يوم الجمعة: شغال ومش شغال to work and to not work

مش شغال

mish shaghal = to NOT work

شغال

shaghal = to work!

Easily the first new phrase I and several others picked up here was "mish shaghal." Meaning, it doesn't work. The phone? Mish shaghal. Water heater? Mish shaghal. Internet? oh DEFinitely mish shaghal. But seeing how 1) everything will eventually shaghal or you'll find a way around it (who needs a shower head?), 2) God really provides exactly what I need, just often not at the moment I most think I want it, and 3) how everyone in Egypt just keeps on keepin' on in a country where many things break or simply never worked efficiently... This ALL continues to instruct me in patience and awe for how the world just continues to turn. I'm growing in admiration for this country, admiration for my own country, appreciation for Hans Wehr (an intimidating and beautifully organized tome of an arabic dictionary, that I've fallen asleep with here more than once. ugh), and independence from google translate or anything electronic.

Egypt feels cozy and homey now, I enjoy the markets, and I like running next to the ocean (though I can't run as fast, dunno if I want to blame it on the pollution, the too-warm long-sleeved clothes I wear, or my embarassing, skyrocketing sugar consumption). I even like the crush of people on the trams in the morning (but NOT in the afternoons. Deodorant is not of the highest quality here, and in the morning, it's still too early for deodorant to have failed). I love this one tunnel I pass through every day on my way to the university. All the footsteps echo and all the women are dressed beautifully and all the hijabs adjusted just so and all the men look dashing in their business suits. (Why am I in a good mood when I walk through that tunnel in the morning, but often in a not so good mood on the way home? Haven't figured that one out yet.) Sometimes there are puddles of sandy seawater from the Mediterranean waves that seeped into the tunnel overnight. There are sleepy, stubbly guards flanking the entrances and they always perk up when anyone greets them. I wonder if they get any sleep?

A shoe store named King Paris opened directly below our apartment, and to herald the grand opening, there were two nights of LOUD pop music and vines of Christmas lights strung up and down the street, twinkling randomly. Fireworks were shot up into the air, (sort of) aimed at people's balconies, and fourth of july size explosions left ash, dust, and a lingering burning smell on one of our little patios, but no matter. It was fun to not hear ourselves in our own living room due to the FIREWORKS outside the window, and it's actually a relief to be in a country with so little attention put on safety liabilities. I knew not to step on the balcony, for instance. Personal responsibility, people.

Internship work these past couple weeks entailed calling up international schools in Alex, asking for meetings with the principals. Harder said than done. I can't stand selling things, and in America, such a process, just cold-calling and requesting meetings, would never fly. Hanshuf, bekhir insha'allah.

We celebrated my roommate's 21st birthday on Halloween, fêting the occasion at Café Latino on the Corniche. 25-30 of us ate classy, flashy but mediocre-tasting cake, laughed a lot, stood up when the waiters decided our arrival was the best moment to change the lightbulbs directly above the table, and overall itbasatna (enjoyed ourselves). It made me realize I've had nothing but great roommates my whole life. Sophie, Saloni, Ashley, Caroline, Jamie, Amira, Rania… All wonderful! And now Enas and Kelsey. Humdulillah, really and truly.

With the tangibly positive attitudes my roommates and classmates have, I'm able to remember that when the shower head breaks, the hot water disappears, the padlock sticks, the internet company has somehow broken the internet for the day (it happened… at least the government didn't censor it or take it off line like it did in January), it's all so minor it's not worth getting upset over. We're always trying to look for ways to drop the "mish" and say, hey, yeah, shaghal, it works, because therein lies the beauty of so much of egypt. You might not understand how something works and forget about knowing when it will work, but eventually, most everything works, and another day starts again.

King Paris opening. Christmas lights! I wish you could hear the Pussycat Dolls blaring. I don't think the lyrics were understood...

Bakeries everywhere. Sort of like France, but cheaper. (i.e. dangerous)

That, my friends, is indeed a bookstore. He is selling books. See? His bookstore just, well, works. Doesn't look like it would, but it does. ma'alesh.