Yay for globalization!

Taken from my table in a nice, air-conditioned Pizza Hut in front of the Sphinx, I have to say this might be one of the best pictures of the summer ...

My ill-advised adventure

While docked for lunch one afternoon, our quiet group was crashed by a bunch of teenage guys in a little canoe ... they spent about 30 minutes doing acrobatic stunts in an effort to impress the girls, and then somehow got it into their minds that I needed to go for a ride. Fortunately, nothing happened, although there were a bunch of near-accidents ... and when they suggested we go out to the middle of the Nile, Captain Washington conveniently came running down the beach, yelling at them to bring me back immediately.

A few minutes after I returned, they tried to get Dan in the canoe, with less successful results ... these were some INCREDIBLY persistent kids!

Captain Washington

Camel Market!

A day trip into a small town called Darsau (or something like that), where we visited a "camel market" which was really just a dozen camels chillin' in a corral. I tried to avoid riding it, claiming that I didn't want to smell like a camel, but gave in when everyone assured me that I already did ....

Felucca trip!

Two days sailing down the Nile on a sailboat ... what more needs to be said??

Abu Simbel: Ramses II's tomb

This shows Ramses II at four different ages (or did - clearly the second statue isn't especially representative at this point). Like Nefertiti's tomb, this was originally carved into a mountainside, but later moved; the busted head was actually broken before the move, and the pieces are sitting in the same position here as at the original site. The entrance is positioned so that twice a year, the sunrise occurs at such an angle that a statue that used to be in the back room is illuminated (now you just see the pillar on which the statue once stood) - the day shifted by one when the tombs were moved, but the effect is still preserved.

Abu Simbel: Nefertiti's temple

Cool tomb. Carved out of the side of a mountain. Moved when the dam was built to prevent destruction - cut into thousands of pieces and then reassembled 600 meters away (or so). Unique because it's the only Egyptian tomb to portray the wife of a pharoah (Nefertiti, the wife of Ramses the second) the same size as her husband - generally the wife and children are carved standing between the pharoahs' legs.

Philae Temple

This temple is located in on an island in Lake Nasser, about 200 meters away from it's original island. When the High Dam was built, the temple had to be shifted to avoid destruction - you can see the original location only as a bunch of posts sticking out of the water, and even where it is now, the waterline is dangerously close to the temple in some places.

We got out there via motor boat, and had an obnoxious guide. I've found I'm not good with guides, because they set their own pace ... I actually got lectured twice about slowing down to take pictures, which I thought was quite classic since he was only there because we were paying him! But whatever ... the temple was pretty amazing, although it's one of the Egypt sights that has a sound and light show, which means it's wired for electricity and stupid power boxes kept getting in the way of good pictures! The temple is one that'd been defaced by Christians, which is always interesting to see - they would destroy the carved images of gods by chiselling a billion dents into them.

Since it's defintely low season in Upper Egypt (CRAZY hot), the temple wasn't swarming with tourists, which was nice. And the location in Lake Nasser was great to visit. All in all, though, it wasn't the best temple I've seen. And in the last few days, I've seen a lot ...

Dune-rolling race

I won, of course ... Mona claims that there aren't hills in Germany big enough to roll down, but I think she might have just been blowing smoke to protect her image ...

Sunrise in the White Desert

Dates grow on palm trees!!!

Who knew???

Ashary!!!

So today I returned from a lovely couple of days in a western oasis, Bahariyya. I went with my friend Dan (visiting from Boston) and my roomie Mona for a night in the oasis itself, and then a night camping in the white desert. Desert + August = HOT, but it was well worth it - we all had an amazing time.

We took a bus there, which was supposed to have AC but didn't ... NOT a good sign. And we were met at the bus stop and taken to a camp that had just opened - we were the second group of guests - which meant there were a lot of kinks to be worked out, like dysfunctional plumbing. But the staff more than made up for any defects ... plus, there was a dog to play with!

After a rest, we went on a tour of the oasis itself. First we went to a "spring" - basically, water is pumped into a pool, and then flows into the irrigation system. This pool is often used for bathing (I like to think in the "swimming" sense, but I suspect some people really do bathe there), and tourists who can't take the heat ... when we arrived there were three Croatian tourists and their guide already in the water. It was nice, I suppose, but the water wasn't really cold, so not really refreshing, and the pool was lined with green sludge ... we left before the Croatians did.

Next we went into the desert outside of Bahariyya, rolled down a couple of sand dunes (where I got my first injury of the weekend, slicing my arm open on a half-buried rock or stick that I actually saw ahead of time but didn't move), and visited the great salt lake. Which, much like every other salt lake in the world, smells REALLY REALLY bad. Earlier at lunch, I'd mentioned that I enjoy figs, and so the hotel owner (who was with us and our guide) insisted on introducing me to these desert figs, which were actually quite good ... it was a bit awkward, because he actually took them from someone's HOUSE instead of buying them on the street, but he insists it was okay, and who am I to complain, eh?

Then we went to English Mountain, so named because the English climbed to the top on the lookout for Germans. I seriously don't know what English or German armies were doing in Egypt, but both Dan and Mona acted like it made sense, so I'm sure it does ... just not to me. There was this awesome pile of ruins, from a house/shack/whatever built by the Englishmen on the top of the hill, and it made a great contrast to the mud brick houses that fill the oasis. Finally, we went to a palm-tree grove (where I hurt myself again - yay for me) and got a few pictures, and then back to the camp for dinner. Around nine, we decided to walk to town to get some antibacterial cream for my arm and knee (the desert is a bit dirty), but Egyptians don't really understand the joy of a nice walk, and so our guide came to drive us before we made it to the pharmacy. As we drove through town, he kept shouting "Ashary!" out the window, and one or two men on the side of the street would always send an "Ashary!" back our way. Mona asked what it meant, but they only told us it was the name of a guide in town.

The next morning we piled in the land rover and headed out for the desert. At the last market in town, we stopped for ice cream, and wound up picking up a woman and her three children, who had been waiting for three hours for a car going in the right direction to take them to the restaurant the woman runs during the day. It turns out this restaurant was to be our midday stop, but first we drove through the Black Desert, and this poor family was sucked into our sightseeing tour.

Fortunately for them, the Black Desert was pretty damn lame. Yeah, there's black, but I think we were hoping for black sand and dunes and stuff (geologically, I can't guarantee that's possible, but that doesn't make it any less cool-sounding), but instead it was just a regular desert with a lot of black shale-like rocks. Boooo. So we took our obligatory pictures and quickly piled back into the car.

After dropping our passengers off, we went to another irrigation "spring" to cool off before lunch. There were a few kids in the water, which was fine, and a few Egyptian men staring at the bathing suits, which wasn't as fine. But this water was actually cold, and knowing that it was probably the last cold water we'd get for the next 24 hours definitely increased our appreciation of the experience.

We spent about 30 minutes in the water, and then dried off, ate lunch, and entered the Western Desert. Which we thought was the White Desert, and we were quite dissapointed, because the White Desert was as un-white as the Black Desert had been un-black. However, there were some cool quartz formations (we climbed "Crystal Mountain") and an area that had these crazy "flower stones," black rocks that were shaped like flowers and pinecones and other un-rock-like objects. Finally, I asked our guide, Enta, "Where are we camping tonight?" "In the White Desert." "Aren't we IN the White Desert???" "No, this is the Western Desert."

Ooooooooh ...

Once we got to the White Desert, we were sufficiently impressed. This is miles and miles of weirdly shaped, perfectly white rock formations, fine, beautiful, clean sand, and no light, sound, or air pollution to remind visitors of Cairo. Our guide, Enta, set up a fabulous camp, cooked a fabulous dinner, and made a fabulous pot of green mint tea, and we spent the evening (and long into the night) wandering and talking and staring at the stars, which were brighter than I've seen in a VERY long time.

There isn't much wildlife in the desert, but we were visited by a few foxes (who ate my chicken for me) and a large number of scarab beetles, which scared Mona to no end. As we drove out the next day, we saw a crow (or Egypt's version), but that's about it. Which means that the place was COMPLETELY silent ... an amazing change from the craziness I've been experiencing the past couple of months.

I woke up at six (about four hours after falling asleep) to watch the sun rise, which was an amazing experience and well worth the lost sleep (although it's now 2:42 Saturday morning, and I REALLY WANT to go to bed). Afterwards, I realized that I'd lost my chance, since it soon got much too warm to sleep comfortably and Mona and Dan grudgingly got up. We had a nice breakfast, packed up camp, and headed back towards the oasis. On the way, we stopped back at the irrigation spring to rinse off the dust of the desert. The place was PACKED with young boys, but they were all pretty cool. Unfortunately, the pump was turned off for Friday afternoon prayer, and we learned that the water wasn't cool when it was allowed to stagnate - time to get dressed!

We made it back to the camp in time for lunch and a rest, and we were to catch our bus at three. Unfortunately, we discovered that the bus was full and we had no tickets - instead, the camp found a "car" for us. This car turned out to be a microbus, which would have been VERY lame except it was filled with six Irish people about my age, who also couldn't fit on the bus. The ride back to Cairo was definitely more fun than the ride out. (At dinner tonight, I said to Mona, "I'm glad we wound up in the microbus - it was fun to have new people to talk to." Dan, sitting quietly on my left, muttered, "You mean flirt with?" As I told him, "Hell, yeah! It's been more than two months since I've been allowed to flirt with anyone, and if I'm not careful, I might get rusty!!")

The only problem - we were told at the camp that the driver had been paid, and of course, once we got to Cairo, he insisted that he hadn't, and that someone was going to come pick us three up and pay him - and wouldn't let us leave until this mysterious someone showed up. Finally, after fifteen minutes of phone calls (all made on Mona's phone, of course, since his happened to be out of credits), it was determined that he'd misunderstood, and his boss had already been paid. Ahhh, Egypt.

But a VERY nice holiday all the same! I can't really do it justice by giving you a blow-by-blow, so I think I'll just post a few pictures and let them speak for themselves ... but for the record, it's days like these that make me appreciate the fact that I came to Egypt. It can be a very nice place.

P.S. "Ashary!" is a reference to a night that a very drunken French tourist came out of her tent, yelling for her guide as only a drunk European can do. The story spread like wildfire through the oasis, and poor Ashary was ridiculed by shouts of his name all through the town ... and now everyone just shouts it for fun. Including me.

Goodbye and good riddance!!!

Today was scheduled to be my last day of work ... I've had July 27th starred on my calendar for weeks now. But last Thursday, as I was hurrying out of the office on my way to Alex, Mr Zarea said there was a new project for me - editing the English-language text of a series of human-rights oriented children's books HRAAP is publishing.

"That sounds great," I told him, "but I was supposed to finish working on the 27th. I suppose I can keep working as late as July 31st, but then I must be finished, because I have a friend coming to Egypt August 1st." I was assured that this would be no problem, so left the office assuming that I'd be working until the 31st. Lame, but since I hadn't had anything else planned for those days, not a huge deal.

Monday, when I returned from my holiday, Osman and I were supposed to start working. But the whole day passed and no Osman, something I usually rejoice at, of course, but this time I found myself a bit irked. So Tuesday, I emailed Osman to tell him my timeline and ask when he was coming over to the APRO office so we could get started.

A couple of hours later, Mr Zarea comes in. "You finish work on the 27th?" Umm, yeah ... like I explained to you. "Okay, that's fine." "What about the children's books?" "Oh, no problem. Osman will do them."

Hmm ... I've seen Osman's English, but whatever. Since I know for a fact that HRAAP doesn't have an English-speaking audience, I'm fairly certain the translation is solely for the benefit of the funding donor, and if it's choppy, it doesn't matter in the least. So, once again, my end date is set to July 27th. Hurrah!

And then yesterday, July 26, I was getting a ride from Mr Zarea when he says, "Oh, don't worry about coming in to work tomorrow. You're free."

HALLELUJAH!!!! I slept until the phone rang this morning (Ghada, wondering why I wasn't at work - ooops), and I never have to go back to that stupid office and pretend to be working again!!!

I didn't expect a stellar summer experience like a lot of people are having, but I really hoped this summer would give me a better understanding of human rights NGOs - how they work, what problems they face, and what it's like to be a lawyer there.

In fact, this summer gave me NONE of that. First of all, only the translator and the accountant speak English, and neither of them are the least bit interested in human rights (although Ghada insists that she was never trained in "human rights accounting" at school, and so has to be very creative in her job - cute). The lawyers don't speak English, and don't work out of APRO. Which means, after eight weeks, I have no idea what it's like to be a lawyer for a small NGO.

Additionally, even if these factors were different - I was in the same office with a lot of English-speaking lawyers - it wouldn't have mattered, because in Egypt, emphasis is placed on finding the first job you can, and keeping it until you die. No one cares if you like what you do, and you can't even choose your university major - the schools do that by your test scores. So, this means that the lawyers aren't there because they're passionate about human rights, or even about the law - they're at HRAAP and APRO because their parents wanted them to get a job! The one lawyer at HRAAP that I talked to, through Ghada, was her sister Ensar, and she hates the law and doesn't care one way or another about human rights.

The moral of the story: do your research before excepting a position! I mean, all I've really learned from this job is that I don't really want to work in Egypt. EVER. Valuable information, of course, but when asked about my summer experience during OCI next fall, I'm not sure it'll get me too far ...

Alexandria, Part III

Finally, we wake up ready for the beach! "Early" was a bit of a stretch, since we made it to the car about 11:45, but still, for Egypt, we were doing well. We were headed for a section of Alexandria called Agame, and specifically for La Piste. Yes, La Piste, the salsa club in Mohandisseen that caused us so much trouble. We had been told they have a summer beach club, next to the Sheraton in Agame, and so were on our way.

Unfortunately, our directions weren't any better than that, so we stopped to ask a taxi driver for the Sheraton once we hit Agame. And were told two very interesting things: first, there is no Agame Sheraton, and second, Agame actually has two parts. Well, we didn't know which part of Agame to start looking in, and had no one to ask, so we were a bit stumped.

Fortunately, it occurred to Mona to call her uncle, who's the kind of person who knows of all the nice hotels. Sure enough, he directed us to the Sheraton (in the section of Agame called Nouviel), we told the cab driver, and he got us going in the right direction. Finally, we find the (unfinished) Sheraton, but there's no La Piste in sight.

Sound familiar?

Now, when Claudia had shown us the La Piste card a few weeks back, it had a map with La Piste next to the Sheraton and behind another hotel, and there was a hotel right next to the Sheraton, but Mona was convinced we were in the wrong area, because other than these hotels, the area was mainly residential. Certain that a beach club wouldn't be built in a residential area, we drove around in both directions, trying to call someone on the phone who might know. Finally, we decide to go to the hotel next to the Sheraton and ask if they know, but before doing so, we finally reached Claudia. Who dug through her bag, pulled out the card, and told us that La Piste was next to the Sheraton, behind the New Presidential Hotel. The hotel we were at. And, once she hung up, Mona pointed to a bright yellow umbrella, proudly labeled "La Piste."

I'm convinced these clubs are so hard to find so that only the really determined people make it in!

Anyhow, we went inside only to learn that it's not really a beach club during the day - it's just a beach. Mona had anticipated a club atmosphere, because she'd been to a beach club in Agame before and that's how it'd worked. I hadn't really formed any expectations beyond a beach, so I was well satisfied. Anyhow, the beach was more or less empty, but there was a woman in a bikini (which was my sole requirement), so we decided we really didn't need music and beer and set up shop.

La Piste is bordered by a public beach, and the two are divided by a fence starting at the high tide line. On the other side of the Sheraton is another public beach (the beach to the Sheraton is closed until the hotel opens, I think). Thus, even though we weren't getting a lot of people on our beach itself, people would walk from one public area to the other, which means we still got out fair share of gawkers (bikinis!), but at least they had to stay near the water. And looking at the hundreds of people using the beach next door, I was pretty grateful for the 15 or so that had found their way to La Piste.

At the guidance of the other woman on the beach (the German part-owner of the La Piste clubs, as it turns out), we got ourselves these amazing beach bean bag chairs for lounging, went for an initial dip in the water and then spread ourselves out. Mona had spent the last two days telling her family members we were going to the beach so that I could get a tan, so that was our goal. I was very responsible, turning regularly and cooling off in the water, but I did skip the small detail of sunscreen (well, I was trying to tan!).

After about three hours and a few dips in the water, I decided I was probably done - I could feel a bit of a burn coming on. So we took one last trip down to the ocean, where Mona was unceremoniously attacked by a jellyfish! We think. Suddenly, her leg started stinging, and after we got out, we saw red lines across it. Her family had warned us, "Don't go to Agame! There are jellyfish!" so we know they exist. And, from what she said, it certainly felt like a jellyfish. So, I'm starting to burn and she's been attacked - definitely time to go.

Maybe it's because there's no actual sun in Boston, but I guess I'd forgotten the logistics of a sunburn. "A bit burned" when we left the beach developed into full-blown lobster-colored by the time we got back to Mona's apartment, where she generously granted me first shower. I stood in the cold water for a bit, then put on some pj's for much-needed lounging ... and suddenly was shivering, I was so cold! Finally, we decided something might be wrong, and went next door to see her aunt, who just happens to be a doctor.

I walked into the kitchen, and the poor woman shouted what I suspect is the Arabic version of "Ay caramba!" This was followed by (as Mona later explained) a big lecture to Mona for letting me stay out in the sun that long. She gave us some cream for my skin, and went to find a pain-killer. Meanwhile, I felt like I was about to pass out and/or vomit, so went back to Mona's apartment. I eventually decided I was okay, and then promptly got dizzy, fell over and hit my head on the wall.

This is when we decided that maybe, just maybe, I had been in the sun too long. I climbed into bed, and Mona's aunt solemnly knelt next to me - "Teale, you have sun stroke." Yeah, that was kind of what I thought as well. She gave me yet another medicine, this one for fever, and ordered me to take a cold shower, something which did NOT sound at all appealing since I was already so cold. (Mona followed me into the bathroom and made me climb in the shower before she'd leave me alone.)

We'd been planning on returning to La Piste for the party (starts at 1, ends when the sun rises, acording to the owner), but instead I unceremoniously sprawled under the AC and wished I could go back in time with a bottle of SPF 50.

The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep during which I was forced to remain in one uncomfortable position, I admitted that maybe this burn was a bit worse than what I'm used to. In fact, even today (Wednesday) I had trouble getting out of bed, because my legs burn whenever I start moving after a period of inactivity. This Mediterannean sun is BRUTAL - much more so than I'm used to. Our morning plans were scrapped, and instead we just puttered around the apartment until it was time to join Mona's family for lunch.

They too were a bit appalled at my appearance, but happened to have some after-sun lotion that I got to use, which was worth their stares and Judy's giggles. I'm actually amazed at how many Egyptians have sunburn treatment advice, but Mona's cousin explained that, as children, they all got really burned at least once or twice themselves.

Besides, Mona's cousin's wife (I really wish I could remember their names) had cooked a feast that definitely took my mind off of things. I had mentioned that I like eggplant (while eating the mashi), so we had eggplant salad, pickled eggplants, and baba ganoosh. Additionally, because I was there to eat fish, we had breaded fish steaks, whole grilled fish, and fish in a tomato and onion sauce. And, as if this wasn't enough, there was a cucumber and tomato salad, a huge pot of rice, sauteed potatoes, and a tray of clams to eat with tahini. The table was groaning with food (and, after the meal, so was I), and every bit of it was delicious.

I was, however, ridiculed at my inability to "properly" eat the fish. My first bite happened to be full of bones, after which Mona showed me that there was in fact a whole spinal column (or whatever fish have) that I needed to remove myself. "When you said you liked fish, I didn't know you only ate fish sticks." Ooops ...

To save me the trouble, Mona's cousin came over and dismembered my grilled fish himself, so that was more or less boneless. I explained to Mona that I don't need to know how to bone my fish, because nice people always do it for me (thanks, Mom!), but I don't think she believed me. ("It's okay, Teale. When I'm alone in the dark, sometimes I eat them too, and they're really not that bad.")

Finally, dinner was over ... we had some dessert from the bakery, and then Mona and I jumped in the car to come back to Cairo. Back to the pollution, the garbage, the horns ... I can't help but think that Alexandria is just a better place to be. For example, here the garbage service is so corrupt that the garbage is "picked up" by poor people who root through it and take what they want, and animals who eat scraps - estimates are 10-15% of garbage never leaves the curb. In Alex, the garbage is picked up daily, and in the summer when it's hot, twice a day. And, for anything that doesn't make it in the trash cans, there are street sweeping machines that run every day. Or the car horns - in Cairo, they're considered a legitimate form of communication, but it's illegal to use them inside Alex city limits. Definitely a more peaceful place, and one to which I'd love to return.

Just as soon as my skin returns to a somewhat normal flesh-tone.

Alexandria, Part II - For the Ladies

Yes, I know that I can't prevent men from reading this post, and honestly I don't care either way - but I just want you to be aware that, as men, you won't be interested in anything I write this time around, because Friday was very much a girl's day out.

Mona and I stumbled out of bed around 11:30 or 12:00 for a breakfast of chocolate croissants (one of her cousins owns a bakery franchise, and another cousin owns one of the franchises, which he bought in part with Mona's father's assistance, so she gets free bakery goodies whenever she wants). The plan for the day was to go to a coiffure to get my legs done, and then off to the beach.

Now, in the US women generally shave or get waxed, but Egypt has to be different, so here we get "sugared" - the salons use this sticky substance that (according to Mona) is made of sugar and lemon juice, melted down. Of course, most places buy it rather than making it, and it comes in little amber-colored bricks. They play with it until it looks like taffy, becoming opaque and stretchy, and then smooth it on over the offending body hair and pull it off, with their fingers, in a quick jerky motion, yanking all the hair out by the roots like is done with waxing. However, unlike waxing, one or two little pieces of this "helawa" (which just means "sweet") is all the process takes.

This process is done in most coiffures, and by all Egyptian women (Muslim men are very offended by hairy legs), so we figured it would be no problem. In fact, there's a coiffure in Mona's building, so we didn't even have to go very far.

Except for some reason, this coiffure doesn't sugar. Okay, no big deal - we decided to ask Mona's cousins where they go. As fashion conscious girls, we were sure they'd have an idea. Except they DIDN'T! It turns out everyone in Mona's family buys the damn helawa and does it themselves these days! In fact, her cousin offered to do my legs for me ... actually, first she suggested Mona do it, but Mona replied, "No, we're friends right now, and I'd like to keep it that way." Okay, fine - we didn't know a coiffure, so this was the only option. We just needed to run down to the supermarket to get some helawa!

Of course, even that turned into a trial ... by then, it was time for the Friday afternoon prayer, which starts at 1:00 and lasts for about 45 minutes or an hour. But Mona knew a store that was open through prayer, so we hopped in the car to drive there ... except when mosques are too full, they place prayer rugs in the street, so it took us about 10 minutes and three detours to get to a store three blocks away. Only to find that it was closed for prayer.

If I was a superstitious person, I would have stopped right then, gone home and pulled out my trusty razor. But no, I was determined - when in Rome and all that jazz. So we decided to walk around for a few minutes until the end of the prayers. Somehow, we managed to walk by a coiffure that was both open and in the sugaring business, and decided that the extra cost might be worth it to get a professional job done (not that either of us doubt Mona's cousin, of course ...).

Oh. My. God. First of all, Mona was talking for me, and she kept saying "arms and legs," even though I only wanted my legs done. And, of course, the girl starts with my arm. I think to myself, "Fine, no big deal, right?" Wrong. At least my legs are accustomed to abusive beauty rituals, but my arms were hair-removal virgins, and the hair was past the idea length of 1/4", which means it hurt even more than it should have! But I grit my teeth and sucked it up, thinking that it would get more tolerable as I got used to it.

And it should have, except it turns out this girl wasn't so good at the process. By the time she finished my arms and legs, she'd used three pieces of helawa, when Mona's coiffure in Mohandisseen can do it all with one, and it took a good hour (Mona had estimated 15 minutes). Yes, an hour. I spent an hour of my life having hair ripped out by its roots with a piece of candy, by a girl who must have been younger than myself. By the time we were finished, I was a bit sore and miserable, but at least I was ready for the beach!

On the less painful side of things, she also groomed my eyebrows, this with a piece of string that she twists a bunch and then runs along the skin. It was kind of an interesting feeling! (And by "interesting" I mean "not nearly so painful as the rest of it" ...)

Okay, so finished with that, we went to the store to get some stuff to munch on over the weekend (you know, to supplement our croissants), and then back to the apartment. By then it was about 3:30 in the afternoon, and much too late to head to Agame like we had been planning. It takes about 45 minutes to an hour to get there, so we had been planning an all-afternoon thing. Instead, we decided to go to Paradise Beach, recommended by Mona's cousin and only 15 minutes away. We put on our bikinis (and Egypt-appropriate clothing on top, of course) and hopped in the car, both quite excited to play in the ocean. After two months of long skirts and long-sleeved shirts, I must admit the idea of going to a private beach where I wouldn't get hassled for a bikini was rather appealing.

Paradise Beach is in a compound, and we had to pay 10 LE just to enter, and then spent a good 15 minutes looking for parking. This particular beach is affiliated with a hotel, so we asked at the front desk and were told the beach entrance fee was 60 LE each. This is kind of steep - about $10 - but worth it. However, when we got down to the beach, we were told by the entry guards that we had to pay 75 LE! Now, in reality, a difference of 15 LE isn't that significant. However, this is Egypt, which means that there's a good likelihood that, no matter the situation, SOMEONE is trying to rip you off. Mona, convinced that the guards were padding the cover charge, refused, and we walked down the strip to see if there were any other beaches. Unfortunately, the other private beach was full, and the public beaches are INSANE - umbrellas and people so thick it's impossible to see the water, and only frequented by men or by women who actually go into the ocean wearing full sleeves, jeans and a veil (and then they wonder why there are drownings ...).

Finally, we gave up - fate wasn't with us on Friday. On the way out, we asked at the front desk, and were told that the cover was in fact 75 LE (60 is the weekday price), so at least the guys at the beach weren't lying. At that point, though, there was nothing to do but go home.

Mona was especially disappointed, because apparently she loves the ocean, so to cheer her up, we ate some emergency chocolate (we've decided we should always carry chocolate around, "just in case") and then decided it was time to go shopping!

Many stores, many clothes, many shoes. Not so many great stories to tell, because shopping is fun but not especially exciting for others. By the end of the evening, though, I'd managed to pick up a new dress, new pants, a new skirt, and two new pairs of shoes. The dress is awesome, and still kind of okay for Egypt - it goes to my knees, and if I wear a scarf I'll be officially decent. The pants are cool and look like a skirt, but are really long so I need some taller shoes (oh, darn, I'll have to go shopping!), and the skirt is absolutely darling! We went to about 10 different stores, and didn't get home until about 12:30 that night, where we had to prance around in our new shoes and agonize over the shirt Mona didn't buy (don't worry - she went back for it on Sunday).

Finally, we ordered dinner from this fast-food restaurant called Cook Door - I'd told Mona about lobster rolls (mmmmmmmm ...), and so she insisted we order the "sandwich viagra," which has shrimp and crab with tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese. I giggled when she told me the name, and said something like "In America, viagra is an impotence drug," to which she replied, "Yeah, Egypt, too. In fact, Egypt is the biggest consumer of viagra." Apparently, the sandwich is named for seafood's legendary aphrodisiac qualities. Wait a minute - what happened to Egypt's sexual repression??

Anyhow, the sandwich wasn't nearly as good as a lobster roll, but it was still a nice way to end a completely unproductive girly day. We crashed "early" (at like 2:00) with plans to wake up "early" (at like 10:30) the next day and head for Agame.