I Love Libraries

I love libraries, I really do. I love the soft papery smell and the dense organization and the anticipation of discovering a new favorite book. I love the decadent combination of quiet, solitary engrossment within a literary community.  

Libraries have always been part of my life. As a child, I was a voracious (and rather incorrigible) reader. I spent long hours at the Sweet Home Public Library, not just reading or borrowing books, but also participating in kid-focused activities hosted by the library, especially in the summer. I developed a strong friendship with the head librarian; she didn't even bat an eye when I asked if she wanted to see my newly-aquired handstand skills (I was an *active* reader). There was a great encouragement of literacy from both my parents and my community, and a request to be taken to the library was almost never turned down.

During my years at Miss Porter's School, when the old library on Main Street was still in use, I sought the quiet solitude of its aged nooks and crannies as a respite from the all-pervasive company that was part of boarding school life. I grew to know the floor of the Lewis and Clark library quite well, studying until my eyes fluttered and then curling up under a desk (oh, and there was a reasonable extensive collection of books at the college library as well).

We have discovered some incredible new libraries during the course of our world journey. Some new favorites include the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin, the Bibliotheca Alexandrina in Egypt, and the Trinity College Library in Dublin. Edinburgh has a series of fantastic libraries, including a Map Library. On our final day in Edinburgh we stopped by, hoping to find some original maps done by my cartographer ancestor, John Ogilby.

And I found them! The first was a brilliant "pocket atlas" that charted roads in and out of London using a new and unique strip map technique. I was stunned to realize that the excentric archivist was actually going to let these untrained and potentially grubby paws touch an old and original book, regardless of whether I was a direct descendent. But he did, even though I refused his proposed trade (old map for a dance in the middle of a library, sans music? It begs the question: from where do you glean your knowledge of American women, do you only watch Dancing with the Stars?).

And so I leafed through an incredibly old pocket atlas that contained original prints from copper plates by John Ogilby. And these maps were beautiful and exceptional and rather remarkable. The 'strip maps,' presented within a scroll design, consist of vertical panels that illustrate a road mile by mile. Intricately detailed images embedded in the map (rivers, mountains, mills, churchs, etc) give landmarks that direct the traveler along the correct course. A small compass is also included to indicate the cardinal direction of travel.

These maps were originally published in John Ogilby's "Britannia," in 1675, as the Kings Royal Cosmographer. While at the Edinburgh Map Library, I got my hands on an original printing of Britannia; the content was estentially the same, but with larger maps and accompanying text. I was able to get a fascimile of one of the maps, and will be able to order the rest via mail.

I don't want to say that I was disinterested in my family history before this journey to Scotland, but the connections I encountered have deepened my geneological interest. The Ogilbys are pretty cool.

Certain elements of Scottish culture and traditions resonated with me and recalled pieces of my family and my childhood. When we were children, my grandmother frequently gifted kilts to my sister and me (please note that these were the properly pleated and sufficiently scratchy versions). The song about "Loch Lomond" unburied itself from my memory and has since refused to depart; does everyone know this song?

Turns out that my Scottish blood is thicker than I realized.

Images of fantastic libraries (and many other themes) from around the world can be found at Curious Expeditions.

Read more...

Useful Public Art in the Mediterranean: Murals, Spray Can Art, Mosaics

Murals, spray can art (and illegal graffiti), signage, and public art all play such important roles in defining cities, towns, and urban cultures. Public art viewed from the point of view of the traveler can become windows into the cultural world around us. Art in all its forms enlivens places we visit. For protest, aesthetic, and celebration, they are windows into a new world. Intentional art given for public purpose seems to do most good.

Public art provides a structural usefulness for people who live in the places we visit. It creates a ‘sense of place.’ Murals break up the monotony of hard flat surfaces. They tell stories and pass history between generations. Mosaics are like painting and plastic arts mixed. They seem particularly appropriate and historically resonant in the Middle East and Mediterranean

In Egypt, public art is often filled with ancient symbolism. It is a way to reach back into dim history while bringing forward contemporary aesthetic values. In Alexandria and Cairo, public art is everywhere. Aesthetics are not only on walls and in statues and sculpture put up in prominent locations, but on the painted market carts that rumble gently through the street delivering goods and selling merchandise.

Here in Cyprus, public art and architecture has been a part of public life for literally thousands of years. Villages are built on ruins of older villages containing theaters, frescoes, and mosaics several thousand years ago. But, today, art is increasingly important to meld modern sentiments, expressions, and politics with stories and history of by-gone eras. One particularly smart combination of public art in modern city expression we saw recently in Cyprus was the use of spray can collaborative muraling to surround ancient historic sites under reconstruction Spray Can Artists (graffiti artists who have gotten permission for the placement of their art) compete on tin panels securing restoration sork in the historic center. The contrast of the ancient and the contemporary provide a nice springboard for visitors and locals alike to see themes emerging without vandalism or public conflicts. However, the madcap artistry and tensions expressed by these youthful artists has a temporary functional utility which is sunsetting as the project of restoration moves to completion. Temporary Spray Can Art Installation outside Historic Site - Cyprus

Unlike murals, spray can art, public sculpture or mosaics (where agreements are fixed in advance with private or public property owners for permission to display art)): Graffiti is thought of as having positive and negative effects. But, by definition, graffiti is a nuisance. While it may be beautiful, it creates unbalance as someone has been hurt financially or otherwise. We have seen Roman historic sites 2000 years old spray painted with the usual swear words or propositions of love common n juvenile art. These ugly and selfish displays, which exist everywhere thoughtlessly and without any merit, take away from the artistry of others. Some solutions which we have seen are to provide temporary graffiti boards, to create competitions of juried spray-can art exhibitions, and for owners to turn ver more private and public spaces for display of public arts.

Read more...

Who stands up in the basement cell?

Three women kneel on dusty ground, speaking in hushed tones through a small basement grate. Blue box trucks stack behind them with three little white hats peering off of bench seats out back; smoking, jostling.

Two of the women are older. Dressed in black covering, the eldest has one hand clenched, supporting her heavy weight as she kneels and bends; her other had pressed against the chain grate. She is not crying.

This is a lonely scene. While the bustle of barristers, onlookers, and policemen fill the street; and noise of streetcars and horse bugs clang along the city’s tracks, none pay notice to mourning mothers.

Why bother them? They are doing their duty. They have sacrificed their morning to be here with a lost son and husband. No consolation is as complete as nursing the confidences of their family member.

Who stands up in the basement cell? What is their condemnation?

Life comes to its undesired crossroads when a family member is incarcerated.

Here at this former palace of Alexandria, a long history of cruelties and condemnations have befallen many families. Families plead many loved ones innocence. The blue trucks arrive from across the region. Each carry a single cargo. Each are met by the bearers of family sustenance, suffering, compassion.

During times of capital punishment, the yard beside these courts was stained with a vulgar gaiety of public executions - and beside us lies the graveyard to the condemned. It is a solemn, silent, tombless place.

Northern winds punish the silver grey clouds trying to make land from a cool grey sea. Trashy dust lifts in sighs from around feet and hoof. Horns and calls of vendors go unanswered - are muted against caravans of prison blue trucks.

Authorities outside the court make small talk. They whisper deals on corners and side yards. Silent prayer and broken gazes seem to permeate out from darkened cell windows. Cigarettes are meted out a plenty.

Across the street, more jovial tones of business. Men gather in cafes, smoking sheesha, drinking dark tea, reading newspapers. Could their lives befall the curse of the jailer, the executioner? Maybe some, many not. It is an age old tale of poverty, circumstance, powerlessness. This is the seat of enforced governance.

Three women kneel unobserved by the crowds. They are speaking in hushed tones through a small basement grate. Who stands up in the basement cell? Who draws such selfless love?

The dust will not settle. It is a sand yellow day in shadow. A forgotten graveyard metes out offers.


****
Footnote: This was written in anticipation of probing feminism in the Middle East....

There is no doubt that most of the world lives and suffers highly patriarchal societies. Women are often marginalized populations, not able to enjoy the same freedoms and opportunities as men. While I have read much in Islamic literature here in the Middle East about feminist Islamic society and the equality espoused in the holy Quran towards women, it does not appear so obvious in real life and social norms. I want to know what women would seek to be freer from controls of patriarchal society. The west, where women ostensibly have freedom and opportunity, bears out in statistical data much cruelty and violence directed at women; that does not occur in other more male dominated cultures. How is this possible?

Read more...

A Day at the Beach

On our last day in Alexandria, we went to the beach. I was feeling rather risqué in my mid-calf length skirt and high-necked t-shirt, with a shawl draped loosely around my hair and shoulders. This is a pretty standard outfit of mine, and happens to be the second favorite out of my three. Though a bit wild for wandering the streets of Cairo, this naughty little number caused even more of a scene at the beach. But why?

Obviously some one had been here before. Expectations and assumptions had been created in regards to foreigners at the beach. All eyes were upon us and people tittered at our presence even more than usual. I could only imagine the conversations: “Hey! Look at those foreigners! Maybe they are going to strip off their clothing and run around like lunatics in bikinis and speedos!”

I felt no sadness in disappointing the locals: they didn’t get a show from us. Some very tame basking in the sun (fully clothed), and a brief toe dabble in the crisp sea.

A few couples played in the waves, the women wearing lycra three or four-piece suits that covered their entire bodies. Most wore head veils as well.

Several paces down the beach, a large older woman suddenly charged into the water, breasts swinging wildly under a floating pink floral muu-muu. She plunged into the sea, crashing headlong into the waves, laughing hysterically. Her joy could not be contained, and the infectious and boisterous laughter presented itself as a gift to those within earshot.

As we sat in the sun, watching the waves, I watched a young woman walking along the beach. Of the one hundred or so people at the beach, she was only one of twenty that actually braved the chilly Mediterranean water. She pranced along the edge of the sea, delightedly self-conscious, listening to the tinny music of a cell phone that she carried in her hand. Long, balloon pants clung tightly to her legs with the dampness of salt water, and the layering of three shirts covered fair skin from neck to wrists. Her hair and neck were free of scarf or veil, and she was visibly enjoying the feel of ocean breezes upon her scalp and neck. The young woman held her head high, flipping her braided pigtails about in the wind, and occasionally looking up to smile at the bright sun. She walked the beach, eager to be noticed, and relishing the freedom of a bare, wet head beneath hot sun and strong winds.

The veil or headscarf (hijab) of Muslim cultures is a heavily debated topic. Did you realize that its origins are cultural in nature, and not a result of Islamic teachings? Many Westerners consider hijabs to be an infringement on the rights of women, a form of oppression, and see it as an indication of female subordination. However, is this viewpoint shared by Islam, the “owner“ of this cultural practice? An Islamic text that I read while in Alexandria described the wearing of hijab by Muslim women to prevent harassment and to distinguish themselves from others, as a form of protection. The text relayed that it is important for believers to wear clothing that communicates modesty and reserve in the situations in which they find themselves.

I remember reading a passage in “A Thousand Setting Suns,” written by Khaled Hosseini. Set in Afghanistan, the principal character was discussing her feelings in regards to wearing a burka. She stated that she enjoyed the invisibility and anonymity afforded by her burka. She felt safe from the stares of men, the dirt of the city, and felt comfortable in her veiled camouflage. I certainly remember wishing for a similar camouflage in India, so I can understand the sentiments.

In Turkey, Tunisia, and Tajikistan, all Muslim-majority countries, the wearing of a head coverings has been banned in government buildings, schools, and universities. France has also banned the wearing of hijabs in all educational facilities. Does this seem fair? Who has the right to decide that wearing head scarves is discrimination, that it impedes the rights and freedom of women? It amazes me that people in the world fight this tradition and custom - the motive behind this custom has become so distorted.

Please feel free to share your own thoughts, ideas, or knowledge.

Read more...

The Souk is a Kindred Spirit

written by Nathan

 If China is the world’s largest importer of chicken feet, then Egypt must be the largest importer of beef liver. On the street, three things are ingested daily on every corner; tea (at all hours with sheesha), fuul at lunch (the original refried beans), and evenings are for liver. Use the word ‘sandwich’ at nearly any dining establishment serving food past 5PM and likely this is what you will get.

The souks, normal community food markets, as ancient as this part of the world, sell everything in season. Alexandria, the great port of Egypt, benefits from its delta, the river, and the sea. All sorts of fish and seafood are for sale with three predominant types being traditionally popular: small clams, shrimp, and BBQ whole fish (the BBQ fish is cooked in a crust of flours and spice to a burnt black).

There are all sorts of fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs at the souks. Because ‘lower Egypt,’ has a green belt along the river that gets mild winters with freezes, all sorts of unexpected temperate fruits grow well here: apples, peaches, apricots, grapes, and other fruits are abundant.

Because of the ancient (hot) climate, as is most of the developing world, the market features products which must be consumed the same day. Pita bread, sold hot and fresh in every souk and neighborhood, has a shelf life of hours, not days. Herbs seem to wilt within minutes of being stuffed in bags. And, fruits and vegetables which are most popular will last a couple days without refrigeration.

There are also many things in the market which we don’t recognize: Very bitter brown cheeses we mistook for a sesame sauce; beautiful pans of fresh grape leaves (surrounded by herbs and other greens we never did figure out); new Mediterranean fishes, and volumes of pickled delights.

It would be hard to say what my favorite thing is about the market, strolling it, taking in the vigorous bargaining, the market alley cats, the flop of live fish. Perhaps, it is in finding that perfect ingredient: tiny okra, saffron hued golden smoked fish, ripe strawberries. I think it is the friendship, the bargain, and the universality of merchants mixing with families which draws me to markets. In Egypt, the souk is an age old kindred spirit.

Read more...

The One Pound Falafel Sandwich

El Alamein would be the perfect vacation spot for many persons seeking the sapphire clear waters of Egypt’s Mediterranean. It had been recommended to us by two different English speaking people we encountered, both of whom we had clearly articulated a desire to spend time in Egyptian communities away from the usual tourist path. We got our usual information on buses and made our way there without a hitch; (1.50 L) for two taxis to Muharambek Station and right onto the minibus to El Alamein (11 L).

The buses make record time along the flat coastal highway and an hour later the first 80 km were completed including Alexandria traffic. However, only 25 km out we began to wonder if the view of the sea was ever going to appear from behind the curtain of master planned communities, condos, and resorts lining the beaches.

Upon arrival in El Alamein our worst fears were realized. El Alamein, historic for its enormous foreign graveyards, is like an oversized truck stop on the wrong side of the highway. We were faced with a dilemma - go on with hope that the resort blockade would eventually end, or turn back and return to our lovely sea view and Hotel Normandie in Alexandria.

We didn’t want to give up too easily. So, we took a walk circling the town. It was fruitless; that is except for seeing a departure of the afternoon train which we would have run to catch for some variety if it had been a few steps closer and a little bit slower (a good thing too, as we never saw tracks again and now assume it was either direct to Cairo or to some oasis in the heart of the Sahara Desert).

When we got round to the minibus stand we immediately commandeered a front seat on the first bus heading back. Knowing the bus could fill up quickly, we went off to grab a quick lunch of falafel sandwiches and a delicious eggplant, tomato, french fry and onion sandwich. The sandwiches are always accompanied by a variety of spicy pickled vegetables which are too spicy for Brittany (carrots, pickles, hot peppers, cauliflower, etc.)

Ok, so the whole trip there and back was four hours, four bucks (US), and an interesting experience (especially for an urban planner/hotel operator totally opposed to sprawl, unsustainable development, and privatization of public spaces). We certainly would have chosen to spend our day differently had we known better.

Lonely Planet or Footprint Guidebooks would have really helped here. We had maps of the coast, information from locals, a sense that El Alamein was far enough from Alexandria; and, the place had been described as having only old foreigner graveyards of interest; but, a quick Google search (we were on the internet posting blogs this morning in preparation for getting away from civilization) would have probably given us all the information we needed not to go.

So going guidebook-less has its costs. An adventure in the sprawling overdevelopment of the Egyptian deserts spilling into the lapping crystal waters and sunshine of the Mediterranean. Now, we just have to find a local avenue (trolley anyone?), to dip our toes in those alluring silky waters here in Alexandria. There is another hidden cost also, we are trying to green our travels. We took two seats on the local minibus that would have been filled by others. So, we need to use our carbon cost calculator to figure out how many extra trees we need to plant to offset our misadventure.

Moral to the story: People will not make exceptions for their perception of what they think you like even when you explicitly think you are telling them you’re not interested in tourist things. Do your research.

Read more...

Imagining Backpacking Without Plastic

Today I tried to imagine a backpacker without plastic…it’s hard to do! So much of our journey depends on plastic: purified water, laminated passports, debit cards, 3oz conditioner and sunscreen and insect repellant bottles. I would be nearly blind without my big plastic sunglasses in the bright Mediterranean sun. Our camera records visual memories, and our external hard drive stores writings and music and digital maps. Imagine trading in our laptop for a pencil (no rubber eraser) and un-bound paper. Imagine a sketch pad and paintbrush instead of a Sony cyber shot. Imagine toting ceramic or glass containers instead of Tupperware for leftovers and meal prep. Imagine no zippers on our backpacks or buttons on our pants. No swimsuits, no headphones, no Bandaids, no duct-tape, no sleeping bags, no playing cards, no headlamp. How drastically our trip would change if we culled everything that contained plastic.

And that extensive list simply encompasses just some of the material things that we carry with us. Our everyday travel consumes plastic at an alarming rate, even with a conscientious effort to decrease our usage. We carry extra plastic bags so as not to accumulate more, but shopkeepers all around the world like to double and triple bag things. Even if we purchase home-made, natural chips, they come in a bag, which is then placed in a bag. With a frequent language barrier, a request or charade that indicates, “please, we don’t need a bag” is lost in the gap. When we try to hand the plastic bag back, it usually is just thrown away, unused.

Although we have traveled through a few regions of the world that have placed a ban on plastic bags (Mussoorie and Jabalpur, India), and though many places choose to use alternatives (oftentimes in India we received nut mixes in handmade paper bags, served delicious beans in biodegradable bowls shaped from leaves, and handed FanMilk ice cream wrapped in sections of paper while in Ghana), efforts are not global. Sometimes it feels that the efforts of some are overshadowed by the inattention of others.

But the solution seems too simple not to be widespread….just stop using plastic bags! Place a huge tax on plastic bags, make them more expensive, charge people for them. Is it really so hard? Are we really so addicted to thin, easily-torn, completely disposable plastic bags? It seems that we are.

We are all connected, sometimes in positive ways, sometimes in negative ones. The plastic pollution of our seas and airspace impacts the entirety of our species. Last night we watched a documentary called “Addicted to Plastic.” While not the caliber of a Michael Moore or Lolis Eric Elie documentary, the movie makes you think. It makes you reflect and increase your awareness (and so associated impact) of plastic use.

It’s good to be cognizant and aware, even if you can’t completely change your behaviors. Make a list of all the plastic in your bathroom. In your kitchen. In your car. Simply think about it, for that is a step in the right evolutionary direction. And, when you are thinking green, think outside of the box. Shortly after Hurricane Katrina, when our green friends and architects were disposing of newly found wealth, many chose to trade in gas guzzling SUVs for hybrid green vehicles. While their intentions were good, the truth is that the environmental cost of manufacturing that new product is much, much higher than simply driving the ‘older model’ another few years.

Some plastic parts of our lives are nearly impossible to change: wooden cellphones, or fred-flinstone, tire-less style cars are *slightly* impractical. But other simple solutions make a collective difference. Wooden reusable chopsticks are way cooler than plastic sporks. Canvas shopping bags are much classier than plastic ones. Try eating at the restaurant instead of getting take-out. Have you ever been to a store that has bulk shampoo instead of buying a new bottle every two months (shout-out to Periwinkle Provisions in Sweet Home, Ore.)?

Please share your tips and tricks to avoiding unnecessary plastic use. The comment feature in blogger is very tricky, using the “Anonymous” option for leaving a comment seems to have the best results.

Addicted to Plastic mentions several very cool companies, more information and links can be found below (but seriously, watch the movie on your plastic DVD player if you get the chance):

TieTek, LLC in Houston Texas: when the city stopped recycling, this company came up with a solution. TieTik takes any and all waste plastic (from tires to household plastics), melts it down, and turns the product into plastic railroad ties. These ties are then sold to railroad companies all over the country. TieTek ties last longer than wood, are impervious to termites, can be melted down and used again and again, and because all railroad ties are uniform in size, only one mold is used.

Agri-Plas, Inc. in Oregon: focuses especially on the agriculture waste products like baling twine, plastic flower pots, plastic sheeting. It processes 15% of the state’s waste. Baling twine is melted down to make truck bumpers, while flower pots are turned into more flower pots.

Interface, Inc. in Georgia: Recycles any and all plastic components into new carpets, efforts are powered by methane from the local landfill. “Landfills are the oil mines of our future!” the CEO says hopefully.

UniquEco in Nairobi, Kenya: Knits plastic bags into purses for resale. Employs locals and pick up plastic bag trash. Flip flops are collected from beaches and towns and then cored out to make curtains, jewelry, and knick-knacks.

Global Mamas in Ghana: recycles plastic water bags and other disposable trash into a variety of resale items.

Read more...

Eqyptian Charms

written by Nathan

Cairo, Egypt land of ancient civilizations. We are feeling quite at home here. It is not just the cosmopolitan character of Cairo, the port city air of Alexandria, but the feeling of an Arabic Melting pot which has been so welcome to us. It is a megalopolis stretching from Cairo to the sea - diverse and developed, proud and confident.

Life is a tangle of friendliness. The charms of the streets are found in the morning and evening. In the neighborhoods at various hours of prayer, competing mosque sirens wail from every corner.

As usual, children and old folks are very interested and engaging. People can be approached easily (and will try to help- but outside the tourist center English is not prevalent)

Egypt, (Cairo and Alexandria) are places we immediately fell for. The combination of mixes of mostly early 20th century architecture - wide boulevards with tiny ancient streets branching off; easy transportation systems; and varied delicious Arabic cuisines - make the cities totally approachable.

Contrary to our normal approach to travel. Egypt is just too rich with history to miss some of the biggest tourist sites. We have visited both the pyramids and the Egyptian Museum and been delighted by both in spite of tours buses and tour massive groups. In both places, we used our knowledge of tour group behaviors to steer around the crowds. We were at the Pyramids at opening (8:30) and rushed past the Great Pyramid to get away from the onrush. Once away from the crowds it is easy to find places where the tour groups are not. The Pyramid ’campus’ is an enormous space and totally open for exploration. We particularly enjoyed being ‘explorers’ getting into the recently uncovered and under reconstruction support tombs of engineers, architects, captains of the army, and those whose small tombs are littered like a tomb city surrounding the pyramids.

**** While it is always advisable to learn some of any language before visiting a new country, Arabic is very inviting to us. For one thing, there are so many words that were incorporated into Spanish that we know our knowledge of Spanish will help. More importantly, Arabic is such a large language. I have now added it to the ‘world’s important languages’ list which I espouse too often to those interested in learning languages or how we travel without them. My previous list, to which Arabic is now added, was Spanish, Mandarin, and French [English, of course, is native to me, but would be top on the list for people from non-English speaking countries].

Read more...

A Glimpse of Alex

Here in Alexandria, the tangy Mediterranean air brings to life the smells of the city, and the salty air seems to amplify smells as does salt to food. The fragrance of dripping bunches of parsley and cilantro and dill and the creamy fluff of fresh feta cheese winds amidst the smoky tendrils of sheesha coming from the men seated at outdoor cafés.

Narrow streets carry the scents of buttery croissants being pulled from vast ovens and the brilliant gasps of succulent flowers in the form of essential oils. Mountains of cookies and pastries oozing with gritty fig paste haunt the early mornings. And the soft smells of pillowed pita bread heaped upon wheeled carts and the dusky smell of carriage horses line the waterfront promenade.

On the other side of the lagoon, close to the water, shrimp are artfully arranged into piles according to price. The elaborate designs remind me of bento boxes of the East: patterns and shapes and curves formed by crustacean bodies. Smoked fish of burnished gold are placed, four to a group, in hand-woven wicker baskets.

Cats stalk the restaurants, hopping atop the tables to steal scraps before waiters come to clear the dishes, clawing the upholstered chairs to shreds when no one is watching. They sprawl over entire park benches, curl up on car hoods in the warm morning sun, and self-righteously take their places along market stalls and beneath shwarma ovens, awaiting a savory mishap in their favor.

Dark eyes hover beneath bruised lumps on the foreheads of Muslim men; badges of devout daily prayer are visible testaments to strong faith. The melodic low tones of evening prayer sweep hauntingly below the shrill honking of taxis and the rumbling of city buses.

A port of call that feels like home, one to which we will soon return.

Read more...

You look Egyptian

We could not have known, before coming here, that there are so many different looks of people in Egypt. Suddenly, we see the faces of so many people we have known. Blue, brown, and green eyes, blonds and brunettes, very pale and jet black complexions, broad, flat, and hooked noses. This is not how media or education portrays middle easterners.

Differences of appearance are not only visible in skin, eye, or hair colors but also in how people choose to express themselves. For women, by example, style can be totally western - make-up and a perm with jeans and high heels, or, more commonly, western clothing with a head scarf. Also common here are full body covering robes with gloves and socks. Older women are generally covered, (as they are married); importantly, though, all these women are interacting with each other without any overt disagreement or dislike.

While we realized quite early that greetings of, ‘You look Egyptian,’ on the streets was just a common catch phrase to get your attention to buy tours, miniature plastic pyramids, or papyrus paintings; with a decent repertoire of Arabic and proper head covering, anyone could ‘go Egyptian.’ In addition to ‘European’ looking passerbys we see plenty of Asians from Muslim countries walking the streets here. Our country, the USA, and Europe, like to hold themselves up as melting pots; but the Mediterranean still fosters the exchange of cultures, looks, and camaraderie for which it was know millennia earlier.

Read more...