My First Night

So…. a few blocks of broken sidewalk later, Rami and I and my two suitcases come to a very crowded market area. Vendors line the streets and a large building to our right houses about eight stores.
Rami heads up the stairs leading to a bakery.

“This is us,” he says. The bakery??

We walk through a wide building corridor with more storefronts on either side. He makes a sharp left into a vestibule with a concierge desk. The attendant smiles as Rami rings for the elevator.

Yes, we are staying right above – literally – a market, both inside and outside our building. It’s a deliciously noisy strip of street where you can buy yummy fruits, veggies, meats, breads, condiments, chesses, apparel, accessories and more knick-knacks than a paddy can whack.

I’m tired and hungry and want to nap, but Rami has bought some pizza – a thick-breaded square topped with chunky fresh sauce and olives. And Raquy is just about to head off to teach her Thursday tabla class at a nearby university and asks if I’d like to join her.

Can I possibly resist??

Nope.

We skip a short three blocks to a salmon colored building where the guard asks for my passport. Then it’s up the slow, slow elevator to a dumbek-filled ante-room. We follow the DUMs to a gaggle of students cheefully whacking away.

They are all beginners, but surprisingly good – and they will perform with her at her concert next week! One student plays his homework composition as I accompany with a steady malfuf.

Ah… then it’s naptime. (Back at the apartment, not at the college – though I was ready to hit the tiles anytime!)

I doze for a few hours and wake to find two new people in the apartment: Dave, a guitarist Brit now living in Cairo, and fellow musician Fred who is visiting from Sweden.

We are planning to go to The Blue Nile restaurant, which is a swank hot spot on a fixed boat, so I dress up. But when we call for reservations, we are out of luck.

At 11pm, we manage to get a table at a nearby Lebanese place that serves a bowl of unsliced raw veggies – tomatoes, cukes, peppers (red, green and hot!) – which we devour. “Most people just leave the salad as a centerpiece,” Raquy remarks, “I think we’re the only ones who actually eat it!”

I tried out my few Arabic phrases on the waiter, but ultimately Rami ordered mixed meats, hummus, breads and other tasty staples.

“The best food in Cairo is Lebanese,” Dave noted as we strolled back. “Most of the Egyptian stuff is heavy and greasy.”

Finally back at 1am, we drop our bags and jackets at the apartment and head downstairs to our Nubian neighbors’ weekly Thursday party.

We descend a flight to a spartan lounge – linoleum, flourescent lights and about twenty Nubian men chatting, smoking, drinking tea, playing pool and ping-pong. I watch the pool game and am quickly asked if I want to take a shot.

I try. I miss.

I join Raquy in a sideroom where she has set up her kamanche, with Rami, Dave, Fred and several frame-drum-toting partygoers holding down the rhythm. I join on zills.

She plays her own compositions and a few Arabic numbers, then the Nubian men begin to gleefully sing traditional songs. They bring us tea and cigarettes. I’m in heaven.

Finally. Bed at 3am.

My First Day

Feeling mellow. Oh so mellow and looking forward to a quiet cozy sleep – for as long as it will last.

I’m in Raquy’s apartment now, which faces a hugemarket, where people are constantly screaming about their unequalled carrots, bananas, melons, you name it, as cars trundle by carelessly…but let me backtrack to…

9am -- Egypt time!

I got through three or four episodes of House before finally packing it in around midnight…. In the air for about five hours by then, and probably nearing Britain. Our seats were right next to the throbbing engine, so I had to crank the phones, which eventually gave me a headache even my boredom couldn’t dispute.

I unplugged, downed half-an-Ambien and was gone, baby, gone instantly.

What a sight I must have been, curled up in trench coat, three scarves wrapped around my head, two pillows and an exra blanket.

Ranya, my seatmate, must have thought I looked like a giant slug!!

Happily, I slept well and woke up less than an hour to landing. Here is the view from my wing. Notice the green little villa -- well, somebody's mansion -- complete with swimming pool!!

We landed smoothly and I headed towards immigration. A quick visa purchase later ($15), I searched for a cab.

There were tons of guys offering a ride to my destination in a district called Mounira, which is in Downtown Cairo -- it should be less than a half-hour ride from the airport, and costs less than 40 Egyptian pounds when cabbing it from nearby neighborhoods.

But, as you'd expect, the limo drivers were demanding over 85 EGP!! I turned them all down and flagged down a rinky-dink car, asking for a 40EGP ride. He asked for 60, and I agreed to 50.

And then we were immediately stopped by the police who asked me to sign a ledger (which I did illegibly). The driver gave the cop 20 EGP and promptly blamed me for the fine and said I would have to pay more! (Turned out he was driving without a license).

He also made me pay the 5EGP fee to exit the airport.

And he took the long, LONG way around, going way south and then crawling up a traffic-packed main drag. I called Rami, and asked for help. He asked to speak to the driver, so I handed over the phone saying "my boyfriend would like to talk to you."

Rami gave directions, but the driver continued to circle within just a few blocks of the address, increasing his fare every few minutes. He careened down tiny traffic- and pedestrian-packed streets, at one point whacking his passenger-side mirror so it hung by its rubber tubing.

I called Rami again, and a third time. Finally he told the driver to stop where we were and he came to meet us.

I told the driver that Rami would pay him when he arrived.

I handed Rami a 50-pound note and he valiantly persuaded the driver to let it be.

And so we were off...

Next entry: My First Night!!!


[Note: I will try to update this post with more photos, but in the meantime, please go to flickr.com and search the tag CairoCarol]

En Route to Egypt

So far, so good.

As I write this, I figure we are somewhere south of Nova Scotia. The guy in front of me has decided to lay back,making it difficult to see the screen, much less type. And they are showing The Nanny Diaries on the monitors, such as they are.

Dinner was actually very good.

I had the beef, which was some kind of seasoned patty, with rice and surprisingly fresh veggies, and the usual accompaniments: cheese with crackers, juice, water, a roll with butter and salad, as well as custard and tea for dessert.

Egypt Air isn’t long on amenities (at least not for us poor slobs in coach), but the food is prett good!

As usual, I left my apartment later than I’d planned, missed a train, then the next arriving Air Train was taken out of service. So I didn’t arrive until 4:45pm for my 6:30pm flight. They tell you to check in three hours ahead of time, but it turns out two hours was enough.

Fortunately, there was hardly a line to check in, so I got my boarding pass and headed off to security, wolfing down my lunch and a protein drink – because apparently they don’t let you take any beverages past the security checkpoint.

And they won’t let you wear any kind of footwear at all through the metal detector. I’d put my sneakers on the belt and put on a pair of rubber thong slippers. But the guard told me to put those on the belt, too!!

Then the guard started grabbing my stuff as I was unloading it into the bins and I told him to take it easy. Big mistake!

He decided to go through my whole knapsack – five pockets, mainly containing my personal toiletries. He emptied out over $200 worth of lotions, perfumes, etc. examing each one trying to figure out what some of this girl stuff was, all the time going, “I’m trying to help you, ma’am.”

Petty dictator.

Then, after he pawed his blue rubber gloves through my things, he brought over a ziplock bag and, with deadpan glee, told me I could take whatever could fit in the bag, figuring I’d probably have to leave something.

But he underestimated my feminine packing powers. It all fit and I swept my bag away from his prurient gaze.

So.

Here I am. Happily flying along. The many children have finally stopped crying and they’ve turned off the cabin lights.

My seat-mate, a lovely woman coincidentally named Ranya, has plugged into The Nanny Diaries. Eek.

I think I’ll watch an episode of House.

February 2008 Performance Archive

I only did one public show this month:

Badawiyat, which The Dalia Carella Dance Collective premiered last year through Dance New Amsterdam's Performance Project.

Remounted as part of The Field's modern dance performance showcase, Fielday at
PS 122 on

Sunday, February 17 @ 7pm

PS 122

150 First Ave. at E. 9th St

212-477-5288

It will be remounted again at LaMama in late May, although their smaller space will only allow for six (smaller) dancers, and I will not be a part of it, though I'll definitely be there to cheer them on!

Blogging Badawiyat and Beyond

Oh the pain!!!

Don't get me wrong, though -- the performance at P.S. 122 went well -- really well -- so much so that the good people at LaMama have asked the Collective for a reprise at their space in May.

BUT... I suppose there is always a tinge of bad with the good.

I haven't seen the video yet, but as far as I could tell, we started off fine... all in synch and in stoic Bedouin character.

And then came the veils.

Let me tell you a little about the veils......

Now, these are beautiful veils, and a huge part of Dalia's vision for the piece, as we sweep from a stoic debke line into the piece's sandstorm climax.

As you might expect, they are a deep, sandy gold, made of heavy poly-silk, which drapes beautifully and glows in stagelight.

And they are long. Long, long long. Mine was the longest, at over 4 yards. The shortest was just under 3.5 yards.

We start sans veils -- very stern, lean and mean.

About two minutes in, the group of eight splits, with my half exiting as the others hip-twist forward.

My group returns, ritualistically draped in our veils (sorry, I can't show you a pic of that here... these photos are from the DNA performance in October '07).

Anyway. We cross forward and split to the four corners of the stage.

Now, bear in mind, it looks like the veils are draped very simply over us, so we look like a bunch of sandy ghosts, but in fact they are slyly tucked into the backs of our dance pants so at the right cue -- woosh!

The veils go up, forming a sail behind us. This looks especially nice when you spin.

So, while I'm there spinning my little head off, I feel something at my feet. Of course I can't look down. But I feel a tug at the veil in my hand.

Ack!

During the first cross, my veil came untucked from my pants and was dragging on the floor behind me, completely ruining the effect of the sail!!

And what killed me was that, in all the rehearsals and performances, I have never had a problem with my veil. In fact, I think this whole sail-veil thing may have been my idea!

So my pertard was firmly hoist (and, no, a petard is not a sail or other nautical device... it's actually a bomb -- no kidding!).

But I didn't look down, and I didn't trip. I just went on as normal for the minute or so that the section lasted, and then leaned waaaaaaay back, as far as I could, so Yowalka could grab the veil -- as planned -- with a spectacular flourish.

Beautiful, huh?

Anyway. The people I spoke to after the show said it looked all right. It helped that I kept on going, which is the most you can expect from anyone in a prop/wardrobe malfunction situation.

And sometimes it is exactly the malfunction that shows just how professional you can be.

Feeling my pain, a friend sent me this hysterical clip of the unforgettable Anita Morris. Keep your eyes on her little skirt -- especially around 2:41.

Yes, she was a goddess -- and a great inspiration to us all!!!

Badawiyat, MOTM and Egypt-Bound!

Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope the young archer has been good to you -- and if he hasn't, may you fill your heart with music and dance! I will be doing exactly that tonight at a charity event for the Jewish Home of the Aged.

Technically, this is a private event, but if you're absolutely dying to see some dancing and share a lot of love with those who need it most, please let me know and I'll try bring you as a special guest.

In the spirit of love (and the hefty Dalia Carella rehearsal schedule) I'm only doing a few charity events this month.

My one public performance will be Badawiyat, which The Dalia Carella Dance Collective premiered last year through Dance New Amsterdam's Performance Project.

We are remounting it as part of The Field's modern dance performance showcase, Fielday at PS 122 this

Sunday, February 17 @ 7pm

PS 122

150 First Ave. at E. 9th St

212-477-5288

Admission: $10 at the door

We are the first act, so please get there on time!

Other things going on in Tandavaland......

Yes, I'm Raquy's Messenger of the Month for February 2008! And if that's not cool enough, I'm going to hang with her in Egypt in March!!

I'll be posting more details about this later, but at the moment all I have are departure dates --March 12th through the 18th -- and Raquy's awesome three-bedroom pad.

Yay!!! Alhamdulela!!

And I've been studying Pimsleur's Comprehensive Egyptian Arabic CDs which, I have to say, are very effective. Granted, the vocabulary is limited, but you learn all the important stuff, and it's taught in a way that gives you strong retention.

Of course, I'm sure I'll be pretty lost when trying to understand others, but at least I'll know enough for bargaining at the bazaar.

Archive: Events for January 2008

This is a list of my public events during Jan 08:


Tuesday, January 22 @ 7:30pm - emceeing and dancing at BEYONDFUSION: a Belly Dance SHOWCASE at Le Souk 47 Ave. B, bet. 3rd & 4th Sts --with Tahya, Mimi Fontana/Manhattan Tribal & Nadia Moussa with guest dancers in "Tumbao". NO COVER. $15 food/drink minimum at tables.

Sunday, January 27 @ 7pm - emceeing at SharQui's Night of Stars at DROM, 85 Avenue A & 5th -- with Nadira, Aszmara, Jeniviva, Kazja, Ranya, Tarik Sultan, Layla Isis and Oreet. $20 cover.

Wednesday, January 30 @ 7pm (dance performances start at 8:30pm) - dancing at Bellyqueen's weekly Djam Under Je'Bon, 15 St. Mark's Pl & 3rd Ave -- with Dunya. $10 cover. $5 food/drink minimum.