You Gotta Have Friends

First published February 15, 2009

Dear friends of ours arrived today for exactly 9.5 hours. They had a layover in Cairo and shared their time with us. We began hatching a plan of fun and excitement using all of our skills that a One Month in Residence Family had to offer. First, we would drive them straight to a good coffee shop. We knew just the one. It's a few blocks from our house.

I guess since our arrival I've become accustomed already to the cars, donkeys, motorcycles and pedestrians all trying to share the road. We led the way and helped them weave their way to our destination.

We sipped Diet Bepsis. (That's not a typo. There is no "p" sound in Arabic. All "p"s become "b"s. So Pepsi become Bepsi and yes, Pam becomes Bam or Ham depending on the dialect--not flattering either way.) Our food of paninis, croissants and chocolate cake arrived. We were celebrating a birthday so we were pulling out all the stops.

We laughed and sipped and ate and for the first time in several days, we were just normal people having a normal moment. It was refreshing. We still had several hours so we had to pace ourselves. This was a progressive meal. They couldn't get a lot of the food that Cairo offers so we were trying to hit all the good spots while they were with us.

After breakfast we caught a taxi to the other side of the city. Our friends requested that we go to a popular store called, "Carre Four." This is like a Wal-Mart SuperCenter. We couldn't all fit in one taxi so John hailed 2 of them and told both the drivers what the plan was. The drivers took off with women in one car and the men in the other. Our driver began yelling something to the other driver. The other driver was ahead of us and was obviously not hearing him. We didn't speak Arabic so obviously we weren't understanding him.

Our driver followed closely behind and then whipped along side the lead taxi and began shouting again. The lead taxi yelled back, waved his arms and kept pace with our taxi. They continued back and forth until our driver conceded and fell back behind him. He rubbed his head and kept muttering.

We finally arrived at our destination and thanked both the drivers. Our guests got the deluxe treatment--close calls and yelling car to car. What I didn't realize is that my friend understood what our driver was saying. He was telling the other driver that he was taking a route that was too busy. He also told him that his brain must be tired because he's not choosing the right streets. I like being on the inside of these discussions.

The women led the way to this shopping extravaganza. The men said they were leaving us to go look at tools. We agreed to meet back together in 30 minutes. They were back after 10. Men. My friend looked at me and said, "Can you believe we're all here together in Cairo?! This could be like a day at Wal-Mart in Springfield."

"I know," I said, "Weird and awesome at the same time. I have to keep reminding myself that I really am LIVING in Africa."

To increase the thrill of the day, we offered to take our friends on the subway back to our flat. They were up for it so Emileigh went to purchase our tickets. She distributed them and then told us she would meet us at the next platform because she wanted to go visit with the women on the "women's only" train.

We rode without incident the first leg, but still marveled at the coats and sweaters being worn in 80 degree weather. I personally was melting. Summer is going to be VERY ugly, but I digress. The second leg we caught up with Emileigh made sure she was fine and were ready to board the next train. Emileigh and Aria left us to go to the women's train while the remaining four were taking our position to step into the car for that magic 30 second loading door it provides. Just as I was stepping in, a college age girl stepped in also. As she did she poked her hand into my purse very quickly and subtly. I very quickly and NOT subtly grasped her by the wrist and flung her hand down at her side. She took her place on the train and acted like nothing happened.

I was proud of myself at that moment because I had ninja-like reflexes and gave her a look that said, "You don't wanna mess with me, girlie." I'm sure her knees turned to jell-o.

My friend commended my bravery. I told her that this was the first time anything like that happened. It's not unique to this culture. Any big city anywhere would have things like this. So I chalked it up to another experience.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and we regrouped for rest and water at the flat. We had one more stop to make before they needed to get back to the airport. This was the all-important search for a hamburger that really tasted like a hamburger. I've purchased hamburger (or rather "beefburger" because "hamburger" has the word "ham" in it and that refers to pork which is a no-no so don't use that word...) at the grocery store, but it comes already seasoned with cumin and cinnamon. Try it sometime, just don't add taco seasoning to it like I did for dinner last week.

Anyway, we had researched and discovered that Fuddrucker's World's Greatest Hamburgers has a restaurant in our neighborhood. (This could be VERY dangerous.) So we took 2 more taxis to the restaurant. Again, our drivers did not agree on the chosen route and yelling ensued some more. Miraculously, they arrived at the restaurant and we piled out. John got the business card of his driver who said he would drink coffee with him and help him practice Arabic. The driver wanted to learn English so it's a win-win.

I don't get offers like that. It's rude to talk to women in such a familiar way. So I tell them what address to take me to and our conversation ends there. I'll have to seek out other measures.

We walked into Fuddrucker's and listened to American 80s music while choosing the perfect burger. We savored our food, but mostly the conversation that comes from having deep, trusted friendships.

The day ended too soon, but we joked and said, "We should do this again real soon." The fact is...they will be coming back through Cairo at the end of the week and we'll get to see them again. How awesome! It's great to exhale and just be with friends that make you laugh and encourage your heart. Friends...you gotta have 'em. A good hamburger is a close second.

Guide to Taxi Honks--Abridged Edition

First published February 3, 2009

Beep beep
Do you want a ride?

Beep
Hey, car on my right, I'm over here!

Beep
Hey, car on my left, I'm over here!

Beep
I'm merging into your lane and by the time you hear my horn I will already be there.

Beep
Get out of my way donkey cart.

Beep
Get out of my way (basket/bread/banana) seller.

Beep
Get out of my way pizza delivery moped.

Beep
Get out of my way darting pedestrians.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
Get out of my way because I'm not braking!

Staccato Beep
Sorry to cut you off.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Beep! B-B-B-Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! 
You are blocking the whole intersection!

Beep! Wooooooo! Wooooooooo! Wooooooo!
I am clever. I have a horn that sounds like an ambulance so people move out of my way quicker.

Beep! (10 seconds) Beep! (10 seconds) Beep!
I have Horn Tourettes. I honk for no reason because I'm in such a habit of doing it.

Beep with hands thrown up in the air.
Crazy woman driver!

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep! Bang hands on steering wheel and mutter words under your breath...
I am having to drive these Americans across town in the busiest part of the day to a mall that I couldn't even begin to shop at and now I'm stuck in the middle of this mess and they probably won't even give me a decent tip so I'm going to play terrible acapella Arabic music really loud as a way to make you pay!

Stationary Stationery

First published January 27, 2009

Today I thought, "This is it. This is where the interesting pieces of information end. We've settled into a routine and it's all pretty much predictable now. Wrong. John had mentioned that he had noticed on the map that there was a section of town that specialized in stationery. (For more information on that whole topic, read 'Gonna Rock Down to Electric Avenue.') I told him that I would like to buy some notecards that had Egyptian art on them. He perused the map some more and declared that he had a route planned out and we should make our way to Stationery Street.

Aria is always ready to go somewhere, anywhere for any reason. Emileigh is too if given enough preparation time. I just sighed to myself and thought, "Oh, boy. Another grand opportunity to get lost, mumble my two Arabic words and spend way more money than any other person should in Cairo." However, the girls' enthusiasm was contagious so I decided to put on my pantalones feliz (translated "happy pants") and go along.

We walked out of our flat to the corner and hailed a taxi. You never know whether you'll get the deluxe (less than 15 dents) sedan or the demolition-derby-why-hasn't-this-car-been-put-in-a-salvage-yard edition. This time we got the latter. We hopped in and John began telling the driver that we needed to go to the Metro. The Metro is the subway system in Cairo. Our flat is not near a station so we had to get a ride there. The problem is differentiating between Metro the Subway and Metro Mart, my grocery store. John had the streets we needed memorized so the confusion was quickly cleared up. I am SO happy to have married a guy who is detailed oriented--VERY handy at times like these.

The taxi guy drove to the station and deposited us at a collection of stairs that led below the street. We followed the masses below and looked for the ticket booth. It was in English and Arabic so that part was easy. John paid 1 EGP for each ticket. Total cost for 4 riders: 73 cents. No wonder so many people ride. John dispensed the tickets to each of us and we began looking for the right platform. Of course, the Human GPS walked straight to it. We caused a stir among the regulars--their staring very obvious. We are getting used to the looks and try to get over the awkwardness of the moment by telling each other funny stories.

The train arrived and we hopped on. This was the girls' first subway ride ever and our second. We grabbed an arm loop above our heads and zipped down the dark tunnel. Each stop would gather more riders and spurt out one or two simultaneously. My biggest fear was getting separated from the family. What if only 3 of us made it off? What if I were left behind? (A new book series would surely ensue...) I kept my eye on John while trying to ignore all the other passengers who were turned toward us staring. Some were a bit more subtle while others--not so much.

After 6 stops, John made his move and the 3 other Westerners bolted off at the same time. We found the steps up to the street and landed in a completely new area of Cairo in less than 10 minutes. John pulled out his "All About Cairo" map book and began orienting himself. The girls looked at each other and struck a pose that said, "We're not lost. We're not tourists. We're local. We know what we're doing." Too bad the parents blew it by pointing, looking around, referring back to the map and asking for help.

A nice lady pointed us in the right direction and we began walking. We made our way down a couple blocks and noticed that we were not seeing any stationery stores. We walked a little further and paused. John pulled out the map again and checked his directions. We were on the right track, but just hadn't walked far enough.


John noticed a store that sold leather goods and decided to stop. He needed a new belt and thought he should check it out. The girls and I found a stationery store next door and decided to go in there while he looked around. I found a very nice man who spoke some English. He began showing me some notecards that were made out of papyrus (a specialty paper in this area of the world). They had a very Egyptian looking design. I know it screamed, "Cheesy Tourist Item," but they were exactly what I was looking for. Now the hard part...bartering. I can't tell you how much I hate the whole process, but I knew it was necessary. I haggled a tiny bit and called it good. (When my Arabic's better, my bartering will improve--I hope.)

John came around the corner with a new leather belt and a sheepskin wallet. His total purchase was $9. Mine was not.

We continued down the street when a young man approached John and struck up a conversation. He and John chatted for a while and before we knew it, we were bobbing and weaving through traffic heading down a completely new street. I asked John where we were going. John told me that his new friend knew of a cafe nearby. I kept thinking, "Where is my husband? Who is this guy? He's like Anthony Bourdain or Andrew Zimmern with all his new adventurous endeavors."

The entry to the cafe

The girls and I shrugged and kept pace. We turned down a narrow street and were directed to turn left. Down an even more narrow street were plastic tables filled with men and women sipping tea and puffing on hookahs.

Hookah

I raised my eyebrow and was getting ready to call it quits, but found myself alone. The rest of the family had already begun the walk through the maze of people until we were deposited into the middle of the crowd and given 3 plastic chairs to sit in.

John told us to sit and he would go search out food. Our new friend led John to a vendor who prepared an entire meal for us. Within 5 minutes John reappeared with a tray of delicious smelling foods and a 4th chair. We ordered something to drink and ate while soaking in the local flavor. We finished our meal and paid the $3 bill.

Our helpful friend (whose name we found out is Ibrahim) had waited patiently for us to finish. He led us to his place of employment which just happened to be a company that sold tour packages to tourists to the various historical sites in Egypt. How in the world did we get caught in a timeshare trap here? We met the owner while he flipped brochures showing us amazing cruises to Luxor. John accepted his business card and thanked him for his help. 

We parted ways with Ibrahim, walked a bit more, visited a local bakery and made our way back to the Metro. This time we made our way through like pros. We zoomed to the other side of town and caught a taxi back to our flat.

I had used up all my excitement cells for the day. I needed to go back to our little home and lie down. After a nap, I would start writing letters in my new notecards. That's when Aria reminded me, "Why didn't we get stamps when we were near the post office?" Ug. Looks like normal's a ways away.

Our lunch: fuhl, falafel, pita bread, lemons, tomato/onion salad

We're Gonna Rock Down to Electric Avenue...

First published January 25, 2009

Our darling little kitchen in our flat is equipped with an efficient amount of items to make a few meals. Floral and plaid dishes are arranged in a glass cabinet. Bent, mismatched silverware is in the drawer. A stove and refrigerator round out the inventory. When we first looked at the place, I was pleasantly surprised by the thought put into each item in this furnished option.

As I've been making feeble attempts to create dinners here, I have gone about my tasks in routine fashion until I turn and realize...I have no microwave. I have no toaster. I have no griddle. All those handy-dandy little gadgets that grace the counter of most American homes were conspicuously missing. So I have been frying frozen waffles and flipping leftovers in a skillet over the stove. I know. I know. Poor me. It's not necessarily a complaint, but rather another adjustment to my every day living experience.

We could buy a microwave, but Cairo is our temporary home and we don't want to have to ship the puppy in a few months. I could, however, manage to ship a griddle and a toaster. Our first perusings for a toaster oven came at Platinum Mall. This is a collection of stores that has a variety of items ranging from men's clothes to baby seats to small appliances. Lest you think this is a Wal-Mart, this mall is vertical. We walked in (not inconspicuously) to a variety of men all shopping for shirts and pants and all things manly. Some paused and looked at us to see why we were there. I was wondering the same thing myself.

I immediately saw stairs, a sign with Arabic writing and an arrow. I gave the girls and John the nod and we were up to the second floor. This floor had baby items located on it. We gave a brief viewing and continued up the next set of stairs. The third level sold women's hijabs (headscarves) and flowing gowns. I lingered just a moment, but decided that this was a store for stick women and boycotted the whole floor. Out of breath, we crested the fourth floor and found what we were looking for...appliances--small ones, but at least we had reached the electronic section.

We looked through the collection of toaster ovens. John (as usual) began giving me the calculations for each one. A hundred bucks? For a toaster? No way. I looked around a bit more so as to give the impression that I was still in the valley of indecision and slowly began receding down the stairs. Rats. No toaster today.

The next day, John began looking through some Cairo information. He found that different sections of the city specialize in different items to purchase. For instance, on Shehab St. (our street) is our good fortune and to John's chagrine--Fashion Lane. There are shoe stores, clothing stores and accessories on both sides. He found the street that was known for selling appliances to which I quickly dubbed, "Electric Avenue" and began singing the song every time we discussed going.

We told our taxi driver which street to drive toward and he rolled his eyes. Apparently, this was quite a distance and it was in the afternoon meaning lots of traffic. Of course, we didn't know that then. We hung on as he accelerated and slammed on his brakes making us bow like a Chinese dignitary for the next 35 minutes. Before we arrived at our destination, we drove through Auto Parts Avenue, Domestications Drive and Trinkets Trail. The driver dropped us off in the middle of Electric Avenue which happened to be loaded with many men with that same gleam in their eyes that their American counterparts get when entering Best Buy.

In the windows were flat screen TVs, washers, radios, and toaster ovens. Woo hoo! Our first store had exactly one model to choose from. John asked about it. We decided it was too large, said "shukran" (thank you) and moved on. We moved through the crowd of men to the next store which offered 2 choices. Again, both too big.

I was ready to call it a day, but the girls were having fun and encouraged me to keep looking. We rounded the corner and walked into a little store that had an older man and one young teenage boy in it. He didn't look like the other Egyptians so he had our curiosity piqued. John greeted him and slowly told him what we were looking for. He responded in extremely good English. John sped his communication delivery and told him we needed a small toaster oven. He immediately pulled out a variety for us to look at. He was especially happy with one and said, "This is a good one. This one comes from China." I thought that was pretty funny because I'm pretty sure that line would never be used as a marketing ploy in the U.S.

He was right because it was exactly what we were looking for. John asked him the price and to my happiness, the prices were fixed. Ahhhhhh, no bartering. The bonus was that the price was good. He smiled and said that he keeps this shop as a hobby. He normally travels around the world selling stamps. For some reason, I believed him. He looked at the girls and asked them if they had hobbies. They nodded. He said, "I think I have around 20 hobbies. I am from Syria, but I come to Egypt because I do good here. This store? Eh! You never know who comes in, but my other hobbies...they are good."

I wanted to know what the other 18 hobbies were, but I was a little reticent to ask. What if I found out something I didn't want to know or shouldn't know? I didn't want to become an episode of "24." As we began to leave, he pulled out an electric griddle. Before we knew it, we became the proud owners of one of those, too. He even threw in a set of salad tongs--free!

Owf (pronounced "Oaf") the shopkeeper wrote down his name and address and told us to come back again. I'm sure we will. Each person we meet is a new point of connection, a new life intersected, a new opportunity to live Jesus in front of them.

We carried our purchases down the street to catch a taxi, but still the giant flat screen TVs were calling my name. I wonder if one could be written off as a "language study tool"? Nice try, Pam. Nice try.

7 Days in Cairo

First published January 19, 2009

It’s been a full week now and I must confess it feels MUCH longer. Time seems to pass slowly right now. I’m assuming it’s because our “job” is to acquaint ourselves with the culture, people, neighborhood, toilets, etc. making this unstructured time schedule very different from our previous lives. However, language studies are coming so we're savoring these few quiet moments.

A quick review of our progress:

1. Moved into flat and set up housekeeping.
2. Discovered a reasonable amount to pay a taxi driver.
3. Moved stuff back into containers so the water-damaged floors could be repaired.
4. Visited the souk (open air market).
5. Signed rent contract.
6. Adjusted to being blasted out of bed during the “call to prayer” at 5 am every day.
7. Located a bank.
8. Paid an unreasonable amount to taxi drivers before learning #2.
9. Bought a cellphone.
10. Learned how to make local and long distance calls.
11. Found a grocery store. Bought a few somewhat recognizable groceries.
12. Figured out how to light our gas stove and keep my eyebrows.
13. Cooked our first at-home dinner: Hamburger Helper (packed in luggage) except with chicken.
14. Found an internet cafe. E-mailed friends and family--soothed homesickness.
15. Had dinner with new Egyptian friends.
16. Understood my need to learn the metric system and soon.
17. Located a post office.
18. Ordered internet for our flat.
19. Secured trash service.
20. Went to a mall to hang out while floors were being repaired.
21. Did 4 loads of laundry in a mini-washer.
22. Hung in the balance by hanging wet towels on a clothesline 12 stories up. The rest of the laundry is strung all over the house. Waited 2 days for them to dry.
23. Unpacked household items after floors were completed.
24. Locked ourselves out of our apartment.
25. Located locksmith and received help.
26. Learned how to get cash in larger sums to pay rent.
27. Navigated the neighborhood by walking blocks and blocks every day.
28. Added Sahme, Mahmud, Amanda, Ali, Aylia, Dina and Hisham to our list of names called before Jesus.
29. Kept our sense of humor.
30. Realized Jesus is with us wherever we go.

Cry My Hand Full

First published February 24, 2009

I couldn't put it off any longer. I was beginning to look like a sheepdog. I needed a haircut. Last month, our family met a friend at the Nile Hilton. While we were there, I noticed that they had a salon. I inquired as to their services and their rates and decided that this would be a good spot to start a new haircare regimen.

Thursday, I called and made an appointment for Aria and me. I began to get a bit excited because this was so normal. A haircut...how gloriously boring. After 6 weeks of nothing routine, this was highly anticipated.

I woke up Saturday thinking we could make a day of it. We'll go a little early, get some lunch, get a haircut and look around the shops. Yes, a happy day.


John walked over to me and said, "If you don't mind, I'm going to beg off today. I'd like to brush up on my Arabic. I'd just be sitting in the lobby waiting for you anyway.

Under different circumstances, this would have been perfectly fine. Afterall, I had never in 21 years of marriage asked him to accompany me to a haircut before. But this was different. I told him that would be fine and unbelievably he believed it and walked back to his desk.

Beautiful Girl

I closed the door to our bedroom and stood there. Soon tears were welling up in my eyes as I wondered what in the world was wrong with me. I sat on the bed and cried some more. My grandma used to look at me when I was crying, hold out her hand and say, "Cry my hand full." I would lay my cheek against her hand and have a good cry. I needed someone to say that to me now. What was my problem? I began to create a list:

1. I do not know where the Nile Hilton is.
2. I can't tell my taxi driver how to get there.
3. What if my taxi driver gets lost?
4. What if he's a cranky taxi driver who just stares darts at you in the rearview mirror the whole way?
5. What if I get a bad haircut?
6. What if I can't find my way back from the Hilton?
7. What if I get into an argument with the taxi driver about the amount to be paid?
8. Why would my husband choose Arabic over the mental well-being of his wife?
9. Why is he letting me bawl my eyes out and not coming in to check on me?
10. Why did God think that I could even do this?

With each thought and question, I cried some more. Finally I got a hold of myself and asked John to talk with me. I used to wait until he "felt" or "sensed" that something was actually wrong, but I didn't have hours (or days) to wait or the energy to give obvious, but secret signals.

I explained to him all the varied emotions I was having. (The pieces of shredded Kleenex on my face were a MAJOR clue...) Immediately, he wrapped his arms around me and assured me that he would be more than happy to go with me. Then I felt ashamed at being so weak. He smiled and told me that it wasn't weakness to feel this way and that if I were a bit fragile then he'd do whatever was necessary to help me.

The Shampoo

Yes, he's an amazing man. He promptly went downstairs and got small bills for the taxi ride. He packed his laptop and his earbuds so he could study while he waited for us. He hailed a taxi and we arrived at the front door of the Nile Hilton just as planned.

We ate lunch together and then he went on to the lobby while the girls and I headed to the salon.

A woman greeted us and gestured for us to go upstairs. A man in his fifties was waiting for us. (This is a major bummer since I was hoping for a woman.) He washed, cut and styled Aria's hair first. She just got a trim so she had minimal potential for disaster. He meticulously blowdryed her hair into bouncy fullness.

I came next since Emileigh decided that she didn't want a cut. He gave me the same shampoo treatment and then proceeded to work on the cut. He pulled up fairly large amount of hair and lopped it off with something slightly smaller than hedge trimmers. I thought, "Well, this is just the first trim. He'll come back with a smaller more precise pair of scissors for texturing and such."

The Cut

Lop. Lop. Lop. Hair was flying and he kept looking at me for reassurance. What could I say? "I love the way you're cutting large amounts of my hair in no particular pattern." I smiled and waited.

The large scissors were put away and he reached for the blowdryer. Blowdryer? We're done? No little snips here and there?

He did a quick all over dry and then pulled out some little hair clips. He deftly clipped sections of my hair up on my head so he could easily access the lower layers of my new cut. He dried and dried and dried. He'd remove a clip and dry some more.

Finally he had everything just the way he wanted it. He pulled the blowdryer out one more time and did an all over shot and made my hair look like it went through a wind tunnel.

He pushed and pulled and flicked my hair until it was just as he wanted it. He sprayed it with hairspray and asked me how I liked it.

I looked in the mirror and smiled. "Kwy-ees," I said meekly. It was "good." Good in the fact that I wasn't bald and good in the fact that I still had bangs.

I thanked him and made my way downstairs to pay. I shot the girls a look and they were doing everything they could to keep from laughing.

I paid the lady and promptly asked the girls to lead me to the nearest restroom. We went inside and I asked them what they thought. Emileigh answered, "You remember Julie Andrews when she was in 'The Sound of Music'?" 

Aria said, "It's like a pixie cut."

Just when I thought I would burst into tears, they both piped up..."It makes you look younger. I don't know why, but it does."

Call me "shallow," but it worked. I looked at my reflection and decided I could work with what was left of my hair.

We met John out in the lobby. He was still working on his Arabic so we left him to seek out a consolation pastry. We shared a dessert and decided it was time to go home.

We piled into the taxi and made our way home uneventfully. Something so easy became something so large and unmanageable to me. It shook me up. But as I sit and type this at the end of the day I realize that I shouldn't seek "normal" or "easy." When something is "normal" and "easy" I immediately default to self-reliance and self-sufficiency. Only when something is obviously beyond my ability, control or foresight do I genuinely depend on the Lord. 

So for now...I'm good again. My hair is cut. My husband is awesome and Jesus offers His hand to me and allows me to rest my face in His palm and cry. 

Do I look like Julie Andrews?

The Fam in Cairo--Day 2

First published January 2, 2009

I think we slept a total of 12 hours before realizing that the breakfast hours for the hotel were almost over. (Sleep is very good by the way in a new location so we were grateful for it.) We bounded out of bed and zipped downstairs to catch the last few minutes of their continental breakfast offerings. This wouldn't have been a big deal except we have no idea where another restaurant is so we thought we should sieze the moment. We entered a smoke-filled room with one man reading a newspaper in the corner and another sitting near the front smoking a cigarette. Our little family sat down and waited to see what would happen next. There was no obvious process so we were looking around for cues.

Our waiter smiled at us and asked us if we wanted breakfast. We nodded yes. He then asked us if we wanted coffee, tea or turkish tea. We answered Turkish tea. Frankly, we had no idea what that would involve, but hey we're in Egypt so why not be adventurous?

He brought us a basket of breadsticks with jams, cream cheese and butter. Also on a plate was a boiled egg for each of us. Aria said, "Hey, it's better than the Toast Bar we had at that one hotel in Missouri..." We prayed giving God thanks for the food, the hotel, kind strangers, our safe travels and praying friends.

We ate and then started thinking about getting a couple bottles of water so we could brush our teeth upon return. It was 3.50 Egyptian pounds which is about 60 cents American if my math serves me right--which it rarely does not so don't count this as accurate.

During the meal we began setting small goals for ourselves for today. 1) Find a blowdryer that works with 220 electricty; 2) Find a diet Coke outside the hotel 3) Find our way back to the hotel after walking around or at least be able to hail a taxi who knows where the hotel is...small steps. As wise friends counseled, "This is a marathon, not a sprint."

So now John is digging through suitcases trying to set up a mock ironing board to try and get some of the wrinkles out of our clothes after us using those fabulous space bags that conserve so much space. What they don't tell you is that the wrinkles are pretty well permanent until washing. Oh, yeah. We'll need a washer, too. One thing at a time, Pam. One thing at a time.