Venice, Greece, and Croatia: How I kept my sanity dragging 2 little kids through Europe

I'd love to say that I am the kind of mom that created whimsical reasons why the kids should care about a 1500 year old basillica in Venice or why they should walk (unbribed) up a zillion hills to get a glimpse of the sun setting over the acropolis in Athens. Please remember this kids....you will be really impressed one day! :) Even if you aren't...you made your mother's year at least pausing the "I want gelato" whine to check out the medieval wall in Croatia!

Wish I had better advice for other travelling parents-our best idea was researching the sights and creating "treasure hunts" for each with redeemable points for pizza and gelato timed to meal/snack times. :)

New Beginnings

Hi all-

So, the new semester is in full swing at AUC. Back by popular demand are excerpts from my students' biographies. As usual, they are funny, humbling, and even a bit inspirational (arranged by general type):

Honest
"When I first signed up for this class it was my intention to basically just go for easy classes to boost my GPA since last semester I didn’t do as well as I had hoped."

"I signed up for this course because like so many others, I've always had an interest in psychology and understanding the human mind. I've even considered having it as my major at one point. Besides, most of my friends love going around diagnosing each other, both to try and make sense of this world and to make themselves feel like they're smarter than one another. I want in on that."

"I am taking this course because I usually wanted to know more and understand Psychology, especially because of the fact that in Egypt Psychiatrists usually freak people out. That’s why the idea of studying Psychology seems very interesting to me."

"I'm trying to get a solid background in child psychology, or adolescent psychology (if there is such a thing) to become a guidance counselor for high schoolers, as my guidance counselor had the IQ of peat moss. My preferred learning style is a combination of lecture/discussion as I feel note taking to be a waste of time"

Funny
"I'm witty, impeccably mannered, and exceedingly handsome to boot. For a guy who's never been outside the Middle East, I also have an unparalleled command of the English language, which I use to write stupid shit from time to time that makes people laugh."

"Shopping is also one of my very favorite hobbies it puts me in an amazing state of happiness."

Inspirational (and a little scary)
"This course will be my pocket guide for my life journey."

"The reason why I (am a business major) is because of my dad. Even though I never studied business and wouldn’t want to but according to my dad I would do good in the marketing field or that I have a marketing eye or something like that. So I still didn’t decide because I still have no idea with what I’m going to do."

"I am willing to do whatever it takes in this course to get an A because this is the only course I have been looking forward to all summer!"

Enjoy the rest of September!

Kolle Sana Wenta Tayib (Every year, the same)

Kolle Sana Wenta Tayib (litearlly "Every year, the same"-a traditional Ramadan greeting that is roughly equivalent of "It's the most wonderful time of the year...it's the hap-happiest season of ALLLLLLL")

Yes, it is Ramadan again…the Muslim equivalent of Christmas…only with a month’s fasting, lots of prayer, and an inward focus on God and all that is right and good. Then again, Ramadan in Egypt is nothing like Christmas in America is it?

So, in Egyptian parlance, today was Thanksgiving Day +1…the biggest shopping day of the year. Where was I? Carrefour-the Egyptian (French actually) Wal-mart. Pretty crowded-and I do crowds. Still, I loved every minute of it…mostly because I got to see some many funny things. Here is an example:

I reach the pasta pinnacle of Carrefour at exactly the same time as a very ordinary-looking Egyptian lady and I offer my hand signaling that she should go first. Naturally, she goes first and stops right in front of me and loads 4 FLATS OF MACCARONI (24 bags per flat and 8 servings per bag) INTO HER CART!!!! Really…this is the month of fasting? What was she doing—preparing for Moses to come back? Who needs that much macaroni? I would have just passed it off as a “weird Egypt sighting” but the woman behind her got 2 flats, the woman behind her, 2 more flats. I sat there for a full 2 minutes people watching. Have I missed the announcement that pasta was being discontinued world-wide?

Anyway, our lanterns are up. Ramadan Kareem (Happy Ramadan!)

Re-Entry!

I have never known an astronaut personally but I suspect there is a moment when returning from space…you know right at the last minute when they pull the rip cord and go sailing into the ocean. Surely, it feels like a bizarre mixture of relief meets hitting a brick wall. It’s gotta be like when you are going 50 mph on a roller coaster and it suddenly comes to a “full and complete stop…thank you for riding the Brain Scrambler at Paramount’s Kings Dominion and have a great day”. Anyway, this is a feeling that all humans share…be it going back to work after a week at the beach, or that first day of post-Christmas diet…getting a credit card statement. Today, I got my turn. Yep, ya just swallow it and try to keep moving forward. So it was with our first official “return from summer leave”.

I have been warned of the difficulty of just such moments. Returning from 2 months of fun in the sun would be difficult on anyone. However, I, like most ex-pats, am surprisingly self-absorbed about every little difficulty in my charmed life. I will say though that 24 hours never seems longer than when spanned over 3 continents and human species virtually unknown to each other except by tenuous ex-pat threads such as our own. I spent what could have passed for an eon at Raleigh/Durham airport crying my eyes out about how much I’d miss my family. I felt comforted that the kids were crying too…they’d miss the sunshine, and the toads hopping around at my parents’ house…and then I figured out they were faking it to make me laugh. Despite the overcrowded airport, people began to slowly back away from us. Yes, we are the ones crazy enough to live in Egypt.

We made the connection in England with all the speed of a socialist official reforming health care…clunky, with lots of prim looks and virtually no help. I don’t understand Anglophiles at all.

Arrival in Egypt was hot (predictably), chaotic (predictably), crowded (predictably), frustrating (predictably) and filled with cross-cultural gaffes (should have been predictable). There was the woman in line ahead of us at baggage claim who refused to acknowledge a clean, upper-class, and well-intentioned Egyptian family who followed her around yelling “you are welcome in Egypt”. I explained to her that in Arabic “welcome to” and “welcome in” mean the same thing. She looked at me as if I had two heads (oh crap! Was I speaking in Arabic or English?) and told me “yeah, I just couldn’t understand her broken English”. Oh boy! I feel pretty bad for her tour guide already. “This is zee Sphinx. “Oh, it is ‘ZSPINX”…I thought it was just called ‘the Sphinx”. He already looked haggled with about 10 such travelers. I should have given him a little appreciatory tip just for existing for Americans like that. I didn’t. Because I am American and cheap like that.

We checked the maximum amount of luggage allotted to our family size-8 suitcases of 50lbs each and 8 carryons. Sixteen in all! One checked bag was lost in transit. It is always about the one that got away isn’t it? I can’t help but think of all that bag could have contained (World peace? Whirled peas? Which would I want more here in the land of stinky Pharaoh food?) While Joe was filling out a missing bag report (joke) and trying to figure out who to bribe to go look for it (truth), I took the kids to meet our driver. Once we located him, we sat ourselves comfortably beside a large family who looked to simply be picnicking in the airport for the day. If they were waiting for anyone, it wasn’t obvious to us. With the family sat a boy about 10 years old who sheepishly looked quite interested in the many bag of books and activities that my thoughtful mother packed for our journey (thanks mom!). I handed the boy a “Where’s Waldo?” or “Waldo feyn?”) book to look at with Aedan who at this point was over the airport seats making himself comfortable among the caftans. Naturally, everyone in the airport encroached to take paparazzi style photos of my little 6 year old blonde wonder “oh my…he is reading a book”….”look at that, he walks to his mother to ask for a Kleenex!”. Virginia was off in her own starlet-world receiving kisses on the cheek from TSA official (NOT kidding! Aren't they supposed to be protecting travellers?). I wondered for the millionth time how my kids would do with all the attention and blinding flashbulbs in their faces. I need not have worried. Aren’t all kids programmed to be adored?

Two minutes before Joe arrived with the fateful news about our missing bag, the leader of the caftanned group asked me (in Arabic) if he could take “EEEEEdan” (Aedan) to “my country”. To buy myself time to keep from screaming “are you INSANE”, I politely asked where his country was. After all, it had been a long flight to be a mother of a small child and maybe Australia wouldn’t have been too bad. Just kidding! Anyway, once convinced that I would not allow Aedan to travel without one of his parents, Grandfather Caftan asked us all to dinner at his place (in "his country" which turned out to be Egypt). This was not a joke nor is it uncommon in Egypt. I think that Egyptians fantasize about having a blonde child to their house (more paparrazi photos and without the annoying problem of running out of battery charge!) the way I fantasize about running into Gloria Steinem in the airport and inviting her for a Starbucks. Anyway, his offer was totally sincere and despite my rational, logical, politically-correct training, I started getting a little panicky. “Well”, I reasoned to him, I really would LOVE to come with my husband, but you see, we were just returning from a long journey and I needed to return home to ready our home”. “AHHHH, okay” opines a patient Grandfather Caftan. “Take my mobile number so we can do it tomorrow. I will cook many chickens to welcome you in Egypt”. “Thank you Thank you” I say, trying to avoid an international incident before ever technically stepping on Egyptian soil. “I will try to call”. Just then and with the timing of a stand-up comedian and the attitude reserved only for daughters to their mothers, Virginia says to me “Mooooom. Didn’t you know that Pinocchio’s nose grew when he lied!”. Whoops! Time for a nose job!

Yes, welcome in Egypt indeed!

Time (for a) change!

So I was woken up at 4am for the 5am call to prayer. The time is supposed to change here (although it was somewhat in question because Ramadan starts in August this year). Yesterday was the Egyptian celebration of the first day of spring. So a time change makes sense, right? Surely I would know if the time was changing, right? Well, yes and no. Because this is Egypt.

No one really knows if and when the time changes. Apparently it is still up for debate in the Egyptian government. This is just one of the many things that it is driving me crazy right now. I mean, I have to get the kids to school and myself on a bus to work which theoretically runs on a timetable. I should know what time it is right? I don't read arabic so I guess I won't find out via newspaper. I will just figure it out when I figure it out. According to "worldtime.com", time change is next weekend. Who knows?

Our washing machine is broken (yes, for the 5th time this year). According to the repair man, I have had to replace the motor twice now due to "bad water". Are there quality differences in the Nile water between myself and the neighboring apartments? Huh?

Finally, we stayed in a hotel this past weekend and forgot to return the room key. We have received no fewer than 3 frantic calls in the 12 hours since we left. They don't have a spare room key. What hotel doesn't have a spare room key?

Apparently my patience for the idiosyncrisies of Egypt lasts approx 9 months. I can't wait for a summer in the US!

Never one to leave off on a sour note (even if I feel REALLY sour right now)....something from a good friend of mine who called above-mentioned hotel to inquire whether she could bring her 4 month old puppy with her to the hotel:

> Ramada: You need reservation?
> Friend: No I have reservation.
> R: When?
> F: This weekend.
> R: We have no rooms this weekend.
> F: I have a reservation. My friend made it.
> R: Dr. Ashley? Or Dr. Marcy?
> F: Dr. Marcy.
> R: Okay and you want to find out about dog?
> F: Yes, I want to know if I can bring my dog.
> R: What kind of dog is?
> F: It's a small dog. 3 kilos.
> R: Small dog? What color is?
> F: White.
> R: White?
> F: Yes, white.
> R: Not black?
> F: No, not black.
> R: And you are wife of Dr. Marcy, friend of Miss Mary?
> F: Yes.
> R: You can bring dog.

ARGH! I think I am going to have to eat McDonald's for lunch today!

Windsurfing!

A day on the “Magic Planet”!

So, it is the kids’ spring break…I differentiate this from the parent’s spring break which is not until April. Joe actually brought up the point that by definition, parents never have a true “spring break” but alas I digress….

So, the S-Rs are hanging out and saving money for their windsurfing trip to Ras Sudr next month. Nonetheless, we can’t go the entire week without an event worthy of mention in the much feared “what I did on my time off from school” kindergarten writing assignment. Maybe it was like this when I was a child, and my super-parents were immune to the weekly guilt trip. However, it seems to me that “how I spent my weekend/spring break/summer vacation/etc” writing assignments are Satan’s reminder of how horrific of a parent I am. This pressure is only ramped up at an international school when mere weekend plans often involve cross-cultural travel, semi-famous people, and infinite hyper-educational cool-ness. I mean, how many times can Aedan get away with saying “I watched Tom and Jerry and went to the park with my sister” before the bad-parent police call me in for questioning…..

Again, I digress….

So, in the attempt to provide my children with a noteworthy spring break, I plan a Cairo amusement park getaway (ok not so educational but definitely enviable from the perspective of another kindergartener). It seems that Cairo hosts several amusement parks and one is particularly recommended by a good friend as being safe AND clean (you don’t usually get both here). So, I foolishly announce plans to the kids. Then I find out it is across town (2 hrs+) and at least a $50USD cab ride each way. So much for saving money. Oh well….let’s live it up. Then, we all wake up with colds. I can’t even imagine holding a shrieking Virginia on the flying saucer with a head cold…as insufferable as it is normally. So, I do what every mother with kids young enough to get away with it does….bait and switch. Throw in a sugary treat and switch plans to something less cumbersome…

Mom: Aedan, we are going to the amusement park called “Magic Planet” tomorrow!
Aedan (unenthusiastic): Isn’t that the small arcade attached to the grocery store?
Mom (fake confused): Oh, I guess it is….but they have ice cream!
Aedan (now truly excited): Cool!

So we arrive at “Magic Planet” (all the cool things in Cairo have English names). I am feeling full of myself because I have pulled off the scheme so well… But, this being Egypt, there is a little snag….the reloadable money card for rides doesn’t work and it will be fixed “en sha’ Allah” (literally, “God-willing” but in reality, whenever the guy feels up to it after 3 cups of tea, 4 ciggies, and a long chat with his mom on the mobile”). Seeing my displeasure, he offered to let the kids on the playground for free. Now, this was a REALLY cool playground and they had the whole area to themselves. Eventually, all of the S-Rs wore themselves out and we went for Pizza Hut dippers (does pizza come with KFC BBQ sauce in the US these days?) and ice cream. Really, what goes better with cheese pizza covered in ranch dressing than “ba-ba-ba-blueberry mango surprise” sorbet? To borrow a phrase from my cousin….”gross me out the door” Virginia!

What a day! The kids loved Magic Planet and we even managed a bit of shopping before the kids (and their parents) dropped from exhaustion. Our best find was the fresh squeezed sugar cane juice. Again, maybe I am showing my ignorance here but I was totally amazed that a person can stick an entire bamboo-like shoot into a blender and come out with juice! It was so delicious (like savory but light sugar-water if you can imagine it) that we ordered a liter…..23 shoots later (yes, we counted), we were outta there but not before Joe and I got a chuckle out of the mangled-English “thanks for try our supper jooce….it’s nice and it’s hygienic!” Oh good grief! I didn’t even consider the hygiene….probably best not to do so.

The cab ride home was “so Cairo”….High speeds on semi-paved roads weaving in and out of skanky looking street dogs and large hunks of concrete. Naturally, reggae singer and 1990s American phenom Shaggy came on the radio “how could I foooooorget that I had given her an extra key. All this time, she was standin’ there she never took her eyes off me!”. Cabbie groovin’ out and singing at the top of his voice….kids stifling major attack of the giggles in the backseat. Hopefully Virginia had no idea what she was laughing at. The cab driver had no idea what he was singing…and of course it was the “nasty edition” of the song (I looked it up on i-tunes when I got home).

After a near miss with the neighborhood Coptic Christian trash collector who dared make the Egyptian-idol wannabe cabbie hit the brakes, I demanded that the cab slow down. Cabbie responded by slowing down, yes, but turning up the bass just to spite me. So, I started dancing in the back of the cab and he turned on the strobe light….It was a house party in the backseat of a cab.

Only in Egypt….only on the day of the Magic Planet….a real spring break to remember. Wonder how much of this makes the kindergarten paper!