06:00.000+03:00

What are you doing over there! It's too bad the bus is going straight, else I'd say hi.

Lefkara, Hill Town of Ultimate Cuteness

2007-06-11T18:25:00.000+03:00

Ghost Puppies!!

That lady in the corner - we chatted.

Vanillas! So good...

Living as a Cypriot (though not really at all)

2007-06-11T13:00:00.000+03:00

A few things here are different, like the side of the road on which they drive. In England, it makes sense, everyone knows they drive on the wrong side. But here, it doesn't seem right at all. I'm certainly getting accustomed to it, but sometimes there is this intense moment when I am about to cross the street: my eyes are looking at and processing the cars, but my brain just ceases normal functioning and goes "huh?" This isn't aided by the fact that they drive with a raucousness I have never before witnessed. I wish I could set up a recorder to document the sounds that vehicles make while pealing out and tearing down the small residential street I live on. I wonder if "The Fast and the Furious" came out here recently. It's the most obnoxious behaviour I've ever heard.

We have a washing machine, and a drying rack on the balcony. The washing machine doesn't do the spinning thing to ring the clothes out, so they are soaked and dripping when you take them out.

People in Cyprus are not allowed to flush toilet paper down the toilet, due to old and delicate pipes. What I find funny are the signs I have seen in bathrooms (with visual aids) prohibiting the flushing of crunched-up pop cans and tea bags! Really?

There is a Cypriot guy (I can't remember his name, let's call him George) living next door. We (my roommates and I) had seen him walk by a few times the first weekend here, and maybe nodded once or twice, but never spoken. Then last Monday, we were sitting in the living room with the door to the hall/foyer area open (that's how it usually is), and a middle-aged man emerged from George's apartment and stepped into ours, introducing himself as George's father and shaking all of our hands! George appeared in the hallway and looked a bit stricken. It was such a weird little moment that it was really hard not to giggle.

I have seen several official posters at Intercollege on bulletin boards declaring Intercollege to be "a smoke-free institution." Interesting how inside the cafeteria (which is the entire ground floor of one of the main classroom buildings), the bigger side is a massive smoking section, with no divider from the non-smoking side. Ha!

Gelled mullets are super in. Sometimes they're so spectacularly awful I wonder if the guys sporting them are kidding, but then I realize that it's pretty unlikely that they would be wearing wigs.

I really like ice cream. I like just about all kinds. How could it be possible that I didn't as a child? What was wrong with me?

I seem to have somehow manufactured the impossible: I've become a morning person! From last Saturday for no less than eight mornings in a row, I got up between six and eight EVERY DAY. I can't explain such insanity, I never would have believed it possible. On Sunday I did falter a bit, rising at 9:46, but that was the city of Paphos' fault. Today it was back to 8:24. I remain hopeful; this could change my life!

And here's a quote I found on the website of my diplomacy textbook's author: "Ambassadors are like expensively trained interpreters in a room where everyone speaks English" (George Walden). Sounds good to me!

Kay Goes to Intercollege

2007-06-10T23:53:00.000+03:00

On to my scholastic experiences. Tuesday was the first day of class; Throughout the weekend, I wavered between being somewhat anxious, and having it all feel like some sort of joke. The idea of me attending courses at a Cypriot university alongside Cypriots students was a little too peculiar to actually worry myself about. You may scoff and say, what about the language schools? And I respond by saying, WAY DIFFERENT. These are normal classes that give grades! And are being applied to people's (including mine) degrees, rather than being taken cause it'd be fun. Also, it feels quite weird to speak perfectly the language of instruction as a foreigner in this place. I almost feel guilty about not having an accent, especially in the American professor's class, although I imagine they are far more accustomed to British English, so I probably sound rather funny to all of them.

Intercollege is the largest university in the Republic (though I’m not sure about the Turkish side: I read somewhere that the student to population ratio in North Cyprus is one of the highest in the world, because loads of Turks come here (there?) to study). The fact that all courses are taught in English mean that there are loads of international students. But the largest school is Cypriot terms entails a student body of about five thousand, and it appears that the vast majority of them aren’t really into summer school.

My schedule is this: class on Tuesday and Thursday, 10-1 and 3-6. In a normal semester, classes meet for three blocks only once per week, and one of my teachers described a typical Cypriot attitude toward class. Arrive twenty minutes late, when the teacher gives a twenty-five minute break, take forty-five, and then try to get the professor to let them go fifteen minutes early. Ha! When she told us this, all the Cypriots in the class laughed and nodded knowingly. I'm beginning to see why.

My first class is about diplomacy, and upon arriving (five minutes early), I was the second person there. Two other students came in and sat down, then the professor entered: a middle-aged white man wearing a Seussical the Musical baseball hat. He saw the four of us, smiled, and said in an entirely American voice: “Oh, I’ve been in this room before. Okay, we’ve got four so far, that’s more than I was expecting!”

Hmm. I’m really not into small groups and the utter lack of anonymity they produce. Luckily, two other Cypriots showed up a little late (shock), as did the other guy from my program taking this class (naturally, the guy from VCU; it feels kind of awkward explaining to people that yes, we go to the same school, even had a class together, but we didn’t know each other and it is entirely random that we both happen to be here and taking the same two classes), so there are seven of us now.

I like this professor quite a bit. He’s from New York, and he lives here because his wife is a Cypriot. He seems to know thousands a little stories and anecdotes and funny tidbits, mostly of international affairs. Every five or ten minutes, he’ll be lecturing, then something will occur to him, whether it's the story of the guy whose full time job at the FDA was to measure the viscosity of ketchup, or the time his ex-fiancée’s uncle (seriously) retold the details of the food, drink and conversation of a meal that took place in 1962, decades after it occurred.

Another good one is how EU bureaucrats (oh wow, when I was just typing that, I accidentally wrote “bureaubrats” - I like it!) in Brussels have told Cyprus that their cucumbers are too small, and sent people down here to measure these faulty vegetables and lecture Cypriot cucumber growers. The Cyprus Problem has been present since 1974, and since we can’t solve that, let’s see what we can do about the Cyprus Cucumber Problem! Oh…I can tell I’m going to really like this class. It may sound like he just goes off on tangents all the time, but it isn't quite like that. He's really great with the actual subject matter, and most of his stories are fairly related to what we are talking about. And he always meanders his way back to the original topic in less time than many of my previous tangent-prone teachers.

Oh dear, I realize I haven’t so much as mentioned the Cafeteria yet! It is a wonderful place. My first taste of a glorious frappe was had here, roughly 9:10am Tuesday morning. Life changed a little bit for me after that moment…aka, I am completely and utterly addicted. I had frappes at the Continental a couple of times, but in all honesty, I didn't really care one way or another for those ones. But the way the Intercollege cafeteria ladies do it, it’s not just foamed Nescafe, sugar and milk, there’s a hefty spoonful of magic dust too. Tragically it is beginning to appear that nowhere else on this island so far makes a frappe as good – I’m been sampling all week, and finding mostly disappointment.

Naturally I was nervous that I would be unable to meet Cypriots or any non-American students at school, there being so many of us. But before my first class on Tuesday, I had gone early to discover which room my class was in and try a frappe, so I was sitting at a table outside next to the cafeteria, and a Cypriot-looking girl called over from another table to ask if I had a lighter. I walked over and handed one to her, and she asked where I was from. I told her, and she seemed puzzled, asked me a question or two, then I asked where she was from, and she just orders me, “oh, get your stuff, move over here.” Her name is Anastasia, and she’s from Toronto, but moved here when she was twelve, and we chatted until I went to class. I don’t mean this in an unfriendly way, but it was a massive relief to talk to someone who isn't on the program. I feel sometimes like I’m stuck in a big American sleeping bag and I can’t get it unzipped.

So in my two hour break, I was sitting inside the cafeteria, and a Chinese girl from my class joined me (turns out she’s in both my classes, and she’s really sweet), then Anastasia showed up again and sat with us, then a Nigerian guy she knew came and sat down too. I felt so popular! (All the Americans around at the moment were sitting with other Americans.) We all hung out for a long time, I sipped an icy frappe and was happy.

I then had my afternoon course, on the European Union. This time it was me, the guy from VCU, his cousin who is also doing the program, and four Cypriots. The teacher is a Greek Cypriot, and I think she looks like a teenager; it’s incredible. She can be kind of funny, and has a pretty engaging lecture style, so I think I will like the course. Her laugh though...wow. Cackle doesn't quite do it justice, nor does screech...I think it may be the most distinctive and piercing sound I have ever heard.

The problem was encountered on Thursday: I walked in, and in addition to us seven students from Tuesday’s class, there were fifteen additional Americans. Talk about a shift in dynamics. They're all doing a very different program from me and the two other guys from Richmond; they stay in Cyprus for only the month of June, then travel to Europe for ten days, coming back for a little party or something before they leave in the middle of July. So they all have this class that we share four or five days a week, while my group has it two. I can’t even begin to understand how that can work and be fair to all students involved, but I will abstain from writing a letter of complaint until they all leave. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

As for assignments: I have to write several papers (longer than I expected too) with accompanying presentations, and exams. The next month and a half will not exactly be a vacation, though it will involve a lot of frappes, which always do make life seem a little easier…

All the ti-ime...All the wa-ay...

2007-06-09T06:45:00.001+03:00

"Don't miss the BIGGEST and most exciting concert ever to be staged in Cyprus!"

Oh, don't worry, there's no way I'll miss a chance to hear his "thumping rock n' roll anthems," or his "ballads that stirred a generation."

You probably think I'm kidding.

I'm not.

The Border (2)

2007-06-08T19:07:00.001+03:00

(From the Turkish side. The big tree in the background in on the Greek side.)

UN Buffer Zone

2007-06-08T09:54:00.000+03:00

If the orange trees get to throw their trash on the ground, why can't I?

The Border (1)

2007-06-08T00:54:00.000+03:00

(from the Greek Side; Catholic Church on the left)

The Isle of Cyprus

2007-06-07T13:37:00.000+03:00

Here is a map of the country. I am there sort of in the middle, in Nicosia (pronounced "nick-uh-SEE-uh"). As you are all hopefully aware, Nicosia bears the honor of being the last divided capital in the world. I walked across the border yesterday, and spent some time in the old town of Turkish Nicosia. It was vaguely uncomfortable - the buildings look mostly the same as on the Greek side, but the atmosphere is palpably different. Far less busy, poorer...even though I stand out just as much in comparison to a Greek as to a Turk, I felt far more out of place over there. It didn't even quite feel like Turkey, the words are the same, but it's just different in ways that I can't quite identify. I didn't get so much as a smile for using my Turkish. Though the buildings were lovely, I don't want to go back to the old town. The next time I cross, I will definitely go into the new part of the city. Maybe it will feel more normal.

On the plus side, I met a Canadian architecture student at the checkpoint. We spent our time there together, wandering then having (a terribly overpriced) lunch. I got so excited to see my favorite Turkish meal, lahmacun, on the menu at our chosen restaurant (finding this was half the reason I wanted to cross over). But they were out. Errr.

So, look at the map. The excursions that the program facilitates will take us to Limassol and Paphos (this weekend), the Troodos Mountains (where Mt. Olympus is; next weekend), Larnaca and Ayia Napa (on the coast north of Larnaca; where the party's at, they say), Kyrenia (near Lawrence Durrell's house!), and Polis (close to some of the most beautiful hiking trails and virtually the only unspoiled beaches left in the South).

My Itinerary

2007-06-07T13:11:00.001+03:00

Okay, I think it might be useful to post my dates and locations for the next while.

1 June - 30 July: Nicosia, Cyprus

30 July - 26 August: Egypt - the coutry tour occurs August 5 - 20

26 August - 1 June: Amman, Jordan

My winter break is roughly 14 December - 21 January (definitely starts on the 14th, but they haven't posted the spring dates yet; so I went from last year's). This is good time for visits!!

The View From My Window

2007-06-07T09:42:00.001+03:00

Well actually, the view from the window of the Ledra Museum Observatory (eleventh floor!). The view from my apartment, being several miles west of the center, doesn't include quite so much...civilization. This is taken in the middle of the old town in the Greek side, looking north toward the the Turkish side. You can see the border marked by that horizontal line of trees a quarter of the way up from the bottom of the window. And on the left, you can see the faint Turkish Cypriot flag that Turkish soldiers actually painted into the rocks of the mountain.

Remarks about the changes

2007-06-06T22:38:00.001+03:00

Okay, so I deleted a bunch of those old posts. I decided to keep a couple just for fun, but I wanted to sort of start over. What I am hoping occurs is that I will post one or a few pictures every day, and every couple days have a story to tell. We'll see.

Seattle to Nicosia, the Long Way

2007-06-05T18:49:00.000+03:00

Hmmm...well I'm here in Cyprus...it's hard to figure out what to say.

I really like Nicosia, but haven't seen much yet. I arrived with the majority of the program participants on Friday afternoon. We have spent most of the time since in our little suburban neighborhood, a couple of miles out from the city center and old town. We took a short little tour of downtown on Saturday, but didn't see very much. When we got to the Green Line, the border between the Turkish and Greek Cypriot territories, our guide was giving us some background on the conflict, and she kept shushing the Greek Cypriot soldiers nearby, who would periodically whisper to each other. It was hilarious to see these young men in uniform holding machine-guns look bashful at a dirty look from our tiny little tour guide.

My apartment is exactly one block from the university! There are six different buildings housing us EIGHTY-ONE Americans (you can't even imagine how bizarre it is to be in such a massive group, I'm still processing), and mine (Hostel One, though it is an apartment building, not an actual hostel) is the one that is closest to Intercollege and the one that everyone has to meet in front of for group events. It may not be the fanciest, but I really like it. My flatmates are quite nice. There are two cousins from Boston sharing a room, and my roommate is a girl from Virginia Tech. What is super weird is that she is in the same major, Hospitality and Tourism, as my roommate from Va Tech on the Moscow trip was. And they know each other! This girl is the only Tech student on the Cyprus program, and there just happens to be this coincidence. Crazy.

The neighborhood we are in is called Makedonitissa. Were you to find a detailed Nicosia map, we would likely not be on it, so far to the left we are. There is an arterial one street over, which houses many little convenience-store type places, a bunch of huge fancy furniture warehouses, the oh-so-splendid Gyromania (I'm sorry Continental, I still love you, but the chicken souvlaki at Gyromania is really really good), "Green Valley" - a great fruit and vegetable grocery store, a pub called "Trends," and Papafilipou's - an ice cream shop-cum-arcade complete with air hockey, pool, lots of video games, and yes, bumper cars! Papafilipou's is seriously two blocks from the Hostel, and it's creepy to pass every day. Okay, I did play my roommate at air hockey last night, it was way fun.

At the apartment we have a pretty large balcony with a big plastic table and chairs; it is just a perfect place to sit at night and relax. And as we are quite close to the buffer zone, we have an almost unobscured view of the embarrassment of all Greek Cypriots: the massive Turkish Cypriot flag painted into the mountains behind Turkish Cypriot Nicosia, adorned with flashing Christmas lights at night. Wow, it is quite a sight. I'll post some pictures once I get around to taking them.

I'm running out of battery power, so I'll have to talk about today (first day of school!) tomorrow. I had really fantastic time in New York. I'll admit, I sort of wanted to be unimpressed and not find it that interesting. The first night, I walked a terribly long way from my hostel (a normal one) down the Upper West Side and Broadway to Times Square. I think Times Square must be the most ridiculously stupid place on the planet. A bunch of idiots getting all overexcited about being advertised to from so many shiny directions at once. I was entirely underwhelmed, but hey, that's just me.

But then the next day was absolutely beautiful, and in the morning I walked around in Central Park, and I just fell in love. Everyone I spoke with was really friendly, and I didn't feel like it was a place that was all that different from any other city - it just has more Barnes and Nobles! The best part was that Kristi drove up from Maryland with her dog; we drove all over Manhattan then spent several hours drinking beer at a lovely outdoor cafe by a little pond in Central Park. It was serenely fantastic.

The second best part was my taxi driver on the way into the city from JFK. He had a conversation on his cell in Russian, but I was too nervous to ask him a question in Russian, so I waited until we were discussing the weather to say: "Oh, it's been very mild in Seattle, are you Russian?" He laughed and asked if I thought so because of his accent. I said no, I heard you speaking Russian earlier. He laughed again, and said yes, he was Russian. But turns out he's actually from Uzbekistan, though when he left they were still part of the Soviet Union. I asked him several questions about his homeland that displayed my obvious interest in the region, prompting him to laugh yet again and say: "You know very well history of Uzbekistan!" Hardly, but the comment totally made my night.

Worst part was on the metro heading back to JFK. I was scrunched up against someone, and despite having zero weight or pressure on my right leg, the crazy limb kept falling asleep, then waking, causing me to somewhat spastically try to restrain myself from reacting too intensely to the pins and needles, then falling asleep again. I spent the last half hour of the ride terrified that I would be unable to remove myself from the metrocar when we reached my stop. Luckily I could, though awkwardly.

London was fine. I slept A LOT. The middle-aged guy in my room making unfathomably loud noises in his sleep was not fine. I left the room and spent the wee hours drinking wine with Texan college students; not a bad way to spend some time.

Temperature in Finland

2007-03-30T08:53:00.000+02:00

Sorry for the lack of order to my posts. My mind's been wandering.

(the following is courtesy of the dishes and free food cupboard at Hostel Erottajanpiusto, Helsinki)

+ 15 C/ 59 F: This is as warm as it gets in Finland, so we'll start here. People in Spain are out in winter-coats and gloves. The Finns are out in the sun, getting a tan.

+ 10 C/ 50 F: The French are trying in vain to start their central heating. The Finns plant flowers in their gardens.

+5 C/ 41 F: Italian cars won't start. The Finns are cruising in cabriolets.

0 C/ 32 F: Distilled water freezes. The water in the Vantaa River gets a little thicker.

-5 C/ 23 F: People in California almost freeze to Death. The Finns have their final barbecue before winter.

-10 C/ 14 F: The Brits start the heat in their houses. The Finns start wearing long sleeves.

-20 C/ -4 F: The Aussies flee from Mallorca. The Finns end their Midsummer celebrations. Autumn is here.

-30 C/ -22 F: People in Greece die from the cold and disappear from the face of the earth. The Finns start drying their laundry indoors.

-40 C/ -40 F: Paris starts cracking in the cold. The Finns wait in line at the hot dog stands.

-50 C/ -58 F: Polars start evacuating the North Pole. The Finnish army postpones their winter survival training awaiting real winter weather.

-60 C/ -76 F: Korvatunturi (the home for Santa Claus) freezes. The Finns rent a movie and stay indoors.

-70 C/ -94 F: The false Santa moves south. The Finns get frustrated since they can't store their Kossu (Koskenkorva vodka) outdoors. The Finnish army goes out on winter survival training.

-183 C/ -297.4 F: Microbes in food don't survive. The Finnish cows complain that the farmers' hands are cold.

-300 C/ -508 F: Hell freezes over. Finland wins the Eurovision Song Contest.

The First

2007-02-14T23:30:00.000+02:00

Hello to the few people I am telling that I started this! I'm am going to work on getting my Moscow photos up while I am sick and have energy for little else. About my name, I'm not trying to be especially secretive, I just don't feel like saying specifically who I am. So if you post comments, leave out my actual name please.

Here is my trial photo of Richmond: a few weeks ago it snowed here! For an hour, but still, it was splendid. This is part of the VCU campus: the library is on the right, and the Hibbs building, where I have several classes, is on the left. I usually part my scooter here next to all those lame bikes. In the distance is not a campus building, that's a cathedral; it makes for a lovely view out of some of the Hibbs classrooms.