DIY Backpacker Spa

By special request, here is blog devoted exclusively to a DIY Backpacker Spa.

Trekking the world in flip-flops with a unwieldy backpack that seems perpetually affixed to your body, a backpacking gal deserves a spa night as often as she can get one. Even though some international destinations have beauty treats for the budget-minded girls, these 'fine establishments' don't always give you that pleasant, anticipatory feeling....more like a sensation that makes you duck your head and rush by with great haste, ignoring the sing-song voices trying to lure you into certain discomfort and unease.

So, when you need a break from the dusty trail, try some of these easy, inexpensive, and easy-to-find spa ideas!

SUGAR SCRUB: take a tablespoon of sugar (unrefined works best) and place it in a dampened palm. Mix one drop of shampoo or liquid soap and a few drops of water and apply in circular motions to rough skin. Good for hands, feet, elbows, etc. Wonderful solution for peeling beach skin, overgrown cuticles, itchy feet, and general exfoliation purposes. Make sure you rinse well to avoid sticky skin. Licking off the sugar is a possibility but not recommended (remember the soap....).

JOJOBA OIL: A little bit of jojoba goes a looooong way. Add a few drops to the palm of your hand, rub hands together to warm, then apply to face, hands, legs, arms, anywhere! Jojoba is the closest thing to the composition of natural skin oil, so it's great for every part of your body. Also great for dry scalps and chapped lips. Great option for a hot oil treatment for hair: microwave a small amount and then apply to hair (especially to the ends). Let sit for 30 minutes, shampoo/condition as usual.

UMBRELLA SPA: Yearning for a sauna? You need look no further than the bathtub in your (hopefully more quaint than questionable) hostel room. Run the bath hot, hot, hot, then climb in. Open an umbrella above your head (the possibility of bad luck is SO worth the risk) and let the steam collect under it, enveloping your mind and head in soft, thick warmth. Settle back, smile, and ignore the other backpackers banging on the door.

TEA TREE OIL: A natural antiseptic, tea tree oil is a potent oil from Australia. A drop mixed with water makes a great face toner, killing bacteria and germs and backpacking grime build-up. Add a few drops to a small tub for soaking tired feet. In a hot bath, tea tree oil will help congestion and cough, invigorating your senses!

TEA BATH: No matter where you are, herbs and spices are sure to be found. Shop around for some local treats to add to bathtime! Favorites of mine were Jasmine Tea Bath in China, Dried Rose Bud Bath in Morocco, Mint Tea Bath in Egypt, Rosemary Bath in Italy, and Lavender Bath in France. Be a tea bag and soak for a while!

AVOCADO: Not just for guacamole anymore! As a certain friend might vividly remember, avocado is filled with nourishing oils and is just the ticket to soothing dry, parched skin (especially sunburns). Slather it on, let it sit, rinse. Try not to use soap, as it will strip away the lovely oils that have soaked into your skin. Serve nachos or burritos for dinner in a dimly-lit room and hope that your friends don't notice your funny smell or greenish tinge.

On the road or nestled at home, have a backpacker spa night!

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Rewards for Travelers of Time and Patience

Two key ingredients which we have found for enjoying and getting the most out of your travel are patience and time.

One must have the patience to enjoy your time. And you get more time with patience. We have been told this any number of ways by other travelers and locals we met.

A reader may be surprised to know that we cannot describe with any confidence places that we have been in Japan, Italy, Egypt or the Balkans (and yet, we have impressions and still might recommend them).

Due to our impatience or to a lack of time when visiting these wonderful lands, the times there have faded quickly. What we do have from each are place markers signaling to return whenever we can.

But, could we have done any differently?

There are experiences which linger. Even in Morocco, where I am writing now, I might best describe a moment, a sound. We just have acquired enough patience to be in a new land.

We have still not described above what is for time to come to a traveler. But, finding time or living it - it has its own rewards.

Time is strange. Time is often blurred with jetlag, different daylights, late nights, or morning confusion waking up to an uncertain new space. It is lit up, fluorescent, flickering, passing.

Time is never within our control - and that is its reward. Time is less our control while traveling. It will take place when we let it, no sooner.

The rewards of these qualities which are critical to finding your way out of tourism and into new forms of in-place, culturally contacted, and local travel are Time and Patience.

It is hard to visit any place quickly and get more than cursory glances of a passer-by, [train] stations, and blurry highways.

Being patient, however, earns friendship and respect abroad.

[This blog I would partly connect to not traveling as light as possible - more weight on your shoulders (or precious cargo) - less inspirationally jumping to places without planning. Time is patient.]

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A Blog for Chris (or, What to Pack for Egypt)

What to wear in Egypt? As per the general rule for short-term travelers, pack lightly and buy things there. Egypt is predominantly Muslim, so a headscarf will be necessary for visiting the many beautiful mosques. The headscarf may also make you feel more comfortable….all the girls are doing it! In the same cover-up style, most women wear long skirts and long-sleeve shirts. As a foreigner you always get a passcard and people don’t think too much of it when your arms and legs are bare. However, as long as you don’t open your mouth (unless you speak Arabic), and you are wearing longsleeves and long skirt, you can pass for Egyptian….this can sometimes be more comfortable than the oggles and stares. Egyptian girls wear tank tops, but only over lycra long-sleeve shirts.

A month ago, Alexandria was windy and cool. I was happy to have a light sweatshirt and long pants. However, the wind was also a bit sassy and I had a few unexpected ‘Marilyn moments.’

If balloon/Arabian-style pants are all the rage where you live (I have no idea, I‘ve been gone so long), and you love them, there are great ones to buy in Egypt. Cairo is also filled with expansive shoe stores with plenty of greek-style sandals and fancy heels.

If you plan on swimming at the beach, bring a modest suit, or prepare yourself for the dramatic statement you will make. Or you could also buy a very appropriate full-body swimsuit once you arrive.

Consider bringing a floppy hat to beat the heat, especially if you aren’t keen on the headscarf. I found that a scarf tied around my head really helped to block some of the hottest sun rays. Millions of headscarves in all hues and patterns can be found for very cheap all over Cairo.

I functioned quite well in my flip-flops and wore nothing else. But as previously mentioned, you can find some great shoes upon arrival if you find yourself in need of some stilettos or fun sandals.

But really, nothing more specific comes to mind. Bring comfortable stuff, but leave lots of room in your bag for new things you will buy in Cairo! 

Can't wait to see you.

xoxoxo

brittany

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Straying from the Asphalt

We have now passed through many tourist destinations of the world: The National Gallery in Washington D.C., USA; The Lucy Museum in Changsha, China; elaborate temples and parks in Bankok, Thailand; rock hewn churches and ancient lakes in Ethiopia; a slave fort museum in Cape Coast, Ghana; the Pyramids and Egyptian Museum in Cairo, Egypt; and ancient Roman ruins in Turkey.

We are tourists, oh yes we are.

Much as we like to put ourselves in a different category and call our travels “off the beaten path,” you will sometimes find us alongside the masses. It is fairly difficult for us to place ourselves so fully and intentionally on a path shared by so many people. But we go, for there is something to be said for a site or object that attracts tourists from all of the world: it is most likely remarkable and exciting and absolutely worth seeing.

There are extreme differences between travelers, and visiting tourist destinations highlights and defines these differences in new ways. We see tour groups and independent tourists, guides and translators, drivers and hotel touts, tour packages and buses. We see all different nationalities and hear all varieties of language being spoken.

And to be honest, we are terribly critical of tour groups. We poke unnecessary fun as the accessories of tour groups. Whether matching water bottles or baseball hats or t-shirts or stickers, they bear the club insignia with some sense of pride. I guess that in a foreign land, it feels good to belong to something.

I was stunned by the silent tour groups shuffling through the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Each member of the tour had a headset through which they could hear the voice of their tour guide, standing tens of heads away. Arms folded, faces dour, they all looked bored to death. It was easy to avoid these groups for they all moved as a great amoeba; stragglers were nonexistent.

A few days ago, caught in the tentacles of the tourist-driven Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, we burst (rather frantically) out into the normalness of a city street. There we saw the member of a tour group, a bright number 3 blazing on her shirt, obviously separated from her herd. We were delighted to see that her split was unquestionably intentional as she wandered the street with ease and comfort and interest.

In Ethiopia we saw tour buses speeding through the scorching desert sun of Ethiopia, the windows filled with pasty tourists cloaked in heavy sweaters to combat the icy bus air-conditioning. Tourism in Ethiopia was usually a packaged deal: tour and guide and hotel and shopping were all wrapped together, with comfortable shuttle buses ferrying to and fro.

While in Egypt, we visited the pyramids at Giza. We took the Cairo metro out to Giza Station, then caught a local bus, and walked the rest of the way. Our early morning efforts were rewarded when we arrived as the gates were being opened. However, the tour buses moved quickly through the site and soon left us in the dust. I was frantically urging Nathan along, “come on! We have to get ahead of all of these people!” I probably would have been running had he not been with me. But in fact, we were surprised not to have much interference from the tour groups at all. You might have been amazed by the lack of other people in our photos from the Pyramids. Want to know our trick? We strayed from the asphalt. Most other visitors to the pyramids drive from site to site in the tour bus, briefly alighting at each stop. We trucked through the entire place in flipflops, though heat and wind and dust. And it was magnificent; we felt like explorers.

While pausing at the ancient theater at Termessos, Turkey, we were joined at the space by a group of ten or so middle-aged American tourists. They were boisterous in their excitement, exclaiming with joy and amazement. We watched them, eating our bread and cheese and tomato sandwiches, comfortable in our distance. Though many members of the group departed after a few minutes, a trio of three woman dismissed the urgings of their guide and steadfastly refused to leave. “You can go ahead, we aren’t leaving yet. We have some chanting to do.“ The tour guide, slightly bemused, left them to their presumed insanity, urging them to catch up soon. The ladies sat together, chatting and laughing for a short while. Then they collected themselves and uttered harmonic chants into the acoustical vastness of the ancient theater placed high up on a mountain. I truly respected their intentions and appreciations of the space and the moment.

The truth is, while I criticize tourists and tour groups, there are always anomalies. And isn’t going to the Egyptian Museum with a tour better than never going at all? I think so. And I must give credit to all travelers, regardless of their style. For it takes work and effort and bravery to embark out into the world, outside of your comfort zone, regardless of the path.

So cheers to the travelers of the world, even though my path takes me off the asphalt.

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Honey Service Cyprus-Turkey

Honey Service Cyprus-Turkey

I.

Our trip to Cyprus has been a whirlwind. We have had highs and lows, mostly stemming from a lot of carrying our luggage further than we wanted to or needed to. That said, Cyprus has been a real honeymooner sopt for us. We were whisked out of the airport to downtown Larnaca in a late model Mercdes Sedan Limo-Taxi, our first night was spent in a untra modern very sleek hotel, and we have crisscrossed the island - meeting new friends all along the way. It is great.

The moments of agony sweating down charming streets carrying our heavy loads only to not find any ‘Panysions’ local guest house, will disappear and become positive memories. Our journey this year is to always be in service, though exchange and small actions, and, through this blog.

Cyprus was chosen by us not because it was a place we coveted visiting; but, more as a luxury weigh station on the way from Egypt to Turkey. We have picked up a much faster pace since leaving Africa as we are wanting to join our friend in Nice, France the third week of June.

So, how to be in service for such a brief visit to Cyprus?

We had arrived during the latest in a long string of peace conferences organized by the UN and various governments of Europe to try and reconcile the Greek/Turkish division which has taken place since 1974. So, our first idea was to talk peace, to bring an outside set of eyes and ideas to the island, and to promote Cypriot resolution in the context of the difficulties or successes we have found in other lands.

But, as I have said, we have had our own difficulties here. While it was so comforting to arrive in Cyprus at the brand new Larnaca airport; to glide along the walking escalators; to be greeted by gracious and efficient customs officials; to peer through windows of flat screen advertising in modern showy style; and, like I mentioned, tp take our first luxury limo ride as newlyweds (this was due to a 1a.m. arrival and not because of choosing this over our usual public transportation offerings); Cyprus soon grated on us. We were immediately discontent. My wife wondered aloud, ‘Is this what it is going to be like to be back in the USA? Surrounded by all of this stuff and disliking it? Have we become so accustomed to standards of living in poorer countries that the standards of our own culture repulse us?” It was a valid question.

In Cyprus, wealth is everywhere. It is an offshore banking capital for Europe, so there are banks and accounting firms. It is a resort island, so there are real estate offices selling condos in large new developments and waterfront towers. But I was not so sure it was only wealth, modernity, and the ugly side of ‘gold rush’ type Real Estate Development which was making us so ill at ease. We had been in Hong Kong, Shanghai, Tokyo, also gleaming and new, Filled with wealth, but somehow they had a different class, the value of money was not the predominate aesthetic. Here it was pervasive, unbalanced.

So, we left Larnaca. We woke up, walked around town, dipped our toes in the ocean (where there was a wonderful contrast, teenagers frolicking on break next to rows of empty umbrellas and chairs lined up facing the ocean - from the front row back with front row seat clearly the ideal spot) ; and, at the end of the town beach, and old man, clearly a long time resident, carrying bags of trash which he probably collects daily out from the beach. The old man, and the children’s play both lifted our spirits.

We checked the bus schedule, headed back to pack [our hotel had an interesting concept, nice modern rooms but no frills: 10 a.m. checkout, 8 Euro remote control use, 3 Euro bag check, 2 Euro towel, 5 Euro per hous internet, 10 Euro room clean etc]. instead of walking to the bus, we decided to give an effort at hitching. So, here begins our service journey in Cyprus…

II.

Our first ride came quickly, we had moved up the street from Hellenic Bank, where we finally retrieved enough Euros to feel we could get through a day or two. In front of a local fruit truck, almost immediately a pleasant single woman, Leza, in a brand new Volvo sedan pulled over - offering a smile and a lift. Her first sentence was something like, “Cypriots don’t see to much hitchhikers, but, I lived in England until I was 21 and I am happy to giver you a lift.” She was on her way to work, but went out of her way to bring us to the right intersection, and we departed with her telling us that if we did come back to Larnaca she would love to have us over for some wine or a dinner.Leza said that tourism made it more difficult to enjoy Cyprus; but that she especially liked Larnaca’s working town vibe; and that it still preserved much Cypriot way of life. We applauded her kindness and promised to stay in touch.
Brittany the hitchiker

Our next ride arrived even faster. Out the (right) driver side door popped a pregnant blond woman who motioned for us to load our stuff in her trunk where she would make space for us. Her name was Dorotha. She was from Poland, a singer, a salsa dancer and instructor, and an expectant mom and soon to be bride. We learned so much from Dorotha as she drove us half way across the island to the capital of Nicosia.

Since Dorotha, we have wanted to hitchhike only. We did catch public transport from just outside the great walled city to get to Kyrenia. We were in the process of trying to hitch when a humbler Mercedes pulled up and motioned for us to get in. As it turned out, this was a sky blue stretch vintage limousine now converted into a shared taxi. It filled up quickly and we were on our way.

South Cyprus (known as Turkish Occupied Cyprus in most of the western world) had preserved the charms of what Cyprus was probably like before the civil war. There were old buildings, people gathered in the street at parks and cafes, and the high end brand stores and skinny busty dress were not as much in vogue. I commented to Brittany that at one public square in North Cyprus close to the edge of the border, I felt a seemliness that reminded me of Thompson Square in the east village of NYC before it reached the high pace of gentrification. Prostitutes, old men, high end shoppers, immigrant laborers, punk teenagers, and flocks of oblivious tourists all were using the square mostly unaware or through ignoring each other.

We have been picked up by two Nottingham Knights (in current incarnations as plumbers) who brought us to our lovely camp site. They told us camping would be fine, just to keep an eye out for vipers. We were picked up in a big Mitsubishi work truck by a local Cypriot who picked us up and drove us slowly across the island occasionally explaining that his truck was ‘engine too hot’ and overheating. Then, we were whisked back too quickly from this far flung peninsula by a younger Turkish Cypriot who shared his own success in the rental car business as a parable for how business has boomed and busted since the 2004 opening of borders. When I enquired if he could draw a parallel for us between the conflict in Cyprus and the occupations in Palestine and other parts of the Middle East. He gave us a very dignified and reasonable answer, ‘I could not answer that question because I do not know what happens in Israel and Palestine. I do not live there,” he began, “But I am from here, and I can tell you that Cyprus has a conflict between peoples who are the same people - but we just cannot live together.” He went on to say that he did not think there would ever be a resolution, “I have seen so many presidents and governments,” he told us, “They are all the same, nothing changes and none of them offer new ideas or prospects of peace.” “The problem,” he told us, “Is that the Greek population is four times as big as the Turkish population. And, the Turkish populations hass always been poor, while the Greek population is rich. They have more than 4 million visitors a year while we have less than 150,000.” As with all the people we have met hitchhiking, we gave him our card, asked him to read and respond to our blog posts, and to come and visit us in one of the places we live (where maybe the view of our own conflicts in the Americas would give some insight into ways to bring peace to this small, historic and sentimental island). We all act to exchange good will.


So we have found service, again, in Cyprus: We outspokenly discuss the prospect of peace and prod all those we meet to give us the reasons why it is not occurring; we meet people who will pick up hitchhikers and describe our journey (while at the same time, we wave to those who smile but point that they are not going our way; and, perhaps, we help those who cannot pick up hitchhikers for fear of encountering the other to productively question themselves and what it is that prevents them from wanting to pick up a couple of bright-eyed smiling, ostensibly innocuous people such as us).


And, then we look for our service projects where we can create them. I am writing this blog from our campsite on metamorphic rock cliffs high above the setting sun and the Mediterranean. I spent part of the afternoon picking up plastic bags along the cliffs. I would like to pick up more trash in the crevasses below, but the cliffs are treacherous, the rocks sharp, and I can do more on top than below. Brittany too picked up trash at a remote beach we visited near Turtle Bay. She tossed industrial plastic containers up from the tidal edge and carried an enormous diesel oil filter left leaking on the sands out to the side of the road. We try not to leave much of a footprint. We still struggle to not be given bags at stores and to have our items packed together or more lightly, we ‘pack it in pack it out’ much probably to the chagrin of a beautiful large red Cyprus fox which just approached me as I typed this. [Later we saw his mate with her four beautiful ox cubs rollicking in the sands and carved sea rocks below our camp].

We have realized that our service is often not so much in direct action, or projects, as it is in the promotion of ideas, in the rousing aptitude for harmony with peoples, in our cultural ambassadorship. We can leave the world in small ways better than we found it. For this journey, it is a start, it must be enough.

In about 72 hours in Cyprus, we have seen a lot, greened our travel a little further, heightened our awareness of the problems of rampant and unmitigated consumption, and worked for peace. At this pace, Europe will have a lot to gain by our visit.




III.

Hitchhiking in Turkey has been easier than we thought. We had some delightful and long rides, usually accompanied by generous hospitality in forms of exchanges of fresh fruit and chai tea. Some highlights have included: Brittany’s first ride in a ‘big rig’ which she hooked for us singlehandedly while I had my back briefly turned; a charming Turkish ex-pat Memet living in Zurich who really struggled with us to use German to make sense of the world; and a kind petrol operator who drove us 300k. - each of whom never tried to use English, nor us Turkish, but we all used a combination of charades, repetitious phrases at obvious moments, and all kinds of smiles and friendly gestures. With new friend Memet - Turkish chai and cherries for a break

We did break out our ‘Point It’ travelers universal language book during chai breaks causing additional good feelings as we saw together that when travel is put into photo images our common language needs are much simpler than we imagined. How do we make a picture for “Thank you.” to send to the ’Point It’ guides?

For those people who want to ‘green’ their adventure trail and go local, I think that team hitchhiking is a valuable way to experience ambassadorship, local hospitality, and share messages of interconnectivity. While Americans have a view of hitchhiking a dangerous and vagrant it does not have to be this way; the best way too change this is to break the mold and change the status quo; if hitching were to become as comfortable as it appears to us in Europe, we could all help dissolve barriers and build new friendships between peoples. In the process, you will: fill empty seats reducing carbon usage, find unexpected locations, make friends, and be an ambassador for how you want to represent your country.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Islam and Equality

written by Nathan

Visiting Egypt has been a lesson in ethnic diversity and cooperation. It is a place that has worked for more than fifteen centuries on nondiscrimination based on gender, race, or ethnicity. While it would be overly simplistic to say that this has always been successful or that no prejudices or sexism exist here today, it is a concept which comes directly from the most ancient teachings of Islam. [Islam makes it very clearly a sin to prejudice. Mohammad, in his last sermon says, “You are all equal. Nobody has superiority over others except through piety and good action.”]

As the teaching on righteous love of all humanity has been passed through to the modern age, Egypt has developed without the visible and suppressive context of racism. There are likely many forms of discriminations which are not obvious, many lower classes of people have not received the same levels of education and opportunity as some in the upper classes. But the genuine politeness, civility, respect, and equality in the interactions we see on the street here are a very important lesson for those of us who have come from places with more discriminating and prejudicial cultures or political classes. In Islam, the prophet Mohammad is very explicit, “An Arab is not superior to a non-Arab, and a non-Arab is not superior to an Arab. A white has no superiority over a back, nor does a black have superiority over a white. You are equal.”

Before ever arriving, I was expecting friendliness in the Arab world. Both my parents and grandparents had spent considerable time here before I was born and spoke very highly of the virtues of hospitality, generosity, and piety here.

With my grandfather, I had seen a ‘conflict of the Middle East’ from a USA perspective occurring in miniature, right before my eyes. After my grandmother had passed, my grandfather had mover in with one of his younger sisters, so that they could look after each other. But brother and sister had very different political views: my Aunt Inez was the spokesperson and matriarch for the most firebrand republicanism; my grandfather a ‘dyed in the wool’ progressive democrat. The two of them played out conflicts America was having in their living room; as the build up to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq swirled around us all.

Most of their conflict occurred in front of the TV. Like many Americans, they were divided along media lines. When my Great-Aunt had on FOX news, my grandfather would berate the television as slanderous. When he would have his NPR tuned to the kitchen radio, Aunt Inez would ask him to please, ‘turn off that liberal mouthpiece.’ So, it went on.

But, my grandfather had lived with people of the Middle East. He knew them intimately. His coworkers had depended on him; and, they had saved his life on several occasions. This is why my grandfather was so distraught during his last years, over the conflicts erupting in the Middle East. He had lived all over the world and spent most of this time living in many different countries of the Middle East. He would tell me often (and FOX news during the staged conflicts performed by actor/news people), “Those Arabs are the kindest, most generous people in the world. This war is about lies!” I know better now how right he was…

Conflicts in the world, whether in the Middle East or elsewhere have not gone away entirely, despite the advocation of peace by Mohammad, Jesus, Buddha, Ghandi or the like. However, harmony between peoples occurs everywhere. The way we see this generalized non-prejudice manifested in Egypt is in the interactions which we see between people. There are couples of differing complexions. There are people of dark color in positions of power. More important, there is a general harmony. Missing in Egypt is the class and racial prejudice which is so internalized and oppressive in our western make up.

Now, it is easier to understand how truly devout Muslims, from parts of the world with great religious conflict, benefit from their Islamic pilgrimages. They can see with their own eyes and understand non-prejudice and cooperation and be hopeful. As Malcolm X said when he went to Mecca to perform Hajj: “My pilgrimage broadened my scope. It blessed me with new insight….I saw what I never had seen in thirty-nine years in America. I saw all races, all colors - blue eyed blonds to black skinned Africans - in true brotherhood! In Unity! Living as one! Worshipping as one!”

Travel is something which widens our perspective. Sometimes it gives us insight into harmony and togetherness where we did not know opportunities would exist. So, it is valuable for Muslim and non-Muslim alike to visit Egypt; to understand the value of sixteen centuries of intentional non-prejudice.

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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].

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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.

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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.

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