When it rains it pours...

It's winter in Egypt, everyone!

Unlike winter in most places winter doesn't mean snuggly warm clothing, colour changes in the foliage, or, well, anything much at all. But today we had a ferocious sandstorm followed by 'rain'. The sandstorm came on suddenly. It was a quiet, lazy Friday afternoon (which is the same as Saturday afternoon in the rest of the world), and then the windows began to rattle. Then our lungs started to rattle. Then the windows, shutters and doors began to bang. Then we lept up and continued to bang windows, shutters and doors, but all in the same direction---shut. Then we watched as our normally slightly-less-beige view became completely beige. This lasted for about half an hour, during which time Wahied and I desperately tried to warn our friend who was out at the pyramids that, there is a sandstorm happening (ya know, in case she didn't notice) and she probably shouldn't be standing outside in the middle of the desert in the middle of one of those. (Later, after the sandstorm cleared, she called us back and somewhat briskly thanked us for our warning, but suggested that she might have appreciated it 15 minutes earlier, BEFORE she had been caught outside in the middle of it).

At some point sitting inside watching NOTHING got really boring, so I stopped doing it. Moments after I stopped looking outside Wahied eagerly exclaimed that it was RAINING! I hurried into the only room that doesn't have shutters (we had closed them all) to have a peek out, but I apparently missed the rainstorm. After accusing Wahied of lying to me and/or being crazy, I decided to go outside. Other than a surprisingly small amount of filth considering the recent sandstorm, there was no evidence of this imaginary 22 second rainstorm.

Then Wahied and I decided to drive out to Carrefour, a short trip away on the ring road. The road was completely flooded. There were huge puddles everywhere, and any patch of road visible above the pools of water was covered in a thick red mud.

We found out that, in addition to ::ahem:: "heavy" rains, the sandstorm had somehow mysteriously caused the major water pipeline in Maadi to burst, flooding the ring road.

It was a disaster! The pools of water were so deep that the water came midway up the car doors. The traffic was terrible for two reasons. 1) Water baffles Egyptians and 2) The water broke the spark plugs on every single car older than mine, and cars would break down mid-puddle.

On the way back, they had actually closed the road on that side, because the flooding was worse (the flooding on the other side of the road would have been enough to close any American highway, so one can only imagine that cars would literally be underwater on the side that was closed). The problem was, once stuck in traffic in Egypt it is nigh impossible to get un-stuck. So Wahied and I were stuck in traffic (on an 8km journey) for about 2 1/2 hours. And we both had to pee. Badly.

About an hour into our traffic-blockage, I was already at the undoing my seatbelt and jeans stage, and by the time we broke free of the first major blockage (about an hour and a half in) I was actually shaking. As soon as we passed the re-entrance to the highway, I pulled over, and Wahied and I both lept out, jumped over the concrete barrier, and peed between some "trees".

Then, greatly relieved, we promptly got stuck in more traffic, which had been stopped due to flooding on the road so deep, it was mid-door level.

We finally made it home to a wonderful surprise waiting for us--a beautiful hot-pink bougainvillea tree (bush?)! We had bought it on our earlier walk and it had been delivered during our loooong stay in traffic. It is absolutely lovely, and I may (don't count on it) post pictures of it later.

Now, Wahied and I are slightly damp, drinking tea, and about to go to bed (in preparation for another sand and rain storm tomorrow!).

Six Months

Four days ago, Wahied and I successfully neglected our 6-month anniversary. When I remembered yesterday, Wahied vehemently denied getting married in April. This may seem odd for a man (his wife claims) is blissfully married, but, then again, we are odd.
See, Wahied and I were officially, legally, married on the 10th April, but we didn't have our Church Wedding until three months later, on 25th July. The gap between the two is so large because the marriage of a foreigner to a Christian in Egypt is actually (unsurprisingly) quite complicated, and it took months and months (both before and after) to get all of our paperwork in order. But now that everything is in order, our only problem is agreeing about at which point in the process we were married.
For me, the 10th April is more significant, because a) it's the date we have written on our marriage certificate, and b)it was the point of no return for our marriage. We were fully committed (Wahied uses the less elegant term 'stuck') at this point.
For Wahied, the 25th July is more significant because it's the date that we celebrated in the church and the date that everyone (all of our friends and family) acknowledged our marriage.

Either way, it is amazing to me how quickly these past 6 months have gone by. And it is even more amazing to think how our lives have changed so drastically in the two years that we have known each other. We've gotten through so many difficult things, and here we are now alive (though that nearly wasn't the case), together in Egypt (also at times not guaranteed), and happy (never a doubt about this).

Bas dilwaqti, kulu tamam, guys.

A place called home.

During my trip to London and France I felt a kind of longing that I had never felt before. It wasn't homesickness, I was much too busy for that, and it wasn't solely missing Wahied either. It was a feeling that I'm sure a lion would feel if someone took him out of his natural habitat and set him loose in Hyde Park--not desperation, but rather a jarring sense that it wasn't where he belonged.

Even knowing that I wouldn't see Wahied for at least another day (he was in Sinai) the sense of relief (comfort? excitement?) I felt when I landed in Cairo was so overwhelming I nearly kissed the ground like the Pope and skipped through the terminal. (Thankfully, I managed to appear more composed than I felt and kept the kissing and skipping to a minimum)

Much to my own surprise (and Anita's horror) I realised that I love Cairo. And more than that, for the first time I realised that I belong here. I had missed everything around me.

I had actually missed the way the air smells, even though I know it's disgusting.
I missed the traffic and the bustle that was overwhelming, even at 1:00am
I missed how the outcome of any situation depends on how you want it to turn out (and how nice you are and how much you're willing to pay)
I missed the people and how warm, curious, and unconventional they are.
I missed the weather, which is warm but never too warm.
I missed the sand and the garbage in the street, just because I'm used to them.
I missed the children playing in the middle of the highway in the middle of the night, because neuroses and over protectiveness don't make better kids.
I missed seeing sedans full of sheep, bicycles carrying lawn mowers, children carrying gasoline, men carrying babies, and women carrying more babies.
I missed having to wait 45 minutes to park my car before eventually driving off and parking somewhere else, because my parking guy wouldn't interrupt his lunch for me.

I missed all of the chaos and disorder and dirt and incompetence as much as I missed everything wonderful here.

I'm home.