14 hours till work...

I have somehow managed to use up my entire weekend not doing much of anything. I was a bit of a shut in, to be honest.

After getting home from work pretty late on Thursday, made dinner, hung out with the neighbors for a bit, then came back and finished re-reading the second Harry Potter book (I only have 1 and 2 here) and started re-reading the Golden Compass.

On Friday I woke later than I ever have--at about 10:00, had breakfast with the neighbors (cucumber-tomato-tuna-and cheese sandwiches, yum!) and watched Vanity Fair (the Reese Witherspoon movie) on TV. Then I came back across the hall, brought my laptop to bed to complete a presentation, then read and read and read, finished the book and fell asleep. I didn't even change out of my PJs all day...

In the morning (today) I took the metro downtown to go to the American University bookstore so I could buy the remaining books in both of the series I had started. The metro was a strange feeling for me. I used to ride it every day and Wahied still does, but somehow it seemed to not really fit into my life here. I have really begun to feel comfortable here--I can handle the worst of Cairo traffic, I know my way around, I know what things do cost and should cost, and I know who to call when I need something or another. At home and at work I feel normal.

But nothing on the metro does feel normal. I take the ladies' car, which I find to be cleaner and less crowded, but I am perhaps more noticeable there than I would be on the mixed cars. Groups of very giggly and very critical girls will openly point and stare and critique every single aspect of my being. (In Arabic, assuming I can't understand). The people sitting on either side of me will try to put as much space between themselves and me as humanly possible. Some of the boys who come by selling knickknacks dropping their goods into women's laps will pass over me. The ones who don't will linger a little longer by me or try to touch my arms when I'm giving them their stuff back.

Once out on the street, or even on the platform in the station, I'm back to normal--not quite invisible, not quite freakish--and can trick myself into thinking that at some point (if not now) I will blend in here. But the truth is that 10 years from now, with perfect arabic (inshallah) and Egyptian looking children, I STILL won't fit in on the metro. And that makes me sad.

At the bookstore, which is a tiny slice of heaven cut off and dropped into the heart of Cairo, I found the two remaining books in the Pullman series. Disappointingly, I was unable to find Harry Potter, save for a giant stack of book 7 (which I didn't buy) and a single copy of book 4 (which I did). I also bought a New (to me anyway) Manfredi book, an author who Britta has gotten me hooked on. Then I came home and started reading.

I stopped briefly to make some pasta and then again, later, to update this blog after realising it's now dark. And now, considering the long, busy days I had at work last week and expect to have this coming week, I'm wishing my weekend were about 10 times longer.

Otherwise things are great--life at the moment is happy, though it does not lend itself to exciting narratives.