A Lesson in Economics.

The basic concepts of supply and demand: you’ve heard of it, right? Over population in 3^rd World Countries: I know you’ve heard of that. Put them together and what do you get?

Surplus of labor.

(Last time I talked about economic problems in Egypt the ministry of information turned off my phone, but I’m determined!)

This is devastating for many reasons, just ask Karl Marx. He understood the exploitation of the masses: low wages, massive poverty, no investment in technology due to a reliance on labor, etc. Any surplus is wasted, any subsidized product provides only as much value as it’s artificial price.

In Egypt, gasoline is 93 cents a gallon, pita is 27 cents for 6 loaves, government bureaucracy is little more than an unemployment benefit with a desk.

This translates to real world problems like 1000s of cabs with emissions comparable to steel mills, bread wasted feeding the street cats, and the hassle of having to spend 5 hours and about 10 visits to various offices just to get a gym ID for AUC (Seriously: ISSO, Main Gym, Photographer for 6 pictures(!?!), Printer, Nurse, Doctor, Bank – for key deposit – Falaki Gym, Locker Room, Main Gym again….and then I had to wait two days).

But the other thing to which a labor surplus translates:

EVERYONE DELIVERS! It’s the most amazing thing ever. There’s little to no charge (most I’ve seen is 80 cents) and you can get anything that you want in under 30 minutes. McDonalds, Grocery Stores, laundry, anything!

Then there's this: It’s even more amazing.

When it’s 100 degrees outside, like it is right now, the last thing you want to do is turn on the oven. Or walk to the market. Or put on pants and go to a restaurant.

So you go to otlob, pick any restaurant in town, click your choices and it’s at your door in 30 minutes or less.

Last night was pizza then Chinese. Tonight we tried Turkish.

Next time: a new ethnicity of appetizer every hour on the hour.

(Sadly, Starbucks is too far away. It’s only for special occasions like Egyptian Mother’s Day – see photo album)

Pretty Princess Blue Bathroom

I know not everyone would get excited by this, but I think it's the greatest idea since sliced bread - commercial production of which began in 1928 by Chillicothe Baking Company in Missouri - but I love the amazing little gadget in my bathroom. And no, it's not the bidet, I'm still a little weary of that. It's a drain in the floor, coupled with a spray hose and an industrial squeegie.


I don't know how my bathroom got so blue, maybe the owner found a blue sink and thought, "hmm...what if I made EVERYTHING blue?" or maybe he found the light fixture with blue butterflies first and then found matching shower rings. Whatever the case, I love him for putting in the drain: after showering, I power wash the floor, the walls, the toilet, the tub, the window, and then squeegie it down the drain and get dressed.

This is a bathroom that never gets me "blue."

(I apologize for that last line.....just couldn't resist.)

Next time I'm taking the camel....

The evening started off promisingly enough with some fun tanning and throwing paper airplanes off the roof, an afternoon nap in the 90 degree sunshine, Nate making a fantastic dinner of curry cream cheese wontons and masaman chicken – things are good in Cairo on a Friday evening. Tony dropped Salma off, staying long enough to have some jugo de guayaba and a chat on the balcony in the cool nighttime breeze. I taught Salma how to waltz in the foyer. Hussein came and called Drinkie’s for delivery. We played never-have-I-ever. Things were going swimmingly.

The goal of the night was a party in 26th of July (the city not the street – look it up, worldwide repercussions mucho mas b/c of that date) which in my limited experience looks like every other suburban area of Cairo – desert. We parked, the thumping bass audible from half a block away as we approached the house. We took the elevator to the 4^th floor patio over looking the desert. They had a DJ spinning and a bartender serving (hurrah!) the elusive and refreshing imported beer/liquor – nothing Egyptian in sight; a rarity if not a near impossibility it seems.

We were having a great time, dancing, meeting new internationals, but alas: Salma had a non-negotiable curfew of 1am and I had to get up at pre-dawn for crew so we left appropriately early at only 2am. It’s about a 30 minute drive back to Zamalek, double that to get to Salma’s house in Heliopolis and just as we get on the bridge to the island, Hussein’s car get’s a flat tire. Thankfully he knew what to do b/c Nate, Salma and I had no idea what do save call a mechanic. But even with all that knowledge, a guitar was the only thing in the trunk when we opened it up.

It was at this point that we realized an insignificant detail of Salma’s curfew that she had previously not divulged – by 1am, she actually meant that she to turn back into a pumpkin by midnight. I hailed a cab to get her home, Nate was going to walk the last half mile and Hussein was going to expeditiously fix the tire (somehow) and meet me in Heliopolis to drive me back home, inshaallah (I know it translates to“God willing,” but I think that it really means, “God willing, but you and I both know that it’s never going to happen.”).

The cab is just about the most broken down jalopy in which I’ve been taxied, it couldn’t have had more than 30 horsepower left in its museum antique of an engine, but Salma and I puttered along, laughingly or frustratedly, depending on which party one examined in the back seat. About 10 minutes into the journey the cabbie told me in his poor English, “Girlfriend speaks Arabic ‘quiys’ (perfect) for foreigner.” As Salma pleaded “Ana masria! (I’m Egyptian!)” and he mockingly laughed at her attempt to “pretend” to be Egyptian, the tire blew.

The conversation with her dad was not pleasant. Apparently he bought her entire story about the four of us going to a play and having to stay late whilst Salma interviewed the director and playwright for one of her classes, but he felt that she could have come up with a better lie than pretending that we incurred two flat tires on the way home.

Hussein finally picked us up from our derelict rattletrap, but our cabbie couldn’t understand why we only wanted to give him 10 pounds, as foreigners we should give him more, forgetting that now foreigners were in the minority and we didn’t get anywhere close to our destination.

Al7amdullilah. We got home eventually……