God knows i'm good

I went to the libary in Alex. I don't know if my love for the written word or the tripple coffee on an empty stomach did the trick, but the rare book libary left me all shaky and sentimantal. Ahh the beauty. Apart from that i spent my days in a shishacafè and reading. Oh, and buying scruffy shoes, and tons of books in a bookstore i found down town. Some in both english and arabic. Greatness. Then i caught a bus back home.

So i went home, hung about, surfed the net, read, and wrote. And today i decided to let go of my ameia class. I was at the point where something would have to give, and belive it or not, i think grammar is more important for my learningprocess right now than spoken egyptian. Besides, it was the class i had the least progress in since i came back, yet the most hassle. Khalas. I speak egyptian on a daily basis anyways, and i still have my books if i want to learn on my own.

Run run run run run run run awaaaay dadadadaaaaaaaaaaa

I've ran away.

No worries, i'll probably just stay the weekend, I'm just shutting the world out for a while. At the moment i'm in Alex, After being tricked into an ugly expensive hotel for the night. Yea, that sucks. I don't know if i'll stay or keep going. Just needed to get away and gather my thoughts, i was just about to lose my marbles. Felt good to just take off, i was too exhausted and depressed to go to uni anyways.

I might not stay in uni. I've been behind ever since i came back two weeks after the others, between that and being sick i'm just to demotivated to keep going. We'll see. Atleast i've got a few stolen days to get back on my feet, breathe again (Hamdullileeeeh! Air!)

Last sunday i joined the boxingteam/kickboxingteam. It did me a world of good to just punch loose on something again. I'd forgotten how much i love figthing. The coach helped me alot, picked up on my mistakes (the same old mistakes) right away and gave me some killer exercises with weights to work on. I swear, he'll turn me into a man. The kicking-part though, was non-existent, but i can work on that on my own, it's the punches i'm struggeling with. I was surprised that he didn't correct the boys more though. I saw them fight, and although they seemed to have strenght in their hits, they were fighting like cats, or hysterical women at best. Bad guards and alot of swimming. But by all means, they had potential, and alot of stamina. I'm guessing it's slightly inappropriate for me to work with them, or atleast fight, but maybe thy will let me practice a bit with them. I'm sure we could help eachother out, techniqe-wise if they would just let me.

Did i mention i got a seat right next to the shitter on the train up here? Now that's charming. Mmmm poooooo!

Ohwell, i'll try and keep updated, wish me luck being a blonde travlling alone in the land of crooks.

If you're feeling sinister

I've done nothing. Just felt like confessing to that right away. No reading, looking at papers or studying whatsoever, even though i finally had a chanse to catch up. But no. I read my random Coelho book, surfed the net, started a novel, sent out som St Patrick-day greetings, cut my hair, did my brows. Had tea. Pain au chocolat. Coffe. Pain au chocolat, made dinner, ate, did laundrey (which is quite a handful these days), dishes, surfed, tried to learn the lyrics to a nancy 3ajram-song, made some calls, didn't leave the house. And so the day went. Everyone is gone right now. On trips, or just went home. Feels nice to have some tranquility. I shoe-shopped yesterday, and bought a skirt the day before, to support the Sudanese refugees here (God this country is a shithole when it comes to aid, any aid), and well because i wanted the bloody skirt. Had supper with Elin and her dad before she went home (had a lovely time)

But now instead of getting shitfaced at Finns or with my mates on Mama Dee's couch, or dancing with the irish geezers i have to go to bed and focus on not being somniac when the alarm goes off in a few hrs, so that i can go back to that godforsaken excuse for a learninginstalt and feel like i'm the bad kid in some american highschool-film. I'm such a deer caught i the headlights right now. I know i could do this if it just hadn't been for the system. Yes, i said it. It's just not made for people like me, but by all means, i am happy for the 95% that this actually works for, but i just can't deal with it. I am spending most of my days contemplating social systems, concidering public punishment in particular. The you-will-be-raised-our-way system, and if we fail, you will suffer. I wish people could take more responsibility for their own lives instead of having to be pushed into this pattern of expectencies. Oh well, thank you for joining Anarchy 101. C U Next Tuesday.

I'm an alien

I am doing laundry manually. The washingmachine broke and i have a sore and romantic feeling in my spine.
I have the house to myself for the weekend and i am eating someones pretzles, consuming huge amounts of licorice-tea. (oups, licoriceroot) Annie is leaving tonight and Elin is leaving tomorrow and i am never leaving. Cairo is cold today. I sat down on the veranda to warm up a little and it was even colder outside.

Oh funny story; Rae thought it kind of funny that her wax-lady was named Bussy. (concidering the arabic alphabets closest equalient to P is B). Later on i noticed how local women who are close to eachother, friends or of equal class would use this as a nickname. So i ask my coloquial teacher. Yer, i'm dumb like that. At first she thought i ment boss-ee, as in look here/look at me, but when i explained the context (that it was ovbiously a nickname given between women) she said; Ohhhh no it's not bussy, it's pussy, just like in english, and smiled. Leaving the classroom silent. What is pussy in english? she continued in an educational tone, leaving another ackward moment behind, before one of the girls get herself together and says; Do you mean cat? Like a pussycat? Yes, she said, it's something said between women who are of intimate relations, i could for example never call my boss one, that would be haram. NO SHIT SHERLOCK! So there's a whole culture of women walking around calling eachother pussy as a cute nickname, to show how cool and englishspeaking they are.

I couldn't help but wonder if this was sort of the same as me calling my best friend a cunt. Mette, you're a cunt. And i mean that in the cutest, most international way.

Post vitae

It was partytime. At that point i was still alive, gasping for air. The most ridiculous being on the dancefloor turned out to be a furry excuse for a norwegian. We played it london-mode all night.

I hadn' t been dancing in ages, but when it came down to mingling or moving the choise was utopic. Somewhere down the 2nd winebottle a guy with increasing charm told me i belonged in Sirque deSoleil. Thanks i like your hat too, was my reply and i learned that he had travelled the continents. The birthdayboy was canadian and the prettiest girl there carried a siamese kitten.
The Dj was english but he sounded Australian and hadn't been home in years. The russian-egyptian girl had a real monroe mole and the nativeamerican woman who brought us there told my finnish friend that a photographer wanted to take her picture. It started to occur to me that with my 1/8 swede i was probably one of the more purebred people in the room. Oh wait, that's no a PC term. So my parents could be related for all i know, does that sound better?

I pretended to make out with Elin to save her from one of the egyptians. Annie stared at me in disbelief. What i said, what? she said, why did you put your hand inbetween? Beause poor Elin was allready having a minor seisure from her close-to-rape-experience that's why. Then the night turned blurrier, we got another bottle of wine, we stopped dancing, and appearently Annie and i headed home, and i found myself drunk and confused the next morning over a bottle i appearently must have opened when i got home. After a few hours of powernapping i am currently back on the horse. Drinking wine with americans.

I'm afraid of americans

I procrastinate. I am pulling an allnighter to read for the test i should have done a long time ago when i was busy procrastinating, since i didn't read during the day today, because, you guessed it, i was doing something completely unrelated. I've been drinking heaps of bad coffee to stay awake and sent my tummy in a yallamood, and i've been glaring despeately into my myspacescreen hoping it would save me from the inavoidable. It has now, however, come to the point where i have been forced to narrow my next move down to two possibilities; 1 Take a rather humiliating round on the loo, or 2 Implode. I am sorry for the graphic images, but anyone who hasn't been living in a cave knows how little fun wondering if anyone can hear your pooping is, and i have 3 new flatmates, some of which have boyfriends and friends and aquentances. So much for ever geting any reading done. When i finally finnish shitting around my reading i end up just shitting around. This is the work of the Karma Police.

Get it while you can

So i got out of the sofa, out of Doqqi, out of Cairo and far out in the countryside. Eliza invited me to join her and Leno for a trip out of sin city and into the holy man's church for the day. Joined a couple of random AU and Casapeople along with a few lokal blokes who kept the creepyness to a minimum.

Grabbed a minibus and drove for an hour or two out and away, beyond where the Nile gets clean, air is breathable, traffic eases up, people stop screaming and the world gets green again. We broke bread, smoked shisha, played domino with local children, ate fresh fruit off the trees and rode a pregnant donkey with a little, local girl. Camped on the ground outside an abandoned house with ducks on the roof and self-made water-errogationsystems running around it. A humble mother in and out of her hijab and a husband giving us a tour of the land after we stole his fruit. Grown daughters giggeling the polite way. Every reason to why i once loved this culture, these people and this language came back to me. The arab meal, inviting smiles, insisting friends, sharing your bottom dollar, working along with the earth, this is the true spirit of islam. I'm nothing less than flabergasted over the discussions going on in Bergen at the moment (regarding the citycouncel on prayers on torgalmenningen), and i can only manifest; I may agree or dissagree but I will not be one of you.