Gone are the days when I would wake up and my greatest concern is where to break my ridiculous 200 pound bill. You would think a nation that traffics in three pound falafels wouldn’t dispense these monstrous bills so freely, but it is all the ATM produces most days. Then of course no one will accept it, whether they have change or not, on the principle of the matter. You want 197 pounds of change? Honestly, I just want a falafel.
But I digress. The Trip of Epicness starts Thursday so you’ll have to deal without my omnipresence on Facebook, Skype, and G-chat. Ryan, Pat and I have had our Risk board out for weeks, mapping out what should be a goldmine of profile pictures. We are flying to Beirut and staying there for a few days. Then we are flying to Amman, Jordan, to see the city and stay with a friend of a man who lived in the apartment below me in DC. Trust me, it’s legit. Then we are swinging down to see Petra, made famous by Indiana Jones. Then I make a third appearance at the Red Sea, but this time at Aqaba in Jordan. From there were bussing/taxi-ing across the border up to Jerusalem. They say it’s hard to cross the Israeli border, but I’ll just turn the charm on. So you guys ever been to Lebanon? Not since 2006? Oh well there were no rockets when I was there. After four days in Israel it’s back to Cairo, via a 12-hour bus ride. Plenty of time to get to know Ryan and Pat. But so help me God if I hear one hat story…
So yeah from the 11th-20th I will be incommunicado. And until then, I’m rushing to finish all these papers I’ve got due the week I get back. I am struggling to write my Romantic Literature paper, as per usual I’m writing about poems I cannot understand. I’m regretting dropping Arabic to take this course; at least with Arabic I could use Google Translate. Now when I try and put Wordsworth into the box it tells me it doesn’t recognize the language. That makes at least two of us, but with the lack of class participation I’m guessing that number could climb as high as 25.
I got a huge confidence boost though when we got our midterms back today. I was pretty nervous, as I was banking on his abstract mind reading into my highly abstract answers. His comments were, “Great job! Very original analysis, though lacking in any real evidence.” He must not realize how easy it is to be original when not grounding answers in any evidence. Still, if he’s handing out A-‘s for original analysis, he is going to love my paper. Speaking of backhanded complements, I was playing tennis the other day against a real tennis player. At the end of the match he came over and said, “Adam, you’re a great tennis player! The only thing you are missing is technique.” Incidentally, I’m a great cross country runner; the only thing I’m missing is stamina.
I finally made it to a professional soccer game. Kind of underwhelming. We were obvi cheering for Cairo’s team El Ahly, who were playing some team not from Cairo. We had maybe three thousand fans to their zero. But for the first time I truly felt I was in a police state. The road to the stadium was lined with helmeted riot police, and at the end of every row in the stadium sat an armored officer. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the people behind us from spitting and throwing drinks on to the people in front of us. And by direct request of Divya for more pictures of myself in Egypt, here is one of us bringing the fervor for Ahly:
You’ll notice I’m wearing my flag as a cape to shield against the barrage of spit and drinks that rained down throughout the match.
But as I was saying I leave in two days so I’m scrambling to get everything done before then, like intern applications, blog updates, and of course Romantic Literature papers. And packing. It is hard to pack because we're going to be doing a lot, climbing mountains, swimming in seas, and raging in clubs, but at the same time we have to carry everything around with us. For this reason I've decided to bring an extra pair of jeans, three shirts, and a can of Fabreeze. But what has been troubling me most lately, and taking up most of my time, is WHO KILLED HARRIET VANGER?