Woody, Michael, and The War

Did I say in my update, below, that I was going to get my haircut and go to the gym? I think what I meant was: get a chocolate chip muffin from Chocofolie (my FAVOURITE chocolaterie...actually the only one I know...conveniently located down the street from my house, but hidden away so almost no one else knows about it), and then spend 30minutes in traffic on my way to the haircutter's, only to freak out and leave.

To further describe my freaking out -->

When I arrived at the hairdresser's, there was a man getting his haircut who sort of epitomizes middle-aged disgusting male slime* (cf: my former step-father): self-contented chubby, resentful yet pompous, somewhere between greasy used car salesman and businessman, and, in this case, chainsmoking IN the barber's chair, tipping his ashes on the ground, and talking on his cell phone (to his credit, he was not shouting, which is normally standard operating procedure for these guys). I found him so physically revolting that when my hairdresser asked me if I wanted to sit down in the chair next to him and begin, I told him I'd prefer to wait until the other hairdresser was finished with Mr. Slime. After 20 minutes of Mr. Slime's increasingly revolting demeanor, and the hair dresser rightfully trying to convince him that having his hair naturally fall straight back looks better than a rigid side part, I went outside, told my hairdresser that I was in a bad mood, unhappy there, and didn't want to stay, and got him to agree to come to my house to cut my hair in the morning at 11AM. Guess my Moroccan Garden of Eden (post-Fall) roof patio will finally get put to use!

My concern is that (albeit after a very taxing day), I am just SO intolerant and SO indulgent of my own annoyance triggers, I might one day be some kind of Woody Allen neurotic, or worse, a Michael Jackson recluse -- has Cairo's insistent chaos forced me to be more rigid in my calls for perfection? [must think about that one more -- seriously]

I came home around 10:30PM to find construction rattling my walls, interrogated the people in the computer business (of dubious legitimacy) on the floor beneath me, who swore that they were not doing any construction, and finally, after telling myself to ignore it and then failing to obey my own orders, went to the bowaab and had the following conversation in Arabic and body language:

VC: Is there construction in the building?

B: Is there {arabic word that sounds like my pronunciation of "construction" with a Middle Eastern accent hoping that it is a cognate, but isn't} where?

VC: *banging on the wall in the driveway* Is there THIS in the house?

B: In your house there is that?

VC: No. Not in MY house.

B: Then where?

VC: I don't know!

B: What do you want?

VC: In THE house, not my house, but THE house there is this *continuing to bang on wall*.

B: Above or below?

VC: Below. Please come with me...but I know that you can't hear it [the bowaab is almost deaf...he is about 97, and is, I'm certain, dying of emphysema, but that's a different blog].

B: No! I am able!

{in elevator, where bowaab attempts to unlock already-unlocked elevator, as he cannot see the keyhole, because the poor man is actually deaf AND blind}

B: It's in your house?

VC: No. Not MY house. Not the 4th floor, either. I talked to them [literally in my broken Arabic: "I speak them"]

{enter house -- bowaab and I stand in silence while he looks at me like I'm insane or about 60 seconds...no noise...I am not going to let this go}

VC: Please, sit.

B: [in a jolly mood since I first accosted him, despite our run-in last night where I had my laundry man tell him that I don't want him asking me for money everyday because I know when the rent is due, and I'm always on time, and don't want daily reminders] Yes. I will sit here and wait and listen until we hear it. Where is it?

VC: *knocking on wall* It's here.

B: THERE?

VC: Not there exactly. I don't know where. It's everywhere.

B: Huh? ("Eh?")

VC: I don't know where, but you know, in a house, maybe *banging on wall gesture* over there, but *pointing to ears* here, or there, everywhere.

{wait for almost 3 minutes while I explain in VERY broken Arabic my theory that it actually IS the people on the 4th floor, but they stopped when they heard me go downstairs, literally: "They know I in elevator and they done. They know and they done." When FINALLY there are two loud and startling thuds, just when the bowaab was getting up to leave, contented, apparently, by my explanation that I'd intimidated my neighbours into silence}

B: I will go and check on every floor and find the noise.

WHICH HE DID! The people on the 2nd floor were drilling their walls...at this point after 11PM. He made them stop, and agreed with me when I chastized them in broken Arabic: "Why? Why now? Now it's 11! In the morning, ok. Now, problem." This is the first time in 10 months that my bowaab has been swift and effective (VERY ODD).

Let the day of problems continue: my pizza, as I'm freaking out to Desi online (who I JUST found out actually reads this blog), arrives with light sauce AND light cheese (which, when it's a plain thin crust pizza means: a crispy large cracker). I order AT LEAST 4 times a week (usually 5 or more) from Pizza Hut, and they KNOW me, but for some reason, after more than a year of great service, I've had three pizzas this week where they oddly think (perhaps emulating NYC Pizza Hut?) that "light sauce" means: "keep the sauce: cheese ratio the same, so light sauce AND light cheese, because I want to eat a plain dough cracker." I have tried to correct for this by persistently complaining, receiving complimentary pizzas (which I gave to the doormen/guys living in the lot next door, and who I caught, spying on them from above, refusing to eat the unknown pizza -- regarding the box with the suspicion normally reserved for Brazilians riding the London tube), and receiving personal phone calls from the call center and branch managers. I also TELL them: "light sauce, but regular cheese," which is often interpreted to mean: "light sauce and PLAIN cheese," rather than "cheese that is standard in quantity." Anyway, I had to send it back, explain the problem to the delivery guy, call the call center, talk to two operators and the manager, wait for the manager to call, call the call center again...it was a mess...but in the end I had a good pizza.

So, yeah. Today pretty much sucked. It's 4AM and I'm working on a proposal for a meeting in 11 hours to implement a system for awarding honors to graduates in our program.

All I wanted to say about the war is that it terrifies me to think what kind of a system I am part of that I am protected from ever being in war more or less thanks to my educational/social place, but there are 18yos (EIGHTEEN! That was me FIVE years ago) dodging bullets in Iraq, because they think they can't pay for college, and because they think they are protecting American democracy (they should be shooting the majority court in Bush v. Gore, if that's what they want to protect...but don't quote me!).

*sigh*

I miss my Mooom.

To end with something funny: check out this photo of Russian tennis player (who I really like) Nadia Petrova, lifting the trophy from the recently-concluded tournament in Linz, Austria. She defeated Swiss #1 Patty Schneyder, who I like even more -- another Swiss tennis genius...that country is a factory of tennis players with unmatched variety, finesse, and on-court wit -- and with whom she is fiercely battling for one of the last spots in the season-ending championships...the top 8 women compete for like a billion dollars and a Brazilian wax...or something like that. The trophy really cracks me up, though. What the heck is it? It's like a 4-foot glass prism! So weird. I should try to find a photo of the really cool golden hawk/pigeon/bird-thingy they give the winner as a trophy in Doha (or is it Dubai?). Keep in mind, when considering the humongosity of this chunk of glass, that this is NOT a small girl -- it's a HUGE trophy, lol. Oh yeah, it's also her FIRST ever win on tour...you have to feel bad for the girl that her first trophy looks more like the glass door to a trophy case than is does like a real trophy.

VC

*The reader, of course, knows VC's unabashed affinity for middle-aged men, so the emphasis, here, is on "slimey."

In Egypt & In Planning Mode (updated!)

Some of you might think that I am in Cyprus, right now, but I'm not. I'm on my couch. I will self-plagiarize an email I wrote to Curie earlier today to explain:

I canceled my trip. I just don't feel motivated/up to it. I think that there have been a lot of emotionally-draining things to deal with over the past few weeks (not like destructive things, but more like just THINGS occupying my emotional energy -- law school aps, your surgery, missing my family [for once! lol]) and I don't have a lot left to get excited about Cyprus. I also think (and I think if you borrow my LP Cyprus guide you'd agree) Cyprus is like THE ideal country for you and I to take 10 days and rent a car and go all over. A lot of the best UNESCO/World Heritage church frescoes are unreachable without private cars, as are some of the best hiking spots. It just felt a little forced, and not like a great trip that I was pumped about that was coming together. I'd also be missing a few academic responsibilities (meetings etc.) that I should really be here for, and that by NOT missing I'll be less stressed and not trigger the "I'm stressed and therefore paralyzed and can't do the work necessary to de-stress myself" reaction.

So there you have it. I'm in Cairo, and more or less nipping my responsibilities in the bud -- including this blog.*

By way of apologizing to some of my most valued friends who have recently emailed me, I am aware that I have been out of touch, but I am in the process of snapping out of it. Since I don't have the energy, right now, to blog about the many things on my list**, but I want to make some token gesture of connecting with my loved ones (you people), I'm printing my schedule for tomorrow (fun, right?). Please note that I don't include the personal/social things I have to do (like writing emails to you!) because that stresses me out and distracts me when making the schedule. Enjoy :)

VC

Sunday (30 October)

8:00 – 9:00 Wakeup, cleanup
9:00 – 11:00 Prepare for MEST 570
11:00 Pay Vodafone bill (check on deposit)
12:00 Request transcript from Registrar (and FedEx if available)
1:00 – 4:00 Prepare for MEST 570
4:00 – 5:00 MEST 570
5:00 – 7:30 Gym (purchase moisturizer)
8:00 – 10:00 Haircut & Dinner (call dentist)

Life List
(A) Go to Registrar for transcript
(A) FedEx transcript (if available)
(B) Get haircut
(B) Pay Vodafone bill
(B) Buy moisturizer
(C) Call dentist

Work to submit
(A) MEST 570 Week 8 Reaction Paper
(B) MEST 570 Work Plan
(B) MEST 570 Week 9 Reaction Paper

Evening work
(A) Proposal for MESC honours
(A) HIST 542 Week 9 Reading
(A) HIST 542 Reaction Paper

Predictions: Vodafone will hassle me about deposit refund or will not be open at 11AM; transcript will not be readily available; hot guy from gym will see me pre-haircut (but I cannot put off the gym any longer for this reason!); good haircut guy won’t be there; will fail at 25th attempt to call dentist.

Reminders for Monday (31 October): Get stipend, Crew meeting (3:00), Iftar & Movie (4:00-7:00), HIST 542 (7:00-9:00)
____________
* This is not a "responsibility" in that I'm not obliged, and I don't find it a pain at all, but more like it means something to me and rises to responsibility status because of its importance/functional value.

**A Word document called "Stupid Blog," which is a spin-off of the "Stupid Gmail" document that I created when my computer started randomly re-starting every few days, losing all unsaved info, leading me to misplace my frustration with my Stupid Toshiba [which I actually really like, for the most part] onto my email and blog accounts in the document titles of their backups) (<--how's THAT for a convoluted parenthetical!?) ++++++++++++++++++++++++ UPDATE

Well my schedule ended up being a total joke. It's 5:30PM and, only 6 hours into my awake day, I have to say that the turn of events today has been quite humorous. Start with: me waking up at 11:30 instead of 8:00, panicking, then reading the email sent to me at 7:45AM from my MEST 570 professor that she wanted to cancel our meeting and push everything back until 6 November. Phew (weird how that worked out, right?). This gave me a little wiggle room to go get cash for the cleaning lady (we actually call them "maids" in Cairo, but I'd imagine that's quite jarring to my American audience), sing a little of my favourite new Destiny's Child power ballad, "Stand Up for Love" (to be blogged-about soon enough), and take care of my Vodafone bill.

A note on Vodafone: that I only had to call seven times (two real calls and five disconnected calls while on hold), and the whole process only took half an hour, is a *miracle*. Seriously. There were the predictable frustrations (eg: them shutting off my phone, then telling me that to get it turned back on and pay my bill I'd have to dial a number on my phone that you can't dial unless your phone is NOT shut off), but the people were actually helpful and understanding, and I'm quite thankful that it wasn't the nightmare I thought it would be.

Enter the Registrar's Office: The AUC Registrar is a witch -- she is actually one of the most unpleasant human beings I have ever met, and I have no shame in telling her so. I wanted to get my Degree Audit Report officially printed and signed (the format of the actual "Transcript" I don't like), and she kept refusing, with brilliant Cairene logic:

VC: I'd like to get a copy of my Degree Audit printed and signed, please.

Evil Witch Registrar (EWR): We don't do that. It's not a document. You can print it yourself.

VC: I understand, but I would like official confirmation that the information on my Degree Audit is authentic.

EWR: No. It's not a document.

VC: I understand "no" and I understand "It's not a document," but I don't understand why?

EWR: We only print and sign things that can be forged, and you can't forget your Degree Audit. You print it from your online account, and we would print it the same way you would.

VC: Great, then please print it on AUC paper, sign it, and give it to me.

EWR: No. We don't do that. It's not a document.

At this point, after having patiently tolerated her snotty and exasperated demeanor for a full 90 seconds, I broke:

VC: Every time I have met with you, you are extremely argumentative, and I don't know why.

EWR: I'm argumentative?

VC: Yes. Every time I've met with you, you've been very argumentative.

EWR: I don't believe I've ever met you before.

VC: I HAVE met you before.

EWR: Well if I was argumentative then you must have said something to make me this way.

She is seriously 1.6 meters and 60 kilos of PURE witch. I'm still not sure how I will resolve this situation, but tomorrow I will go to the director of grad student affairs (who is AMAZING) and hopefully she can help me.

Interestingly, to get anything from the Registrar's office, you need to first have whatever you need paid for (with a stamped receipt) from a separate Cashier's office (which is also where I get paid) which closes at (I can hardly type it without feeling furious) 1PM! How they manage these long work days (4 whole hours!), I really don't know. So I was not able to get my pay, or my stamp, or make any progress with the Registrar.

I then decided to make myself feel better by rushing over to visa services to get my new passport a valid Egyptian residency visa. I sort of knew that they'd hassle me about being in the country "illegally" (your entry visa is good for 1 month + 14 days grace, and I arrived in September), but the stupid thing with AUC is that *they* (not the government) enforce visa fines that, if I just went to the airport and they saw my visa, they wouldn't enforce. I violated the stay period THREE times last year (and showed them this, today, in the office) and never paid a fine, but since today I wanted AUC's help with a SEPERATE issue (my residency status), they wanted the cash. In the end, I think that it's probably a matter of them going to the government and facing harsher rules than I face, as a foreigner, when I deal with them at the airport or elsewhere, so when they apply for me thay actually DO need the fee, but I hate (HATE!)* the inconsistency. I should also blog, at some point, about the shady HIV test requirement that they have -- basically (like in many countries in the region) that you can't live here (as a foreigner) if you are HIV+. Obviously there are a ton of issues, there, that I won't get into, now, but the really odd part is that this rule is, again, enforced at the level of the institution (eg: it's AUC that asks for my HIV test, not the Egyptian government). I sent them one when I originally applied from NYC, and when they lost it refused to get another test here (although I was tested for my OWN knowledge again in the States, later on), and my best friend, here (aka: Bombay Puppy, perhaps referred to before as Desi) refused, as a professor, to get the test, and he (like me) still EVENTUALLY got his visa (in other words: maybe my giving AUC the benefit of the doubt that it just has to deal with more bureaucracy than we see first-hand is not actually the case). Anyway, I'm now passportless for 10 days, and am a little sad that my new passport will lose its visa virginity to Egypt (the residency sticker is nowhere near as cool as, say, the sticker for Iran, or India), but what can I do?

Then I went to meet Shakira at Bon Apetit (a cafe where you can see, on a near-daily basis, the hilarious phenomenon of French tourists wearily stumbling in, hoping that it's ACTUALLY French, only to find out that the only thing French about the place is the name and the unpleasant waiters). Everything was going FINE -- I got them to give me the bug spray so that I could, myself, spray the entire sitting area, wipe down my own table, and clean the chairs (hey if you want it done right, I've learned, you have to do it yourself, because seeing tables covered in bird droppings and feeding flies just doesn't seem to encourage the waiters to clean!), which I was not AT ALL annoyed by (seriously, I was just glad to have it done by someone, even if it was me) -- until the bill came. Keep in mind that I tip RIDICULOUSLY for Egypt (like borderline insane with how big I tip) *and* I go to this place at least 3-4 times per week. The peach iced tea is made with water and peach packets, and is really week, so I ask for "extra peach" (2 packets, instead of one) and always do this (sometimes they mess up and only give one, but usually the drinks guy, who knows what I like, uses two, and looks expectantly at me for approval when I take my first sip -- glad that he cares about his work product!), and they ALWAYS charge me just for a regular peach iced tea. Today, ordering two of these "strong" ones, I was charged for 4 iced teas. Now, had this always been the case -- had it been that the first time, weeks ago, that I first ordered extra iced tea, the waiter said: "Chunk, we'll charge you double, but we can do it" then I'd have made an informed decision, but the LACK OF A CONSISTENT SYSTEM, which today surprised me with 4 iced tea charges, infuriates me. I got in a huge fight with a waiter, who (and I HATE THIS) tried to tell me that I was wrong about what I knew to be a fact: that this was NOT the first day that I'd ordered it with two packets (another waiter later confirmed this). I don't have a problem with the money, but I have a problem with these waiters vehemently defending THEIR (incorrect) understanding of what happened, when what they SHOULD be focused on (especially since it's not like the peach packets are taken out of their salary) is a regular and generous customer being happy. It's an impulse that they can't control, though, to argue, and I'm totally fed up with it.

I then go to the stationers/copy center (where I'm totally crushing on one of the brothers who owns the place and who I think, in another life, would reciprocate my crush -- I mean he reciprocates, but we don't act on it), got index cards and a new notebook for Arabic (tutoring starts in 8 November), and got a copy of Shakira's passport to fax to customs (which requires a photocopy of her passport faxed to them because they'd decided to confiscate the contact lenses that her mother FedExed to her), because I was going to the Hyatt to workout and buy moisturizer (per my schedule).

I walked to the GH, but when I got there EVERY shop (and the hair salon, which I was thinking of going to instead of my regular place) was closed, so I was only able to send the fax and nothing else (note: the hairdresser's is run by Lebanese Christians and definitely did NOT need to close for the Muslim iftar). Wanting to enjoy the afternoon sunset, knowing that traffic was impossible and I couldn't get a taxi, and hoping to burn some calories and release some steam, I walked all the way to my hair salon in Zamalek, which closed literally at the moment that I arrived at the door.

I failed to get my transcript (let alone mail it), get my pay, buy moisturizer, get my haircut, or go to the gym, and on top of that I had extremely unpleasant confrontations with the Registrar and a group of waiters.

Sometimes (and this is acknowledging that I *allow* myself to be stressed about these things) I really don't know how long I can last, here. I'm not depressed, or even all that angry, but I'm just tired of EVERY DAY encountering problems. I'm not a problematic guy, and as I think my friends from NYC (or even Kabul) can swear by, I am capable of having a day-to-day life that is free of frustration and problems...just not in Cairo.

It's now 6PM, and I am going to relax until 7 (when everything opens again, after the break-fast) by watching tennis and doing Arabic vocab cards. At 7, I will go to get my haircut, then go to the gym (which will make me feel ONE THOUSAND times better about my day), and then come home, where I will work on HIST 542 for tomorrow, and probably order pizza (at least I'm realistic! lol).

VC

PS: Per my gluco/insulin imbalanced existence in Cairo, and what I believe to be rapid mood swings that it induces (sugar level plummets after not having eaten all day, processed starch/sugar consumed -- cookies, pizza, etc. -- level spikes, hyper euphoria ensues, energetic for a few hours until level plumments again), I'm feeling less awful than I was 30 minutes ago, and am just looking forward to my haircut and seeing my pookie and friends and family again ASAP in the US.

*Hate, as a faithful reader of stuning South Asian beauty, is a very strong word, and we normally do not use it (we also don't use "ugly"), but in this case I'm defining hate as: "an emotional directed not at a person, but a system, that renders the world less efficient and more unjust," which is, I think, an acceptable usage.

Cypriot Sexism

Is it just me, or is the following description of Cyprus Air's "Sunmiles" program indicative of a distinctive sexism viz. the Greek pantheon?

Members travelling on Cyprus Airways flights and aircraft, accumulate points
which can be exchanged for free tickets in the Apollo Business class or in the
Aphrodite Economy class and for upgrading to Business class.

From Aphrodite to Apollo is an upgrade? I'm sorry, but I'd much rather be "the goddess of love, beauty, and sexual rapture" than some closet-case who falls in love with stupid boys who kill their pet dear (check out these articles on Aphrodite and Apollo to know what I'm talking about). Plus, if you are Aphrodite then you get to be the subject of a million "Naissance de Venus" (Birth of Venus) paintings, and you'd get to sleep with Adonis (I'd have never cheated on Hephaestos, especially not with Adonis of all people, but I think most of YOU would have, lol).

More apropos to Cyprus Air, it appears that this was the island where Aphrodite was taken after she emerged from the sea -- you'd think the airline could give her some credit for being the hometown deity!

Here are two Naissance de Venus paintings: on the left, the most famous one, by Botticelli (now Florence, from 1485); on the right, one by Cabanel (Paris, 1863), which I like much more, and which is usually spoken-of in comparison to to Manet's "Dejeuner sur l'herbe," done in the same year (below, now in Paris). The comparison is used to contrast the kinds of art that the traditional Ecole des Beaux-Arts jurists looked for in its Salon participants, Cabanel being accepted to the 1863 exhibition, and Manet being rejected. Incidentally, the Cabanel and Manet paintings now hang together in the same museum in Paris (the Musee D'Orsay).

VC

Blog-Chain

I don't want to be superstitious (I'm sure there is a more appropriate adjective than that), but one of the most important people in the world to me (I should say more flatteringly: one of the best people in the world...and I know because I've been to like 20 something countries and met a lot of people!) is having surgery today, and I want all my devoted VC readers (of which she makes up like 50% lol) to please be wishing her good thoughts around 1PM NYC time. We want her surgery to go great, and her long-term recovery to be smooth-sailing (she prefers windy sailing with polarized lenses, but that's different).

VC

Carbonated French People

I am moments (ok, several long moments strung together in succession ad infinitum) from sending my Yale application -- NYU and Harvard have already gone out -- but I wanted to just say very quickly that I just realized that French people are full of air. Seriously. It's not a cultural critique, but a physical phenomenon that can be empirically observed.

You must know a French person in order to appreciate this observation, and VC only counts for roughly 1/4, so unless you have another friend who is 3/4 French and who I am sitting on, then you need to have a totally French friend other than me...French Canadian does not count, because they are not full of air in the way that I am about to discuss, and I am not sure if the same phenomenon can be observed amongst Belgian Walloon, French-speaking Swiss, inhabitants of Luxembourg, or former French colonies. Here we go -->

Have you ever noticed that French people sometimes attach bursts of air to the end of their words that dwell somewhere between a hiss and a shush? (if they are talking to an American, then they are likely both hissing and shushing) Consider how "oui," or "merci," often become "oui-hhhhh," and "merci-hhhhh," and how "mon dieu" becomes "mon dieu-hhhhh."

I used to think that this was just a French linguistic habit of emphasizing certain vowels at the end of words, but I just got of the phone with a friend, who inserted this trademark French sound *between* two consonants: "Great *hhhhh*. So, pass by my office at one *hhhhh*."

This brought me to the revelation that French people, for a reason still unapparant to me, are full of air, and must spontaneously expel it in order to maintain homeostasis! I hope you all save this post, so that if I don't one day win the Nobel Peace Prize, then we can submit this blog to the Nobel Committee for consideration for the prize in medicine.

VC-hhhhh

Being Gay is Good!

Three funny things I thought I'd share.

1. Being gay is good, at least subconsciously if one evaluates the writing of my mother. Consider the following email I received from Madame Wong yesterday regarding me guilting her for not emailing me:

Chunk, honey, [she didn't say honey, but I think it sounds more tender] I would like you to think about how many days go by without me hearing from you. Me, the lonely old lady vs. you the adorable fascinating cultivated young gay son! I am extremely busy…I worked on Saturday and stay late almost every night! Give me a break. Where did you learn to lay guilt trips on people…Grandma Ruth I bet!

The reference to my now-departed Russian Jew-turned-Christain minister paternal grandmother really cracked me up. It's true that even a Princeton Doctor of Divinity did not shake the babushka out of her, and she was the "queen of lamentations," as well as the queen of shopping and queen of raising hell over bad service (god I really am her!).

Anyway, what you were intended to notice from this, and I bolded it to assist you :), is that she lumped-in with my good traits (adorable, fascinating, etc.) "gay" -- which I found very interesting. She is implying that to be gay is to lead a more interesting and enriched life...what can I say? I'm biased...but I *totally* agree. It also means that you can't marry and are considered both mentally ill *and* a criminal in most parts of the world, but that's for another blog.

2. Life Advice from Elle Magazine

Got this hilarious email from the most beautiful Pakistani-American Fulbrighter I know (ok, that sounds like a narrow category, but even if you changed it to just be "one of the most beautiful people I know" the distinction still stands):

I was reading the Oct. issue ofELLE and came across this and thought of you:

ask E.Jean: How can I get my man back?
Answer: Disappear for one year. When you run into him again, lookthree times hotter than you did before. Even then, the odds are 97percent against it.

We're going to ignore the last part. What does ELLE know aboutrelationships that you and I don't? Nothing.Smooches.

HAHAHA. It's still cracking me up. But I think that since I'm disappearing for 2 years and not just one, and am coming back with a master's and not just a tan, I only need to be 1.5 times hotter than I was before...which, ok, right now I'm not, but I *SO* will be by the time I see him again (for the record: when I went back to the US in January and was looking rather fit he DEFINITELY noticed and I DEFINITELY played it cool hahaha).

3. On the ridiculousness of gay men in Cairo (cont'd -- now and forever).

Now, I want to preface this by saying that I have met a few, and I mean VERY few, more-or-less normal, nice, educated gay guys here. I can think of about 2.5...ok, I'll be generous and say 3...but I wanted to share with everyone (including my soon-to-be-horrified mother) what I have to put up with here. Keep in mind that this is in response to my *TOTALLY* G-rated profile in which I explicitly state that the frequency with which I look for "hookups" is basically ZERO (those as more or less my EXACT words), and I ALSO say that I care NOTHING about looks, *as well as* saying that I do not go for 20yos.

The reply (and this is indicative of what happens basically daily, here): an email with NO message attached, just an email address (that is too dirty to re-type, here) which means: "this is my MSN chat email...add me so that I can waste time asking you if you are the police and see if you have a webcam" (which I don't). Anyway, I just looked at this guy's profile and it is SO typical (SOOOOO typical) that I had to re-print it, here. I don't want you to think that what bothers me is the English, because actually that's not what annoys me about this kind of profile. You should be able to find the red flags for yourself, but just in case you can't (being novice gay profile readers, and all) I'll put them in red for you :)

About
HI
HAW R U
I AM 20 YEASR OLD
I LIVE ALL MY LIFE IN SUDAN BUT I GO OUT SAID 2 SEE MY FAMILY AND ANTHER CUONTRES .
MY MUM SHE IS MOROCCAN
MY DAD HE IS EGYPSHIN AND TURKISH
SO ABUOT ME I GET ALL THIS PASSPORT AND WITH THE SUDANES .
SO I AM A SMPIL GUY I LOVE 2 CHAT AND HAVE A FUN LIKE AND ONE AND I AM MODIL

Looking For
SO ABUOT THE GUY WHO I AM LOOKING AT HIM HE MUST BE BERFECT AND GOOD AND JENTEAL AND MODIL AND HE MUST BE STAIL WITH MORE HONDSOME AND NIEC BODY

Oh, and his nickname? "Casenova horny." HAHAHAHA.. YEAH RIGHT!

So, just so we know what kind of "modil" [sicK] we are talking about, I thought I'd post his photos (which are public online and which were not sent to me privately) -- let's just say that someone might make a better veiled chunk than I do! Those of you who ask me why I don't date or have a boyfriend, here, should (I hope) be finally silenced by this post:



















And for the record, the body pic was subtitled: "Me hot body...WOW" :*(

VC

Solomonic Solutions & Turtle Stacking

My undergrad is known for its mandatory core curriculum that places a really heavy emphasis on classical humanities studies, and is often criticized for producing a bunch of snobs who can feel proud about having read Plato and listened to Stravinsky, and it was many a time said to me, while I was there, that we were being trained to sound smart at self-congratulatory cocktail parties. Maybe. Personally I don't really care if that WAS the object of my education -- there are more important things going on in the world than the perpetuation of categories of elite based on knowledge of philosophy and music, like the much more insidious privileging of elite categories based on religion, passport colour, breast size, and skin pigmentation.

That said, I do not think that this is what our education was serving to do. I think that what we were given were a set of storied, tools maybe, that we could use subconsciously to think analogically about the world around us. I just came to this, today, when I was one of the only people in our comparative con law & human rights class who "got" the reference in the article to the world being built upon infinitely-receding stacks of turtles [edit: having doubted myself, I spent the past hour googling it to make sure that I was right about its Hindu origins], and there was also a reference, in the must-read Makwanyane Case from South Africa (and again in our reading, today) to "Solomonic Solutions," that I did not get before reading the Makwanyane Case, but which is now a useful tool in my conceptualization of certain choice options. Knowing about Plato's Cave is not about feeling smart while eating fondue in your Pookie's Greenwich Village apartment; it's about being aware of a structure (for lack of a better word) that appears, in one instance, in the form of a cave, shadows, and an allegory of ignorance and "true" contemplation of forms, and can appear, in another instance, to describe the neoconservative blogosphere in the US and the caves in which many neo-con libertarians find themselves ;p [sorry to any neo-cons reading this]. Studies in humanities provide us with invaluable structures that contribute to the vocabulary (if not in words but in more abstract relational descriptions between things) that we can use to decipher our own world.

VC

La vie romantique: mise en relief

Don't know why I felt like saying that in French, but the title, in case you couldn't guess, is: "Romantic Life: Put in Relief" (NOT in the sense of relief = satisfaction, but in the sense of a sculpture and the degradation of depth achieved with something is put in relief).

I have a lot of things to discuss, but I guess -- to be stream of consciousness about this -- the one that is currently and most frequently on my mind are the perspective-inspiring developments in my personal life, this week.

To self-plagiarize from an email just sent to Desi that summarizes recent developments (following me calling up the ex-Pookie and following up my unabashedly frank emails with some real phone time):

Things have taken a fantastic turn (thanks to my aggression), and he is really pushing for a weekend visit in December (even when I told him I'd prefer that he not). The key to the offer, on his part, is that it's not motivated by the sense of obligation that would then later loop back around to make him feel constrained by burdensome expectations, but is just a positive desire on his part to see me in the place that I live. He also followed the request with an "I'll understand if you don't think it's a good idea," which is about as close as he is capable of getting to acknowledging the emotional complexity between us (as opposed to pretending like there is nothing of substance or complexity at all...which is what he normally does with everything).

*sigh*

Yeah, I feel pretty happy about it. It's funny, too, because talking to him on the phone (which we basically NEVER do), seeing his photo, emailing him regularly (like everyday -- which is also not standard practice of the past year), it really reminds me that this abstract thing that I keep saying I want (a relationship with HIM) does not ONLY exist in my head, but can be (and should be) a daily reality. It suddenly puts into very severe relief that stupidity of "options" (so-called) that I considered with certain other people...they're in totally different universes in terms of what could/has happened.

{end of email} To follow-up that last thought, since I think it's worth clarifying: I don't want to give the impression that the people I've dealt with in Cairo are less real, or deserve less respect, or should be considered less seriously than my ex, but rather that my responses to them (ranging from jealousy, to attachment, to combination of things in between), and the weight that my interaction with them had in my day to day happiness, was totally out of proportion to what happened and what was happening with them. I will analyze why I was allowing this to happen, and what ways in which I allowed this to happy, at a later point, but the main thing, now, is that seeing his face -- knowing that he is there -- I can't explain how much more connected I feel to NYC and less affected (less disproportionately affected) I am by what is happening in Cairo. To engage in just once sentence of the analysis I said I'd postpone: maybe part of what made me so unhappy this past year in Cairo, and what made me react in such extreme and disproportionate ways to the goings-on in my nearly-nonexistent Cairo romantic life, was that I was acting out the process (the deeply emotional process) that I never experienced as part of my breakup (or negotiation phase) with the ex, because we were dating, I moved to Egypt, and we broke up (no discussion, no denouement -- it just vanished).

Will write a seperate blog about some other things, but there you have it -- romantic life of the Chunk.

Oh, but just to make you laugh, I circulated his photo to some close friends, and here are the replies that I got (keep in mind that he is 48, and despite the fact that I'm 23, HE'S the hot one!):

• In this picture, he totally looks like Jack from Will & Grace!
• I think he's adorable, VC!! I also think he's the kinda guy whocalls his mom "mother" and knows how to use proper silverware (these are good things).
• Wow. [Pookie] is very boyish-cute.
• ...wanted you to know that of course I forwarded [Pookie's] photo to [a friend who is an extremely talented painter, excellent woman, and great political thinker, and who will soon be linked-to on this blog]…she wrote back this morning that he looks like he is 20 year old!

Just thinking about the four wonderful people who wrote those responses, as well as the other people in my life, as well as the Pizza Hut dinner that JUST arrived, I feel like a pretty happy Chunk.

:)

VC

Online Strikeouts

Going to bed, soon, but in order to bore myself to sleep, I decided to check out online NYC prospects (read: make sure my ex does not have an online profile). I was watching Will and Grace DVDs, but was having too much fun and ended up getting MORE awake rather than less, so I figured draining my mind with the nonsense that normally fills people's profiles would help fatigue me.

I have to say that while Cairo has not been easy, romantically, some of the profiles I'm reading (within certain search parameters to maximize the chances of finding the target) make me think that I'll be single FOREVER. Three that stick out in my mind are:

• A guy who only wants slave boys who hold master's degrees (I thought the vocabulary used was QUITE ironic). I *obviously* do not fit that bill (ask any of the waiters I've made cry).
• A writer/producer/lawyer (read: unemployed and full of himself) who listed his favourite film as Shakespeare in Love (!). I'm guessing that's why we haven't heard of his work.
• A guy who bragged about the size of his KITCHEN (we are right to breathe a sigh of relief that this is all he was bragging about). Fine...BUT, he was "looking for" someone who would like to cook in it. Now, VC doesn't have any problem with a nice kitchen, in fact, I think the kitchen can be one of the most beautiful rooms in a house, but don't expect me to cook in it, or enjoy cooking with you in it, or understand the difference between a sauce pan and a...wok (those are that ONLY two pans I can even think of!)...is there such thing as a grease pan? That sounds right.

A nice arrangement that I had with the ex, convenient for him, me, and the tiny kitchen, was that I did not pass the threshold to the kitchen, and interacted with him while he cooked *across the bar*. Occasionally I entered to grab a champagne glass for my vanilla coke (it was sort of a THING, back then), or sneak in to put some Laughing Cow cheese in the fridge (which he considered to be a total offense to his taste in real cheese), but I can honestly say that I have not turned on a stove in...gosh...years...and years.

*sigh*

So where does that leave the chunk? Single, hungry, NOT watching Gwyneth in drag, and NOT bent over anyone's knee. Maybe it would be a useful exercise for me to think of what kind of profile WOULD make me happy? What DO I want? HAHAHA -- a rep/jazz musician (? I have no idea, they aren't captioning him) from New Orleans on BBC right now just described the people of New Orleans as "wild and elegant." That's a start. Maybe emphasis on the elegant and light on the wild? I could work with that. Throw in kind, critical, culturally-engaged, directed, established, and bold, and we've got ourselves a match :)

(oh no! The guy from New Orleans just decided to expand this idea of wildness by comparing New Orleans to Ancient Greece, which, he reminds us, had "all this wild stuff" and ALSO gave birth to Homer)

Well I'm getting sleepy, so that's a good thing!

Will update, tomorrow.

VC

Russian Chicks, Mexican Grabs, and My LSAT

Well I composed a blog a few days ago on the topic of Russian chicks and another topic that I can't remember, now, but my computer, for about a week, now, has been resetting itself, [observe my convoluted, but proper, use of commas] and I lost EVERYTHING. I think it was a conspiracy between the intelligence agencies CURRENTLY monitoring all my activities, and vestiges of the Russian KGB, because even Microsoft Word, in which I'd placed a copy of the blog for spell checking, could not recover the document!

This is going to be a SUPER blog, because you will get photos of Russian pop stars, English lessons, photos of my flat, AND metaphysical musings about my life and the lives of the people I care about.

Let's do it -->

Lip-Locking Lolitas

Some of you might remember the sexually ambiguous Russian 1.5-hit wonders back in 2002/2003, known collectively as t.A.T.u. (sounds like "tattoo") who caused controversy (and high record sales) with their on and off-camera refusals to confirm or deny their status as a couple. They were most well-known for their single "All the Things She Said" (video featuring them in school girl uniforms making out in a shower), and I have to say that the new single from these post-Gorbachev lolitas, "All About Us" is a current fav of mine (in that simple EuroPop kind of way), and also demonstrates a sincere ability on the part of these youngsters to not just make steamy videos, but improve their English skills as well. In their newest single, they seem to be experimenting with pronoun usage:

"They say don't trust you, me, we, us."

It might sound like Lena and Yulia are uncertain of which pronoun is appropriate, but as a devoted semiotician, I think that what we are really seeing, here, is a profound commentary on shifting identities and the boundaries of "self."

I highly recommend the video, and not just because the guy in it is incredibly hot (but true to form as a Russian man, ends up being a TOTAL jerk...he also ends up dead, but I don't want to ruin the ending for ya!). If you want to read a blow by blow of what happens in the video, you can follow this link and check out the narrative by used Keith133 describing the video -- very funny (scroll down).

Squeeze Your Horn

Back in Kabul, Cate and I sometimes remarked (not with surprise, but more with bemusement) on the frequent crotch-grabbing and groin-adjusting that men would do (I find it to be more frequent in Cairo, actually...just for the record), a phenomenon named by a friend of Cate's as the "Mexican Grab" (off-colour nature of the term duly acknowledged). I realized, day before yesterday, when my taxi driver, embarrassed after attempting to make a U-Turn against traffic and driving up on the traffic divider (me shouting the 4 words of Arabic I know in every possible permutation to try to say SOMETHING of meaning), pulled out onto a nearly-empty (surprisingly empty) road, looked around, and honked his horn!

To distill the puzzling element of this story for the fatigued reader: HE HONKED HIS HORN AFTER SEEING THAT THERE WERE NO CARS ANYWHERE AROUND US.

It was at that moment that I realized that his horn honking was functionally equivalent to the Mexican Grab -- it's like the Mexican Grab on wheels! Don't get me wrong....many taxi drivers manage to execute the traditional Mexican Grab while driving, but I did realize that the same way that men hover around on street corners or bridges, or lean on their parked cars watching passersby and asserting their presence by grabbing their genitals, my taxi driver was marking out his space on the road with his unnecessary honk.

LSAT Tomorrow

Well my LSAT is tomorrow, and I just got an extremely sweet and encouraging call from Madame Wong. Despite the fact that in more than 30 practice tests over the past 4 years I have NEVER gotten a perfect score, she is highly convinced that I am going to "ace it," and I like the sound of that. My last practice test is done, I feel as prepared as I can be, and I'm looking forward to getting it done with. I don't want to focus on negative things, right now, like the fact that I visited the testing center (a hole of a place called AMIDEAST) and it was a chaotic nightmare (which was really just a warm up for the total incompetence I would face later in the day at AUC with regard to the THIRTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS they owe me).

I will say that I feel like I have a lot of things going for me on this exam, from studious practice, to good omens, to really smart ancestors watching over my shoulder (and hopefully whispering some correct answers to the games section in my ear!). I took a photo of my prep station (the table I have never sat for a single meal at in my flat), which I realized looks absurd because I'm so picky about the light that I actually sit with TWO lamps right next to each other on the table. An equally absurd (but not LSAT-related) photo that I'm including is of the six pair of shoes that are strewn about my living room. I was wondering why my apartment felt messy even though it's clean, and then I realized that it's because (in such a small flat) there are shoes EVERYWHERE! You can also see both pair of black thong sandals that I referred to in a previous post.

I promised some metaphysical stuff, which is simply that in the last 1-2 weeks, basically everyone I know has had amazing things happen to them in terms of their goals/future aspirations. I might actually have to limit my congratulatory shout-outs, at this point, because I could (thank God) fill my blog with the great things that are happening to the people that I love. You've already read about Masry's hiring in Poland, Curie's half-marathon training, Juicy's successes in her infectious disease studies, and Barbie's recent interview successes, and you throw in Shakira getting hired to tutor Ruby and it's really a lot of good news, recently!

New good news is Desi getting an interview and some positive replies on the american legal academia job market (there has to be a less clumsy way of saying that!), and Curie getting accepted into the epigenetics lab she has been drooling over for a couple years, now (you know she wants it if she's willing to leave the Nobel Prize winning lab she's in, now, to go there). I'm sure I'm forgetting other good news to report...but the point is that now is a good time for me and the people I love, and I think that's good news for my LSAT.

Quick note about Curie's new lab. I'll keep the identity of the lab anonymous, but I have included a photo just so that we can all engage in some collective suspicion over what exactly top scientists do except fret over what colours to use on their whiteboards. I'm sorry, but looking at this photo from her lab, I'm not sure if she's getting her PhD in biology, or her MFA in Primitive Art (it's very Mondrian meets Damian Hirsch!).

Guess that's it, for now. I'll try to report to my eager readers, tomorrow, how my LSAT went. Don't be sad if I end up saying that I didn't finish the first section and walked out...I did fine the first time :) lol...but let's hope Wong was Wight on this one.

VC

ScandaloUS Current Events

Not much time to write (with my LSAT in precisely one week!), but a few quick things you should be alerted to, if you are not already:

1. There is new Human Rights Watch report detailing prisoner abuse in Iraq (here is the summary, with a link to the full report). I feel like there's not a lot to say that hasn't already been said about this issue, but the persistent failure of certain conscentious military officials to get the attention of their superiors until they talk to HRW and the Senate (!) say a lot about the attentiveness, values, and hierarchy of our military system in the US. I also think that it's interesting that this report was not published in Arabic (it says a lot about who the audience is, and also who it is not!).

2. (related to 1 -- a theme, a Vield Chunk leitmotif?) The Department of Defense has blocked military officials who, as part of their work on the Able Danger project in 2000, identified at a very early date certain key terror suspects who later blew up the World Trade Center and the Pentagon (and was forbidden to pass along the information to the FBI), and the Senate, who is conducting the hearing, is a little disappointed. The umbrella excuse of not wanting to publicly reveal key intel sources/findings has been used by the DoD to defend its position, but I'm wondering how that justifies not letting ANY testimony? It's not like the military officials/experts, once in the room, HAVE to answer EVERY question -- saying: "I cannot answer for reasons of national security" would be a lot better than not showing up at all. Thanks, DoD. (here is the NYTimes article, thanks to Hawk Barbie)

3. Interesting scandal brewing with Musharraf AND the Washington Post regarding? You guessed it! Musharraf's plat du jour -- the theme of his 2005 year -- RAPE! The WP published Mushu's comments about women using rape as an excuse to make money and get visas to go to North America, and (after being confronted by Canada but not, of course, the US) Musharraf claimed to be misquoted by the paper. In its defense, the Post then published online the entire 9 minute interview, unedited, in which Musharraf makes the comments. Oops. (check it out)

Quick congrats to the Juiciest Med Student in Brooklyn, who, as we knew all along, is destined to one day be one of the foremost infectious disease experts in NYC. As she put it in a recent email to me: "Can't you see me becoming an expert in HIV and working in a gay men's health clinic? It would be the one place where, as a doctor, I could wear Prada shoes and be appreciated for it." I couldn't agree more. She is intelligent, passionate, committed, and totally fab, and congrats to her for rocking her infectious disease exam last week!!

VC

Black Thongs for Chunks

I remember being in high school and seeing in a JCrew catalogue a pair of black thong sandals that I really wanted (along with, to my mother's dismay, about 10 nearly identical grey sweaters...and yes we lived in California). When my order came a few weeks later, I noticed that the thongs were missing from my box. Wong came for her weekly visit (2 hours to have pizza with mom in an LA suburb strip mall seemed like freedom, then -- god boarding school sucked!...then again, refer to Guantanamo rant, below, for more thoughts on freedom...), and asked me: "Chunk, honey" (she actually wouldn't call me that), "did you get your JCrew order? I think there was a mistake on the form, because it said you wanted to order a black thong..." "MOM! Not a thong like what you embarrassingly say in front of my friends is a must with certain pants and causes very little discomfort...a pair of black thong sandals!"

Well I got my thong sandals, not then, but about every year since then, and I just realized today that I have too many! I realized in the locker room at my uber-posh gym that I'd gone all the way from my house to the gym (which, ok, only involves a taxi ride, but there is that cat walk up the driveway and through the lobby to the elevators where EVERY chunk dreams of meeting his loitering Saudi prince!) wearing two UNMATCHING black thong sandals! I felt so dumb. Actually...I just realized that I was probably wearing them all day to school, too. God. You know, I noticed the girl sitting next to me in my "Ottoman Modernity" seminar looking at my foot, but I just assumed she was staring at my perfect toes or freakishly-large foot muscle (which I didn't know I had until Curie pointed it out to me!), but maybe it was my unmatching sandals!!

Oh well.

Ok before I sign off, three congrats to friends of mine here in Cairo and abroad...no, four:

1. Congrats and good luck to Curie on her half-marathon that she'll run in NYC Central Park very soon (I will likely space-out and have no clue what day it is when it actually happens, but this TOTALLY counts as a supportive shout-out, right?). She just did a test run two days ago and busted out the 13.1 miles at a pace of LESS THAN 8 minutes per mile, which means that she is able to stay incredibly fit whilst having a loving romantic relationship AND getting her PhD in molecular genetics (at least that's what it was simplified as, last year).

2. Congrats to Slim Masry for getting hired by an extremely prestigious international corporation (after MONTHS of interviews!) in their IT group, meaning that he will soon be leaving us in Egypt for greener (and gayer) pastures in Warsaw. He was so adorable the other day when he told me on the phone: "I asked them if I should get a furnished flat, and they told me that there is a store called Ikea." (check out the link -- it's to the Polish site! :) Good luck assembling your entire house with a SINGLE multi-purpose turnkey, baby!

3. Congrats to Hawk Barbie for her meticulous preparation and successful completion of one interview, last week, and good luck to her on her NEXT interview (this Friday?). We want her to take the second job and stay in NYC -- so everyone send her NYC vibes!!!

4. Congrats to my Cairene confidant(e), who shall henceforth be known only by her gym name: SHAKIRA. Shakira has just been hired to work with one of the most famous, and visually scandalous, pop stars in the Arab world (check out THIS BBC article for more info!), and tomorrow is her first day as her English coach. Bonne chance (or something in Spanish...Toro!).

Best to you all :)

VC

Guantanamo Bay

Don't TELL me it's not a conspiracy or something of a similar nature that when the NYTimes publishes a piece YESTERDAY on prisoners starving themselves in protest at Guantanamo Bay (for being illegally transported across borders, held in some cases for nearly FOUR YEARS without charges, and in conditions that one would harldy consider conducive to a satisfactory standard of living...at least not according to the ICRC!) that the piece debuts at the bottom of the international section, and that now, as I try to link to it in my blog, I can't find it AT ALL -- even in the NYTimes search engine (which sucks, anyway). If you do a search for the past 7 days using the term "Guantanamo" then you get two matches -- both about the Roberts hearing. Hmmm. Guess SOMEONE at the NYTimes got a phone call...

Fine, then. I'll reproduce the ENTIRE thing, right here...along with my comments. This is self-plagiarized from an email I sent out to some friends/family a few days ago. Enjoy (and feel free to comment!).

VC

**

Ok, I know we all read the NYTimes, and I should be more creative with my mass email sources, but I find this *highly* disturbing, and find it additionally regretful that the NYTimes considered two-day old headlines about business owners returning to New Orleans, as well as a story about the pastime of hunting in the US, to be more worthy of featured, large-font headlines on the main page than this article (which was tucked away at the bottom of the international section).

Don't we all feel a collective tremor of fear when we think about due process rights that are being violated every day, and automatically make the reciprocity argument in our heads: if we (meaning: the government officials of the country many people on this email list hold pay taxes to and receive passports from) can do this, then what can we expect can be done to us? For a country with some of the most advanced equal protection and due process safeguards of any justice system in the world (supposedly), I really am astonished, truly astonished, that this has gone on FOR YEARS. Imagine how outraged, broken, and (to repeat myself) angry you would be if you were in their shoes! It boggles the mind.

I haven't read something so disturbing about Guantanamo as this since the NYTimes did that article a few months ago about child detainees (like a boy who was captured at the end of 2001 at the age of 15 and is now 18).

To just continue my rant for one more sentence (or three) --> I think that this is absolutely criminal. Whoever has oversight responsibility for this (military, DoJ, Attorney General...I have no idea) is, in my opinion, criminally culpable. I wonder what would happen if congresspeople who claim to agree with opinions like mine were to to have a hunger strike on Capitol Hill? Wouldn't that be interesting...

Read on :)

Widespread Hunger Strike at Guantánamo

By NEIL A. LEWIS

Published: September 18, 2005

WASHINGTON, Sept. 17 - A hunger strike at the prison camp at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, has unsettled senior commanders there and produced the most serious challenge yet to the military's effort to manage the detention of hundreds of terrorism suspects, lawyers and officials say.

As many as 200 prisoners - more than a third of the camp - have refused food in recent weeks to protest conditions and prolonged confinement without trial, according to the accounts of lawyers who represent them. While military officials put the number of those participating at 105, they acknowledge that 20 of them, whose health and survival are being threatened, are being kept at the camp's hospital and fed through nasal tubes and sometimes given fluids intravenously.

The military authorities were so concerned about ending a previous strike this summer that they allowed the establishment of a six-member prisoners' grievance committee, lawyers said. The committee, a sharp departure from past practice in which camp authorities refused to cede any control or role to the detainees, was quickly ended, the lawyers say.

Maj. Jeffrey J. Weir, a spokesman at the base, said that the prisoners who are being fed at the hospital are generally not strapped to their beds and gurneys but are in handcuffs and leg restraints. A 21st prisoner at the hospital is voluntarily accepting liquid food.

Major Weir said the prisoners usually accept the nasal tubes passively because they know they will be restrained and fed forcibly if necessary. "We will not let them starve themselves to the point of causing harm to themselves," he said, describing the process as "assisted feeding" rather than force-feeding. On at least one occasion, he said, a prisoner was restrained and forcibly fed.

One law enforcement official who has been fully briefed on the events at Guantánamo said senior military officials had grown increasingly worried about their capability to control the situation. A senior military official, also speaking on the condition of anonymity, described the situation as greatly troublesome for the camp's authorities and said they had tried several ways to end the hunger strike, without success.

The comments of the officials who spoke on the condition of anonymity, probably because their accounts conflict with the more positive descriptions in official military accounts, generally mirrored the statements of lawyers for the detainees, who have received their information from face-to-face interviews with their clients.

Clive Stafford Smith, a British lawyer for several of the detainees, said he was visiting some of his clients in August when the most recent strike began. He said that a detainee, Omar Deghayes, told him that the strike was largely to protest their long imprisonment without being charged with any crime as well as the conditions of their confinement.

He said that Mr. Deghayes, a Libyan who has lived in London, told him: "Look, I'm dying a slow death in this place as it is. I don't have any hope of fair treatment, so what have I got to lose?"

Mr. Stafford Smith said an earlier hunger strike ended on July 28 after the camp authorities agreed to improve conditions.

He said that one inmate, Shaker Aamer, negotiated the end to that hunger strike with a camp official he identified as Col. Michael Bumgarner, who said he had been authorized to address some of the prisoners' grievances. Mr. Stafford Smith, who represents Mr. Aamer, said his client told him that Colonel Bumgarner said he would ensure that the detainees would thereafter be treated "in accordance with the Geneva Accords." That included, Mr. Stafford Smith said, the establishment of the six-member committee to represent the prisoners in talks with the authorities. Such representative committees are called for in the Geneva Conventions, although they had not been formed at Guantánamo. The Bush administration has said that while the Guantánamo detainees are not entitled to the protections of the Geneva Conventions, they are generally treated by its standards.

Mr. Stafford Smith said the committee only functioned for a few days before authorities disbanded it.

Major Weir disputed Mr. Stafford Smith's description of a prisoners' grievance committee. "There have been no meetings with detainees refusing to eat," he said in a written statement in response to a question about the existence of such a committee. He said that commanders and soldiers interact with the prisoners daily and that they are also made aware of prisoners' needs and complaints from representatives of the International Committee of the Red Cross. He declined to elaborate further.

Mr. Stafford Smith said the current strike began after some detainees reported witnessing the abuse of a prisoner, Hisham Sliti, when he returned to his cell after an interrogation session. He said that Mr. Deghayes told him that he had also seen a guard throw Mr. Sliti's copy of the Koran onto a cell floor. The military has acknowledged that isolated incidents of abuse of the Koran have caused some unrest among detainees, but authorities said that they investigate any such reports and discipline any offenders.

Kristine Huskey, a lawyer with Shearman & Sterling in Washington who returned from visiting Guantánamo last week, said that three of the Kuwaitis she represents in federal court were among the hunger strikers. She said she could not discuss everything she learned because of an agreement with the military that lawyers may not disclose information from their visits until the authorities review their notes for classified information. Nonetheless, she said, "The situation in the camp itself is very bad," adding that the hunger strike was "far more widespread than the government is letting on."

She also said that the camp authorities seemed greatly harried as they tried to cope with the situation.

The comments by Mr. Stafford Smith and Ms. Huskey demonstrate the vast changes in the military's task since federal courts have become involved in cases involving detainees and ordered the military to allow defense lawyers to travel to Guantánamo. Before the advent of lawyer visits, the military had total control over information from Guantánamo. There is now general acknowledgment that there were hunger strikes in 2002 and 2003, but they were largely unknown at the time. The only parties who had solid information when the strikes were occurring were the military authorities and Red Cross officials, who had pledged not to reveal what they learned in their visits in exchange for continued access.

The discrepancy between the military's figures for participation in the strike and those of the lawyers may partly be explained by their using different definitions. Major Weir said a detainee was deemed to be on strike if he refused nine consecutive meals. Gitanjali Guiterrez, a lawyer with the Center for Constitutional Rights, a New York group that issued a recent report on hunger strikes at Guantánamo, said that more than 200 detainees have said they have participated in the strike, and that could mean they ate only some meals or consumed only beverages.

Ms. Huskey said that the government tried to prevent lawyers from her firm from visiting their clients in recent weeks. She said officials had to be pressed to allow the visits by Judge Colleen Kollar-Kotelly of the Federal District Court in Washington in at least three telephone conferences.

Ms. Huskey and her colleagues filed a motion before Judge Kollar-Kotelly on Aug. 29 asking her to order the government to allow them to visit their clients at Guantánamo who they believed were involved in the hunger strike.

"The judge essentially said they weren't being accommodating enough, and she pressed them to explain why we couldn't go," Ms. Huskey said. "When they said they didn't know if our clients were involved in the hunger strike, she asked them to find out."

Ms. Huskey said that when the government lawyers later reported that three of the firm's clients were involved, Judge Kollar-Kotelly said the lawyers should at least be able to visit those detainees.

"The government then became more accommodating," she said.

Lyrics of the Day

...not to imply that I'll have lyrics everyday, or any other day...or that these lyrics are more brilliant or apropos to my life than any others. I just like these. Right now. Edited (to be mother and blog and VC-life appropriate) from the original, a song called "Stick-Up" by Kelis.

I've been loving you for years
I know that I was never clear
But I have my fear today
Cause I'm gonna say
What I gotta say
I don't wanna play the role
I'm busting through the door
Gonna take your heart for sure

Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm gone take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air

I'm gonna play cards from here
And take this gamble,
Sure my words are gonna fumble
But this being hushed and humble
Ain’t got me nowhere
Sure I'm scared but my life's a dare
And baby you just got so much flare
We'd be the perfect pair
I'm gonna share my mind with you
You've been blinded by lies, my blue
I'm taking you, I'm taking you

Put your hands up in the air
It's a stick up
I'm gone take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air
In the air, in the air, in the air

You try to run I still get you
A whole nother meaning
Don't want your gold, want your soul
Continue heartbeating
Cause when I start squeezing that muscle
That's the trigger then I got you...

This is a robbery, and no one's gettin free
Til that man he comes for me
This is a robbery, and no one's gettin free
Til that man he comes for me

Put your hands up in the airIt's a stick up
I'm gone take your heart from here
Now let's fix up
Put your hands in the air, in the air, in the air
In the air, in the air, in the air

:)

VC

Cairene Mysteries & Clijsters Win + Equal Prize Money Rant

No hyperlinks because those more than anything else deter me from posting (it's hard with slow connections to find all the relevant links for you guys!), but two quick things:

CAIRENE MYSTERIES

This is probably the fourth time I've seen CNN footage of protests in Cairo that I was totally unaware were going on and have no idea where/when they could have possibly occurred. In response to Mubarak's landslide 88.6% electoral win (with 23% turnout) in Egypt's "first open election," installing the incumbent President for a 5th consecutive 6-year term (30 years as President...doesn't that make you a king?), there were protests downtown today in Cairo, and I can see from the newscast on CNN that they were downtown in Tahrir Square, which is where my university is. The weird thing is that I went to AUC early this AM and was there all day, walking around, getting lunch with my friend Termite Queen (she likes the name!), and there were NO protests. So odd. How was I walking around Tahrir in total peace and quiet (read: the normal traffic and chaos of Cairo's most important traffic circle) only to return home and see on tv these MASSIVE protests? So odd.

Cairo's invisible protests (as I said this isn't the first time this has happened) shall be added to a growing number of Cairene oddities (mysterious phenomena, myths, etc.). Two more are: the myth of horrible late afternoon traffic during Ramadan, and the myth of 6th October bridge's fantasticness.

Now, as some of you may know, we have a yearly holy month in Islamic countries that I'll talk more about when it comes this October, called Ramadan. The most visible difference between Ramadan and other months is that during Ramadan, people fast between sunrise and sunset, and break-fast (iftar) at sunset. The MYTH in all this is that you really shouldn't go outside in the hours after noon because the traffic is awful as people struggle to get home for iftar. Now, I don't know if this is a self-perpetuating myth, where, since everyone listens to the advice and stays home, no one is on the street to see that they aren't that busy, but they aren't! Last year I totally ignored this rule, and my only observation about Cairene traffic changes is that in the few MINUTES before iftar, it's really dangerous to be on the road because people are speeding like CRAZY to be at the dinner table in time for the call to prayer and the break-fast. The roads at that time are almost empty, though, and it's more about speeding drivers than traffic.

Myth number two is that the 6th October bridge (maybe later I'll update with a map or something), that connects the Zamalek/Gezirah island in the middle of the Nile to downtown on the Eastern Bank (and which then continues as a freeway north) is the best thing since sliced bread (or, to make a gratuitous pharaonic reference: the best thing since embalming fluid). As Desi can confirm, I have this odd curse that, no matter where I am in Cairo, every taxi driver I encounter has the uncontrollable urge to drive me on the 6th October bridge. This has actually been witnessed by Desi, and it is my daily annoyance when I go to school. Part of this is a fear of traffic on other bridges, which leads many taxi drivers to drive on an unimaginable convoluted path that is 5 times as long (and therefore wastes more gas and doesn't save any time in the end) in order to get to a bridge that has only slightly less traffic than other bridges (to the untrained American eye, it would all look like gridlock), but part of it is totally inexplicable...drivers taking me on 6th October when it is not in any way a logical alternative to our route. In any case, I want to just say for all the world to hear that 6th October bridge is not "all that," and I have had probably a dozen drivers, now, express surprise when, after I insist that we do NOT take that bridge, but instead drive on the dreaded (because they think it's a traffic mess) Tahrir Street (not to be confused with Tahrir Square, of protest fame) and see that it has the same amount of traffic, but less stops, and is SO MUCH MORE DIRECT than making 15 turns to get on a bridge that is out of the way, inconvenient, and still congested.

TO SUMMARIZE:
* People protest in Cairo, but they are not seen or heard (I guess we knew that) -- even by people like me who are apparently too absorbed in their stuffed crust Margherita pizzas at Pizza Hut to see what's happening on the street immediately outside
* Traffic in the afternoon hours before iftar during Ramadan is not as bad as people think it is
* The 6th October bridge should be torn down and its concrete recycled to patch the chunks of building that fall on you when you walk around, here

CLIJSTERS WIN

Congrats to Kim Clijsters on finally winning a major final (in her 5th try), by defeating Mary Pierce to capture the US Open title just a few hours ago. I think Kim has amazing maturity and perspective (she's almost ethereal at times), and minus the PR blunder of her father criticizing my EVEN MORE favourite player (also Belgian), Justine Henin-Hardenne, has been an extremely positive sports icon.

On to prize money --> the winner gets a check for $1.1 million dollars. Nice, right? Plus there is a promotional campaign to encourage the tour-tattered players to play the summer lead-up events to the Open whereby the best performer in a series of US Open warmup tournaments is offered double the prize money of whatever they get when the Open starts. Kim also won that, which means that by winning the US Open, she collected, for a single tennis tournament, a paycheck of $2.2 million dollars. VERY NICE. The historic thing (which I was glad they announced at the ceremony, because I think it's important) is that this is the biggest single prize ever awarded to a female athlete. So she blew it in her first 4 majors, but when she won, WOW did she win!

This brings me to equal pay for equal work, and continuing debates over the few remaining tournaments that do not offer equal prize money for men and women, and the ongoing debate over competitiveness in the women's game and the length of matches men and women play.

To breakdown the argument in favour of paying men more, people argue two things: first, that in major tournaments, men play best of 5 set matches, and women play best of 3, so men are playing more, and should be paid more (equal pay for equal work); second, it is argued that the men's game is so much more competitive than the women's (wherein many of the top players coast through the early rounds of tournaments, spending about 30% as much time on court as the men do) even if the men and women are playing the same number of sets -- another variation of the equal pay for equal work argument.

These arguments suck for obvious reasons, but I'll tell you explicitly why. First, as we glean from the logic of the competitiveness argument just discussed, the "work" you put-in on the court can't be measured (if at all) by the number of sets you play; if Roger Federer breezes through three sets against Lleyton Hewitt and Sania Mirza spends longer on court to win in two against someone else, then how does the equal pay for equal work argument apply, there? It's ridiculous to even try to quantify effort in that way. Second, and this is my GENIUS (not) realization from the other day, the competitiveness argument should really be used to justify equal pay, not fight against it. One of the reasons that women's tennis is (some would say) less competitive than men's is that women were either barred (for social/cultural reasons) from playing (and still are), or were paid so little that it was not a viable income path. Only when sponsors started putting Anna Kournikova in smaller and smaller dresses did it make it incredibly lucrative to be the #4 ranked player in the world (WHICH SHE WAS), and I don't think that commercial endorsements and modeling contracts (which have, some argue, contributed to the very tragic disordered eating and physical injuries sustained by certain former-top 10 players, as well as the exclusion of other less traditionally-attractive world number one players from earning as much as their lower-ranked bombshell cohorts) should necessarily be the way women get paid as much as men as professional athletes. The more the sport plays, the more women will join, and the more competitive it will become. Womens tennis is very competitive DESPITE a history of gross discrimination (when you hear how little women like Billie Jean King and Martina Navratilova made in their dominant primes, it's really unbelievable), and will only get more and more competitive as women are encouraged by equal pay campaigns to participate in the sport.

Sleepy :)

VC

Furious, Homeless Chunk

Well after leaving my beloved Millennium Hotel in Sharjah for the atrocious and disgusting fly-covered festering pile of elephant dump called the Four Points Sheraton in Dubai (which lured me in by its promises of wireless internet in every room, and a mere 400m walk to my favourite shopping center, the BurJuman Centre), I have now spent about 24 hours chasing my tail, trying to figure out how to economize, be happy, be productive etc.

After a total customer service train wreck yesterday at the Four Points (which involved an internet card, me sitting by the phone for an hour, and which culimated today in the ENTIRE network going down the for the ENTIRE day -- while the engineer prays -- and me being sent to a CLSOED internet cafe to try to make a reservation at a new hotel), I've decided to just grunt and bare it (is that the expression? or is it "grin" and bare it?)...anyway I'm grunting, but bearing it. If I weren't a total freak about privacy (mp3 dance time) and not inconveniencing people, then I'd stay with my friend in Cairo's cousin here in Dubai (who I tried to see last time I was here but who was sick).

I just HATE feeling like the 4stars I'm paying for are only worthy of about 2.5 (and twice the price), and I also have VERY little tollerance for anything but good 5star service, which is kind of a problem (I know it's bad to be that picky and reliant on luxury). This is what I've decided, having stayed in places of widely varied quality across many different cultures and continents:

* Bead and breakfasts/guesthouses sound ghetto but normally have excellent comfort and customer service, and are priced at the rate of a 2 star hotel but are seriously good options (and very worth the money)

* A clean hostel or 2 star hotel is IDENTICAL (I cannot stress this enough) in terms of room quality and ammenities (tv, internet, bathroom etc.) to most crap 4 star hotels, and are only lacking things like bad hair salons, ugly gift shops, tiny pools and dirty gyms, and bogus business centers that in their 4 star competitors are not something you care about anyway (ESPECIALLY not their plethora of "international" restaurants and inedible cuisine, which in Dubai and I'm sure many other places become late night brothels). My opinion is that the "extras" that move you along the spectrum from 2-4 stars are usually not worth it (and are mostly useless and for show) until you hit the 5 star level where the restaurants are good, the shops excellent, and the services ACTUALLY things you can and want to use.

* IN SUM: Go 5 star/luxury and get a good deal, and really enjoy all that you should in a nice hotel experience OR go for a huesthouse or the CLEANEST and MOST EFFICIENT 2 star/3 star DEAL you can find. There is no such thing as a 4 star hotel -- only over-priced 2/3 stars with poorly-functioning ammenities.

SPECIAL NOTE: Every Sheraton, in every country, sucks. From my prom night in a Sheraton Embassy Suites, to my time in a Sheraton in the hills outside Zurich, to my current 4 points (like 4 daggers stabbing at my already fragile sanity), they have ALWAYS been overpriced, underfunctioning, and totally ghetto (it's a whole Starwood conspiracy for people who work in one bad hotel to travel cheaply and get bad service in another of the same bad hotel chain in some other country...in my opinion, the rates they pay of like $15/night with Starwood points are what EVERYONE should pay, because Sheratons are TOTAL CRAP).

Wow this actually makes me feel better.

I also think that I might be fixating on changing hotels out of displaced anxiety over the work I need to do (Arabic and paper writing) over the next 4 days, as well as anxiety over finances.

I will blog tonight with more info -- hopefully focused on all the stuff that I accomplished since the afternoon (starting by going to the gym to work out some of this anxiety!).

VC

I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up

Not really, and my apologies for not blogging sooner...Herat, Pakistan, my last days in Kabul...you'll get all that.

At the moment, I'm in Sharjah, and unable to leave my hotel (even with my checkout time extended to 2PM...40 minutes from now).

I'm simply too happy with my tv, food, VIEW...I need to hybernate 5-star for a few days (which given all the studying I have to do, as well as how much I don't want to waste all my money on hotels, will be impossible).

Expext more from me soon, and it's good to be back :)

VC

Spiraling Chunky Stupidity

So I’m working on the SEVEN documents I have to send to Columbia to complete my registration in their “pre-law” (?) advising program (which I already did back in Fall 2002!), and the power keeps going out. No problem, the internet is down, and it’s dark, but my laptop still works and I can finish working on the documents, which I’ve now finished.

Here is where the escalating and shocking levels of absentmindedness begin:

I am feeling bored and think: “Whatever, I’ll wait-out the blackout and just watch some tv” *VC pushes repeatedly and with evident frustration the television switch, wondering why it’s not working*

Ready to complain to the guesthouse staff that NOT ONLY is the power out but my tv isn’t working, either, I realized how dumb I was to not forsee that the tv (duh) needed power.

Laughing at my own stupidity, I then think: "I have to blog about how funny I was to think my tv was broken because it had no power," and when I go to post the blog, I (again being oblivious to the implications of POWER OUTAGE) was puzzled by the internet not working.

You’d think I’d be capable of staying focused enough for 3 minutes to not try again and again to use things that require power, being fully aware that we have none right now, but apparently I am not.

Ok, power back on. Ready to post.

VC

Iraq's Constitution & Androgynous US Senators

Two quick things:

1. Keep a lookout for the language used to describe the roll of Islam in the new Iraqi Constitution (duh). It definitely sounds, at this point, like there will be a non-repugnancy clause comparable to Article 3 of the Afghan Constitution: "In Afghanistan, no law can be contrary to the beliefs and provisions of the sacred religion of Islam." The real question is whether or not it will be complemented (to the detriment of the powers of any Parliament that could be formed) with an equivalent to Article 121, which basically says that the courts can appoint themselves as the authoritative judges of whether or not a law is in compliance with the Constitution (ie: repugnant to the principles of Islam): "The Supreme Court upon request of the Government or the Courts can review compliance with the Constitution of laws, legislative decrees, international treaties, and international conventions, and interpret them, in accordance with the law."

2. Is Senator Lindsey Graham a man or a woman? I'm sorry but I really can't tell. I just saw Sen. Graham on television wearing a ton of makeup (foundation and eyeliner) and more lip gloss than VC has in his entire tube of Elizabeth Arden miracle lip protectant (I'd link to the site, but it's hell to navigate). I mean come on: "Lindsey"?



VC

Dreams of Warmth (and more)

I have to blog about my odd dream last night (because if you love hearing other people's dreams as much as I do, then you'll think this is fun). The dream is in regular text, and the real-life events that likely inspired elements in the dream are in italics.

So I had a dream last night that I was on a flight with some people from my guesthouse (some who do or did live here in real life, and some who I have only seen in Kabul but who don't live here) and we were alerted that the plane would have to make an emergency landing at an American military base.

• You might recall, when I first moved here, writing about these rather godly Arab Belgian guys (I blogged about one, who is known as Hassan Van Damme). Well sadly, even though we became platonically chummy, they moved out of my guesthouse while I was in Herat, and I didn't know what happened until I saw HVD's partner in the crime of scandalous hotness, yesterday, and he told me that their company moved them out to Jalalabad Road (which I have formerly blogged about), and they are here just to use the internet. Combine that with all the plane crashes on tv, my upcoming flight plans to Pakistan, and there you have people in my guesthouse on a crashing plane with me in a dream. Incidentally, the person on the plane whoin the dream was from my guesthouse, but who in real life I have only seen from afar is a model-turned-UN employee (Kosovar Albanian) who was spotted at the UNICA pool yesterday afternoon (where VC was *completely* covered, NOT swimming, and wearing LOADS of Clarin's finest sunscreen and wrinkle control cream). He makes a more significant appearance in the dream, later.

So we discover that we have to make a landing at an American military base, which none of us are thrilled about, except that we hear that they *might* have wireless internet, which gets everyone excited (dreams are so strange: "well the crash landing kind of is a downer, but at least we'll be wireless!").

• At UNICA, yesterday, everyone was commenting that it should have wireless internet so people could do their work by the pool (which is already overcrowded -- a bad idea, in my opinion).

We were assigned rooms, and I went to visit the Belgians. Apparently, they were sharing a room with Balkans Beauty in the dream (who in the dream was, for some reason, Uzbek). I walked into their room with HVD and thought I saw Uzbek on a gay website (!) -- not sure if HVD saw, and never having spoken to him (even in real life) about any of that stuff, I didn't mention anything about his roomate's online wanderings.

The group of people we flew with went to go get food somewhere and HVD and I stayed back and sat at some sheltered picnic tables, where we would socialize outside our rooms. All the people, before getting food, had been wandering around with their laptops -- holding them up and crouching down, turning around, as if water witching for an internet hotspot. HVD and I decided that we were sure we could find one, so as soon as the others left, and we found one, we started checking email and talking. We were sitting right next to each other (me on his left) and his left arm was SO warm (like it was physically emanating heat) that I leaned on it (!).

• Yesterday when I saw his partner (supposedly not THAT kind of partner, but I have my doubts), I was sad to not see him. Then I came back later, saw him in the computer lab, and was too chicken to say we should exchange emails in case I come to Belgium (which would not have even been sketchy at all, but I was nervous -- and this is AFTER I already beat myself up over the missed opportunity of seeing his partner an hour earlier and not exchanging emails!). When I saw him (his back was turned), I crept up and pretended to strangle him (VC has noticed that fake physical attacks on people is his way of showing chummy affection!), and he turned, smiled, and winked (as he does, and as his partner rather successfully copies). His neck was SO WARM that I almost melted (and almost forgot to release my grip and stop strangling him!). Some people are hot (in terms of attractiveness), but other people are physically, temperature-wise, hot (like they are human furnaces). I have SUCH a weakness for that, and I almost didn't want to stop strangling him lol. Plus he's one of those people who is so fleshy that, like, if you had to commit cannibalism, then you could live off him for like a year...that's macabre...anyway, that's were the warmth thing in the dream comes from.

I got a bit shy, but I noticed that he sort of pressed back (like leaned into my lean) and I sort of grinned, thinking that I was just REALLY happy to be warm, and worried (but not enough to not snuggle-up) that people would see us (outside at these picnic tables). Eventually (and this is the most X rated part so don't get your hopes up), he kissed me (AMAZING lol), and I protested that people would see, etc. and his response was that he already caught the Uzbek guy (as I suspected when we saw him in the room, earlier), so there was no need to be hiding things. He then told me that what he looks for in a person is that they have really healthy ______s and he used the medical term for the name of the little red chunk right on the inside of your eye in the corner closer to your nose (which of course I don't remember the name of, now) and I started to explain that my left one was a little inflamed but was quickly getting better.

• In real life, starting in Herat (how I don't know, since I can't think of anything except the pillow on the plane that could have given it to me) I got a little pink eye in my left eye. It sort of went away and came back, so yesterday I got antibiotic drops, but am rather self-conscious of it. It's hilarious that in real life, when I was researching the details of acute conjunctivitis online, yesterday, I no doubt saw some diagram of an eye which I don't remember now, but which I used vocabulary from in my dream when HVD demonstrated amazing knowledge of (and strange concern for) optical health. Human minds are so amazing -- this is why I love the scene in Romy and Michele's High School Reunion (which was SUCH a pick me up back in boarding school when Hawk Barbie and I saw it with a friend when we'd all been, as we always were in boarding school, super stressed and a little down), and the character played by Lisa Kudrow recites, in a dream, the scientific process for making glue.

We then just sat there talking and reading emails, just sitting close and being warm (nothing else you people with dirty minds!), the others came and greeted us in a friendly and casual manner, and I woke up.

• I have seen bits of American movies here and there the past few days that inevitably have a romantic scene were there is a couple, sitting on a couch or something after dinner, talking, looking into each other's eyes, maybe a little tipsy from wine with dinner, and you can see that they are just caught up in each other warmth, the moment, that romantic moment...I realized that I have not had that in an extremely EXTREMELY long time. Don't get me wrong, I have met people capable of that, while in Egypt (although they are rare), but it hasn't actually materialized (in parts, yes, but in a complete way, no). I don't remember the last time I sat so close to someone that I could actually smell the skin on his neck, and I *certainly* don't remember the last time that that moment occurred at the end of a long date, in a free and fulfilling social space, complemented by mutual respect, good conversation, and a sense of security and contentment with life. *sigh*

Note to certain Egyptian friends: Don't take offense at this comment...Cairo is not the kind of place where this can happen (in my opinion). There will never be (at this time in Cairo) a bottle of wine and hand-holding across a dinner table at a restaurant, or a slow midnight stroll to a bench by a fountain in the middle of a plush city park...it's nothing personal...it's just the situation.

{non-sequitur #1}

Continuing on my previous post about funny comments on Indian sports channels, a music video announcer yesterday referred to one of the videos that sky rocketed up the chart unexpectedly from last week as having: "emerged from nowhere like a gorilla in the mist." (!) I'd bet that a lot of Americans my age/her age wouldn't even get that reference, let alone in India...so unpredictable, the things that make up global pop culture currency. (if you don't know the reference, then google "Gorillas in the Mist" -- I couldn't decide if I should hyperlink the movie or the book or Dian Fossey's Fund's website, so I just left it be)

{non-sequitur #2a}

ESPN, here, is NOT covering the mouth-watering all-Belgian (a theme in my life?) final of the women's tennis Roger's Cup in Montreal, today (go Henin!), but they DID just have coverage of the finals of the "small agility" category of a dog obstacle course competition (prize: $10,000). At least they didn't replace it with something I would never want to watch, like American football, and the dogs are SUPER happy when they finish the course (which is indicated by their retrieval of a green Micky Mouse fly swatter from a pile of other trinkets!), but I still find the programming choice, odd.

EDIT: Damn, Henin lost. I'm glad I didn't see it :*( Check out the link, though, and you can also read about the totally UNBELIEVABLE Martina Navratilova's 175th title win -- she'll be 49 in October).

{non-sequitur #2b}

After the dog competition (I guess this is a sequitur!), they had some kind of breaking news that the women's log rolling champion, who'd been on some incredible roll (no pun! but maybe that's the origin of the expression!?!?) and had won the last several competitions, had just been upset unexpectedly. She was really jolly about it (as you expect forest people to be) and was fake-drowning the girl who beat her as they smiled for the cameras (maybe she shows affection with the same play-assaults that VC does?), but the most important part is that they had totally awesome bodies! I have been watching a lot of track and field, and decided that the perfect male body (meaning a combination of both what I want to look like, be with, and could be with ridiculous diet and exercise) is embodied by the male long-jumper, and the perfect female body (meaning a combination of what I find physically attractive and think Genetica could look like with physical training) is embodied by the pole vaulter. ANYWAY, these log-rollers totally give the pole vaulting chicks a run for their money! They were totally hot!

EDIT: You can check out this website for the log-rolling info. It's a bad photo of the girl who one (a chunk angle), but you can see that she beat the woman who'd won the world championships for the PAST FIVE YEARS.

Note on T&F bodies: yes male sprinters are as built as male gymnasts, and yes most women high jumpers could double as Milanese runway models -- and yes they are both attractive in their own sort of disfigured way -- but as far as natural but amazing-looking bodies go (by my own personal and perhaps ill-defined criteria) male long-jumpers and female high-jumpers are still the way to go.

VC