Some like it hot

On the egyptian identitycards you need to fill in your religion. Religious freedom leaves you two options; muslim or christian.

Being a minority is not as bad as i imagined it could be. I mean, people will try to screw you off and cat-call you on the streets even when you cover up, but really there are a lot of fantastic people here. Appearently fitting into a stereotype though, really bugs me. Even other western people seem to be really preassumptous towards blondes that giggle too often and you really have to prove yourself to everyone. In the long run it gets tiresome to be left out of conversations if you've missed a word, or people talking about you in english as if you weren't there or speak r e a l l y s l o w l y when introduced to you. Cultural capital is really a two-way street. If people don't know what your skills are, they assume you've got none if you're not interested in their field. I've just taken it for granted i guess that men will want to discuss things with you as if you were equal to them, but this doesn't seem to apply to most western men either. That comes down to nationality, and more offcourse; personality.

Yesterday we went to David's place and ate traditional food cooked by a local woman. Then we went really western and shishaed and had a drink or 3 at the merriot. I have to adimt, it was pretty liberating. I was feeling a bit under the weather though, and went home too tired, a wee bit tipsy and a tad anti-social, a problem which solved itself as soon as i came home to Elin and Ragnhild to chat over a fag on the veranda.

I woke up early this morning and Elin and I headed off on a bus-tour with the AUC kids to Saqqara and Memphis to get our dose of Egyptology. It's quite interresting actually, but now and then you just feel like you should be home, repairing and doing homework. I'm the worst student ever. Afterwords we had lunch with a finnish guy and an american before going home being hyperactive. Couldn't concentrate on studying so i headed off to Rae's for a wee while, and then met Camille in her new flat, and her cool new belgium roomie who made me turkish coffee *loves*. Realised i got sunburned for the first time since i came here, i really don't look good in pink, i'm like a freshly boiled lobster. Talked to my mum on the phone who told me a swedish bloke had called for me but didn't leave a message. His name seemed familiar but i've no idea why. I hope it's nothing perverted, or connected to my old job in any way. Come to think of it, i'll look him up on the net right away.

Later kids.

Randomness again

Found gekko (plural M actually) on the veranda(r) today. Was accused of being british again. Smoked shisha(r) and marlbouro again and accompanied it with some stella(r) again. Not to mention the port-wine (i swear i am a hundred year old trapped in a twelve year old body). Ate nothing but falafel (dual) and zoomed into the findingmyself mode. One of those days that are so long it feels like a week, but then again it feels like a good week. Realising that whatever my experience tells me that some people might belong together, and that timing was never my strongest side. Wishing i had a gay friend. A superqueen i could curl up against who'd love my shoes and be my trophyman whenever Gaston had a life to live.

Camille signed her contract for a Zamalek-flat vis-a-vis Rae with two Belgium people that i've decided to like when i meet them. I had a cool time with Elin and Adam at a cornercafè after the superracistic treatement Camille and i got when we tried to order food at a restaurant here in Agouza around Iftar, and then glued myself to Rae and the pleasent blokes she hung out with.

*note to self; don't visit local restaurant anymore.

It takes two, baby.

I gave the telly a good, hard smash over it's sideflab last night, and it finally stopped stuttering and showed us the goods. This was repeated with success earlier this evning aswell. Then, suddenly it wouldn't respond. I slapped it around like crazy, did a little teasedance for it, and pressed my tits up against it's glass but nothing would turn it on. I concidered the possibility of a sado-machosistic nature and poked my eye on it's antenna and smashed my head towards the screen, but it kept it's uncomfortable silence. Desperation grew as i had more and more chocholate when the only thing Elin and I could amuse ourselves with was the invention of a new, more graphic signlanguage, and practicing waving our pinkie-toes (i won). I begged, slapped, dance and humiliated myself, but Telly kept it's cold distance.

Then i realized. Not only is Telly a man, he's most likely the only gay in the village.

Tomorrow i'll show him my shoes and see if we can come to some kind of understanding.

Brainchildren

I'm not giving up, just giving in

So i turned in a second copy of my last anthroassignment. I can't belive i failed such a simple task, i used to be such a bright kid. On the other hand, i suspect that they are all revided by a 22 year old who just finished their masters without ever setting foot out of the libary and into the real world, wich would probably the same person who created such an inane task. How can they expect you to answer punctually to a completey abstract gathering of sentences where they present you with quotes that shouldn't be added into the actual answer? I suspect that i'm the last of my breed and that academia in general is overtaken by those who actually did their homework and prefered to interact with people like me whenever feeding us while visiting the zoo. I'm completely removed from my natural habitat and someone is trying to add meat to my diet. Circus Woytcheck much?


I am contemplating what men have in common with other men. Apart from the ovbious, that is. What the hell is it that attracts us to these hairy beasts with their lips and chests and poor humanskills? I honestly think it's serenity. The way they just don't get stressed out but have that rude comfort in their own skin that makes you feel like you must be comfortable in yours. It's such an arrogant lifestyle that you just have to admire it. When you think they pretend not to think about you just to sodd you off, it becomes evident sooner or later that you were never on their mind at all, and they don't even have the decency to feel bad about it. However, if you apply that lifestyle onto one of them, you can be sure you'll never get rid of the bastard. It's like the moment you want nothing from one, he's ready to pluck his nosehair for you and follow you into the sunset. I was just reminded of this one bloke today, who didn't think having anything in common was really that important as long as you had someone *insert words like smarter, sexy or too good for you*. Evidently this also applied if she thought you were a total arsewipe and didn't really like to hang out with you outside of your apartment. Sadism is such a cruel part of human nature.

Sometimes a gal really could care less about your brain, you know. Thats definately a difference between one man and another. One you want under certain circumstences, another you just want.

So why do we keep doing it? Putting ourselves trough the strain of expecting understanding and eternal crushes that any single woman knows is a giant step towards insanity? Oh yea. It's the lips and chests and poor humanskills that now and then makes you feel so good about yourself. To be continued and continued and continued...

Telly-tummy

It's come to my attention that the telly might be broken. I had a near-study experience with the group at Rae's place and i was starting to feel a bit confused about stopping after one beer (by choise wow) and tried dancing a bit in the livingroom which exhausted me enough to want to go home and watch trash. Well so not be it, and i didn't even have any sweets to accompany me. I almost concidered re-doing my anthro-essay for a while, but that doesn't need to be done in like a day, and so oh-finally, i got a net-connection. This sour lack of sweets is thretening to pestify my existence though, and i am concidering taking a stroll down the stairs and buy some. It might just be worth some harassment and other health risks.

I've been pondering if i should take up some form of physical activity on a more than random basis. I've decided to spend some ginehs to figure out if a gym nearby is any good and maybe take some classes. I'm also sliiightly worried that i am taking up smoking again. Since the shisha allready had me hooka'ed (ha ha, pun pun!) it was such a short step into marlbouroism - which is kind of odd concidering i don't spend most of my days shitfaced at Finnegan's anymore but actually face the world with a dusty, sober expression and should now be fully equipped to manage myself more constructivly. Ohwell, i always knew i had no impulse-control.

Speaking of which, Mette, when you read this, get your booty to uni and stop spending your time shitfaced at Finnegans you wee bugger, you know you'll never finish that essay without crying the night before, you dirty *ludder*. (værsågod ;) ) And keep who-you-know out of the muddy waters.

Ok, got to move around a bit my butt is alseep.

PS; This was the day when Deens mate bought him a toiletbrush as a present that he had to drag around campus and to coffeeshops all day.
*note to self; Do that to someone*

PPS; tanned knees down on the veranda. Children screamed at me from windows across the street. Still pale.

=^.^=

Bad moslem

So i definately need a smack on the fingers for being such a bad muslim. Not only did i whore around by sitting in a taxi without a veil, i also went to a cafè where i ate, drank and smoked. Then i went home and had some dirty thoughts and ate chocholate. It had to be said though that whatever virtue-vow the neighbouring men might have made this morning was out the window as soon as i showed my delicate, longsleeved, hooded self tumbeling confused around the street looking for a cab in my oversized glasses and tunika-covered cordtrousers. And they have much more training in this than i do.

Besides, i did really bad on my test today, and something's bleeped up with the Karma-police, cause appearently so did Raeanne, who'se been studying all weekend making flashcards for all the vocab. It could be that the devil on my shoulders got too much of a say when he made me make a hot breakfast which aroma probably reached two hungry buildings away though.

I'm concidering making a naked revolution and take the oportunity to do some tanning on the veranda now that men are actually required to behave themselves. Then again, women are required to help them out more than usual it seems, and i don't think they'll approve of my unorthodox methods, aka figure four. It would be nice to get rid of these t-shirt lines though, i am starting to remind myself of Waldo. Maybe i'll try out a singlet now that most people try to sleep during the days to avoid fasting as much. If i only stay on the veranda, and try to keep low. Baby steps.

Songs i'll try to avoid singing anymore:

Heivenu shalom aleikhem, and Stranger killing an arab (that last one will be tough though)

-kwakkwak

Oh FYI

I'm up, about, clean and ready to hit the books. 3 hrs before my first class.

And dead tired.

(doesalittledance)

Ana mish khowega

So this is the exact moment when i realise i have to get up in 4 hrs to prepare myself for a colloquial-arabic test that i should have been able to slide trough like a buttered penguin on an iceberg by now. That is, however, not the case and i've yet to figure out what the difference between studying at home and studying in general is, or the difference between left and right is for that manner. Studying at all would probably have been the best option in any case, but those who knows me knows i know better than that. Atleast until i'm hyperventilating in a dirty taxi on my way to uni after oversleeping an hour or four, risquing paying too much because i didn't have time to check if i had change for the rascals running this city.

Insh.a.allah Ramadan will start tomorrow and hopefully knock some mercy into their sticky fingers, and perhaps exhaust them enough to count ginehs by the pound rather than with forks. I've been feeling slightly wildandcrazy lately and today i gave one of them in for demanding more than my usual two-pound overprize. Ana mish khowega you feggin moron! and in my mind i added stuff like khamsa gineh kuwais giddan giddan, alibabaman! but i was too busy walking away with just as little dignity as i had when i got in that car, and didn't remember a word of the streetslang i'd just spent 3 hrs practicing. il.ham.dulilfriggen.illeh

-monster