Period of absence

I have a lot to write about and even some photos to post from this weekends adventures with my Arabic teacher and her family. I am starting to feel at home here, to be relaxed with the people and not to be so lazy, as I was when I arrived, mostly because of lack of sleep and lack of rest.

I feel quite rested now and ready for new challenges and so I am going home for a couple of weeks to acquire some knowledge. I am finally having the luxury of going to courses paid by my employer, something which is rather common in Sweden, but really feels like luxury to a person who has spent her first years as an employee on existential minimum.

So I can not guarantee any posts in the coming two weeks since I will be quite busy learning and seeing friends and family, but who knows, a message from Sweden may appear a day when I feel that I am in abundance of time.

Cheerio - so long

Roba Becchia

I love languages, although I find Arabic very challenging. However, every once in a while the Egyptian Arabic is spiced with European words of Greek, Italian or Spanish origin. The other day I was on the balcony reading a book and I heard a salesman shouting "roba becchia" (spelled the way you would in Italian-roba bekia phonetically). I did not know what exactly I was hearing at the time but I was amused.

Yesterday, when sitting down with my Arabic teacher she told me that roba becchia in fact means what in Italian is called roba vecchia, i.e. old stuff. In fact the man is selling stuff he has found on the street or begged for in different houses around town. So Egyptian Arabic can be really easy - if you know a couple of European languages, unfortunately those influences have been in decline after Nasser who wanted to use the Standard version of Classic Arabic in schools and media. Oh well, I'm happy with the small things.

It also struck me that it's called roba becchia, which is closer to the Italian than the Spanish Ropa Vieja, but that the v in Spanish is pronounced b - of course, like the Arab version of the Italian word. The Arabic alphabet doesn't contain the letter v, nor does it contain p and so those letters often fall under b when "Arabifying" a word. Maybe that's where the Spanish got the rules for pronouncing the v as b from. I don't want to look it up on Wikipedia - I allow myself to interpret it in this way, until proven differently.

All good things!

Si Libet Licet

Si libet licet is Latin (dooh) and translated into Swedish it means: Om det lyster dig ar det tillatet , which are very beautiful words. In English it would be: If it pleases you it is allowed. I think it is an absolutely wicked way to live and although I may sometimes be too scared to do so fully, I am trying to abide by this motto which I was introduced to by my teacher in secondary school (and she was a back-up singer with Abba too).

The Spirit of Anna

It is in fact commonplace to explain oneself in the world of the Blog community - some people have titles to their Blogs which are logical and explain the purpose of the writer's intention with its sheer presence. THIS IS NOT SUCH A BLOG. Already, for one, I do not like the word Blog, I associate it with people who want to brag about their talents and their personalities. Perhaps I am no different, although I do wish to be.

Perhaps it isn't clear to you in the 'About me' section that the purpose of this blog, ultimately, is about communicating with my friends. I am away from them at this very point in time and I feel as though there are things I could share with them, things I see or smell or taste or hear every day which I easily could disseminate through a forum like. And they would have the choice if they wanted to know what I was doing or not. I like freedom of choice. Secondly I had the idea before I came here that I could communicate things from a culture which I feel is largely unknown to a lot of Europeans and westerners, but I see now that it would be rather pretentious and that I probably don't have the ability to do that in an accurate way. Nor do I have the motivation to find out facts and try to make objective remarks about something I do not know so well. I am a person who is steered by my emotions and therefore they will be the guides to what I write here.

Then the name 'Spirit of Anna' also sound very pretentious but it has in fact a story to it. I actually wanted the name 'Spirit' only for the blog, but it was taken so I just put in the rest, pushed the ok button and hoped for the second best. 'Spirit' has been the tentative name for a restaurant I would like to run one day. 'Spirit' because I am Swedish and I would serve alcohol of all possible kinds, but also because I love to use a little bit of alcohol in the food I make - I find it enhances most things. Then of course, there is the spiritual implication of the word - the connection to the inner self and the way that I feel when I get to serve food to the people I love. The vitality of the word which makes me feel happy and invigorated (like going from the sauna to bathe in the frozen lake). The word spirit has many connotations and therefore I wanted it to be mine in the form of a place where people could come and meet and share pleasures together.

The dream of Spirit hasn't died. I have just gone for the other passion I have in life, that of trying to help a few people to lead a better life with the help of money spent by public or private funders in project of various kind. I love this job too, especially when I get to see the results of the work that we mostly carry out from our desks and I have faith in what I do even if the world sometime discourages you. I'm still young and I would like to experience many things before choosing the right place to set up Spirit. So until then I will lead my nomadic life of discovering cultures and other peoples' spirits and cooking traditions and this blog will be the only taste of me available, hall till godo!

On the streets of Alexandria

Walking in Alex is a dangerous and surprising experience due to at least 3 factors:

1) The heat. Ok, we knew this already, it's hot in Africa, right, but it isn't the heat as much as the humidity of the littoral town (ok, city) that bothers you when walking. My Swedish/Finish hair is not made for humidity levels up to 95% and I am seriously thinking of a radical cut next week when I get back home for a wee spot of training. I'll probably change my mind in super dry Scandinavia though and then end up regretting having to go to a hair dresser here. Not because of the lack of Arabic words pertaining to hair but because they will never have seen or touched Nordic hair before and 'm quite sure they don't know how to cut it. Like those barbers who specialize in frizzy hair - often beheld by the people coming from Sub Saharan Africa (gotta be politically correct).

Where was I - yes, the heat. Ok, so that is factor 1 and it is quite logical. It is also a factor which will get better as the summer comes to an end, which however is about a month or two away - and I am not complaining, I'll choose heat over cold any day. The humidity, however - I could do without.

2) Traffic. Honestly I have never seen people drive like this anywhere else. There are lanes marked out in the roads but if you have 3 marked out lanes, that means 5 actual lanes and it is very Nordic of me to call them lanes, as if the Egyptians would stick to neat rows of cars. In fact, you drive where there is a spot free to do so. You push cars next to you to drive to the side by approaching them from behind, you honk the horn.

Honking the horn is a very common practice here and it is good for anything - also for what I am about to develop under item 3 below. But when it comes to the actual getting somewhere on the road it is good for any junction up ahead - honk honk, I have made sure I am free of responsibility if there is a car coming from any other direction. It is good for going the wrong way up a one way street - honk, honk watch out, I'm coming through!. It is good for passing a red light at 70 km/h - honk, honk full speed ahead Insh’Allah! Yes because I suspect that the great God has a lot to do with the way people drive. Their lives are in his hands with the symbol of the God - the blue eye, hanging from the rear view mirror. However, sometimes he has a bit too much to do in this part of the world to protect all people in the mayhem on the streets. Walking to work last week I saw a nasty accident with two mini buses - the drivers of which seem to be the worse kind of speeders. On the side of the road - by the Court house lay a dead woman in a puddle of blood, covered with a blanket. Nobody seemed to care or to even take notice, I did.

Another truly surprising thing about the traffic are the pedestrians. They are just as much a danger to traffic as the speeding drivers in their small cars, which most probably were sent to be scrapped in Europe a decade ago. People cross roads and high ways here as there was no tomorrow. They just head out, completely oblivious of the cars passing by them on 5:th gear. They laugh at me when I wait for a spot free of cars to cross the street. I would have loved to see statistics on how many accidents that are caused by pedestrians on the street when drivers are forced to swerve or to hit the breaks and steer clear of the fragile human being on the street. I am quite sure though that this kind of statistics doesn't exist here - I am wondering if they at all have statistics for deaths in traffic.

And so for my last reason for finding walking a bit precarious:

3) The attention. About 90% of the people that I pass by on the streets address me in one way or another. The most common form of trying to get my attention is "welcome to Egypt", "you're welcome" or just "welcome". I get the first and the last but I don't know for what I am welcome? Their interest in me as a very pale white woman? I put it down as a lack of knowledge of the English language - they want to say welcome really.

Then there are other forms of attention seeking: The more verbal Egyptians (verbal in English): "What's your name" - a classic in its genre, "How are you" - very polite, "Where are you from" - very unusual because it is a difficult sentence for an Arabic speaker who would say "Where you from" and maybe they know they are wrong so they try another phrase. Then you have the "Do you play basketball" - which isn't so surprising to people who know me and know I have been getting this question since I was about 13 years old, it is probably the most effective way of getting my attention too - over here it makes me laugh, at home it is sort of boring. Now I know that the people using these phrases cannot really speak English very well because if they would they would follow me on my way and speak to me (and this isn't really a sign of being a good English speaker, it is a sign of self confidence more than anything).

Then we have the more Neanderthal approaches: The ksskskks... calling as if I were a cat, the whistles or the honking of horns or blinking the head lights. Taxi cars use the latter technique to ask if I want to catch a ride with them - obviously charging me the double of an Egyptian. The animal-calling-cries or whispers infuriate me, but I admit I do not know what kind of status they have in society here. I mean - do they do that because I am white and I am treated differently from the Egyptian women, or do they use these calls also for them, I hope so. Because even if I know I am different here I don't want to be. I don't want to ignore people as I do now on the streets - to avoid too many questions or having to buy too many things on my way home. I want to be proud and be able to respond to people if they ask me things, but I want to be able to do it in their language - as an equal, even though I will never be like them.

So, my experience of walking in this town may be a bit traumatic at times but apart from the traffic - which will not get better during the course of my stay here - I will learn the language as I already have coped with the heat (and maybe my hair will too with the humidity). They aren't strange - I am the stranger and I need to learn their ways. I will do it insh'Allah - I will do it!

Peace out!

Egyptian mornings

This morning I walked to work. It's not far but when it is really hot it's a bit of a hassle. This morning the breeze from the sea caressed the shores of Alex pleasantly and so the decision to walk was not a difficult one.

Really, 8:20 isn't early to walk to work, it takes me about 30 minutes, when I do not stop, put my had in my handbag in order to spend five minutes to find my wallet, take out an Egyptian pound and give it to the old toothless woman in black who is begging on the street. Today I needed to get to work early so I avoided going past my beneficiary - I did feel bad but until I can communicate properly with her I need to go slow - on myself, I want to know who I am giving money to.

So, moving on, past Cecil hotel and all its history, on to the corniche and past the awful traffic chaos by the unknown soldier monument - trying desperately not to be hit by a car. Upon success of the latter I found myself in front of the court house. Here I am amazed by two things: 1) cars are actually parked correctly and where they are supposed to, and 2) there is always something noticeable occurring around the court house.

Today a young man was sleeping in the shadow of the small planted palm trees (more like bushes) and I wondered what he was doing there. Could it be he was a witness or that he had to otherwise appear in court this morning and had traveled from afar the whole night to get to Alex? Then I saw he wasn't wearing shoes and that the soles of is feet were really dirty. He may just have been a smart homeless person in a nice short sleeved shirt sleeping in front of the court in order not to be disturbed by anyone. What do I know?

Then I remembered a thing my friend told me: every year Egyptians from other parts of the country come to Alex for a holiday and they camp by the fort - where the light house previously stood. Now that would be a historical and very educative place to camp, only that it is currently the end of a very busy road, there is no grass to sleep on and the stone and concrete dictate the colour scheme. But these families camped there and they were happy - it is the end of the Corniche and a spot where many Alexandrians walk in the summer evenings, munching on a grilled corn roll. Nobody seems to mind the campers either - they may have here a sort of law allowing people to camp anywhere in the city, like we do in Sweden for the nature: allemansratten (give or take a few dots over some of the letters).

The young man with the rather stylish shirt, trousers and dirty bare feet may have been a tourist who found a good spot in the shadow to lay his tired head to rest, e basta! Why is that hard to grasp for a person who only once tried to sleep on the beech of Nice and ended up staying awake, watching her friend sleep through the night? Mmm - we think we are pragmatic in the North, but not that pragmatic!

So, after this long detour of words I reached the office.

An Egyptian day at the office was about to begin.

New crossroads

Hello and welcome to what is to become a blog of thoughts about meetings, people that cross my path, cultures to discover or just the crossroads of my heart and mind.

I am currently in Alexandria, Egypt, and I will stay here for sufficiently long to better grasp a culture, language and religion which is not my own but which I with my current limited knowledge feel is judged wrongly and too hastily in the context of the politics of the globalised world.

I will never claim to have the right answers, and I will try not to judge events, experiences and feelings that come to me as I come across them. You may criticize me and comment on what I write but you must keep in mind that I am not claiming to write truths - I write what comes to mind and heart, what infuriates and what excites me.

Welcome! is the word I today hear most frequently when walking on the streets of Alex. To you: welcome to the spirit of me, let's embark on a journey.