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Al-Azhar mosque

So Obama is planning to speak in Egypt on June 4, a choice some are saying is a signal that America wants our "autocratic ally" to be a model for other Arab nations. He's rejected the resort town of Sharm el-Sheikh in favor of Cairo, a move that is considered bold, since anything in Cairo will be harder to secure.

Now the question is finding a venue within Cairo, and there's talk that it may be Al-Azhar, one of the oldest universities in the world and Egypt's center of Islamic learning. Pro: Al-Azhar can hold 1,000 people. Con: What to do with all the shoes?

I doubt this will be the final choice, but I'll be interested how the media in both countries will respond if it is. In Egypt Al-Azhar is the center of state-sponsored Islam; Sheikh Tantawi is known as a mouthpiece of the government, always giving Muslim cover for Mubarak's policy decisions. Obama speaking there would be an endorsement of Mubarak, not the Islamists. But would that be understood in the U.S.? Or would it just be read as Barack HUSSEIN Obama speaking at a mosque?

Class Dismissed in Swat Valley: A 15-minute video about the closing of girls' schools in Swat, the region of Pakistan that has been taken over by the Taliban.

Everything about this is heartbreaking, but I was especially moved by the girl who gave a speech about the political situation and had to cover her face to hide her identity. She's only 12 or 13 but already fearing personal reprisals for speaking out in favor of something as basic as her right to go to middle school.

More about the video at alt.muslim

Short documentary about Cairo's new suburbs and satellite cities

At a time when countries like the U.S. are re-thinking the environmental cost of suburban living, Egypt is just beginning to build green spaces outside its largest city — and in the desert, the environmental toll is potentially even higher than in the U.S. and Europe. But urban areas in the U.S. and Europe don't face the level of overcrowding Cairo does, either. So it's a conflict.

Juan Cole on Gaza: What to do about it?

I think people should be careful about talking about "the Israeli lobby" (or worse, "the Jewish lobby") as the sole cause of America's Middle East policy being what it is (see "Anti-semitism and U.S. Middle East policy" by Stephen Zunes, a Palestinian supporter, for more on that). Not that Cole is doing this — he writes on all sorts of aspects of this conflict — but I want to note it here because I don't want this link to be read in isolation and then perpetuate that line of thinking.

However, it is undeniable that the pro-Israel side of this issue is much more organized than the pro-Palestinian side, especially when it comes to doing sustained lobbying of U.S. Congress members. And I think Cole is right when he says this is more effective than street activism. Here, he lays out a model for organizational strategies that anti-occupation activists could apply to counter the weight of AIPAC. They are surprisingly… doable.

The American International School in Gaza is now rubble. This is what it used to look like.

I've seen some gruesome pictures in the past few days. Bodies of children contorted in a fashion I didn't know was possible, even in death. I could post them, but you've seen them, too.

So instead I'll post some links questioning the way we in the U.S. traditionally talk about the Palestinian conflict. I don't know of any other country, including Israel itself, where the language used to talk about this issue is so consistently used to squash debate and cover Palestinian reality.

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Abu Aardvark asks "whether to define the current Israeli attack as against 'Gaza' or 'Hamas'":

The stakes are clear. If the attack is defined as against "Gaza", then what follows is solidarity with the Palestinians and demands to stop the killing. If the attack is defined as against "Hamas", then what follows is the division of Arab opinion along sharply polarized lines defined by their views towards the Islamist movement.

Juan Cole writes that we are entering the age of micro-wars. This is a long post that successfully backgrounds the current conflict. It also questions the assumption (really a rhetorical tool more than an actual assumption, even among those who deploy it) that Israel always acts defensively:

Israel's political tradition seeks expansion if possible; if not possible, it seeks a balance of power with its enemies. If that is not possible, it seeks to be held harmless from its avowed foes. If that is not possible, it is willing to wage total war to punish the enemy population until it accepts at least a cold peace. Where necessary, Israel is willing to give up territorial expansion to get the cold peace.

Adrian at OpenLeft talks about "the 'Arab rejectionist' dodge":

Defenders of Israel's policies often short-circuit any meaningful dialogue on the Arab-Israeli conflict by reducing the problem to the Arabs and their alleged "rejectionism," i.e. their refusal to accept Israel's right to exist. This argument conveniently removes Israel's actions from the realm of moral consideration because it implies that changes in Israeli policy will ultimately have no impact one way or another on the ongoing conflict.

In his Salon blog, Glenn Greenwald writes about the killing of civilians as a political objective (as opposed to unfortunate consequence) for both sides in this conflict, and how, in the U.S. particularly, this objective is treated as smart policy when the Israeli military engages in it but an act of insanity when "terrorists" do the same.

He also differentiates between American Jews whose cultural identification with Israel impacts their views on this conflict and neocons whose motives are far less noble. He is critical of both groups, but makes what I think is an important distinction between the two:

Still, there is a substantial difference between, on the one hand, basically well-intentioned people who are guilty of excessive emotional and cultural identification with one side of the dispute and, on the other, those who adopt the Goldfarb/Peretz psychopathic derangement of belittling rage over widespread civilian deaths as mere "whining" or even something to view as a strategic asset. The latter group is a subset of war supporters and evinces every defining attribute of the Terrorist.

Those who giddily support not just civilian deaths in Gaza but every actual and proposed attack on Arab/Muslim countries — from the war in Iraq to the Israeli invasion of Lebanon to the proposed attacks on Iran and Syria and even continued escalation in Afghanistan — are able to do so because they don't really see the Muslims they want to kill as being fully human.

In Haaretz, Yossi Sarid asks "If you (or I) were Palestinian."

Laila at Raising Yousuf and Noor writes about the Alternative Tourism Group, an agency committed to social justice tourism in Palestine:

The group is a Palestinian NGO that specializes in Fair Trade and "justice tourism", focusing in tours and pilgrimages that include critical examinations of the history, culture, and politics of the Holy Land. In so doing, they try to support the local community through the creation of economic opportunities and positive cultural exchange between guest and host, the protection of the environment, and political/historical education.

I've never been to Palestine, and the politics of tourism are part of the reason why. In college in Cairo I had a Palestinian friend whose girlfriend was American. I remember her going to Jerusalem for a week or two during one of the school breaks. My friend could not go with her. In fact he'd never been there, and probably still hasn't. He couldn't go to visit his grandfather's grave, while she, with her American passport, could come and go without incident. Even my Egyptian friends, who were less likely to be blocked outright at checkpoints, said the surveillance they'd be under wasn't worth whatever they'd get out of the trip. It just didn't occur to them to see Palestine as a tourist destination.

I'm still not sure how I feel about this. I have several American friends who've gone to the West Bank, and somewhat fewer to Gaza, on social justice trips. They usually went by invitation of Palestinian activist groups or individual Palestinian friends. They stayed in Palestinian homes, came back with notebooks packed full of information, and used the experience to educate Americans about the occupation. In some cases they'd set up exchanges with Palestinian schools and NGOs and had helped fund those organizations. These are all good things, things I support. But the politics of going in the first place rarely came up for debate, and that does bother me.

On the other hand, I say this as someone who has been to Germany many times, and never thought twice about it until two friends told me their mothers would not step foot in the country that had killed one's parents and tortured the other's father. It was a matter of principle.

But Germany is different, one could argue; it's taken active steps to come to grip with its past. Israel: not so much. It hasn't even come to grips with its present. Yet I also remember one friend criticizing a musician with progressive politics for touring in Israel. "There are some places you just don't play," he said. "Yes," another friend said, "but if you're going to make that argument, the first place you'd boycott would be the U.S." Touche.

So, I'm conflicted.

NSA spying on soldiers' phone sex calls

This video is excellent. At almost 24 minutes I know it can't compete with memes and lolcats, which makes me reluctant to even post it, but — related to what I was saying yesterday about Facebook activists, and how America is viewed as neutral to the point of cold in the foreign press — I think it gives a good picture of why American rhetoric about "democracy" rings so hollow in a country like Egypt. We in the U.S. hear "America supports democracy abroad!!ELEVENTY!" so much that it's become a cliche, so much that we assume the government must be just killing themselves doling out of democracy instruction booklets around the world. We complain that their reality doesn't match their rhetoric, but that criticism concedes half the argument — it assumes the rhetoric, at least, is there.

It's not. In Egypt all the American rhetoric about democracy comes with so many caveats and explanations of what's meant by the word "democracy" — explanations Egyptians hear and Americans don't — that no one sees it as 'America failing to live up to its promise' or anything so forgiving. The issue here isn't rhetoric without teeth: it's that no one has been promised democracy in the first place. They've specifically been told that the U.S. will not be promoting democracy if it threatens to come at the expense of stability. Meanwhile American foreign aid dollars are the only thing holding up Mubarak's regime.

The last time I was here hardly anyone had satellite. Obviously, that's changed. I've never had satellite before so I naively believed everyone when they said you could get "everything" on satellite.

This isn't true.

WHAT I WAS EXPECTING: People would be watching all the crap TV we export, including our crap news, including FOX. If someone spoke enough English, and cared enough, they could, in theory, watch all this crap American TV and come to the conclusion that the American people are either bombastic and stupid or decent and well-intentioned but either way they are separate from their government. Which is criminally insane.

WHAT I'VE FOUND INSTEAD: It's the other way around. The government looks smart, the people invisible (at best) or (at worst) in need of guidance from our overlords.

I was thrilled to get CNN International, since it's so much better than the regular CNN and in Boston we only get it for one hour a day. The problem is… it's too good. When Jesse Helms died there were no sappy and embarrassing obituaries, nor any glee from other corners. It was just reported. Here's who he is, he's dead now, moving on to unrest in Pakistan or child soldiers in West Africa. And the John Edwards affair? Only made the scroll on the bottom of the news. If I didn't have internet I would have missed it entirely. (I'm assuming they made more of it at home.) There's none of the joking about politicians, nothing about Bush's gaffes and failed policies. He does stuff and it's reported. Objectively and without context. Like he's a real politician, the kind other countries have.

I never thought I'd miss the underbelly of American media, but after being here for almost two months, watching only CNN and BBC and Al-Jazeera English, I've started seeing the U.S. in a different light. On television, our government looks scary-competent. It looks cold. And the American people — when they are featured at all, which is rare — look like cold and calculating minions of it. We look much more intentional than we really are. "Yes," we are saying to the world (unsmiling), "George Bush is our president. We like him, because he is powerful. We are more powerful than you."

One can, and I probably would, argue that this is closer to The Truth than the Jay Leno/Jon Stewart version of America, where George is a fuck-up who lies and bumbles, but not really Darth Vader, and the American people just kind of got stuck with him ha ha oh well.

Yet this cold version also misses the level and intensity of American opposition. I've gotten frustrated with German friends in the past who are critical of the U.S. government, particularly this administration, but obstinately refuse to acknowledge that I am too, probably way more than they are. But now I can kind of see it, because people who speak for me are not in power, and in this kind of news format, where it's Australia (60 seconds) –> France (30 seconds) –> South Africa (60 seconds) –> U.S. (30 seconds) –> Russia (60 seconds)….. there's no room at all for people like me. So why WOULD they think I exist? They watch the news, right, they're informed? And they don't see me. So my opposition looks like a defensive posture I'm adopting only because I'm under fire, in the moment, rather than the thing that drives me every day of my life.

It's making me re-think some of my reactions to Egyptian, and more broadly Middle Eastern, reactions to American policy. If you imagine an America with NO Left — not an ineffectual, underfunded, oppressed, or just generally embarrassing Left, the kind we complain about to each other, but literally NO Left, no anti-racist movement, no religions outside of God-told-me-to Crusader Christianity, no voices at all other than those of 5 or 6 politicians who are photographed disembarking from airplanes — I can see why it probably seems hopeless that anyone could ever deal with us. And maybe it really is! That's not my point. My point is that at home I feel American opposition and diversity. Here, I don't see it.

I meant to post this earlier — two articles about how young people in Egypt have been using Facebook as an organizing vehicle (interesting!), and how the government has responded (imprisonment!).

Virtual politics

A tool to mobilise?

"Foreign embassies follow up on these blogs and groups and report back to their countries," said Yassin. But most, if not all, of the bloggers' posts distort and misrepresent reality. "They send the wrong information about Egypt to the world," he claimed. Councilor Murad Hassan went further, insisting they deliberately manipulated facts, circulated fabricated pictures, and magnified individual incidents to mislead public opinion. "In addition, the kind of language they use to express their opinions is unsuitable and strange to our society," Hassan told Al-Ahram Weekly.

I said, before I even came here, that I was amazed how popular Facebook is in Egypt. Now that I'm here I've seen firsthand how common it is — even with people as old as me — to end conversations with "Are you on Facebook?" rather than "What's your phone number?" or "What's your e-mail?" I've started doing it myself.

I'm still not sure why it's so big. (One woman told me it was because "we're Arabs – we'll chat for hours with anybody about nothing." Ha.) But I think a real reason is that people are so mobile, especially with going back and forth to the Gulf. And Europe and elsewhere abroad, but especially to the Gulf, which is something members of all classes do. (Europe etc. is more of an upper-class thing.) On Facebook your information stays stable, even if your address and phone number change two or three times a year. And the 'groups' feature lends itself to organizing in a way that's less risky than it would be in Real Life.

This has been going on for several months now. It'll be interesting to see what comes of it.

ETA: rfmcdpei adds more links on this.

I hate haggling. In the movies it looks so easy. He wants $400 for that carpet; you offer him $50; after some charming banter in broken English you settle for maybe $125 and both of you walk away feeling like you got a deal. What's missing there is the pervasiveness of it, and the level of dignity at stake in every minor encounter.

Today the bowab came upstairs with a top of mine that had fallen off the clothesline on my balcony. I thanked him profusely, he was very nice, and then said he wanted money. I thought that was strange, because people don't usually ASK to be tipped for small favors like that, but whatever so I gave him a few pounds.

He took it and I started to shut the door and then he called me back. No, he said, it's the first of the month and he wanted his monthly fee. "Adil has it," I told him. (Adil is his brother, the regular doorkeeper; this guy is filling in for a few weeks while Adil is in Aswan.) No, he repeats, this is the first of the month. I need to pay again. "Adil I pay two month," I tell him. No, that was only one month's fee. I pretend not to understand. He knows I'm lying and goes to get the landlord, who lives upstairs.

Seriously? I don't care. We're arguing over $10, which I'm more than happy to pay to a guy who really needs it, who is going to be the first person I scream for if I encounter an intruder (or, more likely, a gecko), and the guy who can potentially make my life really difficult if he decides he doesn't like me.* But when I first got this place I was told by others that the bowab fee I was being quoted was outrageous, more than twice what they normally charge, and that my landlords were probably trying to scam me by making me pay their fee, too. I was told I absolutely under no circumstances should pay this sum again in August, because if I do the landlords will think I'm a gullible foreigner and charge me more for furniture they'll claim I damaged when I move out, or make me overpay the electricity bill.

They have a point. Yesterday the garbage guy came and asked me for the trash fee, which he claimed was twenty pounds. But then my neighbor across the hall opened his door and he told him it was five pounds. "Eh?!" I said. "He five pounds, me twenty?" Okay, he said, he'd charge me five, too. Since I mentioned it. And because that IS the going fee I wanted to shriek, but I let it go, because I wasn't as mad as I was stunned that I'd actually successfully bargained for something.

So I feel the need to do this with the bowab and the landlord, too, at least for the sake of appearances. I'm not worried about losing ten dollars, or honestly even being overcharged for the electricity bill, which is pretty cheap here, too, but I AM worried about being one of those horrible Americans who just goes around dripping cash everywhere without arguing, not realizing that that can be just as offensive as failing to tip at all. When every interaction is loaded with the expectation of future favors being granted or rescinded, a dollar is never just a dollar. You overpay this guy now, it means he owes you later. Do that too much and you're building up a mountain of obligations the other person can never hope to reciprocate, thereby solidifying your dominance over him. Some people thrive on that dynamic, and do it on purpose, making sure they're never the one who owes, only the one who's owed. There's a fine line there between "noble and generous" and "asshole." Since I never know where that line is, these situations always stress me out.

Another example: a few days ago I got a Coke from the kiosk. I took it out of the cooler, paid for it, drank it, and returned the bottle. I've done this hundreds of times and never thought twice about it. This time, the friend I was with discreetly told me what I've been doing is mildly offensive. I should drink it first, then return the bottle, and then pay for it, and that I should hand over the money in a low-key way. I had been treating this as An Official Financial Transaction, you-give-me-soda = I-give-you-cash, but culturally I should have been pretending that they were happy to host me and that the money I give them is just sort of a tip or an expression of appreciation; an afterthought. To be so obvious about paying for something made me seem rude and unappreciative of their hospitality. That would never in a million years have occurred to me if someone hadn't pointed it out. I can see it now, but before it would have seemed like "here, I'm just helping myself to your stuff, and I'll pay you on my own terms, servant."

I met a guy the other day originally from Guatemala but now living in L.A. who finally got his citizenship and was celebrating his right to leave the country by traveling around the world. He wanted to know how much a cab from the airport was. I told him twenty pounds. He said okay, I got screwed. I said yeah but I don't think it's malevolent? It's like there's a sliding scale operating all over the country; you're charged by what it's assumed you can afford. Tourism is a major industry and we're how a lot of people earn their living. He agreed with this.

But that only works if you're here for a couple weeks, if it's understood you don't know A from B, and if there's no expectation of an ongoing relationship. What confuses me more is the shopkeeper around the corner who saw me admiring some skirts in his window the other night. He invited me to have tea with him and his nephews. Do I politely refuse, not wanting to put him out? Or do I politely accept, not wanting to turn down his hospitality? Am I _expected_ to buy something afterwards, or does he merely hope I will?

We start to chat and it turns out he's really nice, a lovely older man who speaks English with a slight British accent. I tell him my father's coming in two weeks and he wants to take us to see whirling dervishes and the mosque near the Khan, even invites us to his house in Alexandria. If I take him up on this, which I'd actually like to do, how do I go about paying him? To say how much do you charge? would be unthinkable; we're having tea; we're pretending we're friends. On the other hand I would rather pay him directly than to waste half an afternoon being pressured to buy something from his friend of a friend who will slyly give him a kickback from my purchase while he carries on with the charade that he's doing this out of pure generosity. It feels cheap and cynical to worry about that, but stupid and naive not to.

So how to address it? When X's sister paid the driver she hired for the day she made me get out of the car before she did so because the conversation was so awkward she didn't want to embarrass him any more than was strictly necessary, or maybe she was worried I'd say something stupid. Neither of them wanted to admit our pleasant day driving around town had, at root, been a matter of us hiring him, that our whole facade of a relationship was in fact marked by hierarchy.

Americans don't care. They'll say right out loud HOW MUCH DOES THAT COST? like they can buy their way into anyone's good graces. What's troubling is that in a third world economy like this one, they often can. But that doesn't mean anyone's in love with that dynamic.

In the end I paid the bowab. Of course. And now I'm all worried anyway that I argued with him in the first place. Do I look miserly? Ungrateful? I'm especially embarrassed that I gave him a few pounds for bringing my top upstairs. I honestly thought that's what he wanted, but now I know I look like I was shitting on his good deed by giving him this tiny amount of money for it, which said both "I'm paying off my obligation to you" and "that obligation is worth almost nothing to me, or I would have given you more."

I could, no lie, spend my entire summer torturing myself over things like this.

* This article's tone is offensive. The information is basically true, though. Kitty was deported once because her bowab fed someone in power information about the number of men she was entertaining in her apartment.

Friday I went to see a movie. I've seen American movies in Egyptian theaters and Egyptian movies in my American house, as well as here of course, but this was my first time watching an Egyptian movie in an Egyptian theater. Suddenly I understand the parts that feel cheesy or over-the-top when you're sitting alone in your living room — it's a completely different experience watching it in a theater, where 200 people are laughing with you. (It's like how I don't get people who own Rocky Horror and watch at home, by themselves.) I wonder it's the same with Bollywood movies?

The movie was Hassan and Markus, with Omar Sharif and Adel Imam. Omar Sharif played a Muslim cleric who denounced Islamism, had his house firebomed, and was put into some kind of witness protection program where he was given a Christian identity. Adel Imam played a Christian who denounced pro-Christian violence, had his car blown up, and was put into the same program, posing as a Muslim. They unwittingly move into apartments across the hall from each other and their families become friends, each thinking they are "secretly" the same religion as the other. Wacky hijinks ensue.

Best line: After a building is blown up in a terrorist attack, some government PR guy trying to do damage control has a meeting with the press and says, "We are happy to report 75 were killed, all of them Egyptians! Not a single foreigner was harmed in this event!" The audience was rolling.

I really liked it and thought it was funny, but it was definitely a "message" film, with the Muslim (but really Christian) saving the lives of the wife and daughter of the Christian (but really Muslim) at the end, after their house is set on fire, and ending with both families bravely walking arm-in-arm through a riot scene between Muslims and Christians who are all screaming "Allahu akbar!" and "We will die for the cross!" and beating each other with sticks.

Not that I'm intolerant of "message" films. I was raised on afterschool specials, after all. But this one had a too-tight equation of the Muslim and Christian experience in Egypt, which I think is apples and oranges in a lot of ways. Coptic Christians are facing persecution for their religion, i.e. as minorities. Muslims' complaints against the government are broader, and more political than religious, though they take an Islamist form and use Islamist rhetoric. To go from one scene of the Muslim trying to muddle through a Christian prayer to another of the Christian trying to muddle through a Muslim prayer, and so on over and over, ignores the different social and economic position of both groups, in Egypt and internationally, reducing everything to a matter of faith and fanaticism, full stop. Maybe there was more I was missing because my Arabic is so bad and it wasn't subtitled, but I don't think so.

Although, as I said, I did like it. Especially because I like Adel Imam.

Lila Abu-Lughod has some good articles on the way Egypt, through its government-controlled media (which includes the censorship of film), has controlled the portrayal of Islam and Islamists. She's worth looking up if you have access to a university library.

I've lived in one of the one of the poorest neighborhoods here (the center of Imbaba) as well as one of the wealthiest (Zamalek), in an older upper-middle-class neighborhood (Dokki) where X's family has had an apartment since the British colonial era as well as a newer middle-middle-class one (in Heliopolis) they acquired under Nasser, and in an expat rental I shared with my Indian/Pakistani/British roommate (in Mohandseen). The wealth gaps here are truly vast. I guess you could say they are anywhere — definitely in the United States — but here the difference is that everyone is tightly packed together and, very much unlike the U.S., there is no immunity from seeing people who don't live like you. In the U.S. you just don't have people living on a dollar a day lodged next to people who live in villas and take their breakfast in Greece. In Cairo this kind of side-by-side class mixing is a regular thing, and I think it's an oft-underestimated aspect of the way politics manifest themselves. If you're an American dude barbecuing on Saturdays in your quiet suburb you can think you've got it made, because you don't live upstairs from a millionaire whose wealth makes yours look sad. At the same you can feel like whatever you've accomplished is a path available to everyone, because there isn't an illiterate family with six children living on your roof, reminding you daily of all your advantages.

Housing in Egypt isn't, typically, something you rent, or take out a mortgage on. You either have an apartment or you don't. If you don't, you live with your parents or your in-laws. If you do, you either bought it outright, or you are living in someone else's apartment but with rent control your payments are negligible. X's family, for example, pays 15 pounds a month (about $3), which was the going rate for a three-bedroom under Sadat. Legally they can't be kicked out for three generations.

These laws might be changing, I'm told, but in the meantime they are the reason many apartments sit empty, or are only rented to foreigners. As an American, I have no legal right to stay in a rented apartment for generations, and my landlord can charge whatever s/he likes. I had a landlord once who flipped. out. when she realized I was married to an Egyptian; she'd rented to me alone and was convinced, once she learned of his existence, that we were going to park there until our grandchildren grew up. She would show up every day and make our lives miserable until we finally moved out.

This situation results in a couple things. One is that it's not the norm to pay thirty or forty percent of your income in housing every month, the way Americans do. This sounds good, but it makes people very sensitive to food prices, since salaries are low and that's where most of a lower-class family's income goes. In the U.S. if you lose your job or otherwise have financial problems you can often downscale your housing, and it will make a real difference in what you have left to take home. Here, that's not really an option. (I realize I'm glossing over what "downscaling" might involve for American families who were never living in a mansion in the first place, but you see what I mean by this.)

The other issue is that there is a housing shortage, in spite of so many apartments sitting empty. Because no one rents temporarily, and because affordable permanent housing is hard to find, and because most couples expect to have their own apartment when they get married, and because dating is mostly taboo, you end up with a lot of young, idle men still living with their parents into their 30′s, unable to get married or even have a serious long-term romantic relationship, working at jobs far below their skillset and unable to save any money. This is a huge social problem with no good solution. Changing the rent control laws would throw thousands, maybe millions, of people out of their homes. But the current situation is unsustainable, too, since Egypt's population is young.

I had one day to find an apartment and was really stressed out about this, since it's always been a headache at home. Here, though, I found there were tons of available flats, that is, tons available to me, a foreigner (see above). Some of the prices, though, were insane. There were landlords asking over ten thousand dollars a month. I didn't understand how this was even possible (it's Cairo, right, not Manhattan), but I was told that it was summer, and families from the Arab Gulf come here on vacation and drive up all the prices.

My sister-in-law, however, had unbelievable stamina. She spent ten hours with me, in near-hundred-degree heat, going from flat to flat and haggling in Arabic with all the simsars. Most of the places, including the one I ended up with, were bigger than what I needed, but in Egypt it's not common to live alone, so finding a studio or one-bedroom is rare. I also knew I didn't want a share, which I could have gotten through my school, because K will be coming next month. I also wanted to live in an expat area, again because K will be coming, and not try to be creative and live in someplace like Imbaba again (which would be impossible anyway, as a foreign woman without a husband). We looked at several that were very old and not kept up well, which I was willing to take if necessary, but when we saw this one the contrast was so great that I knew I wanted it. At first I couldn't afford it, but after aforementioned haggling I could. I think they were willing to go lower because it's only a two-month lease. It is extremely clean — certainly cleaner than my apartment in Boston — and most of the furniture is new. The landlords are a young couple who live upstairs. School is a five-minute commute by taxi.

I'm very happy with this. And very relieved. I had warned K. beforehand of a mile-long list of things she'd have to be prepared to put up with, like having minimal hot water and having to do our laundry in the sink, which isn't so bad but can seem worse when you're fourteen and it wasn't your idea to come here anyway. But things have been fine, better than I could have hoped for or expected.

1.

An Egyptian scratched Aladdin's lamp and a genie emerged, offering him a wish.

"I wish for a bridge to the United States," the Egyptian said.

"Hmm," the genie said. "That's much too difficult. Can you wish for something else?"

"Okay," the Egyptian said. "Then I wish for Hosni Mubarak to be out of power."

"Hmm," the genie said. "Would you like the bridge to be one lane, or two?"

======

2.

Mubarak is sitting with [presidential chief of staff] Zakaria Azmi and asks him, "Who is a better leader, me or Gamal Abdl-Nasser?"

"Well, you," Azmi says. "Nasser feared the Russians."

"Good," Mubarak says. "Then who is a better leader, me or Anwar Sadat?"

"Well, you," Azmi says. "Sadat feared the Americans."

"Good," Mubarak says. "Then who is a better leader, me or Omar ibn al-Khattab?"

"Well, you," Azmi says. "Omar feared God."

A BBC reporter referred to Persepolis as a "non-fiction cartoon."