Timothy

It was one of those weird things where something loud wakes you up, but it was part of a dream. As if you heard the sound, and in that split second your mind fabricates an elaborate and stressful backstory concerning the source of the sound, and then forces you to experience that stressful bcakstory. I sat straight upright as Theo hollered and bounded across the living room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him (I sleep in the living room). It had to be around four am. My heart was still pounding when he timidly opened his door and said, "We have rats."

He claimed to have seen two, both sitting on the edge of the bathtub as he stumbled into the bathroom in the middle of the night. Now going to the bathroom was even more of an adventure than it already was, and I was terrified of even shutting the door. 

We didn't encounter any more rats until a little over 24 hours later. It was 8:30 am this time, and I was dozing, so I was not going to be startled this time. I grunted as Laura made her way towards the shower. The split second the door shut I heard a scream, and the door flew open as Laura backed out into the living room. "It landed on my head!!!!" I rolled my eyes to myself and pretended not to be awake, but after 30 seconds, it was clear she was going to need some help. "I'll let you know if it scurries under my door!!" Theo called out from inside his bedroom. Thanks. 

So there we were, in a standoff with Tim the Rat (we had decided that he needed a name). He was sitting on the window sill, staring nonchalantly at us, as we stood there terrified, me in boxers and a t-shirt holding a pot and a lid, and Laura in her towel holding a ladle. We approached him, and he leapt, climbing the glass panes to the top of the curtain, like a flying squirrel across the bathroom into the sink (ricocheting off of Laura, again), and then onto the floor, out the door, and behind the washing machine. Grover Cleveland, our surly (and insane) tabby cat, who is apparently an awful and/or disinterested hunter, sat incredulously watching from on top of the sideboard. "OK, enjoy your shower," I said as I climbed back into bed, and as Laura stood there in post-traumatic shock. 

Twelve hours later we were having an enjoyable evening, when Grover started acting strange (stranger than usual anyways). Loping around the apartment like an idiot, we figured he was finally showing interest in Tim. Investigating, I walked into the kitchen and he was sitting, stock still, staring at the ceiling. This was weird for three reasons: he never goes in the kitchen, he never sits still, and he never stares. I turned and looked up, and there sat Tim, on a pipe running along the upper corner of the kitchen. 

Figuring Grover had Tim trapped for at least a few minutes, I ran downstairs to get our bowab, which is in Egypt, a sort of doorman/super/handyman/resident of the crappy tiny ground floor apartment. His name is Mohammad, and not only does he not speak a word of English, but he has a hard time communicating in Egyptian arabic. We are not sure where he is from. "Andee farr," I said. I have a rat. "Ariff," he said. I know. Thanks a lot, Moh. (I call him BoMo, short for Bowab Mohammad) Trying to stumble and gesticulate through some awful arabic sentence, his wife appeared next to him with a wooden spoon and a plastic bag. As he said the word for "you want?" he pounded his closed fist against the front knuckles of his other closed fist. "Aiwa," I said, and we marched up the stairs together. 

We got back into the apartment, and Grover and Tim were still in their staring match in the kitchen. It wasn't an angry stare, but more mutual expressions of bemusement. BoMo picked up Grover and handed him to me. Not really wanting a front row seat to the battle, I carried him back into the living room where Theo and Laura sat, interested to see how I had handled this. Without any sort of commotion or delay, BoMo walked out of the kitchen with a moonfaced grin. Proud as hell, he held Tim up by the tail, so we could all take in his deadness. Never losing his ear-to-ear smile, he walked over to the balcony, and tossed Tim's dead body into the garden, five floors below. He must have just bopped him on the head. How on earth did he do that? 

Thus ends the tragic story of Tim the Rat, Grover the Cat, and Moh the Boh. And so it goes.   

Zahi

On Sunday morning, I attended what I like to call the Zahi show. Dr. Zahi Hawass is a renowned Egyptian Archaeologist who, for the past decade or so has held the title of "Secretary General of the Supreme Council on Antiquities." Egypt's claim to fame, crown jewels, and staple of the economy have been running through Dr. Hawass, and he has not disappointed. The New York Times Saturday Profile by Michael Slackman last weekend offers a glimpse of the character of this renegade gunslinging cowboy, but seeing it with my own eyes made it whole different story.  

By now, most people have probably heard that they believe they have discovered the tomb of Marc Antony and Cleopatra. The fated couple, an Egyptian Queen and a Greek General, committed suicide together in 31 BC, and their final resting place has remained a mystery ever since. Their story has captivated people from Shakespeare to Elizabeth Taylor, and in reality, the new discovery at an already well-known site is a story that will sell itself. But ol' Zahi has to play this one up. 

So I had a friend at Reuters who was covering the story, and we tagged along in his car. Since it was a video press conference at an outdoor site, the light had to be right, so the conference began at 8 AM. Being three hours away, we woke up at 5 and hit the desert road. We got to the temple just as the press conference had started, and Zahi was just as advertised.

Impressing upon the cameras the significance of the discovery, as well as the personal ingenuity (speculation) that it took to make these predictions of the location of the tombs, the man was in his element. Granting every personal interview with a smile and a dramatic phrase, and even granting several requests for videos of him simply walking away from the camera, across the rocky and jagged floor of the temple, he did his best to sell this as not only an historic find, but as a massive asset for Egypt and its massive antiquities collection. 

People in Egypt have plenty of bad things to say about Dr. Hawass. His Indiana Jones persona and know-it-all demeanor grate politicians, archaeologists, and the public alike. Without repeating Slackman's largely tongue-in-cheeck profile, I saw for myself how he can hog the spotlight and trample on other arghaeologists findings. But the man has a plan. 

Few people here might agree with me on this, but Dr. Hawass is good at what he does. Recognizing antiquities as an enormous asset to Egyptian tourism (a large chunk of the Egyptian economy), he is working tirelessly to mark the Egyptian Antiquities as a brand. He does his best to play up archaeological finds, postures for the camera, and has hatched a master plan to improve the antiquities museum (which I haven't written on yet, but really needs a serious revamping). I witnessed this branding in person, and let me tell you, it could certainly come off as annoying. But I was refreshing to see a man with a plan and a vision, especially one who could have serious influence on the economy and well-being of his country. 

Environment?!?

Our neighbor came over the other night to make us some Om Aly, a traditional Egyptian dessert. She is a jolly and maternal 25 year-old Egyptian studying law at Cairo University. I asked her what kind of law she was studying, and she said "business law." She knew that I was planning on going to law school next year, and she asked me what kind of law I wanted to study. 

"Well I think, at this point, that I kind of want to study environmental law."

"Environment?!?" She laughed and laughed and couldn't believe it. She would control herself, then look at me, and as if the sight of me was too funny to handle, would completely lose herself into more hysterics. After a few minutes of this, and some awkward sideways glances to my roommates trying to say "Should I be insulted by this?" she calmed down and realized that I was serious. Like a concerned mother, she asked me why I would choose to pursue something so ridiculous. 

In a classic case of "I blame the system," I quickly realized that I was fighting a losing battle by trying to explain such things to her. And she is a very smart girl! "We don't have environment in Egypt," she would say. Fair enough, I suppose. Because how can you evaluate the harm done to a bunch of sand? 

Pirates

The most adventurous people I know--those who have relished the opportunity to report from Gaza or the front lines of Hamas, recommended vacations in Yemen, and got detained roaming around Hezbollah territory in Lebanon for no other reason than to see it--have said that they would never, ever go to Somalia. The result of no government for 17 years in a poor and ideologically divided country is ruling warlords, widespread violence, and masses of people fleeing to Kenya and Ethiopia. Can you imagine a situation so bad, that you would leave everything and flee to Kenya? 

Civil Wars and attempts at peace talks and international aid have been fringe news items for the better part of two decades; since Somalis seem to keep to themselves, we don't seem to care too much. We concern ourselves with situations that affect us. But now, the instability has reached international waters, and we aren't happy. We have been inundated with the details of the harrowing story of the Maersk Alabama, we celebrated when we heard the end result, and now we have some follow-up questions. What are we going to do about this?

First, I ask, seriously, what is going on that we allowed this to happen? These people control (or at least have strategic proximity to) some of the most valuable shipping lanes in the world, and clearly have no authority to answer to, whatsoever. Because of pollution and overfishing, fishermen make $50 a month--put in this situation, wouldn't anybody try and go steal an enormous floating barge of easy cash? The shipping companies don't want blood on their hands, so they will pay ransoms on top of the cash for the commodities. In a lawless country, why wouldn't anyone do exactly what these pirates are doing? 

Clearly, an international response is unnecessary for this scrap in which three punk-ass Somali fishermen (who are horrible negotiators, by the way) were shot. But shouldn't something be done for these cargo ship captains, who are risking their lives just by driving a boat? Are there laws that can be written, or patrol ships to be dispatched? We don't need to descend an army onto a bunch of rogue fishermen, but lets make these American working men safe.

I see in Cairo all the time the motivation to take a bribe or a handout in exchange for letting things slide in a job. It makes good business sense for a cage cleaner at the zoo to take 10 pounds and allow a customer to play with a baby monkey. He's making zilch! And, it makes good business sense for the manager at the zoo to turn a blind eye, since he is paying that guy nothing to do a disgusting job. And if the owner of the zoo doesn't really care that its rating and prestige will fall slightly, then this kind of thing is going to happen. 

My point is this, and it never really occurred to me until I lived outside of America. The only way things like corruption, blackmail, kidnapping, stealing, and bribery aren't going to take place is either if you make it worth people's while to do their job honestly, or you give them a great enough penalty for doing it dishonestly. Incentives and accountability. They seem so simple, and yet, it remains to be seen what can be done to protect these Americans. 

Golf

A five-iron's distance from the Pyramids at Giza lies the Mena House golf course. The grass is brown and short, the greens are minefields, and stray dogs roam free, but the bunkers are filled with this incredibly soft, fine Saharan sand. I guess this is all to be expected. You gotta do something well. 

WESC

The Wadi Environmental Science Center is a small, self-sustaining education facility set on an organic olive farm owned by Wadi foods, a large Egyptian food conglomerate. It lies on the West side of the Alexandria Desert Road, a road that runs through the desert, west of the delta, from Cairo to Alexandria. How do they get their water? I don't know. Maybe olives don't need much water. But, for the past two days I have been lucky enough to be a part of the teaching staff at WESC, and what a rewarding experience it was. 

I woke up very early on Sunday morning (the Egyptian equivalent of a Monday), and got myself to Mohandiseen, a neighborhood not far from mine. I got on a microbus with a half dozen other people, all around my age or a few years older. I was the only white person, and the only native English speaker. The center was founded by a Belgian couple, so it has the French language in its roots, and the person who had recruited me speaks only passable English. I was shocked, though, at how smoothly everyone could transition from Arabic to English to French. Without pause they slip in and out of English and French, but speaking mainly Arabic. For the most part, I could understand the French, but either way, I chose to keep my mouth shut, not wanting to sound like the stupid American kid who knows only one language.

The center is a field trip destination for schools in Cairo. The children have barely left their urban hell-hole, let alone seen an Egyptian tortoise or had a fresh salad. They certainly do not have Earth Science built into their curriculum, so seeing an olive farm and playing with earthworms is a welcome escape for their teachers, and a wonder for the children. My first day was a shadowing of a leader teaching about animals in French, but yesterday I got to lead my own group of English-speaking kindergardeners through a tour of plants: what they are and how they work. When, as a class, we went to the garden and made a fresh salad, they were amazed, and they all agreed that they would ask their parents for salad for dinner tonight. 

Eighty Egyptian Pounds for a full day of work in the sun of the desert sounds awful, but I had one of the best days I have had while in Cairo. Hanging out with five-year-olds generally isn't my idea of a good time, especially if I have to explain things like "roots" and "chlorophyl" in extremely simple english, but I had a wonderful time, and I'm glad i could find a fulfilling activity in Cairo. 

Darkness

The desert road at night is just how you would imagine it. More than anything, it is dark. No streetlamps or headlights or ambient urban glow. After a long winter of sandstorms and disrepair, dunes have started to creep into the outside lanes. It winds, and it is fast. 

I found myself in the middle seat of the back row of a charter bus that we flagged down on the side of the road outside of Ain Sokhna, a sleepy Red Sea beach town. Lobster-y and out of it, I stretched my legs down the center aisle, put on my best running music and watched the bus pound the pavement and the kilometers peel off by the dozen in the flicking headlights. 

I needed to be at work at 8 am on Sunday, and as exhausted as I was at midnight on Saturday as we approached Cairo, I was overcome with a washing sense of content and calm joy. While the hot sun had sucked it out of me, the cool desert darkness had reinvigorated my mind, and as I dozed in the cab home from the bus station, I happily and wearily dreamed. 

Doug Glanville

After I wrote my long-winded diatribe yesterday, I was thinking more about sports, and the universality of competition as entertainment. I didn't mean to call soccer stupid; it's a way of life for billions, just as avidly following the Red Sox is a way of life for people with roots in New England, all over the world (I wear a Red Sox cap around Cairo, and strangers start conversations with me every day). Then, this morning I read a New York Times column by op-extra columnist and former Phillies, Cubs, and Rangers outfielder Doug Glanville (it's terrific, give it a read). It got me thinking even more.

Sports and culture will always be intertwined. I can't think that the rest of the world is weird for following soccer any more than I can think that Islam is weirder than Christianity. Just because many many people worship the gods of soccer and I don't, doesn't mean we aren't all at the altar of sport. 

My point was more about the reasons why, even in America, the vast "Melting Pot" of tastes and cultures, soccer will never take hold on a level even close to Latin, European, or African countries. I felt bad because, maybe a little bit, I sort of belittled soccer and the people that love it, and that's not what I meant to do. A lot of what this blog is are my comments on the remarkable cultural differences between here and where I know, and the capacity to live and breathe soccer is one of them. Sports bring people together, and that, I believe (and I think Doug Glanville would agree), is what is important. 

Football (Soccer)

I gave it a chance. I really did. I tried to like it. I chose a team to support, watched several games, tried to read up on the actual players, and even got into an argument (although it was short, and heavily burdened by a wide language gap). I don't mean to insult the intelligence of billions of people when I say this (they are all idiots though), but, soccer??? (and I'm back to calling it that now) I just don't get it. It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever that this could be the most popular sport in the world.  

How popular is soccer?? In an experiment inspired by the readers of Bill Simmons, I decided to consult the Google results. Type in David Beckham, and you will get fourteen and a half million results. That is not counting another 5 million results for the query "David Beckham pictures". Ronaldinho? 22.5 million results. Same for Pele, who is 68 years old. Kaka? 24.5 million. I haven't even heard of that guy. Zidane? 13 million. Type in "Manchester United" and you will find 31.8 million results (compared to only 27 million for the word "Mohammad"). Compare these numbers with some other world-famous athletes: Michael Phelps yields only 7.2 million results (along with 177,000 for "Michael Phelps bong"). Tiger Woods, Roger Federer, Alex Rodriguez, and LeBron James? 11 million, 6 million, 4.9 million, and 5.8 million results respectively. 68-year-old Pele holds up well to some world-famous retired athletes as well. Michael Jordan yields 10.9 million results. Mohammad Ali? 7.2 million. I typed in every world-famous athlete I could think of and no one else comes anywhere close. And if the New York Yankees were the Manchester United of American sports, wouldn't the phrase "New York Yankees" have more than 8.9 million results? Not that this is an exact measure of popularity, but I still find these results staggering, and they offer some kind of proof that, for whatever reason, soccer is by far and away the most popular sport in the world. 

But why? Why is this sport so popular to watch? I played soccer for many years, and I will not deny that it is fun to play. The universality, affordability, relative safety, and simplicity of the sport would make it widespread as an activity, but these factors do not necessarily extend to fandom, or else all Americans would be obsessed with dodgeball, tag, and bowling, and we wouldn't like sports as complicated and dangerous as football, expensive as ice hockey, or unique as baseball (the only other sport I know of where the defense is holding the ball is cricket). For the life of me I cannot figure out what makes soccer so universally appealing to watch. So, I have come to this conclusion. I, as an American, am just not wired to like soccer (or, everyone else is programmed to like soccer). It just doesn't compute in our heads. Americans love their sports, no one can deny that. But, I think that any venture involving selling the sport of soccer in America will inevitably fail because we are who we are, and this is why:

1. We like to see high scores. You cannot empirically deny the sayings pitching/defense wins championships. It does, and the examples are endless. Just this past year, the Phillies won the world series with the 6th best pitching staff in baseball. Who had the best defenses in basketball and football last year? The world champion Celtics, and the Super Bowl winning Pittsburgh Steelers. Steeler fans and National League diehards will tell you that they would rather watch their defense wreak havoc and their pitchers dominate than watch their teams flat outscore the opposition. But that doesn't mean we don't like to see a few touchdowns, home runs, or three-pointers every game. We do. Our favorite players are quarterbacks and home run hitters. We want to see the video-game stats in basketball. Sure, having a stifling defense is fun, and you will probably win plenty of games, but the chance to see Kobe Bryant score 80 points on a given night puts butts in the seats in Los Angeles. Even hockey's popularity is growing again, thanks in large part to rule changes designed to increase scoring. The point is that no American would have the patience for a game in which 3 goals scored is above average. It just wouldn't happen.

2. Tough = Sexy. It's not a coincidence that the most polarizing athletes in America are the good looking finesse players. Find me a sports fan outside of New York who likes Jeter, or outside of New England that likes Tom Brady. Take players like Cal Ripken Jr or Joe Montana or Michael Jordan, someone who epitomizes toughness, competitiveness, and a willingness to sacrifice their bodies for the W, and they are, at the very least, universally respected. We have romanticized the dirty uniform and the eye black so that universal popularity relates directly to perceived toughness. In soccer, it pays to be a Nancy. Take a dive in the box and earn your team a penalty kick, and boom, you got yourself a 1-0 win. Watching soccer players flop around and whine for fouls repulses me as an American sports fan. Here, a perceived foul starts some kind of discourse and they re-watch the replays and discuss and argue and fight. Meanwhile, the player is either still on the ground writhing around, or crying at the referee. None of that would ever stand in American sports, where they leagues fine and the media lambasts players and coaches for their slightly disparaging post-game comments, over the top drama and celebrations, and any strange on-field antics. 

3. Stats. Americans love stats. Our embracing of baseball as the "national pastime" is certainly in part due to its ability to be quantified with an accessible and understandable box score. There are no stats in soccer!! There is nothing to analyze! How would you expect to compete in an ESPN-centric culture, if there is nothing to talk about? I believe that this is one of hockey's problems. I saw a stat during a soccer game saying that a certain player had a certain number of goals, and a certain number of "touches" in that game. Touches? That's the best they could do? Could you imagine if someone tried to count that for basketball?? Or hockey?? It would be absurd. 

4. I think that there is something about the international aspect of soccer that turns Americans off to it. Football, Basketball, and Baseball were all invented and perfected in the United States, and America's best are better than that of any other nation. And, while hockey wasn't invented in the United States, the NHL is still the best hockey league in the world, and organizations like the Bruins, Rangers, and Canadiens have been around for almost a century. We don't like that the MLS is a crappy league, and we don't like that our national team gets beat soundly. We also don't like the fact that it would be a culture imparted onto us; it's the same reason we don't like rugby or cricket or the French. 

So, this turned into a bit of a rant, but it serves its purpose: I am officially announcing my retirement from being a soccer fan. I don't think they will miss me, and I probably won't miss them. I don't know whether the world is weird because they like soccer or we are weird because we won't accept it, but it's just another part of this strange culture I have experienced. I would love to hear people's thoughts on this, because I sure can't figure it out.