Tuesday, February 21, 2012

باريس - Paris



A long ode to France on Fat Tuesday







See on the canals
Those vessels sleeping.
Their mood is adventurous;
It's to satisfy
Your slightest desire
That they come from the ends of the earth.
— The setting suns
Adorn the fields,
The canals, the whole city,
With hyacinth and gold;
The world falls asleep
In a warm glow of light.
There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
(Translation of a paragraph "L'invitation au voyage" from Les Fleurs du Mal, by Charles Baudelaire)

Francophilia is not a rare condition. There's a reason why that popular movie from a couple years back is called "Paris, I love you." Mardi Gras, good bread, house music, long vacations… Everyone, intentionally or otherwise, probably enjoys something that initially came from the French. When people here (Egyptians are curious folk) ask "why Arabic?," the question is often followed by more inquiries into what I studied in college. When I say "French" (I never mention Plan II - that's ridiculous to explain in English), people either kind of sigh sadly (Poor thing, she'll never get a job), or exclaim excitedly (neat! French is cool! I studied French too!) But Paris is indeed objectively beautiful. A friend of mine in college (coughDANE) gently mocked me on occasion for posting pictures of Paris on my dorm wall . . . "Unique!" he would laugh. Okay, yes, sure, it is not unique nor is it creative to declare one's self in love with France . . . or with crêpes, or good wine, or good architecture, or sad black and white French movies for that matter. But ever since my second trip to the city, when I was seventeen, I joined the Francophile bandwagon, and I've been très happy ever since. Full appreciation, however, didn't arrive until this year, while living in Alex, a different sort of place.

What's amazing in such a grand culture as France's, and in the corners of such a magnifique city like Paris - is that there's room for everyone to share in the fabulous things together (plenty of inventive food, people, music, art, theatre, and dance to go around) but also room for everyone to find something just for them, completely their own, that no one else has claimed or known or found in the city or among the people. Everyone has a hook, a reason why Paris or France drew them in, a reason that actually IS unique. 

This past week, in Paris, while walking home on the Boulevard de la Chapelle on a frigid night, with snow flurries melting on a "new" hat (that my travelling buddy found on the floor of the metro), I clearly understood two things for the first time: My own reason why Paris pulls me back, and just how important languages like Arabic and French are to me, equally, and why.

When I was seventeen, my generous dadman took Sophie, my younger sister, and I to Paris to enjoy ourselves for a week while he attended a conference downtown. He asked us to check in with him once a day using payphones (remember those?), but gave us complete free reign over our time and decisions. Sophie and I got lost, contracted food poisoning, exhausted ourselves, and really, truly had a snazzy time. Museums are free for under-18 year olds in France and we noisily stomped our way through as MANY as we could. Most importantly, we armed ourselves with a map and our rudimentary French language skills, and found bright little spots throughout the city (The markets at Place Monge, that crazy graffiti throughout Belleville, Place de la Contrescarpe at 10 PM, the bridge where the Vedettes de Pont Neuf take off, full of tourists), with random conversations here and there, on our high-school-french level. Isn't that bewildering and emboldening rush of independence what we all love about travel and new places? It makes your strengths and weaknesses and desires stand out in stark relief, in the absence of all the comfort points that make life easy at home.

What I realized for the first time THIS past week is that my brain has knit the idea of Paris with that thrilled feeling; it was that trip, in high school, when I first realized that there's no need to stay in one spot, when there are so many others to wander through. I was privileged to be able to go at a young age, and am still blessed enough to have the time and freedom to study a pretty language like French, and a crazy one like Arabic, without negative effects on my family or future. I realize this is a big privilege, and I try to remind myself to remain ever-grateful for it. And the importance of studying languages, to me, is that maintaining some knowledge in anything besides English can help in that exploration - be it for the sake of travel, career, or otherwise. Oh fellow liberal arts folks… fine arts folks… we chose silly, weird things to study in college; oft-self-serving fun things. But perhaps insha'allah, they'll lead to places that are neither self-serving, nor weird, nor silly. 

The week in Paris was my Christmas gift from my parents (MERCI, parents), and an opportunity to see Raphael and Camille, my two switfly-growing, now five and seven-year old nanny charges from three years back. It was so, so good to walk in from the ice and cold to the warm, familiar apartment on Rue Pierre Sémard, and to hugs and kisses from those two little guys. I am already excited for them to visit Texas, "la terre des cow-boys." Allez, viens, la famille Ayed!

Paris is the old-fashioned and the inventive; an old, well-maintained Peugeot with a new coat of paint every few years. France has the capacity to amaze, and the ooos and aaaaahs of "it's just so beautiful!" that you can find yourself thinking as you stroll past meticulous Hausmannian buildings, select a pastry from a case of freshly-prepared masterpieces, or stumble into an accordion concert and tango contest on the banks of the Seine, are indicative of the culture's far-reaching appeal. It can also sometimes be cold and condescending, and it's a detail-oriented society, bureaucratic without being tryannical (the guillotine took care of that), and one where "les petits soins" (the little cares) and traditions are carefully cultivated. Politics is a national pasttime, like in Egypt, but is kept tidy under long-respected rules of chivalry and budgeting. A vibrant democracy that has succeeded in ousting power-hungry kings, emperors, and dictators time and time again throughout its history, France also now shares in carrying the burden of an expanding, teetering European union, and has accepted a lot of the blame and shame of its imperialist, bullying past.

Musings aside, me, myself, without any shame whatsoever, am an unabashed Francophile, and will keep that flame lit until the day I find the right stone house in the south of France (near Aix, I think) to open up a bed and breakfast. I'll make American breakfast (I'll steal Kerbey's recipe for lemon poppyseed pancakes, I think… the world should know about those) for weary travellers, and shop daily for the next day's meal in airy, green, open markets in Provence. It'll, like, totally be the *best*! France is a place with the capacity to nurture and strengthen one's most outlandish dreams, so yalla bina, if you have yet to spin underneath the Eiffel Tower, Zilker tree style, discuss French politics with pétanque-playing old men in Les Halles, eat a ham/cheese/egg/salad crêpe with hard cider on a clear, freezing night, or listen to old accordion ditties in the Lapin Agile, you've lived but not like the French, qui vivent. Go! Allez!

But if you're already a Francophile, you probably already knew all that. ;)

Some good old-fashioned French music, if you're not already sick of all this French stuff:

Carla Bruni - Quelqu'un m'a dit
Edith Piaf - Hymne a l'amour
Barbara - Quand reviendras-tu?
Probably the best scene, and the best song, from Amélie, in my opinion
Scene from Delicatessen, a 1991 film from the director of Amélie. A much stranger little movie.


Entire poem from Baudelaire:
L'invitation au voyage
Mon enfant, ma soeur,
Songe à la douceur
D'aller là-bas vivre ensemble !
Aimer à loisir,
Aimer et mourir
Au pays qui te ressemble !
Les soleils mouillés
De ces ciels brouillés
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
Si mystérieux
De tes traîtres yeux,
Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Des meubles luisants,
Polis par les ans,
Décoreraient notre chambre ;
Les plus rares fleurs
Mêlant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l'ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
À l'âme en secret
Sa douce langue natale.
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l'humeur est vagabonde ;
C'est pour assouvir
Ton moindre désir
Qu'ils viennent du bout du monde.
- Les soleils couchants
Revêtent les champs,
Les canaux, la ville entière,
D'hyacinthe et d'or ;
Le monde s'endort
Dans une chaude lumière.
Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.

Friday, February 17, 2012

الجمال - Beauty

al Gamaal - Beauty (not to be confused with al gamal - the camel)

Yesterday morning, I woke up to sheets of grey, chilly rain outside my dusty windows (free cleaning service!)  Deterred from the idea of going to class, I still got up, pulled on multiple layers (it's still freezing. How? Why?) and went to Islamic Studies. It's the first week after all, and classes are better this semester, by far, than they were in the Fall. Over the course of the afternoon, the rain decided to stop, the sun decided to come out, the temperature shot up, and then the rain would suddenly start and the cycle repeated itself three times. It's almost like Austin, Texas weather, eh? By the time sunset rolled around, I was in awe at the splendid colors in the sky, the clear air (CLEAR AIR. in EGYPT!) and the pleasant hum of activity outside my window. Egypt is beautiful, you just have to look harder for the beauty. A repetitive theme in my blog, but it bears saying. It doesn't spill out of every possible experience, like in France, where it seeps into you, and makes you feel more vibrant and more energetic, as if by some process of aesthetic osmosis. It's here in Egypt too, and when you stumble across moments of finding beauty, it's even more empowering, because you might have had to dig for it.

Travelling with the group to Luxor and Aswan (in south Egypt, or "upper Egypt") to visit ancient Pharaonic temples was a treat, and one full of beauty and little annoyances (like any good vacation). Our expedition was interrupted by a strike at the Nile river locks at Edfu (which prevented our cruise from arriving at its destination) and the gas shortages throughout all of upper Egypt (which resulted in a tense argument outside our tour bus when we strolled up, requested permission to cut the line so we could quickly get on our way, and were rightfully turned down, due to the line of patient yet upset drivers who had been queueing up for hours outside the station.) We also had some fabulous and some terrible tour guides, and arguments and disagreements about tipping and prices. But whenever we encountered such travel inconveniences, like the lock strike and the gas shortage, they were quickly solved to make sure we could continue with our tourism. As such, it was an interesting glance into just how deeply the Egyptian economy depends on tourism (whose levels continue to plummet), and just how intensely Egyptian society is aching for change. Sentiment in Upper Egypt doesn't always resonate with the spirit of Tahrir Square, but they want change too; the same changes Egyptians have been asking for since well before the 2011 Revolution. We experienced Luxor and Aswan as most foreigners do - with tour guides, police escorts, and people serving our every need along the way, with a little baqsheesh (tips) to ease the way. It was an odd experience, traipsing across ancient holy places, and then piling back into cozy buses, being instructed to ignore each and every souvenir peddler offering us cheap trinkets. 

The horrific deaths of close to 80 soccer fans in Port Said occurred on our last night in Aswan. Watching the Egyptians around us react to the disgusting news was saddening, and observing our waiter argue with the manager about who was to blame only underlined how complicated and uncertain life can be here. Who's on whose side anyway? is a question to which Egyptians want answers.

The temples were awesome, in the original meaning of the word. Awe-inspiring. A lot more pictures can be found in the facebook album I just posted, if you have particular interest:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10101640932784420.3353641.7958266&type=1&l=163531ba8f

Immediately after the night train from Aswan to Cairo, myself and two others flew to France for the rest of the break. Two days after returning from Paris, in a fit of inspiration and embarassment and self-defense, I wrote out a journal entry to that country and language that I love. I was going to post it immediately but decided to save it and maybe just discard it. It felt wrong; seeing as I live in Egypt, and truly enjoy life here, why was I so excited about what was beautiful in France? (Also, I wanted to post it on Mardi Gras, as my own small commemoration of everyone's favorite French excuse for sugar gluttony, and that's NEXT Tuesday). As such, I've been meditating on what's beautiful in Egypt this past week. And there is a hell of a lot to be in awe of.



The short list:

These people that I study with.

Islamic art

Pollution's crazy effect on sunsets

Organic fruits and veggies, all the time, everywhere.

The ocean

The Nile

Hamster-head car seat covers

Ridiculously large and cheap fruit salads

Stella, birthdays, baklava, and kunefe

National pride in Tahrir Square

Random gardens alongside the Nile

Creative cemeteries behind closed doors

Creative cemeteries COMPOSED of closed doors

Places like this

Coptic churches

Sunsets AT Coptic churches


Storefronts with great diction

15-cent fava bean sandwiches

Being able to buy (almost) anything you want


Adorable (usually) cats. Everywhere. This is a mosque cat.

That inimitable beauty of an old yet well-kept mosque

The urban chaos and harmony that is Cairo

No fear of color, and a fondness for yellow

Parks like Al-Azhar

Interiors like this

Exteriors like this

Arabic numerals. Ramadan lanterns. Doors that look like that!

This great place in Garden City

Nescafé. Oh, there IS more to wake up for, and it's not nescafé, but powdered instant coffee substance, you are pretty great, I guess

Overlap of cultures and religions, all the time

Disregard for safety rules. Cross the street how you like!

Or steer the boat 10 of your friends are riding in!

Or pet this crocodile!

Plus way more. Das the short list, yo.