Climbing Mt. Sinai, a how-to guide.

1. Locate Mt. Sinai on a map.(Hint: it’s on the Sinai Peninsula.)(Second Hint: you may have to look for Gebel Musa, Mount Moses.)
2. Locate nearest beach town.(Hint: if it isn’t the nearest, it’s the best—Dahab.)
3. Eat a ridiculously large dinner at Ali Baba restaurant.You’ll need the energy, right?Be sure to include one of Ali Baba’s famous “thick shakes”—a milkshake that occasionally is just a huge glass of ice cream.(For starters, try Mango/Strawberry, Banana/Peanut Butter, Chocolate/Peanut Butter, or Strawberry/Vanilla.)
4. Climb into a 14-passenger van from your Dahab hostel around 2200.There’s eleven in your group, plus three Japanese tourists, and a random Spaniard with a large backpack.There’s also a driver.Stop after 15 minutes to let in a “guard.”This is a fat man in shirtsleeves, carrying a handgun, who provides security for us foreigners.He does this by sitting in the front seat (taking up a seat-and-a-half) and sleeping.
5. Complete the two-hour drive from Dahab to St. Katherine’s Monastery in approximately 80 minutes.Sleep in patches when the vehicle isn’t careening down the highway with no regard for life or limb.(Headlights off, of course.)
6. Everyone piles out of the van to buy tickets.The ticket office is, obviously, some 15 minutes away from where you actually pile out again to start the climb.
7. Re-exit van at St. Katherine’s Monastery.Find the bathroom before beginning the four-hour climb.There are two women seated outside of it collecting money from people exiting.Stand in line for the bathroom, use bathroon with no toilet paper (which is why you brought your own, isn’t it?), and while washing your hands observe the four signs reading “Do Not Pay Any Money to Use this Bathroom” in English and Arabic. Leave the bathroom without paying.Refuse to turn around when the woman collecting baksheesh outside the bathroom begins screeching at you.Keep walking.
8. Meet your guide: Musa.He is a short, wiry man in a white gelabiyya (who climbs a mountain in white cotton?), red kufiyya, and brown shoes.Musa will be taking the eleven of you (plus the three Japanese and the Spaniard) up to the top of Mt. Sinai to watch the sunrise.It’s almost 100.
9. Begin the climb by heading through security.This is the most thorough security check you will find anywhere in the Arab Republic of Egypt, I kid you not.This goes far past the airport, the bus terminals, the university, the dorms.Who knows.
10. Start climbing!Musa takes you along the “Camel Trail,” a trail up the mountain that puts switchbacks as we know them to shame.The moon is bright and nearly full, the stars are out as well.The ascent is steady, and not terribly steep.Going is pretty easy for this famous peak.Musa ruins your night vision every three minutes or so by turning on his small flashlight and more often than not shining it back on the group.Generally at eye level.
11. Take a path through several large rocks.Allow the rocks to move and grunt at you.Realize that the rocks are something far worse than rocks: camels.Camels you’ve woken up.Thanks, Musa.
12. Continue the ascent, winding back and forth, back and forth up the trail.Stop at the first rest hut, where Musa and the man greet each other warmly.You’ve brought food and drink, so there’s no need to buy a bottle of water for LE 10 (when it should cost LE 1.5) or a Snickers bar for LE 12 (when it shouldn’t be more than LE 3), but it’s nice to sit and let people catch up.One of the Japanese girls falls behind.Very far behind.She decides to ride a camel to the top.The group must now keep pace with a camel.People walk faster than camels.
13. It gets chillier as you climb, and steeper, but still neither cold nor difficult.Continue in short sleeves and keep the best pace you can.Occasionally allow Musa to yell at you for getting too far ahead.
14. Look down the way you came.The lights of other climbers (seems like everyone except your group is climbing with a light) make a glowing snake from the base of the mountain up until almost where you are.Flashlights waggle back and forth, making the snake writhe its way up the camel trail.Look up the trail: it’s rather dark.
15. Reach the last rest stop, a place called Elijah’s Basin (because apparently here, under a 500-year-old cypress tree, Elijah heard the voice of God), approximately 2.5 hours after you began climbing.The air temperature isn’t that cold, but the wind is intense.Your hair, heretofore secured in a ponytail, is whipped around your face and into your eyes until you can’t see without holding it back with your hands.Everyone piles into one of many available rest huts.Two girls break down and buy hot tea.Decide it’s time to wear more than just a short-sleeve shirt (even if it is performance material), but changing would be awkward in this crowded tent.Hop outside and crouch behind a low stone wall.Slip a few times and pray not to tumble down.Pull off one tshirt, pull on long-sleeve t-shirt, put t-shirt back on.Try not to think of what your father would say to you climbing a mountain in a cotton t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
16. Begin the “Steps of Repentance.”These steps actually began 3000 ago at the base, back behind the monastery, but you took the camel trail instead.Now all you have left are 750 stone “steps,” supposedly laid by a monk from St. Katherine’s as a penance.Whatever he did, it must have been a doozy.The steps are uneven in the dark.Yes, it’s very dark but easier than trying to manage with a small flashlight.It’s much steeper now.You’re actually climbing and can see progress as opposed to the steady switchbacks of the camel trail.
17. Reach the top.The wind blows so loud in your ears you can hear nothing but its wild whistling.It’s now just after four a.m.Wait a few minutes for everyone else to make it to the top.Musa yells at you again for going ahead.You apologize.He knows you’re not at all sorry and tells you as much.Smile, he’s right.Wander around a bit at the top looking for somewhere to camp out.Find a narrow, rocky ledge.Put down seven people and seven heavy, dirty, smelly, warm, rented blankets.It’s still not very cold, but there’s no protection from the wind.Everyone tries to sleep for a few scant hours in the tearing wind before waking to watch the sunrise.
18. Lay on your back on the top of Mt. Sinai.Watch the stars.Feel free to touch them if you want, they’re that close.See one shooting star.Then a second.Pick out constellations.A third shooting star.
19. Blink.
20. The world is no longer black.It is, in fact, a deep dark blue.The rocks all around you and as far as you can see are a blue-black, the color of a velvet evening gown.The sky is just two shades lighter.But it is lighter.Sit up.Everyone else is still asleep, spooned into each other for protection from the wind.Tie a scarf around your head in an effort to keep your hair out of your face.Good call.
21. Lay back down and watch the stars disappear.Sit back up and look out across the peaks around Mt. Sinai.Right now they’re misty and still covered in shades of blue.As the sky lightens every moment, they become more brown, and then more red.
22. Alarms go off and your companions begin to stir.It’s almost time for sunrise.But looking east, clouds and haze obscure the skyline.
23. Watch the east as the sky lightens.Keep watching.The sun rises behind a wall of haze.That’s pretty disappointing.Note for the first time a group of Japanese tourists on an outcropping just in front of you.Good God, they are loud and obnoxious.
24. Call sunrise a bust.
25. When you finally see the sun for the first time, it’s a few inches above the horizon, and still less-than-impressive.The Japanese, on the other hand, find this highly impressive.Extending their palms to the sun, they sing.Then they turn around and continue posing each other for pictures, in most of which someone is giving the peace sign.
26. Musa comes to collect you for the trip back down.You were thinking of taking the Steps of Repentance all the way down, but a few members of your group have taken a turn for the worse (what is this—Oregon Trail?), so opt for the Camel Trail back down.
27. Begin to descend the Steps of Repentance to Elijah’s Basin.Actually look at what you climbed last night.Feel abject terror.You climbed these narrow, misplaced, uneven, steep steps at three a.m. in the dark.Get an excellent thigh workout on the descent.
28. Make your way back down the camel trail.It is now populated with more camels.And more men and boys trying to get you to ride one down the mountain.As you climb down, the sun rises and burns off all the haze so that within an hour of sunrise, the sky is a brilliant, hurt-your-eyes blue.Mt. Sinai, like the mountains around it, is not brown or black.It is red.A bright, adobe red.It is also a fairly sheer face.The church at the top, next to the ledge where you slept, is barely visible and looks precariously perched on the cliff.
29. Reach the bottom in something like two and a half hours, a little less than what it took you to climb.
30. Enter St. Katherine’s Monastery.Be prepared for the crush of people inside of it.All these people on top of a mountain is one thing, all of them inside a monastery is definitely another.See the Church of the Transfiguration.Be impressed but don’t take pictures.Roll your eyes slightly at the tourists who do.
31. Inside of St. Katherine’s, make sure to see the Burning Bush.Or, rather, a descendant of the Burning Bush that came from the real Burning Bush as a clipping in the 10^th century (if the monks of St. Katherine’s are to be believed).Be not-as-impressed.Weren’t you expecting flames?Maybe embers?Burn marks?Something.
32. Pile back into the van.Doze on the ride back to Dahab, which takes something like 100 minutes this morning.Headlights are still optional.“Guard” is not.
33. Pile out of the van.You are covered in reddish dirt, smelly, and exhausted.You have also climbed Mt. Sinai, watched the stars, and seen the sun rise (after a fashion).Victory!
34. Go get some lunch, it’s almost noon.

Only in Egypt...

Only in Egypt would I walk into a final exam on the day I wasn't assigned to go at 4:20 p.m,, and say to my professor "Before we start, I just want to ask can we make this very quick? I have to give a presentation on the other campus at 4:30." The professor smiles, laughs, and says "Of course, you know all of this already."

I'm done my colloquial Arabic final exam in five minutes.

Can you imagine this being written in America?

Egypt to celebrate Mubarak's birthday

Egypt celebtrates Friday President Hosni Mubarak's birthday which marks an all-out march of achievements in the various domains.

Since Mubarak assumed his post as the President of Egypt, he did his utmost to serve the Egyptian people.

He leads his country like a wise skilled captain knowing how to control his ship and save it from dangers besetting it in a world full of changes and challenges.

He has always sought to protect Egypt's security and spare his people the suffering of war.

The president is even keen on not taking risks that would negatively affect his people's lives as Mubarak has lived the bitter experience of the 1967 war when he was serving as an Egyptian air force officer.

At the right moment Mubarak efficiently led the well-prepared airstrike in the 1973 war.

Mubarak has led a march of economic reforms leading to great Egyptian economic acheivements.

He has also pioneered a political reform march, including for the first time in Egypt's history holding multi-presidential elections after amending Article 76 of the constitution.

It was natural for such action to spark debates as the door became open for all political parties, including opposition blocs, and newspapers to express their opinions freely.

(thanks to Kari for this one...)

Is this flattering? Because I don't think so.

Yes, I know I'm far behind. I have to update you on things like the Sinai Peninsula, climbing Mt Sinai at night, and a second set of wonderful long-distance-travel-in-Egypt adventures. Then I have to tell you about horseback riding in the Sahara in the pre-dawn, when the dunes and the stars are silver, and watching the sun blaze up in the smoggy sky and turn them gold, and galloping through the desert whooping like a wild Indian. Then there's that moulid (what, you ask, is a moulid? Guess you'll have to wait and see). And there's STILL spring break! I'll be updating this with Egypt stories for another year. Sorry.

Anyways

Most of you are familiar with my general dislike for the male half of the Egyptian population. The grabbing, the comments, the stares (all exponentially creepier when coming from men my father's age and older) wear on one after a while. But this is a new low.

Somehow, an Egyptian man named "Ali" got my phone number. He began calling yesterday evening while I was watching a tv show on someone's computer downstairs and had my phone tucked away. I looked when we finished watching--12 missed calls, it reads in arabic. God, who died? I think as I pick up the phone to check the numbers. Then it's ringing in my hand. One ring, then hangs up. Again. One ring. One ring. One ring. Four "missed calls" in less than 30 seconds. I hand the phone to Kari, she checks her phone to see if the number matches anything she has. Nope. I walk outside and try to pick up the next call, but can't. So I call him.

The phone rings once, and then music begins on the line. Cheesy Arabic pop, and I can hear it ringing in the background. Then the music cuts off and the phone picks up. Allo? Hello, who is this? (silence) Who is this? Masa' il-khreer. (Good evening) Masa' il-nur. (response) Who is this? (silence) Who is this? Ismi Ali (My name is Ali.) Ali, do not call this number again. DO NOT call it. I hang up and walk back inside.

The phone starts ringing again. And again. It's just going off constantly. Always one ring and then "missed call." Kari calls him and threatens him. Doesn't do anything. After racking up about 15, I turn off the phone at Max's advice.

When I leave to go upstairs, I turn the phone back on. Nothing so far. Perhaps he got the message? By the time I'm in the second floor stairwell, it's ringing. I can't pick it up, but I call him back. Ali? Aiwa. (yes) Ali do not call this number again. Bihebik. (I love you.) I don't care. Do not call this number again. Stop calling me.

The phone continues to ring. Within five minutes there's 30 missed calls. I realize I have to walk to the store a few blocks away, so I take my phone. It's ringing constantly. Finally, on a darkened Cairo street at 1230 in the morning, I ball up and call him again.

**Please understand that the following paragraphs are not censored. Skip for children or those offended by profanity.**

The now-familiar Arabic pop plays until he picks up the phone. Ali, isma'ni wi isma'ni bizabt. (Ali, you listen and you listen good.) Mish a'arifatk. (I don't know you.) Stop calling me. Stop calling this number. Lam tatasl bi. (Never call me.) I love you. I don't give a fuck. Stop fucking calling me. I swear to God if you do not stop I will come fucking find you and you will be in trouble. We will have a mushkila. (a problem) Lam tatasl bi. Abadan. (Never call me. Ever.) Khalas. (We're finished.)

The phone keeps ringing. Before I make it a block he's called 15 times. I call again. I realize that this is encouraging the behavior, I really do. But I was so angry and upset. Allo? Ali, isma'ni. (You listen to me.) Isma'ni (mocking me). Don't fuck with me. I swear to God if you call this again I will kill you. Don't ever fucking call me again. Lam tatasl bi. Lih? (why?) Lam tatasl bi. Fahim? (Never call me, never call me. Do you understand?)

It keeps going. I get back to the dorms and in the stairwell I crack. I call him again. Ali. This is it. Khalas. (We're finished) If you fucking call me one more fucking time I swear to God I will fucking kill you. H'aqtalak. (I'll kill you.)

I get to my room and before I can turn on my computer I have ten calls. I decide to go downstairs and ask the hulking men at the front desk to call him and explain to him that he needs to stop. Kari suggests the same. Max says to trace the call so we can go beat him up. This is, however, Egypt. I don't think call tracing will make it here in any way, shape, or form for another thirty years. So I head down. By the time I make it to the front desk I have 48 missed calls. He is nothing if not persistent.

By this point I'm almost in tears because I have to be up tomorrow morning at 430 to go horseback riding and I'm exhausted from life in every way and I just want to not deal with this but I need to use my phone as my alarm and I can't well do that if it's ringing off the hook all night. I'm also just frustrated and upset. It feels violating. Inexplicably, even though I'm trapped in the dorms with fat security guards who sit on their expanding posteriors drinking syrupy-sweet tea all day, I don't feel safe. At all.

At the front desk, I explain to the man sitting there what's going on: Someone I do not know has my phone number. He keeps calling me and hanging up. When I call him he tells me his name is Ali and that he loves me. I've told him to stop calling me, to never call this number, that I do not know him, and that I'll kill him. In English and in Arabic. The man looks confused. Why do I not wish to speak with one of my friends? he wants to know. What have I done to make him call this way? I think I actually stare at him with my jaw dropped for a second. Apparently, things like this being a woman's fault are universal. I ask him, can he just call this number and tell him to stop calling me. I just need the calls to stop. That's all. He just looks at me like I'm stupid. (Of course, who wouldn't want this on their phone?) I keep trying to explain to him that I just need him to call and tell the person on the phone to stop calling me. I'm near tears through this. He keeps asking what I have done to make this happen.

Finally, a tall Egyptian guy stops on his way out. Do I need help? he asks, and says he's an RA. I explain the situation and tell him I just need someone male to call and explain to Ali in Arabic that he cannot call me again. His phone is out of credit, so he borrows a friend's phone and calls the number. He politely explains to the other end of the phone that this number has been calling a girl at the American University and he cannot do it again. (As a point of pride, I understand the entire half of the conversation I hear.)

The calls stop until I'm in the second floor stairwell. By the time I'm in my room I have 14. I turn off the phone. When I turn it back on to set my alarm, there's nothing. I sleep my two and a half hours without a call.

In the morning, I get up at 430 to go horseback riding. Nothing on my phone. Alhamdulilah. I leave the phone on vibrate on my bed, thinking that if someone should call or text me before I get back, it won't wake my roommates by vibrating on my desk. Alhamdulilah I did that.

I get back from horses, dunes, and breakfast and walk into my room to grab my towel, etc for a much needed shower. My phone is lit up, showing recent activity. I look down. 40 missed calls. Dear God. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45.

I head into the shower.

Upon my return, there are 81 missed calls.

My phone is off right now, and has been for about an hour. Plan B is TBD. Because I want to use my phone.

My Life? Complete.

I can come home now. My life is really just complete.

Yesterday I was walking from the dorms to the grocery store (about a 6-10 minute walk) around 1330. I was my usual, unassuming, unobtrusive Cairo self. A man in his late 20s or early 30s passed me on the street. He paused and gave me the generaly visual examination I've come to expect from men here. He then said...

...I'm not kidding....

"Hubba hubba."

Fin.

Desert Shield?

Worst sandstorm I've seen yet is going outside.

The world is yellow. I can't see more than a block. There's grit all over me: blown into my eyes, my nose, my ears, my mouth. My hair has a nice cap of tan-gray.

During a sandstorm, the world goes eerily quiet. People aren't in the streets, cars aren't in the streets. You hear the wind; you hear the branches snapping off of trees. Sounds that you do hear are oddly magnified in the quiet. A lone car horn made me jump, so did a branch crashing.

It's keeping up, so I'm going to hunker down in the library and hope that I don't get hungry before it ends.

Because God knows the open-air shops won't be open.

(There are, of course, a few groups of boys sitting outside on campus during this. Their number has, however, decreased steadily in the 90 minutes it's been storming. Boys are boys everywhere. Sorry, gentlemen.)

Please, come into my shop...

Gentle Reader,

You may notice that I have yet to update about my adventures over Spring Break, where I visited Rome and Sicily in Italy and Northern and Central Tunisia. I assure you I kept a journal of my travels. It totals over 100 handwritten pages. As time becomes available (when I am somewhere in my 80s), I will enter it into typed format. I’ll try and post some of the better vignettes, but please be patient. I’m into the “finals” swing of things, which means I have 50 pages to write in the next five weeks, as well as quite a bit else. In the meantime, you can amuse yourself with the following.

Yours truly,
Bint Ibn Battuta (alias m.)

If Egypt were Facebook, these would be my “Interests”

5.7 pounds to the dollar. Buying 4.5 liters of bottled water for less than a dollar. Walking the streets of Cairo with my game face (also known as the man-killing face, also known as the assassin face). The elementary school outside my window. My roommate’s obnoxious ringtone. My obnoxious ringtone. Having my room cleaned by the maids. Feeling awkward about having someone clean my room and change my sheets. What passes for “cleaning” here. Having it take four hours to do laundry. The cats that live in the dorms. The pregnant cat in the dorms. Watching Egyptian girls tease the cats until they get bitten and then pout for the Egyptian boys. The gym at the dorms where the Egyptian boys enter for ten minutes, do one set of six reps of bicep curls (with atrocious form) and call it a day—looking confusedly at me, dripping sweat with my game face on. Missing the gym at home. Missing running outside. Missing tank tops. The dorm guards who “check” your bags. Sitting in the lobby with boys. Complaining about gender segregation. Observing Egyptian courting methods. Underpaying cab drivers who get me lost three times. Overpaying cab drivers who take me where I actually want to go. Having a cab driver stop at the church to marry me before taking me back to the dorms. Ignoring cab drivers. Knowing the games cab drivers play and not falling victim. Having to give Cairo cab drivers directions to places of serious historical importance. Coptic Cairo. The Catholic cemetery in Coptic Cairo. Lying my way into it. Mar Girgis. Sarah’s apartment. Dan’s apartment. Complaining about Egyptian alcohol (it’s that bad). Khan el-Khalili. “My future wife, I am here!” “For you, I kill all four of my wives!” “How can I take your money today?” “Did you see? My heart—it broke!” “I make you good price.” Real Egyptian Price. The man I buy scarves from. Scarves. Silver jewelry. Looking in souvenir shops and laughing. Deciding what to buy people. “Harry Potter” in Arabic. The AUC Bookstore. The view from the top of Main Campus. Shocking the good folk of Zamalek by occasionally forgetting to put on a jacket and walking down the street in short sleeves. Getting cursed at by the hecklers at the pyramids in Arabic. Bitching them out right back in Arabic. The shock in their eyes. Complaining about the Egyptian museum. Ordering food in Arabic. Otlob.com. Caving and getting a McDonald’s chocolate milkshake. Eavesdropping on the Egyptians on the bus. Laughing at what they say about me. Crying at what they say about me. Ful in baladi bread. Being the only woman in the ful line. The front guy trying to flirt with me. Koshary. The guy at the koshary place who knows my face and exactly what I’ll order. Sahlab. Not being about to find skim milk to save my life. What passes in Egypt for “salad.” Dreaming of actual greens. Atrocious coffee. Nescafe 3-in-1. Being able to buy pretty much anything except tampons and safety pins at Alfa Market. Qur’anic recitation on the shuttle. Making the shuttle. Making the shuttle and getting a seat. Having a tan face and hands. Having a very white everything else. Hating Egyptian internet. Getting depressed about politics. Being haram on purpose. Being haram by accident. Being where I shouldn’t. Baksheesh. Understanding what someone is saying to me. Sandstorms. Being outside during them. The white lines when you come inside from one. Political Science seminars in limited English. Arabic classes in limited Arabic. Being confused when it rains. City Stars Mall. Movies with Arabic subtitles. Laughing at how badly the subtitles don’t match up. Electric kettles. Being frustrated with my Cairo life. Hating my Cairo life. Loving my Cairo life. Living my Cairo life.