I "woke up" about 1 minute into the shortest shower when I saw this guy staring me in the face. (See rotating photo gallery)
The shortest shower of my life being over, I quickly invented the "Kairo Kockroach Killer" (other photo in the gallery) and went to work. I took a final picture, but decided not to share the aftermath images of the battle. It lasted about a minute, as the Kairo Kockroach took 5 hits and the carnage covered the greater part of my bathroom. It just would not die.
You have to know, I've been there 3 weeks, have been meticulous about cleaning and sparaying, and until today have only seen 3 very small ants. Needless to say, while I've been expecting the occasional roach, this one - and especially it's size of about 5 inches long - took me by surprise.
So, I've bug bombed and cockroach sprayed my apartment and don't plan on going back for a while. I think I'll give it another shot tomorrow morning as well.
ma a salaama
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
3
Summer is officially over. I’ve been to work for two days now. Meetings, orientations, the early days of school seem to be the same. It’s back to the grind, and my body is fighting the adjustment to the schedule. I find I tire quickly and am ready to go home by 3:00, overwhelmed by the constant bombardment of new information. Add to that the heat of Cairo and it makes for a great setting for the perfect afternoon nap.
I’m resisting the urge, and finding ways to keep busy. Right now, it’s by writing this blog.
So, I’ll try to point out some of the more interesting moments I’ve witnessed in the past week:
We had to get an HIV test. (I know, a big turn in the blog theme, but hang in there – it’s a good story and that’s just to explain the setting of the story and let you know why I was visiting a hospital.) SO, every teacher that was here early piled into a bus – a 12 passenger van that if it wasn’t illegal to transport students in before 2006, it definitely would be now.
We went to the “good hospital” in town, and stopped to wait by the curb. I don’t know what we were waiting for, bus as we sat there, a city bus came rolling by and dropped off a rider.
This guy was no more than 16, and he jumped out while it was rolling at a speed of 10 mph or so. He crashed, hard, into the pavement.
I can still see it in my mind, in slow motion, and I know it hurt. It had to. He jumped out and landed with his feet, shoulder width apart, and both exactly on a line in parallel to the direction the bus was moving. His left leg had not the ability to absorb the weight of his being against the momentum of his travel, so down he went.
He picked himself up slowly, examining the ground as if to see if there were any pieces left or blood staining the pavement, and I was certain he broke his arm. I was glad that A) it was only that, and B) that the hospital was right there. As he was grabbing his elbow, and slowly walking over to a wall and sat in the shade of a tree, I remember thinking he didn’t have much further to go to seek medical attention.
Now, Egyptians are very nice people, so our bus driver seized the opportunity to go and speak with the young man. Our driver quickly got out of the van, went over and stood they boy up, and checked to see if his arm was broken. In Egypt, bus drivers must be taught that the proper way to do this is to grab both wrists of the patient, and pull both arms quickly straight above the patients head, as if to stretch both arms at the shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Then, you take the injured arm and lower it back down, and begin forcing the arm to bend to a 90, and straighten out again. If nothing else, this proves to the boy that his arm still works. Rapid motions and other such flexibility tests are conducted in a wild and erratic manor, until there are no other obvious tests to try.
Once sufficiently examined in this manner, our bus driver took the time and showed proper concern for the young man. Being a bus driver himself, he properly demonstrated to the boy that when jumping from a moving vehicle, one must run quickly in the proper direction, so as to land gracefully and safely on the concrete, and not to end up sitting under a shade tree with a not-broken but painful arm.
It was wild.
I’ve been buying work clothes. (I only brought two bags to Cairo, and one was for technology stuff.) There’s one suit in particular suit that interests me greatly. It’s pretty cheap and of poor quality, but it’s about $40. I’m considering having it tailored to reach just past my elbows and just past my knees. I could call it a shuit (short suit) and wear it for Halloween, for fun or just to beat the heat. I don’t know if I could keep a straight face with the store when I purchase it, but who cares.
I want to invent a game called Camel Polo and play at the pyramids. Maybe the preferred uniform would be a shuit. I bet tourists would give me money.
I found trips to the Red Sea to go diving will cost me about $45-$50 per day. Transportation, hotel, and drinks and meals are included in that fare. My guess is that diving is not as cheap, but I think it’s something I can afford with that base price working…and who knows, it might actually be another great deal. It’s surprisingly affordable to do things here. I could either go to a place called Hurghada or Sharm-El Sheikh (curious google hunters go for it) and both look not too shabby from here. We have a break for Ein El Fitr in a month, so I’m beginning to plan my first excursion.
I’ve learned not every teacher has an equivalent apartment. I knew enough to be careful about sharing my earning wages (I haven’t told a soul what I make – I dare not) but I now am a bit nervous about “showing off” my place. I think I’m lucky, and I know there are better ones out there, but we have a couple of teachers who are ready to leave based simply on their living situations. One of them might pay $800 U.S. to be relocated. It’s crazy, and I feel lucky to have what I do.
I’ve signed up for Arabic classes. In the past two weeks, I’ve figured out how to tell a taxi everything about where I want to go, can easily say hello and goodbye to everyone I meet (and do so at every possible moment – whether they enjoy it or not.)
I still haven’t met my “Bowab,” the guy who is apparently most important to help with my apartment. I also haven’t met my landlord, and apparently never will. So I’m just making myself at home in an apartment I don’t think anyone really cares about. I’m considering taking out a wall and opening the place up a bit.
Other than that, I guess I know I’m teaching yearbook. They’ve tried a few times before, and have never been able to do it. I hope my students are ready to work as hard as the WHS kids with a lot less equipment and technology. It should be interesting, challenging, and more. (I don’t even know where to begin with talking to an Egyptian printing company!)
Last note: My picassa image gallery works fine on the blog, but for some reason it takes forever to recognize the latest galleries. Once again, if you click on the photos on the top of the blog, you will be redirected to fosterinegypt’s picassa site. A couple of clicks (“all photos” or “all galleries” or something) and you’ll see my latest batches – Pyramids trip and another group from a boat ride on the Nile at night. Happy hunting,
Thanks for reading,
I’m resisting the urge, and finding ways to keep busy. Right now, it’s by writing this blog.
So, I’ll try to point out some of the more interesting moments I’ve witnessed in the past week:
We had to get an HIV test. (I know, a big turn in the blog theme, but hang in there – it’s a good story and that’s just to explain the setting of the story and let you know why I was visiting a hospital.) SO, every teacher that was here early piled into a bus – a 12 passenger van that if it wasn’t illegal to transport students in before 2006, it definitely would be now.
We went to the “good hospital” in town, and stopped to wait by the curb. I don’t know what we were waiting for, bus as we sat there, a city bus came rolling by and dropped off a rider.
This guy was no more than 16, and he jumped out while it was rolling at a speed of 10 mph or so. He crashed, hard, into the pavement.
I can still see it in my mind, in slow motion, and I know it hurt. It had to. He jumped out and landed with his feet, shoulder width apart, and both exactly on a line in parallel to the direction the bus was moving. His left leg had not the ability to absorb the weight of his being against the momentum of his travel, so down he went.
He picked himself up slowly, examining the ground as if to see if there were any pieces left or blood staining the pavement, and I was certain he broke his arm. I was glad that A) it was only that, and B) that the hospital was right there. As he was grabbing his elbow, and slowly walking over to a wall and sat in the shade of a tree, I remember thinking he didn’t have much further to go to seek medical attention.
Now, Egyptians are very nice people, so our bus driver seized the opportunity to go and speak with the young man. Our driver quickly got out of the van, went over and stood they boy up, and checked to see if his arm was broken. In Egypt, bus drivers must be taught that the proper way to do this is to grab both wrists of the patient, and pull both arms quickly straight above the patients head, as if to stretch both arms at the shoulders, elbows, and wrists. Then, you take the injured arm and lower it back down, and begin forcing the arm to bend to a 90, and straighten out again. If nothing else, this proves to the boy that his arm still works. Rapid motions and other such flexibility tests are conducted in a wild and erratic manor, until there are no other obvious tests to try.
Once sufficiently examined in this manner, our bus driver took the time and showed proper concern for the young man. Being a bus driver himself, he properly demonstrated to the boy that when jumping from a moving vehicle, one must run quickly in the proper direction, so as to land gracefully and safely on the concrete, and not to end up sitting under a shade tree with a not-broken but painful arm.
It was wild.
I’ve been buying work clothes. (I only brought two bags to Cairo, and one was for technology stuff.) There’s one suit in particular suit that interests me greatly. It’s pretty cheap and of poor quality, but it’s about $40. I’m considering having it tailored to reach just past my elbows and just past my knees. I could call it a shuit (short suit) and wear it for Halloween, for fun or just to beat the heat. I don’t know if I could keep a straight face with the store when I purchase it, but who cares.
I want to invent a game called Camel Polo and play at the pyramids. Maybe the preferred uniform would be a shuit. I bet tourists would give me money.
I found trips to the Red Sea to go diving will cost me about $45-$50 per day. Transportation, hotel, and drinks and meals are included in that fare. My guess is that diving is not as cheap, but I think it’s something I can afford with that base price working…and who knows, it might actually be another great deal. It’s surprisingly affordable to do things here. I could either go to a place called Hurghada or Sharm-El Sheikh (curious google hunters go for it) and both look not too shabby from here. We have a break for Ein El Fitr in a month, so I’m beginning to plan my first excursion.
I’ve learned not every teacher has an equivalent apartment. I knew enough to be careful about sharing my earning wages (I haven’t told a soul what I make – I dare not) but I now am a bit nervous about “showing off” my place. I think I’m lucky, and I know there are better ones out there, but we have a couple of teachers who are ready to leave based simply on their living situations. One of them might pay $800 U.S. to be relocated. It’s crazy, and I feel lucky to have what I do.
I’ve signed up for Arabic classes. In the past two weeks, I’ve figured out how to tell a taxi everything about where I want to go, can easily say hello and goodbye to everyone I meet (and do so at every possible moment – whether they enjoy it or not.)
I still haven’t met my “Bowab,” the guy who is apparently most important to help with my apartment. I also haven’t met my landlord, and apparently never will. So I’m just making myself at home in an apartment I don’t think anyone really cares about. I’m considering taking out a wall and opening the place up a bit.
Other than that, I guess I know I’m teaching yearbook. They’ve tried a few times before, and have never been able to do it. I hope my students are ready to work as hard as the WHS kids with a lot less equipment and technology. It should be interesting, challenging, and more. (I don’t even know where to begin with talking to an Egyptian printing company!)
Last note: My picassa image gallery works fine on the blog, but for some reason it takes forever to recognize the latest galleries. Once again, if you click on the photos on the top of the blog, you will be redirected to fosterinegypt’s picassa site. A couple of clicks (“all photos” or “all galleries” or something) and you’ll see my latest batches – Pyramids trip and another group from a boat ride on the Nile at night. Happy hunting,
Thanks for reading,
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
1.5
*For the purposes of this blog, you might want to know that right now $1 U.S. will buy you 5.5 Egyptian Pounds.
In what from above must have looked like a scene from a clothed beehive, where all were moving with great effort to beat the crowds, one stood perfectly still.
It was staring into the face of the Tiger.
I made my first big shopping trip in a place called Carrefour, and found myself in the largest and most crowded Wal-Mart type store I’ve ever seen.
At first, when I picked up my shopping cart at the door, I was very impressed with it’s maneuverability – it seemed I could turn it any direction at will, and even move straight sideways. In the U.S., I’m accustomed to carts that never seem to go where I want, that rather seem to have a mind of their own and lead me where they wish. Here it was different, and I quickly found out why: necessity.
After working slowly into the store, and trying to pick up on the seemingly non-existent (or unstated) rules of navigating crowds, I eventually worked my way into the cereal isle, where I quickly found myself frozen, and staring into the face of the Tiger.
Tony the Tiger. There he was in all his Western glory, calling my name. His price – 31 pounds.
I had many normal conflicted thoughts and (I’m sure) a few unique ones of my own – I’ve never been one to under think a situation that involves choice. In the end, I broke the only rule I think I’ve ever had in respect to grocery shopping: never chince on cereal.
So, reassuring myself that nobody can screw up rice, I ended up with a box of Terry’O’s, a knock off of chocolaty rice puffs with a cute brown bear on the box, for a measley 7 pounds.
Next time I’m going with the Tiger.
In what from above must have looked like a scene from a clothed beehive, where all were moving with great effort to beat the crowds, one stood perfectly still.
It was staring into the face of the Tiger.
I made my first big shopping trip in a place called Carrefour, and found myself in the largest and most crowded Wal-Mart type store I’ve ever seen.
At first, when I picked up my shopping cart at the door, I was very impressed with it’s maneuverability – it seemed I could turn it any direction at will, and even move straight sideways. In the U.S., I’m accustomed to carts that never seem to go where I want, that rather seem to have a mind of their own and lead me where they wish. Here it was different, and I quickly found out why: necessity.
After working slowly into the store, and trying to pick up on the seemingly non-existent (or unstated) rules of navigating crowds, I eventually worked my way into the cereal isle, where I quickly found myself frozen, and staring into the face of the Tiger.
Tony the Tiger. There he was in all his Western glory, calling my name. His price – 31 pounds.
I had many normal conflicted thoughts and (I’m sure) a few unique ones of my own – I’ve never been one to under think a situation that involves choice. In the end, I broke the only rule I think I’ve ever had in respect to grocery shopping: never chince on cereal.
So, reassuring myself that nobody can screw up rice, I ended up with a box of Terry’O’s, a knock off of chocolaty rice puffs with a cute brown bear on the box, for a measley 7 pounds.
Next time I’m going with the Tiger.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
1
I’m in Cairo.
I arrived yesterday at 3:30 p.m., and after being picked up at the airport by Islam, an employee of the school, went to my apartment and started to make myself at home.
My address is (get ready for this!):
Scott Foster
Bld 53, 5th district, Flat 4/Floor 4/New Nerco Building, Degla (or Deyla – I can’t quite tell if it’s y or g), Maadi
I have a cell and home phone, and have updated those numbers on the left. Anyone who might call needs to be aware of the country code (20) for Egypt and city code (2) for Cairo.
But, email is still the absolute easiest way to keep in touch for cheap.
Over the next twelve hours, I mixed sleep with organizing the apartment, stopped by the corner store (conveniently across the street from my apartment) to buy some groceries, and took some photos of the apartment to share. You can currently see them on the left side of this page, and can later access them using my Picassa web albums page. (Okay, there's some weird block...but if you click on the Glacier photos, you can access my Picassa web album of Glacier. A few quick clicks should avail you of my public albums, where you might find "my apartment." Sorry if it doesn't work, there's some strange blocking going on...)
I also arrived on the same plane as a teaching couple, Rich and Marci – new hires who are from Texas originally. I like them already and am beginning to enjoy hanging out with them getting used to Cairo with them. We’ve since hit a couple of restaurants and shopping centers together.
My apartment is incredible. Hayah Academy has provided me with a place that has a large dining room, a very nicely sized and cozy television room with nice couches and chairs, a great guest bedroom with a walk out balcony to view the neighborhood, and an incredible master bedroom and bath.
The living conditions match any I could expect in the U.S. The furniture is comfortable and modern; there is a mix of wood and tile floors; my walk-in closet in amazing in size and quality; and the water runs eagerly, hot or cold on demand, and appears very clear.
Cairo itself, as I’ve been accurately told, is on the dirty side. When I first arrived, I could see the pyramids from Maadi. Since then vision has been too muddled due to smog/air pollution. The wind blows frequently, which provides comfort – especially in the evenings – but also can kick up dust. Cars drive constantly, day and night, liberally honking their horns for every thinkable and many unfathomable reasons. (Today, our driver was honking a lot at another car. When I asked him why, he started laughing and said ‘they’re really old.’) I imagine if I was a smoker I might be able to kick my habit immediately and survive comfortably on the vehicle exhaust. Maybe it’s not so accurate to compare sucking on a cigarette to that of choking on a automobile tailpipe, but there ya go. (I’m not much into editing/polishing my thoughts due to the fact that this is my blog…I’ll take care to be more accurate in my memoirs.)
Last night, I chose to eat in, mixing in some yogurt, cheese and crackers, Pepsi Cola, and some tuna sandwiches I made from my store visit. Today, I began with a light serving of my favorite morning meal – toast. I was only disappointed I had not the foresight to find some peanut butter. I had to settle for jelly, but I was very happy to find I have been provided a cafeteria style tray, my favorite conveyance for getting the charred bread from the toaster to my gullet.
I ate light, as I was expecting Ayman, another Hayah Academy employee to arrive and take me, along with Rich and Marci, to lunch. He arrived at twelve and we went to the greatest TGI Fridays I’ve seen – right on the banks of the Nile. I laughed at his choice of restaurants, but I feel he’s disadvantaged in knowing me or my tastes and expectations. Rather than take a chance, he picked something he knew would be good and trusted by Americans. Fridays is a highly respected restaurant here, known for good food, and the location was cool. So I willingly broke one of my unwritten rules and ate at an American restaurant in my first week.
Supper was a little more adventurous, as Marci spied a nice Lebanese restaurant on our way home tonight. She, Rich and I shared bread, humus, kebab chicken, steak, & beef, and another plate of steak cooked differently. (I forget the name, but it was akin to the shredded steak you might get on a cheese steak sandwich, without the cheese and cooked with different spices.) All the food was excellent and I loved the meal. To top it off, I had a nice cup of “American” coffee. The waiter laughed when I asked if they had any “Egyptian” coffee as I’d really like to try it, but he offered no answer and brought me my American coffee.
All in all, I’m settling in nicely, am very comfortable, and am enjoying my first days in Maadi, Cairo. I anticipate things will only speed up soon, but hopefully I meet someone at my apartment who can discuss the possibility of internet access in my apartment. I’m certain it can be done, but interestingly enough have not yet met anyone who manages this apartment. I was given keys and a quick tour, but that was about it.
Tomorrow, Tuesday August 4, I will go visit Hayah Academy for the first time. The school will not have many employees there and is not yet ready to provide me a fully prepared tour, but I will get to set foot on the grounds none-the-less. I am eager to see where I’ll be teaching for the next two years.
I think often of Waverly (the yearbook should be/was? delivered any day), and continue to hope this move was a good one. As I speak with others here, not a conversation where we discuss school goes by where I am reminded how well I was treated by the administration, how lucky I was to have some great collegues and friends, and by how spoiled I was to work with great students and athletes. I hope everyone is doing well.
Until next time, as salaam alaykum!
Foster
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