Desert flower

Today I went for a horseback ride around the Giza pyramids with a couple of friends. The horse pictured above is named Warda, which means "flower" in Arabic.

We rode from the stables to a hill in the desert where we stopped for shai (tea) and pictures. The day was overcast, cool and windy, but the ride back still felt exhilarating.

Some observations:
1. Even though we only saw the pyramids from a distance, I found them intriguing and mysterious. And huge.
2. The horses weren't in great health, but they ran like crazy.
3. My butt hurts.

I heart Arabic

Here's a photograph of Sami, one of my four Arabic teachers. He teaches the Modern Standard Arabic class on Monday and Wednesday.

The Egyptians have a saying: "Schweya, schweya." This means, roughly, "Little by little" and people seem to say it every time I tell them that I don't speak Arabic very well.

Arabic still makes my brain hurt, but it is getting better. Everyday I am learning new words, phrases and grammar and, little by little, I am getting more comfortable with this difficult language.

However, I still can't believe I'm writing right to left.

.this like everything reading imagine Just

Today Sami taught me how to write (and say) "photojournalist". It's the line of Arabic beginning in the lower right of this photo. It says "musauwira saHafyya".

Hold on tight

All I can say is, thank God I do not have to drive in Cairo.

I took my first (and definitely not my last) taxi to the opposite side of Cairo to register for Arabic classes at Kalimat Language and Cultural Center. Any time you are in a car, whether you are behind the wheel or not, it's an experience.

A few rules of the road:
1. Never mind that paint on the road--there are no lanes.
2. The key is to travel as fast as possible.
3. If there is room for your car, you can go there.
4. There are no stoplights. Sometimes a traffic cop will stand near a busy intersection, but don't count on him to protect you from the wrath of the road.
5. Don't forget to use your horn often.
6. Blinkers are optional.
7. Parking is a spectator sport.
8. Don't expect to find a seatbelt while seated in the back of a taxi.

Luckily, I made it to my destination, my cab driver was extremely nice despite the language barrier and he didn't try to increase the fare as i got out of the cab.

Now I just have to make it back.

Marhaba (Hello) Cairo!

My flight from Paris was an hour late, but I arrived in Cairo in time to meet Rasha's father Monir and his brother-in-law Saber at the airport. They were walking around holding pieces of paper with my name on it.

From there we went to Saber's where I was fed, then to a grocery store for supplies.

Finding internet service has been challenging, and my computer battery is about to die. I will update this later today.

Later taters.

And we have liftoff!

A mere 11 hours ago my Air France jet took off from Seattle dumping me at the Paris airport. I'll depart at 1:35 p.m. (local time) and arrive in Cairo at 7 p.m.

In a surprising but welcome development, my friend Rasha, whose empty Cairo apartment I'll be using until I find my own place, called to tell me that her father is flying to Cairo for the weekend and will arrive a half hour before I do. So he'll help me get to the apartment and get the key and all that. Pretty cool! It'll be nice to see a friendly face when I walk off the plane. Rasha's parents live and work in Saudi Arabia, but her father Monir is an Egyptian national and has a vast network of friends and family in Egypt.

I can't believe I am actually finally on my way to Cairo! I am really excited to be starting this adventure.

Spokane is a refuge

William Akon, a refugee from Sudan, sits in his partially-furnished Spokane apartment.

While working at the Spokesman-Review, my favorite stories involved (surprise, surprise) people from distant lands, many of whom had been displaced by conflict or persecuted for their religious or political beliefs. I was drawn to refugees' will to survive and the complexities of building a new life far from home.

World Relief is a refugee resettlement organization here in Spokane that has helped thousands of people from, among other places, Liberia, Cuba, Iraq, Kosovo, Sudan, Burma, Burundi, Russia, Somalia and Ukraine to make Spokane home. I was really happy to donate most of my furniture to this organization. It feels good knowing that my stuff will go directly to someone who needs it.

On Friday, a great guy from World Relief named John and two volunteers (who were refugees from Burma) filled a small U-Haul with dressers, lamps, a desk, chairs and other odds and ends.

Here are a few of my favorite photos from stories I worked on about Spokane's refugee community:

Eliow, a 12-year-old refugee from Sudan, plays hide-and-seek.

The Juviel sisters, refugees from Cuba, listen to their supervisor at the Davenport Hotel before beginning their housekeeping duties.

Nadezhda, Tatiana and Pavel Slisenko pray at Light of the Gospel Slavic Baptist Church. The Slisenkos came to Spokane from Kyrgyzstan.

Liberian refugee Lucky Sawyer, 2, naps while his mother Teta prepares lunch.

Liberian refugee Meme Besseh and her daughters dance in their Spokane living room to African gospel music.