The Bedouin Project

Israel's Glorious Loyalty Oath Crusade

2009-05-28T06:22:00.002-04:00

I usually try to keep this blog apolitical, however following on Israel's attempt to legislate allegiance to the state by introducing a pledge of loyalty to Israel's Jewish and Democratic character (more here: http://english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/2009/05/200952716164623556.html), I could not help but be reminded of the brilliant episode of the Glorious Loyalty Oath Crusade in Joseph Heller's Catch-22. Now, a couple things. That Israel can be Jewish AND democratic is a fiction which is becoming ever-increasingly more difficult to believe. Secondly, while no stranger to Orwellian twisting of language and facts, the Israeli government has really outdone itself in the "Absolutely No Sense of Irony" department, as it forces its Palestinian-Israeli citizens to take a pledge of loyalty to the (allegedly) democratic nature of the state and punishing by imprisonment protests against said state.

Now, without further ado, an excerpt from Heller's Catch-22

Almost overnight the Glorious Loyalty Oath Crusade was in full flower, and Captain Black was enraptured to discover himself spearheading it. He had really hit on something. All the enlisted men and officers on combat duty had to sign a loyalty oath to get their map cases from the intelligence tent, a second loyalty oath to receive their flak suits and parachutes from the parachute tent, a third loyalty oath for Lieutenant Balkington, the motor vehicle officer, to be allowed to ride from the squadron to the airfield in one of the trucks. Every time they turned around there was another loyalty oath to be signed. They signed a loyalty oath to get their pay from the finance officer, to obtain their PX supplies, to have their hair cut by the Italian barbers. To Captain Black, every officer who supported his Glorious Loyalty Oath Crusade was a competitor, and he planned and plotted twenty-four hours a day to keep one step ahead. He would stand second to none in his devotion to country. When other officers had followed his urging and introduced loyalty oaths of their own, he went them one better by making every son of a bitch who came to his intelligence tent sign two loyalty oaths, then three, then four; then he introduced the pledge of allegiance, and after that "The Star-Spangled Banner," one chorus, two choruses, three choruses, four choruses. Each time Captain Black forged ahead of his competitors, he swung upon them scornfully for their failure to follow his example. Each time they followed his example, he retreated with concern and racked his brain for some new stratagem that would enable him to turn upon them scornfully again.

Without realizing how it had come about, the combat men in the squadron discovered themselves dominated by the administrators appointed to serve them. They were bullied, insulted, harassed and shoved about all day long by one after the other. When they voiced objection, Captain Black replied that people who were loyal would not mind signing all the loyalty oaths they had to. To anyone who questioned the effectiveness of the loyalty oaths, he replied that people who really did owe allegiance to their country would be proud to pledge it as often as he forced them to. And to anyone who questioned the morality, he replied that "The Star-Spangled Banner" was the greatest piece of music ever composed. The more loyalty oaths a person signed, the more loyal he was; to Captain Black it was as simple as that, and he had Corporal Kolodny sign hundreds with his name each day so that he could always prove he was more loyal than anyone else.

"The important thing is to keep them pledging," he explained to his cohorts. "It doesn't matter whether they mean it or not. That's why they make little kids pledge allegiance even before they know what 'pledge' and 'allegiance' means."

More On Being a Male Feminist

2009-03-23T06:08:00.003-04:00

This blog is quickly becoming a an extended feminist rant, but so be it. I wrote the article below for an Egyptian magazine, but I don't know if or when it'll ever see the light of day.

My friend Francesco has a tendency to bellow various and sundry catchphrases that he has coined over the years: he does so loudly, frequently, seemingly unprompted, and for no particular purpose that I can ascertain. Among his favourites is the phrase “a little bit of feminism”. Francesco’s general tendencies towards the Neanderthal-esque in other aspects of his life lead me to believe that he does not intend this as a rallying cry for the emancipation of women. Instead, with his somewhat tenuous grasp of the English language, I suspect Francesco understands “feminism” to mean “lesbianism.”

He certainly wouldn’t be the only one. When I taught English literature to first-year university students in Canada, feminist theory was to be introduced only after what eventually became a ritualistic recitation of caveats: No, feminists were not angry man-hating lesbians. More worryingly still: No, feminism was not obsolete simply because women could now vote. Finally: No, feminism is not applicable only “over there” (read: far-off places where people always seem to be at war and women always seem to be veiled). I would end my spiel with the assertion that, differing interpretations notwithstanding, feminism at its essence boiled down to a belief in the equality of the sexes. “Given such a definition,” I would tell them, “I would hope all of us would define ourselves as feminists…I certainly do.”

What invariably ensued was silence; a tense, uncomfortable silence broken only by an awkward giggle from the back of the class. It may simply be because as a male I lacked the biological accoutrements traditionally considered necessary in order to join the ranks of feminists. I did not meet the “member”ship criteria, if you will. Whatever the reason, students in my overwhelmingly female classes not only showed a distinct aversion to identifying as feminists themselves, but also met my self-identification as such with a combination of scepticism, discomfort, and amusement.

For too many, the term “male feminist” is an oxymoron. No doubt, there was a time during the evolution of the feminist movement when, in the face of an oppressively ubiquitous patriarchy, women-only spaces were necessary. Thanks in large part to the gains made by the various feminist movements around the globe, men have come to be seen not only as welcome, but necessary allies in the sometimes seemingly quixotic quest to stamp out the systematic and systemic discrimination against more than one half of the world’s population by the other half.

Perhaps it’s too easy to pick on Cairo as a case in point. The sexual harassment which has reached pandemic proportions in this city has been well-publicized of late, but – with few exceptions – to no noticeable effect. As is frequently observed, it is no small irony that the very same men who ostensibly hold the honour of their mothers, wives, sisters and daughters in such high regard, have no compunction about violating that of others. Of course the reasons for this sort of behaviour – poverty, unemployment, urban anonymity, sexual frustration, a sense of emasculation, etc. – are manifold, but none constitute excuses.

If, therefore, men are the problem – as we unfortunately so frequently seem to be – then only through the active engagement of men can solutions reasonably be expected to be reached. Perhaps the greatest obstacle to the notion of male feminism gaining more traction is a curious zero-sum-game mindset which pervades the less enlightened of the male sex: seen through this retrograde lens, to be pro-woman is somehow, by definition, to be anti-man. That which is good for women can only chip away at the privileges which men now enjoy. It may be true that women’s liberation will require some concessions on the part of men, but if that is the case, then they are concessions of advantages men did not deserve in the first place.

No one, least of all me, is saying that this will come soon or easily; the relinquishing of privilege for the sake of greater egalitarianism never does. However, slavery ended only through the agitation of both black and white abolitionists, just as the advances made by the American civil rights movement were brought about thanks to the combined efforts of black and white activists. So too will the pernicious patriarchy which afflicts us, both men and women, be defeated only when more men make a genuine call for “a little bit of feminism.”

Egyptian Women Fight Back

2009-03-18T07:00:00.003-04:00

I have in the past advocated the arming of all Egyptian women with pepper spray (currently illegal in Egypt) in order to deter would-be sexual harassers who have become a blight upon this country. I can't take credit for the self-defence initiative reported in this BBC News article, but it's a step in the right direction. Instead of the inocuous "restraint" technique mentioned in the article, however, can I propose the teaching somewhat more offensive Jason Bourne or Steven Segal type moves, preferably rendering the attackers' cojones vestigial? This would have the added effect of controlling Egypt's ballooning population by sterilizing men who, quite frankly, have no business procreating in the first place.

Academia and its Discontents

2009-03-11T01:20:00.006-04:00

This troubling New York Times article has been making the rounds lately among my predominantly humanities graduate student crowd.

None of us got into academia to get rich, but we all thought that we'd at least have a job. We slogged through seemingly endless years of study, classes and essays. We struggled through exams, comps, vivas...all to demonstrate to the powers that be that we are worthy. And throughout the sleepless nights spent hunched over books or illuminated by the glow of a computer screen, fuelled by a concoction of espresso, ephedrine, and Red Bull, there was, at the very far end of the tunnel a dim, barely visible light towards which we slowly inched our way: Tenure.

You see, academia is not unlike fraternities on a much larger, long-term, and more sadistic scale. Academia's hazing rituals can last well over a decade, and include such perversities as marking towering piles of papers written by barely-literate first years or producing reams of research from which one's supervisor will pluck a single fact, figure or sentence to be used in his/her forthcoming publication (acknowledgement not guaranteed). One does this while earning barely more than the minimum wage, burdened with tuition fees and past student debt, and subsisting almost entirely on ramen noodles. Why you ask? Because once we get past all that, once we get in, we're in for life.

Tenure is the ultimate in job security. Barring gross misconduct (and even then), the tenured professor can not be fired. The logic behind this, historically, has been that once an academic has established his/her credentials and abilities, he/she should be free to pursue research without fear of harassment from the institution. Such an arrangement would have spared Socrates a rather nasty bout of hemlock poisoning. And so, the US Supreme Court notwithstanding, academia remains one of the very last bastions of the job security afforded by what is essentially a life appointment.

And now the NYT is telling me that it's all for naught?! Am I to understand that my two undergraduate degrees and two Master's degrees (in lieu of any practical life skills, I prefer to obtain degrees in pairs) aren't worth the paper they're printed on? That the nearly 1/4 of my life thus far spent in institutions of higher education engaging in all the aformentioned inane and perverse hoop-jumping has been wasted? That my months of agonizing over writing the perfect doctoral research proposal would have been better spent in some sort of "gainful employment"? Nay I say to that!

Look, NYT, I know you're on the brink of bankruptcy, but just because you're going down doesn't mean you have to take us all down with you. Sure, there's nothing you'd like more than for a mass exodus of disheartened graduate students to read your article, give up and drop out, thus flooding the job market and providing you with a source of cheap labour which you - having done your research so well into grad student habits - know you can abuse without hearing a peep of complaint (grad students prefer to voice their complaints in innocuous twitter tweets). I'm on to you, but I won't play your game. If I don't find a job after completing my PhD, I'll just do another one. Degrees come best in pairs anyway.

WebMD: Fuelling Hypochondria since 2005

2009-03-03T05:33:00.004-05:00

I've been having some pretty brutal headaches as of late. Not having a great deal of confidence in Egypt's ailing healthcare system (pun intended), I consulted the next best thing: WebMD. My friend, Mindgrapes, has already blogged about her own experiences with WebMD here. Like me, she entered her symptoms into the androgynous, Ken Doll-like model. However, while she came up with 20 possible diseases for what I could have told her was probably a simple case of RSI from her incessant chatting/procrastinating, I came up with only one. On the human model I indicated the head as the location of the problem. Under symptoms I selected "Headache (worst ever)" (seriously, that's an option). The diagnosis? Brain Aneurysm.

Given that I'm still alive and not paralyzed on either side of my body, I'm starting to doubt WebMD's diagnosis skills. On the upside, there's a great niche market for Egyptian doctors. Slogan: "We're marginally better than an inanimate website."

The Cairo Blast

2009-02-23T05:30:00.004-05:00

First of all, I was nowhere near the blast. Everything I know comes from what I've been able to glean from the BBC and Al-Jazeera, so I'm not going to pretend to have any additional information that cannot be obtained from the media. The available information is scant.

A bunch of us were out in another part of Cairo, also very popular with tourists, when one of us got a text from someone in London saying "heard about what happened, hope you're all okay." It was the first we'd heard of anything happening. After ascertaining what had happened with several more text messages, what surprised me the most was how blasé everyone seemed to be. We noticed absolutely no increased security presence in the city, despite the fact that we were in an area densely populated with embassies, and we were sitting in a restaurant packed with tourists. For our part, aside from briefly exchanging theories about what had happened, who had perpetrated it and why, it was just another dinner out with friends. Is this a function of growing up in the Mideast my whole life? Was it because, in the grand scheme of things - between Gaza, Iraq, Afghanistan... - this seemed minor (though this will come as no consolation to the victims and their families). How desensitised are we becoming to these things?

Most information we have so far:

http://english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/2009/02/200922381126139132.html

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7905032.stm

BBC tackles Cairo Traffic

2009-02-22T01:53:00.005-05:00

It's almost cute how indignant Christian Fraser seems to be over the traffic in this BBC report. What's that? Cars don't stop at a pedestrian crossing? Oh mon Dieu!

Requiem for Saab

2009-02-20T06:13:00.021-05:00

As the economic crises in which we are currently mired gradually worsened, one thought occurred to me: "what about Saab?!"*. As the much larger mainstream automakers struggled to stay afloat, I knew the outlook for Saab looked grim. The quirky little Swedish company always, inexplicably, played second-fiddle to its better-known compatriot competitor, Volvo, despite the fact that Saabs looked and performed better than the boring, boxy soccer-mom mobiles. Saab was never a car with broad-based appeal. Instead, the company relied on a small but passionate cadre of loyal followers. I was one of them.

It was hardly love at first sight. My first encounter with a Saab occurred when I was 9. I had just arrived in Kuwait from Canada, and my father picked my mother, brother, and me up in an odd looking charcoal-grey hatchback. "What kind of car is this?" I asked. "It's a Saab, it's Swedish," came my dad's response. I was unimpressed, and with good cause. There seemed little to endear me to this odd and unconventional car, a 1988 Saab 9000i. For starters, it was already 4 years old when I arrived in 1992, and the harsh Kuwaiti heat had not been kind to this Scandinavian car which was likely never intended for 50+ degree Celsius temperatures. The roof lining was sagging because the glue holding it up had hardened, and the dashboard was beginning to crack. The glove box was filled with screws and bolts which my dad had decided were "extras" after taking apart various parts of the car to repair himself (only the notoriously expensive Saab dealer was willing to touch the car to do repairs otherwise). Perhaps most troublingly though, the family's quirky little Saab 9000 was different, and for a 9 year old desperately seeking social conformity, "different" equalled "bad."

Slowly but steadily, though, I began to see our Saab in a different light. In its own junkyard dog kind of way, it was scruffy but lovable. It was rough around the edges, no purebred Pomeranian, but rather a mutt with personality. The more I learned about Saabs - their attention to ergonomics, the company's aviation past, etc. - the more I grew to appreciate ours. In 1996, time came to bid farewell to this car that I had learned to love. It was therefore with much excitement that I came across a classified ad for a 1992 Saab 9000 in the newspaper. We went to see it and found that it too was charcoal grey. In fact, it was for all intents and purposes, the same car. Saab had a habit of changing very little about their cars. As my dad put it, "you can't improve upon perfection." And it was damned near perfect. We bought the car right there on the spot.

At this point the Saab had become my mom's car, my dad preferring his oversized boats of American cars. He and I tried a little experiment. Unbeknownst to her, we switched out the old '88 with the '92 we'd just bought and replaced the keys on the key ring. It took her a solid two weeks before she realized the difference. The giveaway? The old '88 had the hazard lights button on the steering column while the new one had it in the centre of the dash. That humble little '92 Saab remained my favourite car until I left Kuwait in 2001. It stayed with my dad for several years after that, my dad taking it out for a spin on weekends, until it came time for our second Saab to go out to greener pastures.

Yesterday, Saab filed for "reorganization," Sweden's equivalent of Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. GM had bought a 50% stake in Saab in 1989, seeking to fill a gap in its mid-luxury lineup. For years it seemed as though Saab dodged the bullet of GM number crunchers who have historically been more interested in the bottom line than in imbuing any of their vehicles anything approaching individual personality. However, GM completed its takeover of Saab in 1999 and, tellingly, Saab has not posted a profit since 2001.

I often speak of Saab having been my favourite car in the past tense. Since GM's takeover, all those quirky little lovable attributes which earned Saab its loyal following were gradually phased out in a bid to give Saab mass-market appeal. It seemed that GM had a similar outlook as my 9-year-old self: different = bad. As Stephen Pope, chief global strategist at Cantor Fitzgerald, was quoted as saying in this BBC news article, GM "oversaw the destruction of the Swedish car company's soul." Like Dr. Frankenstein, GM tried patching together parts from its various other brands to produce new Saabs, and the result was always, inevitably, a monster. There was the Saab 9-3x, derisively called the Saabaru because, with the exception of about nine body panels tacked on to make it vaguely resemble a Saab, the car was for all intents and purposes a Subaru Impreza, a great car no doubt, but not a Saab by any stretch. Perhaps even more catastrophic was the Saab 9-7x SUV, in actual fact just a Chevy Trailblazer in disguise. It didn't fool many people though as I have to this day yet to see a single one on the street.

All of this fiddling meant that Saab purists gradually dropped out. Meanwhile GM's attempts to capture greater market share with those who had perhaps never previously even heard of Saab failed. No one was left to buy these once noble if not a little unusual cars. It seems as though Saab and GM tired of each other as well. GM wants to make Saab into an independent company by 2010, euphemism for wanting to shed the loss-making company. For its part, becoming independent of GM is a core pillar of Saab's "reorganization" program proposed to the Swedish government, a tacit acknowledgement that, after dating for 10 years and being married for another 10, the marriage between Saab and GM just hasn't worked out.

In the current economic climate, the outlook for humble Saab looks bleak. As people's wallets become ever lighter, they will choose tried-and-true over fresh and innovative, that's if they're going to be buying a car at all. Who knows though, after shedding the dead weight that is GM, perhaps Saab will go back to basics, woo back its faithful followers who felt jilted by its flirtation with GM, and rise, phoenix-like out of the ashes. For my part, I have yet to give up on my dream of owning a Saab - a real Saab.

*note reference to the 1991 Bill Murray film "What About Bob?"

Reflections on Cairo: Galavanting in the Grotto

2009-01-20T16:50:00.008-05:00

After much ~~pestering~~, prodding, my girlfriend finally convinced me to go to the Grotto. I remember hearing my parents wistfully recall the glories of Cairo's Grotto Aquarium, with its collection of rare fish, manicured lawns, and neatly identified species of flora. For them, the Grotto's fall from grace stood in for Cairo's own. And to be honest, they had a point. We found the Grotto Aquarium had become a misnomer, with the only living fish to be found being a lowly Nile catfish alongside the bloated corpse of an erstwhile turtle. Had we taken up the advice of the man at the door who accosted us with offers of a private tour of the Grotto, we may have encountered more, but we thought we'd try it out on our own. True, there remained some labels on the various species of trees which inhabited this, one of Cairo's few remaining green areas, but with their Latin binomial nomenclature and Egypt's literacy rate at around 70% (just under 60% for females), one had to wonder what was the point? Rather than crowds of Cairo's good and great perambulating throughout the park, parents walking hand in hand while excited children ran ahead, gawking and pointing at the next exciting new species of fish (this is how my parents recall it, though I imagine there is some romanticized revisionist memory at play), the Grotto was instead peopled by young couples.

Young couples were everywhere the eye could see, assuming the eye in question squinted into the many dark corners, nooks, and crannies which have made this the favourite place for amorous youths to escape the omnipresent glare of pesky parents, nosey neighbours, and stringent societal mores. Once the reserve of Cairo's elite, the Grotto is now the refuge of Cairo's frisky.

And what of it? My parents are right, this Grotto does symbolizes Cairo at large. Like Cairo, it has a certain adaptive, chameleon-like quality which has allowed both Grotto and City to weather what storms may come. Constricted by an overbearing, conservative society where dating is something done either only "over there" (the hedonist West) or by those with loose morals, Cairo's young couples have sought sanctuary along bridges, dimly-lit sections of the Nile's banks, and here, at the Grotto, where boys in jean-jackets and slightly dated haircuts can freely clasp hands with girls who struck me as nonetheless coy and demure. Perhaps because they know that society regards them as the vanguards of their most valued possession, their honour, and that their merely being here threatened that, the girls at the Grotto seemed somewhat more ill-at-ease than their male companions. I wondered then, as I do now, if they felt power in their subversion as well. Interested to get his take on the Grotto, I casually mentioned to my cousin, who is in his late twenties, that I'd been there. "Oh?" he said, with raised eyebrow, "and what did you think?" He did not stop to hear my answer before continuing "It's full of couples, youths, but lost youths." My cousin, it seems, did not approve of the lurid goings-on he imagined occurring there.

Yes, Cairo, like the Grotto is the worse for the wear. But one thing that recently struck me in the course of reading Max Rodenbeck's Cairo: The City Victorious (required reading for all denizens of this city), is that Cairo has been through a lot, much of it even worse than this. Cairenes complained of pollution and overpopulation as far back as the 11th century. And while it's impossible to tell what Medieval Cairenes would make of today's smog-filled city of nearly twenty million, it helps to keep things in perspective. Cairo's recent history is but a hair's breadth on the timeline of this truly great and ancient city. Despite our pretenses, as far as this Cairo is concerned, we are mere blips, destined to come and go like so many before us, while the city trudges along.

Advice for Driving in Cairo...or anywhere else, really

2008-12-01T07:51:00.000-05:00

Don't use advertising billboards as landmarks...they're apt to change periodically.

Musings of a Male Feminist on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women

2008-11-25T15:11:00.005-05:00

I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by friends enlightened enough not to flinch or raise an eyebrow at the notion of a male feminist. And why should they? If, notwithstanding all the diversity, disagreement and debate in the movement, feminism ultimately boils down to a belief in equality of the sexes and genders, then one would hope that all males would be feminists. That more men aren't is, in fact, the core of the problem. Slavery ended only through the agitation of both black and white abolitionists, just as the advances made by the American civil rights movement were brought about thanks to the combined efforts of black and white activists. And how often has the world lamented the lack of a more concerted effort by non-Jewish Germans citizens in the face of policies and attitudes which led to the Shoah. Silence is tantamount to complicity.

On November 25th and the sixteen days of activism that follow it marking the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, we are once again reminded (not that we ever should or could forget) of that most pernicious and persistent blight upon human kind: the systematic and systemic discrimination, bigotry and violence against women. Still, too many men choose to remain silent either due to detrimental passivity or willful ignorance. This, despite the fact that women still only earn about 75 cents for every dollar a male earns in the United States or the persistent under-representation of women at all levels of government. Meanwhile, around 17% of women in the United States have been victims of rape, but the FBI estimates that only 32% of rapes are ever reported. And as conflict and violence continues in so many regions of the world, we would be remiss to forget that it is always women who suffer disproportionately in these situations.

Men must engage in the struggle for full realization of women's rights everywhere. We must rail against the chronic violence - physical and structural - perpetrated and perpetuated by other men. We must state unequivocally that we will not stand for half the world's population doing harm to the other half. We must not remain silent.

He don't eat no meat?!....I make lamb...

2008-09-14T14:11:00.006-04:00

It's always kind of a shock to people when they first learn about it. "You're an Arab...and a vegetarian?" they ask, as though the two are mutually exclusive. They can't be entirely blamed, of course, meat being so integral to Middle Eastern cuisine, but so too are the salads and dips that comprise the smorgasbord that is mezze. Then of course there's foul, ta'meya/falafel, kushari, etc., all of which are both delicious and vegetarian. And even though the rising cost of meat means that most of Egypt's poorest can not afford to eat meat on any sort of regular basis, the notion that someone would voluntarily abstain from eating meat tends to be the source of great amusement, confusion and bewilderment. "Don't you still feel hungry after you eat?" relatives often ask me. "Shrimp aren't really animals, have one!" say others. One of my favourites is "But (food item x) only has a little bit of meat" as though my objections to meat were based on quantity and not substance. And the list goes on.

The meat-intensive cuisine of the Mediterranean was made most famous by the film My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where an aunt famously exclaimed upon learning that the main character's fiance was a vegetarian: "He don't eat no meat?!.....it's okay, I make lamb..." Well, today I had my own personal re-enactment of that scene in a restaurant while trying to order my meal. It went a little something like this:

Me: "I'll start with the vegetable soup..."
Waiter: "I'm sorry sir, we're out of the vegetable soup"
Me: "Do you have any soups that don't have meat?"
Waiter: "Yes, we have a chicken soup"
Me: "No, I don't want meat"
Waiter: "It doesn't have meat.....just chicken..."
Me: "I'll have the garden salad"
Waiter: "Would you like chicken on it?"
Me: (blank stare)

Now, okay, granted the Arabic word for "meat" is colloquially used to connote red meat, but I still think it's pretty amusing.

2008-09-01T07:09:00.001-04:00

Ramadan Kareem

رمضان كريم

Ode on a Dilapidated Cairo Taxicab

2008-08-26T06:32:00.008-04:00

Not meant to be terribly profound and literary or otherwise "good," just a few musings whilst riding around Cairo in one of its many (in)famous taxis.

Ode on a Dilapidated Cairo Taxicab

Peugeot 504
freshly painted black and white
only 20 years ago
"Tahrir, Sheikh Rihan"
"InshALLAH"

Squeezing through
rattling along
pot-holed Cairene streets
across the world's longest river
over Qasr el Nil bridge
vigilantly guarded by two great lions
as I balance precariously on your broken seat

reupholstered countless times

the most recent being with the new paint job

Your long disused meter displays the last fare it ever charged
60 piasters
a bygone era
when Garden City lived up to its name
when Masr el Gedida lived up to its name

how much have you seen these streets change

but remain familiar

You would know your way around

even if not expertly steered

by the quiet, sullen man

who dolefully puffs on a Cleopatra

breaking silence only to curse the chaos

and pedestrians

and buses

and pickup trucks

and delivery motorcycles

and…

Contemplating vehicle emissions limits

and seatbelt laws

and manufacturer-recommended maintenance schedules

and roadworthiness standards

I smile

Dilapidated Cairene taxicab

Blog re-re-relaunch

2008-08-20T04:57:00.002-04:00

Yeah, so this is about the Nth time I've re-launched the blog, and I doubt anyone out there is even reading anymore, but I figure that now that I'm living in Cairo, a) the whole "Bedouin Project" thing will be more applicable and b) I'll have more to write about than I did whilst living in southern Ontarian suburbia.

Reflections on Cairo (part 1 of many)

Cairo has been labeled as being loud, over-crowded, dirty and polluted. And it is all of those things. But to dismiss one of the world's great cities on such grounds is to miss the point entirely. While, for instance, London may throb with energy, Cairo manically pulsates with palpable palpitations felt through the honking of car horns, throngs of bodies, or the swiftly moving Nile. No, it's not a city for everyone, but no city is. It's not a city for the spoiled or the weak of heart. Cairo won't coddle you comfortably or dote on you. If that's what you're looking for, look elsewhere. You don't want Cairo, and Cairo most likely doesn't want you. Cairo is a demanding mistress, but for those who learn to navigate this city, the rewards are great, and made all the more sweet by the knowledge that so many before have come and failed to see beneath the grime that veils (if I can be cheeky) this city.

I end with a recipe I've been working on for a while now:

Driving in Cairo

Ingredients:

1 part renewed faith in God
2 parts rally racing
2 parts bumper cars
horn honking and swearing to taste

Beat all ingredients together vigorously until complete anarchy is reached, serve hot.

Remember me?

2007-08-21T12:41:00.000-04:00

Hmmmm, I've been so negligent about updating this thing that I'm not even certain I have a readership anymore, which would mean that I'm just blogging to myself at this point, which I think would make one even more crazy than speaking to oneself, which has become surprisingly acceptable since the advent of bluetooth handsfree earpieces.

Well, I find myself back in Canada and out of Saudi, out of the Middle East, and out of a job. It's a bit funny how defensive I am about being back here, whenever someone asks if I'm "back for good" I'm always quick to snap back "No! Only for a year!" when they usually were just wondering if I was back on a holiday or not. I think this says a lot about how I feel about being here, but let's not get ahead of ourselves, let's go back to leaving Saudi and leaving work.

I left Saudi. I left work. Now, I sound thoroughly ungrateful when I complain about my job. It was, by my own admission, one of the cushiest jobs on earth, and probably one of the most intellectually stimulating desk jobs one could have hoped for. All of this notwithstanding though, I still hated it, which just confirmed in my mind what I've known all along: academia is the only thing that will make me happy.

I have been so monumentally happy ever since leaving work. I arrived in London from Saudi at the crack of dawn on July 12th (my last day of work having been July 11th) and went straight into the office, filed my final expense report, did some housekeeping, and waited for the IT department to get in so that I could return my work laptop. It was like returning an iron ball that had been chained to my ankle for almost a year. Walking out of that building for the last time, now an unemployed man, I felt such an overwhelming sense of lightness. Unemployed bliss.

I spent the next ten days in London, but for a brief interlude in Paris for a few days with some friends from Cairo. As previously mentioned, I was staying at my old graduate halls of residence in London, and it was remarkably less weird and a lot more natural than I had anticipated. Got a bunch of the gang together and we got up to our usual antics in the garden (involving copious amounts of alcohol of course). All of you Paul Robesonites who weren't there were sorely missed. Attended the graduation ceremony on the 19th, so I'm now officially the holder of an MA degree.

And here I am, back in humdrum Southern Ontario looking down the barrel of a second Master's degree and giddy as a schoolgirl about it. Have been assigned the courses I'll be TAing and I'm very pleased with them. Incidentally, I was also very pleased to receive my invoice for tuition from the university and see a positive balance on the tally line. The school owes ME money due of my scholarship. Money which will undoubtedly be fastidiously saved and invested...or something.

Now I'm just biding my time until school starts. I don't think it's normal to be this excited about it though.

Salaam from the now very green pastures of the Bedouin Project...

Cairo Craziness

2007-06-10T03:11:00.000-04:00

Wow...that's pretty much all I can say about this past weekend in Cairo. I think I need two weeks to fully recover from the past two days. It all started with being upgraded to a presidential suite at the Nile Hilton. From there on, I knew that it was going to be an absolutely rock star weekend.

Two bottles of bourbon, copious amounts of karaoke and innumerable incriminating photos later...I am completely and utterly destroyed.

I've been reading Jack Kerouac's On the Road and I think it might be at least partially responsible/an inspiration for the insanity that ensued this past weekend. J and I are kind of like Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise when we get together. Been thinking a lot about the Beatniks lately, will be the subject of a future post at some point I think...

In celebration of my impending return to studenthood

2007-06-05T08:49:00.000-04:00

I don't normally include full text of articles that strike my fancy, but I found this one sufficiently amusing (and brief) to include in full:

The eight types of graduate student

Why are we postgrads here? Well, for lots of reasons, says Patrick Tomlin

Tuesday May 15, 2007
The Guardian

When I started this column, I promised myself I wouldn't let it become a monthly whinge about how poor I am. Partly because that would be as boring as if I stood in your garden and recited excerpts from my thesis, and partly because, as graduate students go, I'm not too badly off.

But I have had to make financial sacrifices to pursue my studies. Given that everyone else has presumably had to do so too, I initially figured that we must all be there because of a pure thirst for knowledge. I've since realised, however, that the impulses that draw someone to academic study beyond graduation are a lot more varied than that.

While I've only been at it a short while, I am sufficiently aware of the unwritten columnists' code to know one is expected to make wild generalisations, shun nuance, and present categories in a list format. So, without further ado, I present the eight types of graduate student:

1. The Wannabe Undergraduate

They had such fun as undergraduates that they cannot bear it to end. They prop up the bar, talking to undergrads about their thesis, rather than actually writing it. They judge success by notches on the bedpost and hangovers accrued instead of marks, grades and the intellectual respect of their peers.

2. The Student Who Tried Employment

Some postgraduates have been out into the real world and had a real job, with a desk and a computer and a pay cheque and a lunch break and a pension and appraisals and meetings and everything. And, for whatever reason, they have found it wanting.

3. The Couldn't-Survive-Anywhere-but-at-University

The group most likely to be cultivating eccentricities - keeping a mouse in their pocket or wearing socks with Marxist slogans sewn into them - while still too young to shave.

4. The CV-Filler

Their primary focus is not what they study, but what it will look like on their CV. They believe this qualification will give them "that extra edge". Most likely to end up as accountants or lawyers, never employing the knowledge gained.

5. The Prestigious Scholarship Recipient

Rather than worrying about what the subject they study will look like on their CV, their primary focus is who is paying for it. In a reversal of the usual relationship between funding and studying, in which the former is a means to the latter, the funding is regarded as an end in itself and the studying something that has to be endured to be able to call themselves a [insert name of dead white man] scholar for the rest of their lives.

6. The One Who Just Needs Answers

They really are motivated purely by the desire to find answers about their specific area of interest.

7. The Eternal Student

They are not bothered whether their academic career shows linear progress, they're just collecting qualifications and trying to get every letter of the alphabet after their name.

8. The Polymath

These geniuses could have studied anything, anywhere. They will probably go on to great things across several disciplines, and already understand your thesis better than you do. An unfortunate subset are also charming, witty and good-looking, and therefore hated by everyone.

· Patrick Tomlin is researching a doctorate in political theory at Oxford University. His column appears monthly

So where do I fit in?

A teensy bit of #1, not so much because I had such a great time as an undergrad as much as because I missed out on a lot of those seminal undergrad moments living at home, and am making up for it now.

A LOT of #2: Real World = highly overrated. Been there, done that, no thanks

Definitely #3: closely related to #2, I've tried the real world and know that I can only survive in academia. University is the only place where my eccentricities are not merely accepted, but encouraged.

#6: As Salvador Dali said, "I am in a constant state of intellectual erection."

#7: So far have a BA, MA, in line to get another MA, a certificate in Arabic language study, and a PhD...that's a lotta letters...

#8: I am brilliant, bow down before me...also, I belong to that unfortunate subset that "are also charming, witty and good-looking, and therefore hated by everyone." Don't hate me because I'm beautiful...

Fellow graduate students...what about you?

How the mighty (i.e. me) have fallen...

2007-05-28T03:29:00.000-04:00

Well, I've just gotten done booking accomodations in London for the week I'm staying after I've quit my job. It's pretty funny, I've gone from having the travel department in the London office make bookings at swanky Chelsea hotels for me, to having to book a summer room in my old dorm halls myself. The things I'm giving up for academic pursuits...

It's going to be very weird to be back at Paul Robeson House, especially without everyone else there. Hmmm, I'm not really sure how I feel about this...

EDIT: Also just booked my plane ticket from London back to Toronto leaving London/arriving in Canada July 22nd. Sigh, will be flying economy class again...it's all becoming very real...

Industry vs. Academia: the apparently not-so-neverending struggle (aka I've made a decision!)

2007-05-22T09:20:00.001-04:00

A decision has been made! (no small feat for those of you familiar with my indecision). After months of agonizing over my short-term career path, (featured in this blog entry) I have decided to leave the cold heartless corporate world and return once again to the warm comforting bosom of academia whereupon I shall firmly esconce myself in towers of ivory. I have been offered a full scholarship and a teaching assistantship at my alma mater where I will be doing my second MA degree. As it turned out, Middle East Studies was far too marketable in the real world, so this time around I've opted for a degree so esoteric, so obscure, so thoroughly lacking in practical application, that no employer would ever make the mistake of hiring me again, thereby sparing me the dire fate of having to work in the "real world." I'm doing a program called "Cultural Analysis and Social Theory" which - I can only assume - entails the analysis of culture whilst theorizing about society. I could be wrong though.

I actually feel really good about this decision. At the best of times, I was merely content in my job, at the worst of times, thoroughly unhappy. Since making this decision, however, I've been overcome by a profound sense of peace. Now, I realize that returning to my alma requires a return to Waterloo, about which I've griped so much in the past, but I think after the past couple years I've had, small-town Ontario might be just what the doctor ordered...just for the year of my masters though, after that I reckon I'll be ready to go anywhere but there.

And where might that "anywhere" be? Well, the current plan (yes! for the first time in my life I actually have a plan that extends beyond the end of the present academic year) is for me to go spend a year in Cairo taking an intensive Arabic course at the American University of Cairo once I'm finished my second MA, then, armed with (hopefully) fluent Arabic, return to SOAS for my PhD in something to do with Palestinian politics, culture, literature, society, etc. Details still a bit sketchy but TBD.

So there you have it folks...my life for the next 5 years in a nutshell...let's see what really happens.

P.S. To anyone in Southern Ontario...prepare the red carpets and pink elephants for my arrival parade.

Hello Saudi

2007-04-14T07:37:00.000-04:00

This post was started some time ago, saved as a draft, and forgotten. These impressions still apply, so I have not altered them...another recent post to follow shortly...

Well, here I am in Saudi Arabia...not as unpleasant as it sounds. In fact, after being in Libya for 6 months, being in Saudi feels oddly refreshing. No disrespect to Libya mind you, my time there was a valuable learning experience, but I felt rather alienated the whole time I was there. Saudi, on the other hand, resembles Kuwait quite a bit, which gives it an air of comforting familiarity. It is a modern and cosmopolitan country with all the comforts and amenities that one would want. So basically, malls, fast food, Starbucks, etc. etc. etc. Now, as you all well know, I'm not terribly keen on mass market commercialism, but I find myself oddly comforted by the fact that there is a McDonald's, Burger King and Dunkin Donuts no more than 500 metres away.

Industry vs. Academia: the neverending struggle

2007-03-26T12:51:00.000-04:00

So recent events have been forcing me to re-evaluate my professional prospects. I'm currently being tugged in two mutually exclusive directions: The glitz, glamour and fortune of industry at the expense of....my soul.... versus the noble life of intellectual pursuit at the expense of...a guaranteed roof over my head?

I guess it's kind of like Star Wars (warning: my Star Wars knowledge is shaky at best). On the one hand, you have the dark side, giant, omnipresent, well-funded, capable of providing you with wealth and power beyond your wildest fantasies, if only you'll join it. Then there's this rag-tag band of tweed-attired bandits whose hearts are good and pure, but can they defeat the Death Star? Of course, they did in the movie, but that's Hollywood, the same place where the nice guy gets the girl in the end, good always triumphs over evil, and other such fantasies completely divorced from reality. So how will this end?

I guess this PhD comic strip sums up the dilemma (click to enlarge)...

Gaddafi in Conversation

2007-03-24T14:15:00.000-04:00

On March 2nd, 2007, the 30th anniversary of the declaration of the Libyan Jamahiriyah ("state of the masses") Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi sat down in discussion with Anthony Giddens and Benjamin Barber (author of Jihad vs. McWorld). The discussion was moderated by Sir David Frost. The result: a fascinating insight into the thoughts of this oft-misunderstood leader.

Watch for yourselves here:

www.LibyaInTheGlobalAge.com

Interesting stuff I think...

Movin' on over....to Saudi Arabia...

2007-03-22T16:19:00.000-04:00

Hello All,

I haven't written because there hasn't been much worth writing about, but now some big changes are about to transpire. I had been requested to transfer to a project the company has going in Saudi and I've decided to accept. It wasn't an easy choice. I know I had complained about it often in the past, but I'd kind of gotten used to Libya and the team there. Regardless, I will definitely look back on my time there as a profoundly educational and positive experience.

Now on to Saudi...who knows what awaits me...I certainly don't...

Valentine's Day, Libya Style

2007-02-15T06:27:00.000-05:00

So, the entire team decided to have a big valentine's day dinner last night, I guess to comiserate on having no one other than our coworkers to spend valentine's day with in Libya...The restaurant we were eating at was having a prize draw for a pair of gold earrings. I was assigned the number 1, which one of my co-workers wanted, and which I offered to her, but she insisted on sticking with her number. I then proceded to go on and on about how I have absolutely no use for gold earrings, what would I do with gold earrings?! etc. etc.

Then I won them...

Who wants to come with me...

2007-02-08T05:23:00.000-05:00

...to the Kentucky Bourbon Festival? September 12-16 in Beautiful Bardstown, Kentucky (I've never actually been to, or heard of the place, but I like the alliteration). Promises to be a good time. I only fear that I never leave again...

Drinks I Have Loved

2007-02-05T02:59:00.000-05:00

Many of you will have heard this from me before in person, I've decided to put my thoughts down for posterity. The sad thing is, I don't know if this is using alcohol as a metaphor for my love life, or my love life as a metaphor for alcohol.

(disclaimer: these are simply musings. I do not intend to refer to any person in my past in particular. Any likeness to real persons or events is entirely coincidental.)

(disclaimer #2: I am not an alcoholic...although they do say denial is the first sign...but for me it's different...although that's what alcoholics always say....ummm...I can't win this one...)

The Drinks I have Loved:

First there was alcopops (coolers for you in North America) or some other kind of fruity drink. You're in highschool, you're young, inexperienced, and only recently got done drinking koolaid and fruit juice. This seems like the next logical step. You're too young to handle anything really serious, but you still want to feel like you're grown up. Like your highschool sweetheart, alcopops are effervescent and artificially sweetened. You feel like this will last forever. Then you graduate highschool and head off to university, a world full of new drinks. You do your best to remain true to alcopops, but you feel yourself drifting apart. You start spending more and more time with your new "friend," beer. Finally, you have a decision to make. You tell alcopops that you'll always be friends, but you gradually drift further and further apart. Now when you see alcopops on the shelf, you do little more than give a smiling nod, with little to say to one another.

Then comes beer. During your whole period of confusion over alcopops, beer was there for you. You felt like it really understood you. In the rough-and-tumble world of undergrad, at keg parties and frat parties, beer just seems like a much better match for you than alcopops ever did. You start off as friends, but gradually things develop into something much more. You find yourself settling into a kind of comfortable routine with beer, preferring to spend the night in, in front of the TV than go out. Compared to your over-the-top melodramatic relationship with alcopops, your relationship with beer is much more subdued and level. At first you like this, but then you start to wonder if perhaps there isn't more for you out there. You wonder if this is all there is to life. You start having doubts about beer, even though there isn't anything "wrong" with it per se, which makes everything so much harder. Your eyes start to wander to other drinks...

Then comes seduction by "the other drink." For some it may be some exotic latina/o like tequila, or a Russian like vodka. For me it was a high-society seduction: Martinis. Proper martinis with gin and vermouth, none of these new fandangled cocktails in a martini glass posing as martinis. No, this was old money. Martini was everything beer was not. Extravagant, exciting, spontaneous, over the top. I could scarcely resist that longer, slender-stemmed glass. You have a torrid affair with the other drink with passions running high, but this much emotion cannot sustain itself, it's bound to end, and when it does, it invariably ends in tears.

For a while you're alone and drinkless. You might even have sworn off drinks, but you're at a party one night and you bump into beer again. At first it's a bit awkward. You don't really know what to say, there's a lot of awkward silences, a lot of idle smalltalk. But eventually you start talking again, perhaps you remember a particularly fond (if perhaps a little hazy) memory you had from back when you and beer were an item, and before you know it, it's like you and beer had never parted...

Or, alternatively, your friend introduces you to her friend, chardonnay (if you like blondes) or shiraz (if you prefer red heads). Either way, you are reminded a lot of the good times you had with beer, who after being betrayed has refused to take you back. You develop the same kind of stable "friends first" relationship you once had with beer, but this time with wine, a little older, a little more sophisticated...

University is winding down. You find yourself in your final year (meaning probably your fifth or 6th year of undergrad) and much to your chagrin, it looks like you actually might have enough credits to graduate, after changing majors three or four times. You're not even quite sure what program you're in anymore. Nonetheless, you have serious decisions to make about your future, and your future with your drink. The thought of entering the real world seems so thoroughly unpalatable, and your intellectual growth so incomplete, that you decide that grad school is your only choice. Or perhaps you need to go find yourself by backpacking through Asia for a year...either way, you're moving away...

When you arrive, you find yourself alone in a strange new world. You feel isolated and alone. You make long distance calls to beer or wine to comfort yourself, but it's a bittersweet experience, leaving you melancholy and alienated. Still, you truck along, assuring yourself that this is a character-building experience, reminding yourself of the reasons you left in the first place. Then one evening, almost by accident, you stumble across "the drink." You weren't even looking for it, but there it is, a drink that makes you feel right. For me, as many of you know, this drink is bourbon. It wasn't love at first sight with bourbon, such idealistic notions can't last. Rather, it was a slow and steady building of a relationship that now sits atop a solid foundation. Without the juvenile melodrama of alcopops, the high passion-filled drama of "the other drink," or the daily mundanity of beer or wine. This drink is, as Goldilocks would have put it, just right. I think I've finally found the one, that is, "the drink." I'm ready to settle down and have little mini-bar sized bottles of bourbon to call my own. I think bourbon and I will be happy together for a long time to come...

Hindi A Capella? Oh yeah...

2007-02-04T07:56:00.000-05:00

Not as funny as it sounds at first thought, Pennmasala is a seriously awesome Hindi a capella group based out of the University of Pennsylvania that I stumbled across in my web browsing. They do both English and Hindi numbers (I'm currently listening to a bilingual version of "Another Night, Another Dream"). Their site has lots of music samples, and they also did a hilarious Facebook skit, available on youtube. Special thanks to Balcancan for posting this on my facebook wall.

Grad students aren't bad people...

2007-01-18T09:43:00.000-05:00

Now, I know that I'm currently on hiatus from grad studenthood, but I'm still a grad student at heart. That's why, when I was recently reminded of this clip from the Simpson's, I had myself a good larf:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufSZ3QBWSaw

Back from the holidays...

2007-01-10T10:25:00.000-05:00

So, yes, back from the holidays which I spent in Kuwait, but that's not the point of this post. I will say this though, I couldn't spit without hitting someone I knew from highschool! It was really bizarre! Got a chance to see a lot of familiar faces that I hadn't seen in years and years, so it was nice.

Anyways, on my first day back in Libya (couple days ago) a bunch of people from the team decided to go eat at the fish market. So we settled on a restaurant, Barakoda [sic], which looked a little less shabby than the one we usually go to. As we're seated and handed our menus, I notice the restaurant's slogan:

"We're not the best, but we're going ahead"

Now, two things:

1) Why would a restaurant so brazenly and forthrightly tell its customers that it is "not the best"?

2) If they know that they're not the best, then why are they still "going ahead"? ("going ahead" and serving us whatever crap they manage to churn out I suppose)

Okay, granted, the original Arabic translates better into "We're not the best, but we're on our way," but that's still a pretty bad slogan! Imagine if an airline's slogan was "We will most likely get you to the general vicinity of where you want to be." It's just not good marketing, and you don't need a consultant to tell you that.

Shameless Bragging Redux: Tales of my Idiocy

2006-12-21T03:58:00.000-05:00

Well, since my last blog post consisted of myself shamelessly boasting about my limitless brilliance, I figure it only right that I follow it up with a blog past about my equally boundless idiocy...as if you needed any further evidence...

I woke up around 1 or 2 am last night to use the little boys room. My flat was pitch black, because that's the only way I can sleep and since I'm lazy and didn't want to hurt my eyes by switching on the lights...I didn't. I figured that I had some kind of bat or dolphin-like sonar and would be able to find my way to the bathroom in pitch black just fine.

You'll never quite realize just how much velocity and force a groggy human walks with at 1 in the morning until you walk headlong into a wall. Not so much a wall in fact as much as the intersection of two perpendicular walls forming a sharp 90 degree corner.

Now, a combination of general aversion to all things athletic and a generally sheltered life have meant that I've never really taken any sharp blows to the head (I know this will come as a surprise to all of you). It's amazing how the body reacts in these situations. All of a sudden my ears started hissing really loudly and I felt nauseous and dizzy. I gingerly felt my way to the washroom (having lost all confidence in my sonar) and was quite surprised to see a rather large split in my brow, from which copious amounts of blood was flowing. Have you ever had these kind of seminal moments of epiphany where you discover things about yourself? Well, I had always known I was vain, but I never knew just how vain until, upon seeing this sight, I thought to myself: "Shit...that's going to leave a scar..."

I spent the next two hours applying pressure and icing it in order to stop the bleeding while I stayed up and watched al Jazeera English. Moral of the story: pee before going to bed.

Shameless bragging

2006-12-03T08:44:00.000-05:00

Just a brief post to inform my reading public that I got the results back for my masters degree, and I have been awarded a "distinction," the highest classification awarded by SOAS. So basically what I'm trying to say is that we now have documentary proof of my brilliance...not that any of you ever doubted it in the first place.

Congrats to all my SOAS comrades who have now officially completed their degrees!

These are a few of my favourite blogs...

2006-11-27T02:44:00.000-05:00

People have been hassling me to update my blog, but in actual fact, I have drafts of a few posts already begun, but they just don't seem to want to finish themselves. I guess they will when the time is right. Anyways, this gives me the opportunity to blog about something I've been meaning to for a while: other blogs. Other blogs that I really like, in fact.

We start with a couple blogs of people I don't know personally, but kinda wish I did. Rockslinga is the blog of young, up-and-coming (or perhaps "already made it"), award-winning Palestinian author, Randa Jarrar. In it she poignantly and oftentime humourously writes about topics as varied as Palestinian politics and literature to single-motherhood. Also dealing with the topic of Palestine and the Middle East more generally is Susannah Tarbush's blog, The Tanjara. Not much information is given about "Starbush," but she seems like a person I'd be friends with.

On to people I actually know, we start with my friend Deena, who apparently has some..."interesting"...admirers on myspace. She has therefore decided to share her bliss with us through her blog, Freak of the Week. Next, there's Balcancan, and her blog, Balkan Babble. I wish I could tell you exactly what this blog is about but Balcancan is the ultimate Queen of Randomosity, and therefore defies definition. Last, but not remotely least, is Seriously? Seriously, the blog of my good friend and dear drinking buddy par excellence, Industriage. Watch, as she and her co-author, V, eruditely hold forth on...well...just about everything. Guaranteed to be entertaining, amusing, and enlightening. Oh, and she told me in an email that if she read the name "Daniel Craig" one more time, she'd have to go see the movie...so: Daniel Craig. Yes, I realize that's twice.

Okay, so, there you have it, some of my favourite blogs. Feeling left out? Ignored? Generally unloved? Feel free to post your blog link in the comments section.

Oh ye of little faith...

2006-11-12T09:24:00.000-05:00

There were many naysayers when Daniel Craig was announced as the latest James Bond. Criticisms ranged from his appearance (he's no Pierce Brosnan to be sure) to his physique and acting abilities. I, however, never doubted Craig's abilities to fill the expansive shoes left by Brosnan. And it appears I have been vindicated. After the release of the latest instalment of the Bond franchise, Casino Royale, named for Ian Fleming's first Bond novel, the naysayers have been definitively shut-up as the critics rave about Craig's portrayal of the Bond role. They have evoked the memory of Connery, normally seen as the best Bond (though I'm partial to Brosnan, whose only downfall was the pitiful script-writing with which he had to contend).

I should add, I have yet to see Casino Royale but am absolutely salivating at the opportunity to do so. Judging by how long it takes movies to reach Libya though...I'm not going to be seeing it any time soon. Most cinemas here are still playing Jackie Chan flicks...

My Non-Holiday in Canada

2006-11-09T08:06:00.000-05:00

Alright, I'm trying to catch up on things I want to blog about, which is why I'm writing about my "holiday" in Canada which occurred around two weeks ago.

I use "holiday" in the loosest sense of the term here. Yes, I left Libya and therefore didn't have to go in to the office everyday, but I was up at 6 every morning doing office-related work (checking/responding to emails, working on a transcript, etc.). Then there was all the personal admin stuff I had to do: renew driver's license, renew passport, file taxes...Between all that, I had no chance of living out my fantasy of just lying like an inanimate lump of organic matter in the recliner in front of the TV, glass of bourbon in one hand and petting Vivace (my dog) with the other.

My brother was incredibly busy with midterms the whole time I was there, so I barely got to see him, though I did get to attend his highschool graduation (Canadian high schools have graduation the autumn after their final year) which was fun. I think it was the first time I'd attended a graduation without either playing in the band (pomp and circumstance ad nauseum) or graduating myself. I was proud. Also got to see my relatives a bit, though not as much as I would have liked due to my busy-ness and theirs. Finally, got a chance to see many (but alas, not all) of old friends.

I also had the good fortune of having a 24 hour layover in London on the way to Canada, so there again I had the opportunity to catch up with many old friends who, even though I had left them only a month previously, it felt like I hadn't seen in ages. Amazing how major life changes can broaden the expanses of time which in actual fact was very short. In any case, I pulled up to The Driver (pub) in a cab and found a bunch of the old gang sitting out front (Jeremie, Arjun, Keya, Eleise, Hung Bin) and they graciously welcomed me with great jubilation and (more importantly) some beautiful, amber, Maker's Mark bourbon (this blog is starting to seem like a prolonged Maker's Mark advert). And so we proceded to drink...drink..and drink some more. We relived the old days, drinking at the driver, then proceding to the King's Crown (where we requested Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" of course) then when to Paul Robeson House and yelled in the courtyard (Arjun was particularly keen on this). I also rolled around in the Paul Robeson (damp) grass. We thanked the guard, our old corpulent friend, for allowing us in by giving him a swig of the bottle of Maker's Mark that we were walking around with. Then on to Clockwork to cap off the night. By this point we were all rather inebriated. On the walk back, Jeremie felt the urge to run up and down Pentonville Road and go up to random strangers to yell "COPTIC IN THE HOOOUUUUUSE!" (that was a reference to me being in London I suppose...). All in all, it was a pretty amazing 24 hours. It made me realize how much I miss London and all the people in it that have made my memories of that city so fond. I hope to be reunited with both the city and the people once again soon.

I Am My Father's Son

2006-11-05T05:02:00.000-05:00

There are several things I want to write about including my "holiday" in Canada and the new James Bond film, but I think I will spread them out onto several posts over the coming few days. There is something that I want to write about in particular today though...

I spent what was supposed to be this past "weekend" working. It made me think of how hard my father works. In fact a lot of things lately have been making me think about how the older I get, the more I am becoming like my father. For instance, when my father used to come visit us in Canada for holidays, he would be up every day at 6 am to talk on the phone with work, fix things around the house, mow the lawn/shovel snow (according to the season), etc. I'd admired that about him, but was also rather puzzled by how someone can work during what was ostensibly his holidays. Well, my father and I both coincidentally had holidays (or rather "holidays" more on this later) in Canada at the same time a couple weeks back, and this time the roles were reversed. It was I who was up at 6 am to check my work email, respond to queries and do various other work-related activities, while my father slept in all the way until 8 am.

Spending this last weekend working also made me think about how I used to resent my father's work ethic when I was growing up. I would get upset when he would come home from work late in the evening, too tired to drive me somewhere, or when he would work on weekends rather than stay at home. To me, this seemed like a serious case of misplaced priorities. Working 12 - 13 hours a day during the week plus weekends now, I really appreciate the sacrifices my father made in order to provide for his family, as well as the personal fulfillment that he rightly gained from doing his job, and being damned good at it. Over the years, my appreciation and admiration for my father, both as a person and as a professional, has continued to grow. I've never seen anyone as good at what they do, as my father is at his job.

All my life people have remarked on the resemblance I bear to my father, both in terms of appearance as well as personality. In the past I did not always welcome this observation, but I now increasingly take pride in being compared to my father. I can only hope to become even half the person he is.

dream woman, division of the human species, and Canadian beckonings

2006-10-19T14:25:00.000-04:00

Alright class, we have a lot to get through today, so keep it down and pay attention.

We start with this article, which I very well may have unconsciously written, and if I am not the author, then I relate to it entirely too much for comfort. I've always said that I find politically-engaged women attractive, but this takes it to a whole new (very welcomed) level. The only thing missing is any mention of bourbon, but for the sake of my fantasies, I'll just assume that she is an avid bourbon connoisseur. If you are the woman mentioned in this article, please contact me.

Next, we turn to the world of science where, according to this article, the human species will split in 100,000 years into two distinct races: one tall, slender, attractive and intelligent, the other squat, rotund, and dim-witted. This, the author of the theory claims, is due to increased pickiness about sexual partners. Interesting that intelligence is grouped in with the attractive physical traits while lack of intelligence is associated with unattractiveness. I have identified several flaws in this theory:

1) The theorist fails to take account of non-physical traits like charm, wit, sense of humour, etc. which contribute significantly to someone's desireability.

2) What about plastic surgery?! You can lob off half of someone's nose, but that rhinoceros gene remains in the pool.

3) The beer-goggle effect has not adequately been accounted for. Anyone who has ever been to a club in their life will know that "pickiness over sexual partners" quickly goes down the drain after a few rounds.

I do agree with the part where he talks about the decline of the human species due to reliance on technology though. I'm already feeling it personally. My memory span is roughly 45 minutes into the past, I can't perform the simplest of mathematical operations without the assistance of a calculator, and I'm almost certain that I have early-onset alzheimers. For this I have technology to thank.

Finally, let me close by saying that Canada beckons me. Yes, I am returning to the Great White North about which I gripe so much. I haven't seen my mother, relatives or dog since last Christmas, and I miss them all dearly. I'll be there for a week (with a one night stopover in London, which I intend to paint red, on the way there) during which time I look forward to catching up with family and friends, playing with my dog, and hoarding copious amounts of bourbon in my belly to last me until I next return to a wet country.

It's going to be a pretty hectic holiday between all the aformentioned activity, plus filing my taxes, plus renewing my passport, plus renewing my license, so not sure if I'll be able to blog, but I shall certainly try.

Salaam from the sandy dunes...for now...

Alcohol: the universal panacea

2006-10-17T04:17:00.000-04:00

The manifold benefits of alcohol are widely known. It serves to make you and those around you more attractive, it causes a marked increase in one's wit and charm, foreign language skills have been known to improve with alcohol consumption, and alcohol has been definitively been proven to win you more friends. But now it seems as though researchers have found yet another benefit to consuming libations (as if any more were needed!). According to this article, fermented milk (yes, alcoholic milk) is good for babies. Apparently it suppresses the human auto-immune response which results in allergic reactions in infants. Another beneficial side effect is that it makes babies sleep like...well...babies, not before they get up on top of the table and do a stunning (albeit slurred) rendition of "Moon River" though.

So feed your babies milkohol I say, but why stop there?! Red wine is good for your heart, beer for your kidneys, and whisky for your...everything. If you really love your child, you'll want to ensure their good health well into their future, no?

So let's raise a glass and say, a votre sante

Salaam

Long-awaited Tunisia pics

2006-10-16T04:39:00.000-04:00

Well, after so much waiting, these pictures will likely be a terribly disappointing anti-climax, but here they are nonetheless. These were taken with my Minolta point-and-shoot which I think is due for an upgrade.

View from the hotel room's balcony

Me (unintentionally) striking silly pose by the Mediterranean

Mediterranean sunset

Top: Me
Bottom: Horse

Valerie et un chavel
(Valerie and a horse...I almost learned French over the weekend on account of being surrounded by Valerie and loads of French tourists)

Valerie et moi

First-person perspective

Oh yeah, almost forgot...

2006-10-11T11:30:00.000-04:00

So apparently yesterday was my birthday. I had completely forgotten about it until I got an early birthday greeting from my mother the day before. This will now make it the third year running that I'd forgotten about my birthday until someone else reminded me of it. It's not so much that I forget my birthday per se so much as I don't realize what the date is.

Anyways, so I hadn't really told anyone in the office that it was my birthday because, as I mentioned, I didn't realize it until the day before, and it also seems in rather poor taste to explicitly tell people. One of my co-workers added me on facebook though, and realized it was my birthday, and so at the end of the workday (around 9 pm) he sent an email out to the office informing people that it was my birthday, and I suddenly had a stream of people pouring into my office to alternatively berate me for not mentioning it, and to wish me a happy birthday.

A little while later a bunch of us wrapped up our work for the day and headed over to the hotel we always eat dinner at, and one of our group was kind enough to inform the hotel staff that it was my birthday, resulting in the (very mediocre) hotel band playing "happy birthday" and the staff marching out with cakes and candles and whatnot. 'Twas a very nice gesture, if not more than a little embarassing.

So, that was how I spent my 23rd birthday in Libya. Not too shabby overall I think. Sure, some Maker's Mark bourbon would have been REALLY great, but on the whole, a pretty decent birthday nonetheless...as far as birthdays go at least.

Well, that's about it. Thanks so very much to all of you who sent along your electronic birthday wishes, they are truly appreciated.

Salaam...

One Laptop for Every Child and a Shout-Out to Monitor

2006-10-11T06:06:00.000-04:00

One of the projects Monitor was working on here was trying to get Libya to be the first country to receive Nicholas Negroponte's sub-$100 laptops for every school-aged child in Libya (around 1 million on total).

Yesterday, an agreement was reached between Negroponte's organization, "One Laptop Per Child" and the Libyan government to make this ambition a reality. Read the New York Times article here. Please note the fifth paragraph from the bottom where Monitor gets a shout out.

Tunisia pics still in the works...patience my young grasshoppers...

Watch this space for Tunisia pictures

2006-10-10T03:37:00.000-04:00

Hello all,

I wanted to post the Tunisia pictures yesterday, but this week is absolute insanity in the office. All the big-wigs are in town and the office is buzzing with activity. I therefore haven't had a chance yet to resize pictures and upload them. Will do so asap though, so keep checking back!

Salaam

Tunisia for the weekend? Why not...

2006-10-06T06:38:00.000-04:00

So, on a whim one of my co-workers decided that she wanted to go to Tunisia for the weekend and would I like to come? Most assuredly.

We are therefore going to be driven (I am told in a Mercedes) to the Club Med Djerba, close to the Libyan-Tunisian border, for an all-inclusive weekend getaway (as in "I want to getaway from Tripoli"). Yes, Yes, I know, all-inclusive resorts are from the devil, and don't really count as visiting the country, but for a brief weekend getaway on such short notice, it's the best we could do.

Hope to take some pictures which I will post upon my return

Now must go pack, Salaam!

The Photoshop Post the Nobody Asked For

2006-10-05T09:47:00.000-04:00

I've been getting a lot of comments on the pictures below, and I've always felt the need to note that the photos have been enhanced through photoshop. Now, I feel that I should say at the outset that photoshop isn't, shouldn't, and I think never can compensate for good photography. Photoshop is however, a digital darkroom. And just as film photographers can tinker with their photos in the dark room, so too can the digital photographer do so in photoshop. I know the purists have their reservations about digital enhancement, and rightly so, any look at the cover of Cosmo orVogue these days is a study in Photoshopping run amok. But, the fact remains, I think, that there is an appropriate time and place for it to be used. I've included "before" and "after" pictures of two shots below to indicate the difference photoshop made with just a few simple adjustments. In both cases I was shooting in some really terrible indoor lighting conditions.

More Sabrata pics

2006-10-04T06:46:00.000-04:00

Hello All,

I've resized some more photos from Sabrata that I particularly like for your viewing pleasure (click to enlarge).

Enjoy!

This statue was so so incredibly well-preserved and gorgeously sculpted. I call her the Lady of Sabrata

The Lady of Sabrata from another angle

Sabrata has some incredible mosaics, photos really don't do them justice.

Close-up of another mosaic

The Romans really liked columns...true story

having a bad fill in the blank day

2006-10-02T10:33:00.000-04:00

Everyone has had bad hair days. Thankfully, nature and genetics will soon rid me of this dire prospect. I've also heard of people having "fat" days. How one can gain so significant an amount of weight overnight is beyond me, unless one is inclined towards sleep-walking to the nearest McDonald's or any other similar dining establishment. Today, however, I had a bad tie day. I had to tie my tie 5 or 6 times before I got both the length and knot right. This is rather unusual given that I am rather adept at tying ties and can always get it right on the first try. This isn't the first time I've noticed this though. Just like having a bad hair day, it seems like every once in a while, I just can't get my tie tied right before several tries.

So, what odd "bad _____ days" do you encounter?

Exploring Libya

2006-10-01T03:56:00.000-04:00

Unbeknownst to many, Libya is home to many of the worlds most spectacular ancient ruins. Archaeological evidence indicates that from as early as the 8th millennium BCE, Libya's coastal plain was inhabited by a Neolithic people who were skilled in the domestication of cattle and the cultivation of crops. Over the course of its history, Libya has played host to Phoenecians, Carthaginians, the armies of Alexander the Great, Romans, Vandals, and Byzantines, all of whom settled along the Mediterranean coastal plain in the vicinity of modern-day Tripoli.

Courtesy wikipedia:

"Tripoli, was originally a group of Phoenician colonies dependent on Carthage. Phoenicians founded the three great cities (tri + polis) of Oea, Sabrata and Leptis Magna (site of magnificent Roman ruins). Carthage and its dependencies fell to Rome after the Third Punic War. Tripoli is the ancient sea port at the terminus of three great caravan routes linking the coast with Lake Chad and Timbuktu across the Sahara. Near the port of Tripoli stands a Roman triumphal arch with four richly sculpured fronts of white marble, the blocks being held together with cramps. It was begun in the reign of the emperor Antoninus Pius, according to a still-unmutilated dedicatory inscription, and finished under Marcus Aurelius."

Today there stands a restaurant directly facing the Marcus Aurelius arch, which I dined at last night. The food was at best mediocre, but with outdoor seating facing this magnificent archway, the view was unparalleled. I intend to go there with my tripod at night sometime and take some photographs.

The wikipedia excerpt also mentioned Sabrata, which is where I spent most of my Friday this past weekend (follow l ink for wikipedia page with more information). It was very impressive overall. Well-preserved, well-maintained and well-restored. When we first arrived, there were a couple tour groups from the cruise ships that dock in Tripoli, but they left after a couple hours and my two flatmates and I literally had the entire site to ourselves. This is the beauty of the undiscovered nature of Libya at the moment. One can enjoy these sorts of sites without the experience being sullied by hoards of annoying tourists (and yes, I realize the irony that I myself am a tourist, but that doesn't mean I'd enjoy being surrounded by a bunch of "me"s). I don't expect it to remain that way very long. Like I said, cruise ships have started docking in Tripoli and the trickle of tourists is slowly turning into a stream. I give it 5 - 10 years before it becomes a full-blown flood. I hope the local authorities manage it well so that it doesn't ruin the ruins.

Some photographs from Sabrata (click to enlarge, to be updated with more soon):

Well, after all that archeological exploration in the hot Libyan sun, Tomas, Stephen and I were ready for a swim. So we found ourselves a nice beach and went for a dip. Sorry, no photos, as much as I know that you are all dying to see me in my swimming attire. Might I just say, however, that the Mediterranean is my favourite body of water.

Check back for more pictures once I've resized them for posting.

Salaam!

I have found my dream woman

2006-09-27T09:34:00.000-04:00

This article was sent to me by Industriage, one of my foremost drinking buddies. May just point out that the author of the article, my soon to be wife, drinks Maker's Mark, the bourbon of bourbons. Any of you who have been around me in the past 6 months will be familiar with my obsession with this most delightful of libations. Only downsides are a) that she takes it with soda, which is a bit of sacrilege, and b) that she's married. But as far as I'm concerned, these are both easily remedied maladies.

Unrelated to this, I'd just like to inform my reading public that I've been moved to a new office. The senior executive corner office which has a sea-view. I'm so hot.

Libya - First Impressions

2006-09-25T03:57:00.000-04:00

Argh...I had a whole post written out. It was brilliant, it was prescient, it was erudite, it was....lost. I shall attempt to replicate its magnificence, but I doubt I will be able to capture its original majesty.

Having spent 5 days in Libya, I feel like I can now make some intial observations. In reading several travel articles touting Libya as the next up-and-coming tourist destination, I was struck by the unanimity with which all agreed that Libya completely and utterly lacks any night life. I don't mean bars and nightclubs, the absence of such establishments is to be expected in a dry (both in terms of precipitation and alcohol) country. I mean rather, that there is, quite literally, nothing to do past...oh, I'd say 8 pm. Here's how the Lonely Planet guidebook characterizes it:

"Tripoli is the sort of place where you can linger over your evening meal or get an early night, safe in the knowledge that you're not missing out on much"

Rather generous and diplomatic, I think. This is not by any means to complain though. After the year I just had, I could use 12 months of quiet nights and early bedtimes. But still, it does make me glad that I work 12 hour days to keep me busy. A typical day for me looks like this:

8 am: Wake up
9 am: Be at the office
9 am - 12 pm-ish: work, work, work, work, gaze out window, work, work, have some tea, work...
12 pm-ish (or whenever I can get around to it: Lunch
12 pm-ish - 9 pm-ish: work, work, work, work, have a banana, work work, gaze out window, work...
9 pm-ish: Dinner with colleagues
10:30-ish: Dinner with colleagues ends, head home
11:00ish: Watch episodes of "The Office" on my hard disk
11:30ish: sleep

repeat as necessary

Speaking of work, it's going well. I have some real responsibilities, which is nice. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that rather than following the classic neo-liberal model of development, Monitor is focusing on local capacity-building and finding context-appropriate models, rather than just opening the floodgates to foreign corporations. No Starbucks for Libya....yet.

Well, more to say, but will save it for another day, I've already written this post out twice as it is.

Salaam to all

Back to the Dunes

2006-09-21T05:46:00.000-04:00

Hello all once again, I shall skip over my obligatory apology for not updating my blog more frequently...or at all.

As many of you know, I have moved to Libya to begin working for an international strategy consultancy firm called The Monitor group. I arrived yesterday and immediately faced a mini-disaster. A driver was supposed to come pick me up from the airport, however, unbeknownst to myself and the driver, there was another Monitor team member on the flight, whom the driver thought was the only person he needed to pick up. And so I emerged into the Tripoli International Airport arrivals hall, with 2 bohemoth suitcases (another story, see below), my backpacking back-pack and my handluggage (containing two laptops), bewildered, exhausted, and with no one to meet me. To add insult to injury, I didn't have the address of the office nor its phone number in Libya. And so I wandered around the airport, wondering what I should do for, oh, I don't know...about 45 minutes. Finally I managed to get through to the London office and get the address/phone number for the Libya office. I hopped into a cab and headed over to the office, and finally made it here.

I should pause at this point and point something out. Because, while the above-mentioned story seems pretty straightforward, one must bear something in mind. Imagine a man of my physique attempting to lug 90 kilos worth of luggage around a city that he has never seen before in his life in 32 degree temperature. I had two giant suitcases of 30 kilos each, my big back-pack which was 20 kilos, and my hand-luggage which, owing to two laptpops, my SLR camera, and Naguib Mahfouz's book "Palace Walk"was another 10 kilos. In fact, BA was supposed to charge me 466 quid in excess baggage fees, but the lady behind the counter took mercy upon me and only charged me 160, which is actually cheaper than what it would have cost to ship it. Should the need have arisen, my luggage very easily could have been used to anchor the Queen Mary II.

I arrived at the office a hot sweaty mess. I can't even begin to imagine what my co-workers thought upon meeting me for the first time in such a state. Shock and horror come to mind. In any case, a few of them helped me carry my belongings to the flat which is accross the street from the office. Across the busiest street in Tripoli from the office. What should be a quick stroll from work and back therefore turns into an Indiana Jones-esque adventure as one bobs and dives in order to avoid becoming a hood ornament. I think it's one of those things that one gets better at with practise.

Finally, the flat is actually quite nice. Very large, several balconies, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and well-appointed (though not incredibly tateful) furnishings. I'm quite happy with it, but then again, after moving out of student halls, anything short of a cardboard box will be a step up. My room has an ocean view, which is nice, but it also faces an outdoor market, which isn't quite as romantic as it sounds as it deals mostly in knock-off and imitation merchandise and tends to get incredibly noisy. It makes King's Cross look like a pastoral country-side. But still, this is part and parcel of living in a Middle Eastern capital, and I think one learns to find these things endearing.

No overall impressions of the city as a whole nor of work yet on account of the fact that I've seen negligible amounts of both. These will likely be the topics of my next post, unless something more pressing comes up in the interim.

One more note before I leave, and I realize that I'm romanticizing and, dare I say, even orientalizing the Middle East, but as soon as I stepped off the plane, that first breath of desert air was so refreshing. In the evening I took a stroll down to the shoreline that's just near my flat and breathed in the Mediterranean breeze. It was too late to catch the sunset, but the sky was still dimly lit by the sun over the horizon, I can tell that I'm in for some amazing sunsets soon. It's good to be back in the Middle East. There's just something about it that I can niether explain, nor find anywhere else.

Salaam to all from the dunes of Libya and the Bedouin Project

Theory of grad student (d)evolution

2006-03-25T07:00:00.000-05:00

I have been incommunicado as of late, I realize this. This is due partially to general laziness, and partially to the fact that I leave to Kuwait on the 30th and have been scrambling to finish up papers before I leave. I'm presently submerged in the exciting debate over civil society in the Middle East. Does it exist? Does civil society exist anywhere? Is the concept even useful analytically? Dontcha wish your homework was hot like mine, dontcha, dontcha? It shall all pay off however, as I will be going to visit my father in Kuwait, will tag along with him to a conference he's attending in Singapore for several days, and then will visit an old highschool friend of mine who's currently living in Dubai. Throughout this period I hope to reacquaint myself with the "sun" which I hear is supposed to be a bright, warm orb that hovers in the sky and is meant to be quite pleasant. I wouldn't know, I haven't seen it in about 6 months. But yes, I am very much looking forward to that.

Amidst procrastinating for writing papers several friends and I were sitting around the kitchen musing about life, the universe and everything. When we got done with that, we started contemplating how completely dysfunctional everyone we know here is. Living in a graduate student-only residence, the level of dysfunction, or what experts refer to as "fuckedupedness," of the grad student community became brazenly apparent. We went through and identified numerous dysfunctions in everyone we live with. The only person who seems to not display outward signs of dysfunction appeared to be Nesma, but then again, she revels in associating with a bunch of highly dysfunctional people, which is a dysfunction in and of itself! As I pondered this quandry (i.e. the disproportionate instance of fuckedupedness in the grad student community) one thing became gradually clearer: we're not meant to be here.

By "we're not meant to be here" I simply mean we grad students are not meant to exist. Possessing absolutely no practical skills, being generally averse to physical exertion, and lacking basic survival instincts and common sense, graduate students signify a segment of the human population which should have been done away with through natural selection millennia ago. Consider this, if a plane full of graduate students crash-landed on a deserted island, the new residents of said Island would have two priorities:

1) Figure out how to ferment coconut milk into alcohol
2) Identify interesting topics of research on the island (a process significantly aided by Cocohol)

As you can see therefore, there is no way we should have survived thus far. Having slipped through the cracks, however, we carry with us multiple recessive genes which are outwardly manifested vis-a-vis our high level of dysfunctionality.

Several theories exist as to how we managed to make it this far, but none are entirely satisfactory. The graduate student's proclivity towards leeching off his/her parents/banks/scholarship committees for extended periods of time points to a genetic predisposition towards attaching him/herself in a parasite-like fashion to a host that is better equipped to survive in the wild. This may point to the secret of the grad student's survival. Research in the field is ongoing...led by a team of graduate students.

Grad Students Say the Darndest Things 2 and introducing the Grad Student Lexicon

2006-02-20T07:11:00.000-05:00

It's time for a second entry of Grad Students Say the Darndest Things. Today's installment comes to us courtesy of Parmesan cheese, which apparently has a penchant for spilling all over the place.

Italian guy (in Italian accent): "Whadda mess! you spillda yer jizz all over the place!"
American Girl: "What?! Oh, CHEESE!"
Italian guy: "That'sa whadda I said, jizz..."

Also, I'd like to introduce a new segment which will hopefully become a regular feature on this blog. I call it the grad student lexicon, specialized terminology created for the very unique living conditions of grad students. Today's entry:

Frunk (adj): a state of such extreme intoxication resulting in foolish behaviour. See also "F%$#ing Drunk"
usage: After not drinking for a month and a half, Jeremie got frunk at his birthday and insisted on taking his shirt off and touching boys inappropriately.

Essay-related musings

2006-02-19T13:58:00.000-05:00

The Blinking-Cursor Demon
by. The Bedouin Project

blinking cursor, why do you mock me so?
don't you know your incessant blinking makes me feel so low?
I look at the blank page, white as freshly fallen snow
and think to myself "out, I shan't go"

blinking cursor, cease your incessant assault!
writers' block is hardly my fault!

blinking cursor, forgive my procrastination
but sitting staring at the screen has cause great alienation

blinking cursor, I beg you, give me some sweet respite
I promise maybe, perhaps tomorrow, I'll sit down and write

With your help, we can find a cure

2006-02-08T09:07:00.001-05:00

Hi, I'm Troy McClure, you may remember me from such health awareness films as "Stop! You Don't Know Where She's Been" and "That's Not For Eating." I'm here to talk to you today about an ailment which is proliferating throughout the grad student community: Nesmitis. Named after the first victim in which it was diagnosed, Nesma, (though it assuredly existed un-diagnosed beforehand), Nesmitis is characterized by napping 6, sometimes 7 times a day, the profound inability to get out of bed in the morning, and narcolepsy-like fits of spontaneous sleep. Initial statistic indicated that 4 out of 5 grad students were afflicted by this ailment, but as testing procedures improve, statistics appear to indicate that as many as 6 out of 5 may be affected. No cure is yet known for Nesmitis, though "graduation" is currently undergoing clinical tests for efficacy. Results are thus far mixed.

If you, or someone you know is affected by Nesmitis, you may be able to help. Keep a sleeping bag and/or pillow handy for unexpected Nesmitic attacks. Learn to sleep upright. Drinking copious amounts of coffee has been known to ameliorate the symptoms of Nesmitis to a limited extent. Perhaps most importantly, be supportive of those you love who suffer from this insidious disease. Do not accuse them of laziness or procrastination. They have enough to struggle with already.

This has been a public service announcement courtesy of the Nesmitis Awareness Association.

Grad students say the darndest things

2006-01-26T19:28:00.000-05:00

Sure, kids are funny, and political malapropisms are amusing to be sure, but to hear the craziest shit you'll ever hear, you really have to speak to a grad student, preferably while they're drunk, and if they're awake, odds are they're drunk. I have therefore decided to start a regular segment of "Grad Students Say the Darndest Things" Here are two recent unbelievable utterances to get us started:

(in discussing bird flu) "I don't mind chickens, but I'm afraid of cocks...........what...what's so funny....why are you laughing?"

(in discussing a particularly bad picture of a girl which made her look mentally disabled and pregnant): "awww...someone impregnated the downs girl..."

There are others, but they're more "you had to be there" moments, I figure these are universally appreciable.

More to come soon, I'm sure.

Salaam

Some People Just Don't Learn

2006-01-16T07:02:00.000-05:00

Despite my posting on the basic tenets of grad student etiquette, I've had people continue to ask me such appalling questions as "Did you get your readings done?" and "Does laying your head down on your books count as studying?" I have therefore decided to outline definitively what does and does not constitute "work"

Entering the library, even if solely for the purposes of checking email, shall be deemed research
Incessantly hitting "refresh" on your browser when at the BBC News website, even though the page automatically refreshes on its own every several minutes, shall be deemed research
Bumping into a classmate and then proceding to get coffee/a drink/dinner together shall be considered "peer review"
Drinking, eating, watching downloaded shows/movies, web-surfing, MSN-ing and the like shall all be deemed diversions necessary for maximizing productivity in the long term by provided badly needed respite from the aformentioned forms of "work" (see paragraphs 1, 2 and 3)

So there you have it, no I must go perform #2 on the list.

London-bound

2006-01-04T18:43:00.000-05:00

Well ladies and gents, my time in Canada has come to an end. I leave tomorrow afternoon to return to London. My holidays, if they can be called that given the two papers I've had to write, just flew by. I got a chance to see a lot of old familiar faces, which was really nice. Apart from the fact that I'm not finished the aforementioned two papers, however, I think I'm ready to go back. That's not to say that I didn't enjoy my time here, nor that I'll miss all the people over here "across the pond" but I'm fairly eager to get back to school and back into the grind, though I know that a few weeks from now I'll look back on this and say "what was I thinking?!"

It seems Canada, which greeted me with non-stop snow for pretty much the first week I was here, is now transitioning me back to Londonian weather, with unseasonably mild (around 2 degrees) temperatures, lots of rain and lots of fog. I'd rather it be cold and snowy than cold and rainy though.

I don't really know when I'll next be back in Canada, which is kind of a weird thought to consider. My program ends in mid-September and, unless I have a job lined up directly after that, I'll likely be back then, but only long enough to look for a job overseas most likely. Ideally, I'd like to have a job lined up either in London (unlikely) or the Middle East directly after I finish. Even then though, I think I'd like to come back to Canada at least briefly before starting work.

A lot of people have been asking me how work on the aforementioned two essays goes. In response to that I'd just like to say "well I never!" Asking a graduate student about the progress of his/her work or research is like asking a woman her age or weight. It's just not done in polite company. Here's a brief etiquette lesson courtesy of PHD Comics
(click picture to link to external page with larger image. Doesn't work on my internet explorer for some reason)

Also Available in Lemon Fresh Scent!

2005-12-28T09:22:00.000-05:00

Hello all, and welcome to the new and improved Bedouin Project, a kind courtesy of Omar Chatriwalla who, I think, did a fantastic job turning my crackpot conception into feesible reality. Many, many thanks Omar.

Well, I'm presently writing to you from the Great White North, and I don't just mean the snow, though there is copious amounts of that. I really had forgotten just how...caucasian...it is around here. Now, those of you who know me, know that I've often griped about North America in general, and Waterloo, Ontario in particular, but having said that, I present to you the top 5 things I've missed about being here:<>

My family, of course. God love 'em, they're a handful sometimes, but I love 'em just the same.
My dog. He technically falls under the category of "family" but I think he deserves his own mention. Who can resist those eyes, barely visible under his fringe, and that crooked-toothed overbite, in desperate need of some radical orthodontic work?
Friends. Again, I like to include my friends (actual friends, not "I just met him twice at a couple parties and now we're best friends!") under the category of family, but they too deserve their own special mention. I shan't name names, but you know who you are and I love you all dearly.
BEER! After extensive (and I mean EXTENSIVE) sampling of the various ales and lagers London has to offer, I have come to the conclusion that English beer is actually monkey urine. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a dirty, no-good liar. Canadian beer is fantastic, and for anyone who hasn't tried it, go do so now....NOW! what're you waiting for?!
Hot and cold water coming out of the same faucet. England, home of the industrial revolution, England, which once colonized the better part of the world, has separate faucets for hot and cold water, leaving you with the uncomfortable choice of either freezing your hands off, or scalding them. At no point did anyone think of combining them?!

Well, since getting back to Canada I've been running the family/family friends gamut, visiting here, there and everywhere. Anyone who's ever seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding will understand what Egyptian family get-togethers are like. I also have a couple papers which I should be working on. "Should" being the operative term.

Also, weird thing happened one of my first days here. I was driving around town with my mother, and she asked me when I thought I'd be ready to settle down, get married, start a family etc. I almost swerved off the road! Now, knowing my mom, the question was asked more out of genuine curiosity than a typical Egyptian mother "...Because I know a nice girl..." type of sentiment, but still, it's not something that had ever come up before! Anyways, I told her that I couldn't even start to think of doing so until I had completed my education, so that should keep her off my back for another 10 years or so.

Alright, well, that's all for now. Remember, the best motivation to keep me updating regularly is regular comments, so keep 'em coming!

Salaam

Almost forgot...

2005-12-02T06:37:00.000-05:00

Omar, who has been kind enough to work on designing my blog template has shown me a sneak preview of what it'll look like. It's something of a departure from my original design, I'd call it a vast improvement upon it. So watch this space for new and improved Bedouin Project coming soon!

These stories are true...

2005-12-02T06:03:00.000-05:00

...only the names have been changed to protect the innocent and embarrassed.

Like I said before, I've decided to include some anecdotes to give you all a flavour of what life is like here. I'm not sure how entertaining you'll find them, it might be a matter of "you had to be there" with some of them. Also, alcohol will probably figure quite prominently in most of these stories, but I assure you, we're not just perpetually drunk here. Sometimes we're asleep.

So, to start with, a mutual friend of Nesma and I, Mo, went to university in Scotland and now lives in London. He had often regaled us with tales of the drinking escapades of his Scottish friends, so it was therefore with much eager anticipation that we received news that a few of them were coming to London to visit. It was agreed that we'd all go out on a Sunday evening, Nes and I advertised in our residence, but only two people decided to come, my Turkish flatmate and an Indian guy. I mention their nationality only because it comes into play later. So we all go out to a club in Leicester Square called Metra, which was pretty expensive. So one of Mo's friends makes a calculation and finds that it'd be cheaper to order alcohol by the bottle than buy individual drinks. So he orders a bottle of vodka for 65 pounds (approximately $130 cdn). He offers all of us drinks until it's finished, and then he orders another! Not to be outdone, another one of the Scottish guys orders two bottles of champagne simultaneously. I should add that we were all fairly inebriated before this. This puts my Turkish flatmate over the top, and we decide she's ready to go home, so the Indian guy from residence volunteers to go home with her.

This is where the story gets interesting. Apparently, as they're going home, they get stopped by two police officers, who are concerned about what this Indian guy is doing with this obviously drunk girl. So they start asking my Turkish flatmate "Do you know him? Are you alright?" etc. The Indian guy attempts to reassure the officers that he indeed does know her, that he's trying to get her home safely, etc. whereupon my Turkish flatmate starts talking in Turkish. It went something like this:

Turkish girl: "*rambles in Turkish*"
Indian guy: "I don't understand what you're saying"
Cops: "Are you okay miss?"
Indian guy: "Yes, she's fine, tell them you're fine"
Turkish girl: "*rambles in Turkish*"
Indian guy: "I don't understand anything you're saying!"
Turkish girl: "*rambles in Turkish*"
Indian guy: "*rambles in Hindi*"
Turkish Girl: "What? I don't understand you"
Indian Guy: "Now you know how I feel!"

So, somehow they made it home. Meanwhile, at the bar, we're all pretty loaded, particularly Mo's friend that ordered the two bottles of vodka. The bouncers come in to kick us out when Mo is like "whoa, hang on guys, he's the only one that's drunk, take him out, we'll stay." So...that's what they did! This all happened unbknownst to me. So, a couple hours later, when we all decide to leave, we walk out, and there's the vodka boy slumped against a wall waiting for us! I should also include this: when this guy gets drunk, he'll randomly and without reason just roar...like, mid-sentence. He'll be like "I think I went to this bar last...AAAAAHHHHHH...time I was in London!" It's really quite amusing.

Okay, well, that's story-time for today, I'll try to think of some amusing incidents and share them on here, let me know if I'm boring you or anything.

Salaam

wa(te)r, what is it good for?

2005-11-30T16:28:00.000-05:00

So, a water main burst just outside our residence yesterday, which means that water was shut off to our building whilst the water company fixed it. We were assured that water would return "later today" and so we waited. We went to the branch of our campus 5 minutes down the street to use the washroom, shower, etc. And we waited. And the water never returned. Yes, from about 10 am yesterday morning until 8 am today, we were without water. I never really appreciated the importance of water until then. Yeah, of course, we're all told it's important and everything, but to actually have NO source of water for showering, tooth-brushing, drinking, doing dishes, etc. was really a rude awakening.

I think you've truly been living in London long enough when they tell you that water should be back in a few hours, and you start contemplating digging a well. The inordinately long time it took to get the water fixed got me thinking "This'd never happen in Canada" which got me thinking how different parts of the world would react to such a situation, here's what I came up with:

Germany: Residents would be provided with a precise time-frame for completion of the project. "eet vill be finish een precisely 37.398 minutes" and using German efficiency, it would be completed in precisely that period of time, no sooner, and no later.

France: The government would provide Perrier for everyone to use for their every need until the water returned. This may seem like a lot, but when you take into account the fact that the French don't bathe, it cuts the quantity down significantly.

Egypt: The workers tell you that "inshallah" (God-willing) the water will be back sometime soon, meaning that it'll never return, ever. You might as well start looking for a new apartment.

Canada: Paul Martin appoints a commission to investigate the cause of the water disruption and promises an election as soon as the report of the commission is published

Tuvalu: Running water? What's that?

The Prodigal Son Returns

2005-11-16T10:53:00.000-05:00

Yes, Yes, I know, it's been ages, far too long, I am deeply sorry, please forgive me all you procrastinators who depend on my ramblings to kill 7 minutes of your day.

Needless to say, things here have been completely insane. No one told me grad school was going to be hard. So much work to do, so little time. I'm feeling a little overhwhelmed and intimidated to be honest, two feelings to which I'm not terribly accustomed. On the upside though, it means that I'm finally being challenged. After years of being able to skate by with a minimum of work, I'll actually have to apply myself *gasp!*

Well, I'm not even going to try to recount the events of the past while since my last post. I will just make a few general observations

1) Shopping in London has been a huge disappointment thus far, and it's not for want of trying. I've walked the length of Oxford Street several time and have only managed to buy 6 pairs of socks and a pair of pants which I've decided to return. Maybe I've actually just learned some self-restraint when it comes to clothing...stranger things have happened, right? right?!

2) Grad students drink. A lot. We like to turn up our noses at the undergrads we see in running around drunk, but really, we're no better. I think we just have more right to be drunk. We're older, wiser, and ostensibly under far more pressure. right? right?!

3) There is ALWAYS something going on in this city. One night we went to see a dance recital put on by a dance troupe comprised of youth from a Columbian ghetto who organized this dance ensemble to escape the violence, drugs, etc. which surrounded them. At the same time, just on the SOAS campus, in one building there was an Indo-Jazz fusion concert, and in another building, a concert of Sufi music. Speaking of Sufi music, I went to a concert organized by the London Symphony Orchestra of a Sufi ensemble from Aleppo Syria which was incredible. Equally incredible was the concert of Ladino Sephardic Jewish music which I attended this past weekend.

4) This is really just a continuation of #3, but in the short time I have been here, I've had the opportunity to attend lectures by some of the most brilliant minds in the field of Middle East Studies and academia more broadly. I saw Zygmunt Bauman speak and even got his autograph, (ask Kaelyn put it: how does one ask a postmodern existentialist for his autgraph?). I've also seen Joseph Massad, who is at the heart of a huge controversy at Columbia University, speak. He was incredibly well-informed, erudite, articulate and eloquent. Never have I seen anyone handle such hostile questions from members of the audience with such panache and skill. Finally, I also got a chance to see Arab novelist, Elias Khoury speak at the book launch of the English translation of his Palestinian epic, Gate of the Sun. The talk was chaired by Tariq Ali, which was a nice added bonus. Gate of the Sun is widely considered to be the Palestinian novel, but as Khoury explains it, he didn't set out to write the Palestinian novel. He simply wanted to write a love story set during the Nakba (Castrophe) of 1948, but he kept on getting deeper and deeper into it until he wound up with this Palestinian epic novel. I've started reading it and so far it's brilliant, and that's not a word I bandy about lightly.

In the upcoming future, I'll be going to a lecture by Norman Finkelstein, another controversial advocate for Palestinian rights and critic of Israel, as well as attending a weekend conference entitled "The Question of Palestine in International Law" which has some really big names attending it.

Sorry, this update is most likely going to be a huge anti-climax for those of you who have eagerly awaited an update on my blog, but that's really the biggest stuff that's been happening around here, apart from the usual routine of school, work, drink, school, work, drink...we really sound like alcoholics, don't we?

I do promise I'll try to update more regularly from now on, and I'll try to include more interesting stuff. I'll ask the people in residence if I can share some of the stories from over here, because there are some pretty hilarious ones.

I'll also try to post some pictures in the coming days, but the slow internet here is terribly aggravating.

Salaam to all

Officially an MA Student

2005-10-08T05:09:00.000-04:00

Well, I guess with the passing of the first week of classes, I can now officially consider myself an MA student. It was actually kind of funny, at one of the orientation week welcome events, the head of the Middle East Studies department was mentioning how, because of the interdisciplinary and flexible nature of the MA Near and Middle East Studies program and the Islamic Society and Culture program, two people could take the exact same three courses, but designate themselves as either a Middle East Studies major or an Islamic Studies major and he was saying that the perennial question he receives from students is whether to be one or the other and his response was "Well, it depends whether you want to present yourself as an expert on the Middle East, or an expert on Islam..." and I thought to myself having "Middle East Expert" next to my name had a nice ring to it, no?

Enough of my delusions of grandeur though, classes have been, and it'd be difficult to overstate this, incredible. I mentioned in a previous post that there are lots of things that let me know that I'm where I'm meant to be, and my classes are definitely at the top of the list. The structure of the program here is that we take 3 courses, a major course in which we write a 10,000 word dissertation, and two minor courses which count for exactly the same as the major course, require the same amount of work during class term and everything, but we are not supposed to write a dissertation for them. So my major course is Politics and Society of the Middle East and my two minors are Israel, The Arab World, and the Palestinians; and Social and Political Dimensions of Modern Arabic Literature. I'm also going to be auditing a course on the history of Zionist ideology.

As some of you may recall, I had become rather disillusioned with the statist, elitest approach to politics that my undergraduate political science degree had taken. No such problem here. In fact, one of the first things that our politics prof said in his introduction to the course was that politics is not simply about the interaction of governments with other governments or governments with its citizens, but also about the interaction of people within societies (hence Politics and Society of the Middle East). The professor for the course is Charles Tripp, a rather well known expert on the Middle East who has recently published an extensive political history of Iraq which I haven't read, but is said to be impeccable.

I am also very excited about my Zionism and Israel, Palestinians and ARab World courses. Both are taught by the same prof who also appears brilliant, though I suppose that should come as no surprise. In seminar the other day he posed the question of why Sharon chose this particular juncture in time to withdraw from the Gaza Strip and after getting input from all the students, he proposed his hypothesis regarding Sharon's ideological background (or lack thereof, he argued Sharon was not an ideologue but first and foremost a pragmatist) and gave a fascinating background into Sharons movements throughout the various now-defunct Israeli political parties and how he wound up with the Likud. Anyways, fascinating stuff all of it, I'll explain it to you all over a pint one day if you're really interested.

Finally, and I think I've saved the best for last here, there's my Social and Political Dimensions of Modern Arabic Literature course. Truly, here, I've found my home. On the first day, when introducing the course, the professor said exactly what I'd been thinking for some time, and it just made me think "YES!" He said how, in Middle Eastern societies, where academic and intellectual freedoms are so curtailed, one can learn far more about the goings-on of the area through its literature than through any formal history or political text. Reading Naguib Mahfouz's Cairo Trilogy or Ghassan Kanafani's Men in the Sun reveals much more about Egypt at the turn of the 20th century or the Palestinian condition of exile respectively than one could possibly have gleamed otherwise. I find this to be a truism, and am incredibly excited to finally combine my affinity for literature and the politics (real politics, not just elitist claptrap) of the Middle East.

Though it is a bit premature, I think I'd like to incorporate all three of my courses in writing my dissertation and write about the politics of Palestinian literature. I'm thinking of "Writing the Wrongs: The Politics of the Palestinian Literary Narrative" as my working title, thoughts?

Some Pics!

2005-10-01T13:16:00.000-04:00

As promised, here are some pics. I've refrained from taking pictures of my room as it didn't take long for it to get into a really messy state. Currently I have laundry that needs putting away all over the place. Once my room is clean (stop laughing!) I'll post some pics of it so that you can see my humble abode. These pics are from the Fresher's Fayre, when all the campus clubs and societies set up booths to try to recruit new people.

As soon as I stepped onto the courtyard which is kind of the central point of the campus, I was met by these two posters, courtesy of the campus Socialist Society (top) and the Anti-Racism Organization (bottom):

So, clearly things were looking up. In fact, the most right-wing and/or conservative group to be found was the Labour Party Youth Against the War. Not an Israeli public affairs committee to be seen.

I think this one was from another campus socialist organization:

The main entrance to the campus:

Me next to a statue on campus. I read that plaque at the bottom, but I don't remember what it says

The courtyard which divides the two main campus buildings during a typical London deluge:

Note: I actually started this post at the beginning of this past week, but uploading pictures with my rather slow internet connection is a tedious process. In the future I'll have to reduce the picture file size. In the meantime, many more picture have been taken which I will try to post asap.

T plus One Week

2005-09-30T07:54:00.000-04:00

Well, it has been some time since I've posted. That's due partially to the fact that my first week here has been incredibly hectic with much to do and less time in which to do it, but also because it has been incredibly frustrating, and I didn't want to taint my blog with negativity and ill-will, but rather keep it a place of merriment and mirth. I'll will simply say this on the issue: 1) Customer service is a foreign concept around here and 2) It's harder to open a bank account here than it is to lick your own elbow.

Well, that aside, things here have really been quite good. I can't say that I feel any particular affinity for London as a city or geographic location per se, but there have been things that have really confirmed that this is where I'm meant to be. We were sitting at a bar (as we've been doing every night since I've gotten here) and I mentioned how excited I was that one of my favourite jazz musicians was coming to play with the London Symphony Orchestra. Someone at the table inquired who it was, and I said it was Dave Brubeck, and at least 3 people at the table were just like "Dave Brubeck?! When?!" Heheh, I've never quite gotten that reaction from anybody upon mentioning Dave Brubeck's name. Another night we were sitting in one of the common kitchens drinking lots of wine and we got to talking about the movie "Sideways," and this Italian guy half-jokingly starts applying a Marxist analysis to the movie, so I facetiously add that, if one REALLY wanted to, one could also incorporate the Gramscian notion of hegemony into it, which started this whole discussion about Gramsci and a bunch of other Marxist philosophers that I've never heard of, but it really didn't feel pretentious (though I realize it sounds it). Rather, I really think that people around here realize that they have just as much to learn from one-another as they do from courses, so it's a genuine exchange of ideas and not the intellectual penis-measuring contests that so often afflict academic circles.

One more story to share, on a much lighter note. Some of the people from my residence were out at a bar (I had stayed home this night as I was rather under the weather) and a verbal altercation broke out between one of us and the bar tender, and the bar tender called this person a "fucking muppet." Honestly, was that the best he could do? At least bring the mothers into it, it'd sure beat "you're a fucking muppet." Apparently this is some pejorative term in England. I love it though! I use it as a term of endearment now. All my good friends are "fucking muppets."

Oh, also, the battery chargers (for my digital cameras) which I had forgotten in Canada have arrived by courier, so I'll be sure to take lots of pictures and post them here. I know I've been promising that for some time now, but it'll really happen very soon.

Salaam

(dis)Orientation

2005-09-25T09:11:00.000-04:00

Well, it's day 4 here in London...I think. Everything has really been a haze between scrambling to get basic household necessities (I have bedding, yay!), meeting new people, meeting old people, going out, etc. One crazy thing that Nesma and I have realized is that there are a total of 5 people including ourselves at SOAS from our old highschool in Kuwait, how nuts is that?! It's a small world indeed. We don't know the other 3 well, but at least two of them went to school at the same time as us and we vaguely know them.

Yesterday was international postgraduate student orientation. The orientation itself, overall, was fairly uninteresting, but it provided the opportunity to meet lots of new people. So far I am the youngest person I know of who is a postgraduate here. Everyone is rather surprised when they learn that I am only 21. Nesma is the next youngest person, being 2 months older than me, but everyone else has at least a few years of work experience after undergrad. One guy worked for Doctors Without Borders as an architect designing field hospitals in such charming locations as Liberia, Somalia, and Afghanistan. Another guy worked as a chemical engineer and is now doing development studies, another worked as a journalist, another as a legal aid in the Gaza Strip, etc. etc. etc. You get the point. Still, I don't necessarily feel intimidated by the others. I know I can hold my own, despite my modest life experience. If anything I think it's cool that I'm so young and doing the same thing they are. A bunch of us from residence ended up going out and hitting the pubs last night and had a really good time. "I think I'm going to make it after alllllll..."

Oh, also, I'm sick of people thinking I'm American. I think I'm going to start really exagerrating my OOTs and ABOOTs.

Salaam

In London!

2005-09-23T09:18:00.000-04:00

Hello All!

Yes, it is true, I have arrived in London and even managed to accomplish the improbable feat of surviving my first day!

The flight over was pretty uneventful. I sat next to a cute little old Indian lady and thought to myself "She'd be fun to talk to" and promptly conked out (aided in large part by gravol) as soon as the plane took off. When I woke up a few hours later, still in mid-flight mind you, the lady had disappeared! This presented me with a moral dilemma. On the one hand, yay leg-room! On the other hand, how does a little old lady disappear on a plane?! In the end, the former of those two won, and I put my legs up on the seat upon which she once sat and promptly conked out once again.

As for London, well, London is London as someone living my residence so eloquently put it yesterday. The residence is as close to the heart of London as one can get, meaning the area is a little bit grungy, but charmingly so...or at least I hope I come to see it that way. My dorm room is larger than expected, but faces a rather busy street, so you hear traffic and sirens all day and night long. When I mentioned this to my dad, he rightly pointed out that ANY street will seem noisy compared to the street we lived on in suburban Waterloo population less than 90,000. I'm thinking the street noise too is something I shall get used to.

Nesma and my grand plan to buy all the necessary housewares in the first day went down the shitter because we had to wait around in the residence until 2:00 to check in and then gathered information on opening a bank account until 5:00 and then met up with Rini, Sam, Roni and Ant (old friends of mine from Kuwait days who now live in London). So we met up with them, went to a pub, then to a Belgian restaurant, which took us until about 9:00 or so, at which point I realized that I had no linens, pillows, sheets, blankets, etc. and it was now hopelessly late to acquire any. Nesma was kind enough to loan me a pillow for the night (THANKS NES!) but it was still a rather chilly sleep. I should add too that Nesma and I went grocery shopping after the restaurant last night at a store that stays open late, and upon buying cereal, juice, milk, etc. for this morning's breakfast, we realized that we had no vessels in which to place these items for consumption, so today we went out and got some plates, cutlery and a few other basics, but still no sheets/blankets/pillows...I really need to get on that.

Well, this has turned out to be a rather lengthy entry already, and I can't really think of what else to add, I guess you can post specific questions in the comments section. I'm safe and well and looking forward to getting started at school. Also, pictures are soon to follow, I've only taken one so far and haven't even uploaded it to my computer, but rest assured, my shutter-buggery is only on temporary hiatus.

Salaam to all

Edit: I wish to correct the popular misconception that London is a perpetually overcast city where it frequently rains cats and dogs...I'd liken it more to donkeys and hippopotami

Last post from Waterloo

2005-09-19T11:50:00.000-04:00

Hello All,

So, I think this is going to be my final post from Waterloo. Hopefully the next time I write, it'll be from jolly ol' England, meaning that you'll have to read everything I write in an English accent.

When I left Kuwait at the end of highschool in 2001 it was with great joy and jubilation. "I'm never going to miss that place," I told myself. Well, simply put, I was wrong, I miss a great many things about that place, not the least of which are the people I met there, so I'm not going to repeat that mistake again. If there's one thing I've learned so far it's to never say never or forever. Life confronts us with a whole host of unexpected variables beyond our control that we must cope with. It is often in the face of these adversities that we truly thrive.

Therefore, my departure from Waterloo is a bittersweet experience. It hasn't always been my most favourite of places, but it is a place where I've learned much about myself, grown as an individual, and met many people whom I love so dearly. The people around you can make or break an experience, and I'm happy to say that you people made my experience living here a decidedly positive one. Thank you all so very much for everything, all the laughs, the good times, the memories; I will fondly recall it all.

To those of you awaiting me in London...what can I say...I can't believe you couldn't book a few measly elephants for my arrival celebrations...sigh. Seriously though, it's so hard to believe that we've managed to keep in touch since highschool with all but a few fleeting meetings. You guys are a large part of the reason I'm so excited about the forthcoming year. It truly would not be the same without you.

So, to all, let's raise a glass to the past, present, and future, whatever it may bring.

Salut, and Salaam

T minus 2 days...

The Waning Days of Waterloo

2005-09-13T12:04:00.000-04:00

Well, the countdown continues, and I'm actually finished packing, though methinks I'll be rearranging my luggage a few times yet. I thought I could get away with one piece of luggage, and technically I still can as it is only a few kilos over the free allowance meaning either they'll let it slide or have me pay a little extra, but I figure why pay extra when I could empty some of it into another bag and get it onto the plane for free. I'll probably put some of the extra weight into the big backpack I took backpacking with me around Europe last year and check that as luggage, that way I'll have it in London with me if I ever go on some kind of excursion. Okay, I'm boring myself with this luggage talk...

Next weekend is going to be the big Goodbye Weekend. Kaelyn and Rob are coming to Waterloo friday night and then hopefully the three of us will be meeting up with some of my Laurier chums (Janice, Julian, Rob, Heather, that means you) for an evening of drinking and debauchery. Then on saturday, Kaelyn, Rob, my mother, brother and myself will go to Mississauga to visit all the relatives/family friends there and say my goodbyes.

The fact that I'm leaving in just over a week really hasn't sunk in yet. Maybe it will next weekend with all the goodbyes and whatnot, but more likely it won't hit me until my first night in my dorm room. Getting close though....getting close...

well, it's midnight here, so I guess I can say it's 13th, which means it's...

T minus 8 days

Ripping, cleaning, packing...

2005-09-06T20:00:00.000-04:00

...That about sums up what I've been doing on this, the first day of freedom from the indentured servitude that I euphimistically called "work." Now that I don't have to stare at a glowing box from 9 to 5 for the better part of the week, I have begun my London preparations with gusto. As I type, I am ripping nearly my entire CD collection to my hard drive so that I don't have to lug all my disks to London. Just finished ripping Dvorak's 9th Symphony (From the New World) and will start ripping Rachmaninoff's second symphony in a moment. Also in the mix I've got some Brahms, Elgar, Beethoven, Saint-Saens, Dave Brubeck, with my only non-classical/Jazz CDs being The Cranberries "To the Faithful Departed" and "No Need to Argue," the latter being the first ever (and one of the few) non-classical/jazz CD that I have bought.

Once I'm done ripping CDs I seriously need to clean up my room. It looks like Katrina made a quick stop at Chez Joe around here. This leads logically into packing...

...once my room has achieved some semblance of order (read: I can see the floor), I will proceed to begin packing. To me, packing is not simply a necessary chore one performs prior to travelling, it is a delicate art, to be performed with grace and panache, a dance if you will. I will first lay out everything that I intend to take with me. I will then eye my luggage, much like a hawk soaring high in the skies eyes its prey prior to swooping down upon it. Subsequently, I will determine some system for packing, shirts on the bottom, pants on top, vice versa, or shirts on the right pants on the left. Nor should I forget the sweaters, jackets, underwear, socks, and other odds and ends that I plan on taking with me. All will be accounted for. My luggage is like Noah's ark...not that I own two of everything...

Alright, well, I best get back to CD ripping...if you think of any "Ooh, don't forget to bring _____" items which are commonly forgotten, please let me know.

Salaam.

T minus 15 days.

London Dreaming Redux

2005-08-31T14:21:00.000-04:00

Well, once again it has been a few days since my last post. It seems that the organization for which I work has just remembered that I still actually work here and are trying to get their money's worth out of me in the waning days of my employment. Oh well, 2 more days of work left!

So, I've had yet another dream about what my residence in London will look like. This time, our residences were contained within a theme park/mall type thing where there were shops and arcades and restaurants and cinemas. Once again, I really do think this is wishful thinking. Also, once again, I was looking for Nesma throughout the dream. She was nowhere to be found. Why is Nes always such a jerk in my dreams?

Hello faithful readers

2005-08-26T14:25:00.000-04:00

I'm sure many of you have excitedly checked my blog as of late only to be disappointed by the lack of any new posts. I will confess that I haven't updated it in a while, but only because nothing noteworthy has really happened (Pat Robertson's deranged rants notwithstanding).

Next week is my last week of work (YAAAY!) after which I will begin packing for London. Nes and I have been working on compiling a list of things that we'll need immediately (within the first day or two) in London. I've included it below and would greatly welcome any additional items you can think of so that I don't end up S.O.L.

Kitchen:
Pots and pans
Plates, bowls, Tupperware
Cups, mugs
Utensils
Salt, oil, vinegar, rice, pasta, water, milk, cereal, tea, sugar

Bathroom:
Toilet paper
Soap
Toothpaste
Shampoo/conditioner
Tissues
Q-tips
Gel
Lotion
Deodorant
toothbrush
towels

Room:
Desk lamp
Candles
Pillow
sheets, covers
Laptop case
Microphone for lappy (n.b. that's Nes's wording)
Bookshelf type apparatus?

School supplies
Pens
Paper
Highlighters
Scissors
Stapler
Folders
Waterproof bag

T minus 27 days.

Miscellaneous miscellany

2005-08-22T12:22:00.000-04:00

I'm rather paranoid about things happening that would impede plans, so I have thus far refrained from initiating a "countdown to London" for fear that I wouldn't get housing, a visa, what have you. But now that everything is set, I feel confident doing so, therefore, I will be in London in:

T minus 31 days.

And now for something completely different. Being a total geek for question of culture, society, etc. I found this article really fascinating. Could this be the start of a Planet of the Apes? It might actually be a step up. As it says in the Sacred Scrolls of the Apes:

"Beware the beast man, for he is the Devil's pawn. Alone among God's primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Yea, he will murder his brother to possess his brother's land. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him, for he is the harbinger of death."

-Planet of the Apes, 1968
If you haven't seen it, go do so now

Finally, is anyone familiar with the figure of speech "I like the cut of his/her/your jib"? I'd like to incorporate it into everyday conversation for its whimsy value, but am unaware of its origins or anything. Any assistance in my quest for obscurantism would be greatly appreciated.

let the countdown to continue!

London Checklist

2005-08-21T11:24:00.000-04:00

Apply to SOAS: check

Get accepted to SOAS: check

Meet conditions of SOAS offer of admission: check

Get housing: check

Get plane tickets: check

Get visa: check

Pay housing: check

Pay tuition: check

Get on a car to the airport, check in, board plane headed to London, disembark plane, get through customs and step on to British soil: pending

Nungunungu

2005-08-18T16:02:00.000-04:00

Alright, a few things to talk about today.

First of all, I have officially discovered the coolest word ever, and unsurprisingly, it's not in English. The word is nungunungu, the Swahili word for porcupine. It's rather apropos methinks. Porcupines look like nungunungus...moreso than they look like porcupines I'd say. Say it a few times aloud: nungunungu, nungunungu. See how it rolls gently off the tongue. It is 4 syllables and 3 letters of alliterative delight. I discovered this whimsical word whilst reading this BBC news article. Apparently, the poor cuddly (okay, maybe not) nungunungu of Kenya are the latest culinary delight. Some of the comments below even offer various preparation methods and recipes! Quelle Horreur! Poor nungunungu. One more thing: nungunungu.

Why am I reading articles on nungunungu you ask? Well, because I'm bored out of my mind at work. It finally happened today. After weeks and months of joking about it possibly happening, it actually happened. I had a meeting in order to schedule another meeting. This must be some rite of passage in the 9- 5 office world.

Finally, I've gotten my visa. That's right, even the horrendous sight of this picture wasn't enough to discourage the British embassy from granting me a visa. I know, I don't know what they were thinking either, but this finally means that it's all systems go for London, WEEEE!

Oh Canada...

2005-08-17T12:34:00.000-04:00

Much debate ensues up here about precisely what Canada's position in the world is. Middle Power? Declining Middle Power? A weak state that should satisfy itself with "niche diplomacy" in areas where it has clout, such as peacekeeping, the banning of landmines, etc?

I think the following picture puts the debate about exactly where the world holds Canada to rest. (click to enlarge and be sure to read the caption)

For those of you who may not know, the "unidentified man" on the right is Canada's former Prime Minister, Jean Chretien, who served 3 terms for a total of 11 years.

Oh Canada...

"Not that bad" my foot!

2005-08-16T11:27:00.000-04:00

After posting the picture for my visa application I received several messages from well-intentioned but undoubtedly delusional individuals to the effect of "it's not that bad."

I still hold, however, that I've seen more flattering mugshots. Take for instance, Bill Gates, who clearly knows how to take a reckless driving charge in stride:

Now I know what you're thinking: "That's not a terribly good picture of Bill Gates!" In response let me just say that Bill Gates doesn't generally make for a terribly good picture. I think this one is rather flattering. Just look at those pearly whites!

Heck, even the prospect of food and sleep deprivation, solitary confinement, having your holy text desecrated and, worst of all, having to wear jumpsuits in that horrible shade of orange that doesn't flatter anyone wasn't enough to dampen the spirits of one jovial Guantanamo inmate:

So, in fine, let me just say I appreciate the good intentions of those who didn't think my picture wasn't too bad, but let's not kid ourselves. If you would like to say anything nice about it, how about complimenting my decision not to wear orange?

allay your fears...

2005-08-15T12:38:00.000-04:00

Alright, I know you've all been in eager anticipation, so I'm here to put all your minds at rest.

Yes, I managed to learn how to fold a shirt.

In other news, an old friend from highschool who lives nearby (Robert, for those of you who know him) came for a visit this past weekend. We went to a club called the flying dog, but left at 12:30 because we're old, old geezers.

Watched The Wedding Crashers too. It was pretty entertaining, pretty much what I expected, in a good way. Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughan are awesome.

Sorry today's update isn't more exciting, but I think it's just that kind of day. Mondays usually go by pretty quickly at work, but today is dragging on. If the week is starting out this way, I'm going to be dying by mid-week.

Please post comments to bring some merriment and mirth to my work day.

I can always work at the Gap if this whole "Education" thing doesn't work out

2005-08-12T12:30:00.000-04:00

Well, I spent a good chunk of last evening trying to learn how to fold a shirt and I think I managed to get it pretty good, though the end product isn't quite as neat as it appears on that website. I'll perfect it over the weekend.

I know what I'm doing this evening

2005-08-11T15:03:00.000-04:00

Okay, I saw this and I'm not ashamed to admit that it's the coolest thing I've ever seen. I'm going to try it out as soon as I get home. If I can learn to do that, I will be a happy, happy man. Check it out:

http://www.howtofoldashirt.net/

Yes, I know, I lead an empty existence.

This just in...

2005-08-10T08:22:00.000-04:00

Mohammed Saeed Al-Sahaf, (aka "Baghdad Bob") the famed Iraqi information minister has come out of retirement, re-donned his military fatigues and called a press conference specifically to address an issue which he deemed of dire importance, let's go now to the press conference, already in progress...

There you have it folks...

EDIT: Balcancan requested further evidence that Joe is not pink and girly in the form of Soviet propaganda, so here you go:

I hope that settles that...

The camera adds 10 lbs...of ugly

2005-08-09T09:53:00.000-04:00

So, I picked up the pictures for my student visa application yesterday. Wow, are they ever bad. Really, really bad. I've seen more flattering mug-shots. The British embassy staff here will get quite the larf. I've included them below for your viewing (dis)pleasure.

Worked a bit more on the blog template (which I'm sure you're getting thoroughly sick of hearing about) last night and made some headway. Still a few glitches I can't work out, so I might just simplify the design to make it easier on myself. Sigh, I'm sure Michelangelo didn't have to put up with this crap when painting the Sistine Chapel!

The pic:

Now, if this doesn't elicit some comments, I don't know what does!

Okay, so I lied...

2005-08-08T12:23:00.000-04:00

I didn't manage to get any work done on the blog this weekend.

I'll work on it tonight though, I promise.

Still looking for any help I can get though, help!

update on the blog update

2005-08-05T13:46:00.000-04:00

Hello Ladies and Gents,

Nothing much to report today. Yesterday I obtained (through completely legal means...ahem...yes) Microsoft Frontpage so that I can try to turn my design into an actual website. It's going very slowly. To anyone with expertise using this program: help!

Also, I've only gotten two votes for which template to use. Come on people, if you don't excercise your democratic rights, they'll be taken away! Don't make me start a "Rock the Vote" campaign for my blogger template.

I'll be away for the weekend, during which time I hope to get more work done on the site design, see you on monday!

Blogger Idol

2005-08-04T12:41:00.000-04:00

Which will be my next blog template? You decide!

Below I've attached pictures of the blog templates I've designed (special thanks to Kaelyn, Absi and Nicki for their input) and I've even recruited the web-designers at the place I work at to help me out with getting whichever template I decide on up on the web.

Now it's your job to decide which one of the following you'd like to see as my blog template. They're all pretty similar. The menu that's on the left of this page will either remain on the left hand side, or go up across the top, and the text will be in the center pane. When deciding, keep in mind not only how it looks, but how practical it would be. Leave your vote in the comments section as well as any suggestions for further modifications.

Cheers!

More London Dreamin'

2005-08-03T09:13:00.000-04:00

I don't know what's with the dreams about London these past couple days. Last night I dreamt that I had missed the deadline for paying tuition and was scrambling t0 get my dad to transfer the funds. I certainly hope that's not a premonition, whereas I certainly wouldn't mind if the whole avante-garde castle residence dream came true.

In other blog-related news, I've put my meager photoshop skills to use and designed a template for this blog. Whether or not it'll actually work up on the website remains to be seen. I will be conferring with those more tech-savvy than I (you know who you are) to see if it's feasible.

Note: I just ran a spell-check on this post and did you know that blogger's spell-checker doesn't recognize the word "blog"? What's the name of that Alanis Morisette song that isn't at all ironic?

Premonition, or Wishful Thinking?

2005-08-02T14:26:00.000-04:00

In keeping with the London theme, that is after all why I started this blog, I'd like to share a rather bizarre dream I had last night. Keep in mind, I almost never remember my dreams, so the fact that I still remember this one is significant.

The dream starts out as I'm arriving at the residence that Nesma and I are going to be staying in next year. In my dream it was dark out when I arrive, even though in reality I'm arriving 10:30 am. Hang on though, this is not the only way that this dream diverges from reality. In my dream, our residence was this medieval castle on the outside, while the inside had been converted into a really hip and modern decor, almost hotel-like. The dorms themselves were two-storey lofts, furnished with red futons and Ikea-esque decor all over the place. I remeber thinking in my dream: "this is awesome!". After I finished settling into my awesome dorm and meeting my dorm-mates and stuff, I went looking for Nesma, whom I knew was staying in the same residence. I didn't find her, but I found some girl I went to UAS (my old school in Kuwait that I went to for grades 4 - 8) with. I have NO idea what she was doing in my dream since I didn't even know her that well, barely ever spoke to her, she's not going to the same university as me or anything. Just dream-randomness. I ask randomgirl if she'd tell Nesma that I'm looking for her when she sees her. Randomgirl says "No, sorry, I can't" I don't know why she did that. AAAANYWAYS, I finally track Nesma down and ask her if she wants to see a movie with me and some people from my floor. She says sorry she can't because, get this, she promised her floor-mates that she'd watch Titanic with them. What the hell?!

I know, that's totally random and bizarre. In light of the fact that my dorm room is going to be 2.5 x 4 metres, I think my mental conception of the dorm room is really, really wishful thinking.

Also, I think Nesma has really crappy taste in movies in my dream. I mean honestly, standing me up to see Titanic?! What were you thinking Nes?!

Point of Clarification re: Pink-and-Girliness

2005-08-02T10:40:00.000-04:00

Press release from the office of The Bedouin Project

It has recently come to my attention that there exists the notion that I am "pink and girly". I wish to rectify this misconception once and for all. Yes, I do have an inordinate knowledge of musical theatre. Yes, I have been known to play the flute. Yes, I do use terms like "[insert designer label's name here]'s spring line is to die for!". However, these things do not a girly-man make. This smear campaign is part of the ongoing conspiracy against cultured, well-dressed men such as myself, by the beer-swilling, football-watching, hooters-dining-at neanderthals (read: the better part of the Laurier male population).

Besides, I don't think pink would work too well with my complexion.

Regards,
The Bedouin Project

Continuing evolution

2005-07-26T11:47:00.000-04:00

Hello All,

Thanks to those who have dropped by and left a note. I've realized that everybody and their uncle uses this blog template, so if anyone knows of any good site that offers free blogger templates or, better yet, if you want to custom design one for me, I would be much grateful and will offer you my first-born in return.

Welcome to the (not-so) Sandy Dunes of the Bedouin Project

2005-07-24T18:33:00.000-04:00

Hello all!

I've decided to start a blog to keep all of you who may be interested updated on my latest adventures while I'm in London. It certainly beats mass emails. I don't know how diligent I'll be about updating this or anything, but I think the more people actually check it out and leave comments, the more motivated I'll be to keep updating.

This blog is not:

intended to be terribly deep or philosophical, I think we're all past our teen angst poetry phase
going out of its way to be terribly amusing, though sometimes I really just can't help being so gosh darned witty

This blog is:

meant to be a day-to-day update of what I've been up to, my experiences in London (and beyond?) etc.
a place to leave your comments, greetings, what have you.

That being said, this is just kind of a "beta" version (do you techies like my adoption of the lingo?) and I'd more than welcome any suggestions, feedback for how to improve it so that it's in it's final state by the time I go to London.

Notes to individuals who I know are going to be somewhat troublesome:

Absi: "yyyyyyhour" doesn't count as a comment
Deena & Nicki: Are you happy now? I got a blog
Nesma: Why are you reading this, you're going to be in London WITH me
Robert: keep it clean

Alright all, Salaam

The Bedouin Project

Israel's Glorious Loyalty Oath Crusade

More On Being a Male Feminist

Egyptian Women Fight Back

Academia and its Discontents

WebMD: Fuelling Hypochondria since 2005

The Cairo Blast

BBC tackles Cairo Traffic

Requiem for Saab

Reflections on Cairo: Galavanting in the Grotto

Advice for Driving in Cairo...or anywhere else, really

Musings of a Male Feminist on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women

He don't eat no meat?!....I make lamb...

Ode on a Dilapidated Cairo Taxicab

Blog re-re-relaunch

Remember me?

Cairo Craziness

In celebration of my impending return to studenthood

The eight types of graduate student

How the mighty (i.e. me) have fallen...

Industry vs. Academia: the apparently not-so-neverending struggle (aka I've made a decision!)

Hello Saudi

Industry vs. Academia: the neverending struggle

Gaddafi in Conversation

Movin' on over....to Saudi Arabia...

Valentine's Day, Libya Style

Who wants to come with me...

Drinks I Have Loved

Hindi A Capella? Oh yeah...

Grad students aren't bad people...

Back from the holidays...

Shameless Bragging Redux: Tales of my Idiocy

Shameless bragging

These are a few of my favourite blogs...

Oh ye of little faith...

My Non-Holiday in Canada

I Am My Father's Son

dream woman, division of the human species, and Canadian beckonings

Alcohol: the universal panacea

Long-awaited Tunisia pics

Oh yeah, almost forgot...

One Laptop for Every Child and a Shout-Out to Monitor

Watch this space for Tunisia pictures

Tunisia for the weekend? Why not...

The Photoshop Post the Nobody Asked For

More Sabrata pics

having a bad *fill in the blank* day

Exploring Libya

I have found my dream woman

Libya - First Impressions

Back to the Dunes

Theory of grad student (d)evolution

Grad Students Say the Darndest Things 2 and introducing the Grad Student Lexicon

Essay-related musings

With your help, we can find a cure

Grad students say the darndest things

Some People Just Don't Learn

London-bound

Also Available in Lemon Fresh Scent!

Almost forgot...

These stories are true...

wa(te)r, what is it good for?

The Prodigal Son Returns

Officially an MA Student

Some Pics!

T plus One Week

(dis)Orientation

In London!

Last post from Waterloo

The Waning Days of Waterloo

Ripping, cleaning, packing...

London Dreaming Redux

Hello faithful readers

Miscellaneous miscellany

London Checklist

Nungunungu

Oh Canada...

"Not that bad" my foot!

allay your fears...

I can always work at the Gap if this whole "Education" thing doesn't work out

having a bad fill in the blank day