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.
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.
posted by Teale at 10:34 AM
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