Biking Away Depression

This morning I set out for the usual ride with the cycling club and was quickly asked if I was up for a different ride than our normal route. Most of the guys out this morning were much faster than I and the 2 guys I could hang with were interested in changing it up a bit. I said I was game as long as we stuck together.

We headed downtown along the Corniche, the main road paralleling the Nile. We rode past an ancient Roman aqueduct that is still standing among the buildings downtown (so cool) and through some crazy traffic circles when we came upon a large group of cyclists gathered on a side street. As it happens a local cycling club (The Cairo Cycling Club, not to be confused with our group: The Cairo Cyclists) was putting on a charity ride to bring awareness to depression as a part of World Mental Health Day (who knew?)

This was hilarious and cool at the same time. There were probably 100 people, men and women, gathered for the event. We stopped to ask about it and the organizers asked us to participate. They signed us up as a team and gave us free T-shirts (we tried to pay for them but they would have none of that). We drew quite a bit of attention between our bikes and specialized gear such as helmets and other crazy accessories (clear signs that we were foreigners). We were interviewed by 2 local news stations (I wonder if any of my students will notice me, yikes.)


A pick up truck pulled up with a pile of 50 or so bikes in the bed. We assumed these were being loaned for the event as people just walked up and helped themselves. The bikes were cracking us up. Many had the seats, handle bars and frame wrapped in either plastic wrap or cardboard. These were bikes people owned. It turns out this is a common practice as people don't want to scuff, dirty or otherwise sully the condition of their bikes by riding them.

After an hour or so of standing around and asking if people could take their photos with us we got antsy and decided to head off to complete our regularly scheduled ride. I'm not sure if the charity ride ever officially got under way, but if it is anything like the Breast Cancer Awareness run taking place next weekend it was a short spin around the block. The Breast Cancer run is 1.5K.

Quite a spontaneous adventure. Here's to venturing off the beaten path!

A sandstorm in September is like Christmas in July

We had a sandstorm last night! In Egypt March is typically the month of the "Khamseen", Arabic for the number 50 due to the nearly 50 days of winds and sandstorms the city experiences. It is extremely unusual to have a sandstorm this time of year. We had an unusually hot, dry, oven-like day and people said, in hindsight, that is an indicator of a sandstorm coming. Personally, I failed to detect the subtle difference between today's "hot and dry" and any other day, but apparently the long-timers could pick up on it.

I went for a trail run in the wadi after school with a group and on our drive back into town we noticed how hazy the air was but we just chalked it up to a bad pollution day. I got home, showered, and then headed out to pick up a friend on foot and walk to dinner with her. It was unreal. The level of dust and grit in the air was huge, the trails of light cast by car headlights illuminating all the sand and dust were eerie. And the WIND! By the time I walked the 4 minutes to my friend's apartment I felt like my shower had been a waste of time. Grit was plastered to my face and clothes, my contacts were caked and traffic was a mess. Apparently the storm was coming from the north. One of the other women we were meeting for dinner had a friend who was driving to Alexandria for the weekend and he called to tell her that traffic was stopped on the road because they couldn't drive (just like we would stop because of a blizzard in Buffalo or Michigan).

We walked out of the restaurant 2 hours later to slightly cooler temps and clean-er air.

Who thought this was a good idea.

I'm doing a little traveling for the next couple weeks, and I brought the bike with me. I scouted a course out on Google Maps and came up with the below "plan". The plan included a coffee shop (a must for any good bike ride), though it was starting to look like rain was coming when I got there, so I just grabbed a juice to go.

 Continuing on, it seemed like my rolling hill ride was going to be great. Just cruising around on well paved country roads in clean air. What a great day.

Then as I approached mile 44 of my 55 mile ride, I saw something like this:

Only it wasn't quite like this. The hill went the other way.  Since I was already on a smaller hill and wasn't moving very fast I had plenty of time to stare at it and fully comprehend what it meant. I really tried to figure out how it might POSSIBLY mean a 14% decline. (That is, am I seeing this photo on the right? No, I was not.)

A very unexpected 14% grade for 0.75 miles. Ow.


Maybe I'll do it again. Who knows.. my brain isn't that bright anyway.

For those who care, the Garmin stats are here for your enjoyment.

My Baby

It seems as though all of our friends who have a blog are blogging about their babies or their efforts to make a baby these days. They're proud of their babies who are sitting up or rolling over. They're proud of their baby's first day of school. They're proud of their baby's first college football game or Labor Day cookout. In an effort to make sure that I keep up and continue to belong to this evolving and remarkable group of friends I felt compelled to blog about my baby.



My baby is so stinkin' cute I can't stand it. Look at that face. Not only is he adorable but he can do his own laundry and pay for my drinks! Now without being too boastful I would be remiss if I did not point out that, while your baby is sitting up in a Bumbo chair without any help, my baby is riding his bike on the highway in Cairo, Egypt on the first full day of Eid after Ramadan. Imagine a highway in the States on the day after Thanksgiving and the Superbowl just let out. Just sayin'.

Henry L. Johnson, How Do I Hate Thee...

It seems sad that I have such strong feelings about a man I've never met. I mean, at first I felt sad for the guy, and then I was a little irritated but at least patient. But recently? Well, I'm starting to despise the man and cursing his children is not far away.

Who is this man? I don't know either. But Henry L. Johnson is a name my household hears of fairly regularly. At the worst times of day and night. It would be one thing if we were in the United States and the phone calls arrived at a reasonable hour, but 7 hours ahead, they now arrive at 2 or 3am.

What's the deal? Well, apparently there are a number of credit agencies trying to get in touch with Mr. Henry L. Johnson. And by credit agencies, I mean computers calling old numbers of his. Apparently at some point in his life, he put our phone number down on a piece of paper. So now, we get the pleasure of receiving his phone calls. Each phone call usually has a way to inform them that this is not his number, and when we do reach a person, they are almost always very apologetic. It's not their fault.

It's his.

It's been a year of this. For a while I thought we had escaped it since we hadn't received a phone call in a few months. But we got another one the other day, which probably means more will follow it. They're like ants you know. Ants looking for sugar.

Maybe I should kick off my own search for him, so that I may find some peace and sanity.

Naming Children

On Tuesday I took a cab home from work. Nothing special there, just another day driving down the Corniche. About 10 minutes into the ride though, the driver got a phone call. All of a sudden his face lit up and he was clearly elated about something. Through his broken English and my poor Arabic, he gets across that his wife just gave birth to his first son. (His first 2 children were girls and he's been hoping for a son.) Now that he has a son, the baby factory is done. Khalas!  I told him congratulations then he asks me, what he should name his new son.

Excuse me? (There is no way I'm picking the name for this guy's kid.)

But he insists! I tell him it's an important decision and he should choose. The cab driver pushes back and insists that I choose the name because he's so happy he can't think straight. I suggested his name, (no way), maybe his father's name? (No way, same problem.) How about mom's father's name. (That's absurd.) So he rattles off a few Egyptian names and I picked one at semi-random. (Ibrahim. Why not?) He likes it and rolls with it!

A few minutes later apparently his father-in-law calls and he informs him of his choice of names. It sounds like the Father-in-law wants to know where he got the name from, because he turns and asks me what my name is. Apparently it goes well because he keeps insisting on Ibrahim. A few minutes after that, his wife calls (mind you, she just finished a c-section) and he informs her of the son's name and where it came from. After all this, he looks at me and says, "That it! She agreed to it! Ibrahim it is!"

I said congrats, paid him a healthy tip and got dropped off a little farther from home than I would have liked to help him get on his way to his wife. How cool is that? I named some guys kid!
......
or did I?
....
So I told this story to a co-worker the next day and he tells me that a few guys we had in from the U.S. last week had a similar experience just last week.  Hrm.. ok, I'm getting suspicious, but maybe people time childbirth for Ramadan?  I did find it a little odd that when I offered to get another cab so he could go to the hospital he was ok with taking me all the way home.

So the next night, I got into another cab and wouldn't you know it, this taxi driver just had twins while we were driving down the road! Amazing!

Nice try buddy, but here's the normal fare.

On the first day of school my principal gave to me...

A brand new MacBook Pro!

Yes, I too was shocked and amazed. The first week of orientation has come to a close and I continue to be impressed by the school administration as well as my fellow incoming teachers. We have sat through many informational sessions from a crash course in introductory Arabic to an overview of the curriculum development and evaluation process. Time and again I have noticed the little things that have been done to make us feel welcome and well informed. Returning teachers have volunteered to be our "buddies" and touch base with us regularly. Dinners have been arranged and paid for and every effort has been made to ensure that we have access to what we need in order to be effective in the classroom. The energy level on campus is ramping up as we get ready for the returning teachers and full staff orientation next week.

I am finding the task of setting up my room to be a bit daunting. This is the first time in 8 years working in education that I have had my own classroom. I look at my space and think, "8 years from now I will know exactly where to put that [insert classroom item here: book shelf, couch, table, filing cabinet etc]. For now I am focusing on what I am good at: purging junk, straightening shelves, cleaning surfaces and organizing materials. I am having a similar internal debate over posters and bulletin boards. I want them to have a purpose, not just cover the walls to look pretty, but am finding that a blank wall or bulletin board brings up the same anxiety that a blank journal book does: "What ever goes in/on it has got to be fantastic." I have no less than 3 blank journal books in my office that have been given to me as gifts over the years and I love them. They hold unlimited potential for captivating narratives or travel logs. While the journals stare blankly out from my shelves, it is getting close to the time when I need to put something up on my classroom walls, fabulous or not!

If you have any memories from your first days of school at any grade level I'd like to hear them, especially if they involve bulletin boards.