+=+=+=+=The Second British Occupation of Cyprus+=+=+=+=
It's been five days since we departed dear old Egypt for the chunk of limestone in the Mediterranean known as Cyprus. Those five days have been wide in their effects, from the joy of a clean breath of sea air, to the pleasant sound of car horns left unhonked, to the despair of witnessing the value of a dollar shrink from 6 pounds in Egypt to less than half a pound in Cyprus, to the horror upon discovering that all the cities in Cyprus have been turned into places for pasty Brits to lay on the beach like marshmallows and get sunburned. And all the vomit-inducing theme restaurants, from Australian Outback Pub, to bad Mexican food, to Chinese, to Greek Gods, it all reeks of some low-rent Disneyland, except the rent ain't low. But here is where our heroes return to the country, far from the bloated palaces of mediocre comfort. A bus took us to the Baths of Aphrodite and our feet took us further into the forest where we found a small meadow over the sea to lay our heads and regain our strength. This rest was much needed as Egypt had the last word with me and the word was Sickness. If laying under a juniper while the sea winds of Aphrodite breathe above doesn't cure a body, nothing will. Strength restored we're back in the belly of the British beast, preparing for a crossing of the disputed North/South Cyprus border tomorrow and a ferry to Turkey soon after. But if you ever have the stirring in your gut telling you to visit Cyprus, follow it. Just rent a car or have some way of getting out of the main cities. Cheers, mates.

"We are in truth emigrants who have not yet founded our homeland. We have become again young peoples, without tradition or language of our own. We shall have to age somewhat before we are able to write the folksongs of a new epoch."
- Antoine de Saint Exupery

Sure they look great from the outside, but you should hear what they sound like inside.

.*.*.*.*.*.*. An Introduction in the Desert .*.*.*.*.*.*.


*.*.*.* How do I begin to describe Cairo? With the plane whose wings shuddered as we shot over the vast, weaving sentence of clay buildings, glass skyscrapers,and turquoise Nile, punctuated by great stacked stones that make a city of 17 million souls seem small? Or with the heave and flow of its flush of traffic that squeezes through each intersection as if the traffic lights are lights left up after a forgotten party, long devoid of any meaning or purpose? Or, the most difficult of all to describe, the people of Cairo, who turn the words "Welcome to Cairo" into the most unwelcome of phrases, spat into the ear of each foreigner by every tenth Egyptian? No, I don't believe any words can describe Cairo fully, and certainly not English ones. I can, however, begin to describe my experience here, but it is merely an introduction. The rest of the story you will have to write yourself, my dearest, whenever you are here. And, if you are anything like me, you will be cursing this damned city and making immediate plans to leave as you decide to spend the rest of your life here.
*.*.*.* I shall start with the most important subject: food. For isn't food the fuel that feeds the beast of a machine that is the city? If it is, Cairo's is well oiled. Falafel, baba ganoosh, all preparations of eggplant, potatoes, pita breads, tomatoes, beans, and on and on. Not to mention the juices. Okay, I will; coconut, date milkshake, mango, watermelon, yogurt milkshake, strawberry and banana milkshake, tamarind, lemonade, peach, fig, pomegranate, prickly pear... I savor each morsel and drop as if it cost me my last pound, but it never does. A dinner for three at a good restaurant will run you around 5 pounds (less than a dollar), with leftovers too. Any number of juice bars or bakeries on the way home will satisfy even the most corroded sweet tooth.
*.*.*.* The culture of Cairo is not that of the romantic cosmopolitan city it once was. It has been largely homogenized into a hybrid of cutthroat capitalism and religious fundamentalism, that savage beast that seems to be scouring the globe at our moment in history, chewing up cities full of the juice of a thousand cultures and shitting out a thin grey cream of convenience separated from its origins, mixed with the seething foam of the anger of displacement. It's strange to visit beautiful old mosques that have a thousand years of history resonating in their walls and then find a new but run down mosque not a block away packed with worshipers. It's not because the old mosques are closed to worship or charging to get in. They are neither (except the latter to naive foreigners). But this land is not here for my unraveling. The decisions of groups of people even in my own country often baffles me in as many ways as in this country. I suppose that in the US I am at ease with the fact that it is not something to fully understand, for how can I possibly know it any better, a place that I have lived nearly my whole life. Here there's the illusion that if I stayed a bit longer, it would all make sense, that with enough polishing, the lens of perception would disappear and the contradictions would right themselves. Woe unto the person who places their life solely in the slender hands of logic.
*.*.*.* Speaking of slipping through the fingers, plans for a journey through Israel seem to have vanished, as the undoing of the cease-fire with Hamas has joined with the pains and hassles of the Israel/Egypt border to build a wall not worth crossing. In its stead will be more time in Cyprus and a more leisurely ramble to Istanbul. Jewels lost and gold found. And on the morrow we visit that holy of holies, the Great Pyramids of Egypt. Stay tuned for pictures and videos, if I ever find a connection much better than dial-up.

Postscript: The first three pictures were taken of and/or at Ibn Tulun, an incredible mosque from the 9th century that offered us a few hours of solitude and reflection. The second picture shows in the background the Muhammed Ali Mosque, whose limestone was taken from the pyramids. The third picture shows the big pyramid in the background, to the left of the tall building (it's difficult to see). The fourth picture is Nick and Teresa walking in the alleyways of Coptic Cairo.

This City's So Damn Nice, They Shoulda Named It Three Times

Wow. I didn't expect that, to fall so massively and instantly in love with a city that I never thought I would like. "It's too crazy," I always told myself, "too hectic." And it is, but in an unexpected way. Like a 50 cc's of whiskey straight to the left ventricle and the only hangover is the world seems more vibrant the next morning. I've always loved riding subways and New York makes all the others seem quaint and miniature. Long tunnels intertwine under the concrete like roots of the skyscrapers. And the people were amazingly nice. None (well, almost none) of the cliche New York snottyness in any of the people I interacted with. All very genuine and excited and funny people. There's a feeling that you're tapping into something big, some lumbering beast that rides beneath the surface of everything. Maybe that's why I loved the subways so much, because it sounds like you can almost hear it, like you can feel it in your chest, and the rhythm is going to explode at any moment.
We spent our time in contrasting places. The first day Lou and I wandered around midtown Manhattan, dined in posh restaurants with sophisticated friends and ate at overpriced cafes. The next day we went to Brooklyn and met up with an old friend. Walked around the neighborhoods bearing the steady brunt of gentrification, saw "An Inconvenient Truth" back in Manhattan and then took the subway home to Brooklyn for more debauchery. Lou left early for Boston but I stuck around and visited the American Museum of Natural History, where most of these pictures are from. I'm back in Boston now and tomorrow I'll leave for Cairo. Pretty exciting when New York is just the appetizer.Oh, and here's a video I took at the Port Authority Station around 12:30 am. Playin' the old standard:

Boston Burritos Are Surprisingly Tasty

For some reason I've been taking very few pictures since I've been in Boston. It was a week ago today that I got here and I've got less than 7 pictures. Oh well, that's not really what I'm here for. I'm here to visit Lou and that is being accomplished. Yesterday we toured a pipe organ factory with his school and then headed out to Cape Ann to jump in the waves and look at granite tide pools in the sunset. And get drenched in a warm thunderstorm. Reminded me of New Mexico. The thunderstorms, not the ocean. I've also spent a lot 0f time at the Harvard bookstore, reading up on Egypt, Israel, and Istanbul. We went to the Harvard Natural History Museum a few days ago, where the picture of the coelacanth fish on the left is from. They also had an exhibit of extremely detailed and accurate glass flowers that were made about a hundred years ago. And lots of monkey bones. The plan is to head out to NYC for the weekend and then to Cairo on Wednesday. Oh, that picture at the top was taken at the Luther Burbank Home and Gardens in Santa Rosa. Go there if you get a chance.