Doha: Beachbums and Mall rats

Day one: husband goes to office. I stay back (we were at a beachfront InterCon resort with it's own private lagoon, why would I leave?) When he returns, we order room service, pig out and head to the beach where we hang out and listen to the waves lap and watch the jet skis until well after sunset.

Day two: eat a huuuuuge brunch, take our tea/ coffee to the beach. Stare at the incredible turquoise waters. Talk crap about how we're going to finally get into diving and get fit. Check out of our 5 star la-la-land and move to our temporary company flat. Unpack a little and head to the mall. We sort of don't know what else there is to do in this town yet, so....the mall it is.

First mall: City Center. We spent waaaaaay too much time in there but I was blown away by the sheer choice and availability of -- everything! After years of living in Cairo where we desperately asked friends to bring cheese, conditioner, zip lock bags and sea salt. Where every trip to the grocery store was an adventure because you never knew what might or might not be there....I was overwhelmed by how very much there is to BUY here. Even Carrefour (which is the biggest nightmare in Cairo) was fairly civilised and offered produce the likes of which I haven't seen since we lived in London. And instead of the free-for-all it is in Cairo, this one had aisles and prices.


So we've eaten Pizza Express (halleluya! I don't ever need to go home) and we're looking for a place to get our visa photos taken (blue background, svp). We look down into the atrium and there's a huge skating rink. Yep. Men, women, children in short sleeves and helmets, gliding on ice. In a mall. In the desert. While it is 35C outside. Ok, ok, we get it: you are rich. But a skating rink in a mall, isn't that a bit excessive?


Heading to another mall today. This one has an indoor canal with Gondolas.

ps -- just returned from the Villagio mall. Very very very trippy place. As if the canal with Venetian gondolas wasn't enough, they too have a skating rink. In the middle of the food court. So that you can eat one million things and watch people skate by. We were in the mall for several hours but it's so huge that I am not sure we even saw a quarter of it. The ceilings have all been painted sky blue with clouds. Each section of the mall represents a different time of day, so you walk from early morning to afternoon to sunset and early evening. If it wasn't for the balloons that have floated up and stuck there, you would think you were walking in the open air....there was a sandstorm raging outside, of course, but I was willing to suspend my disbelief long enough to have some delicious chinese food with a Krispy Kream chaser. Mmm-mmm yummy comfort food (we would never touch this crap back home but here...)I'm sure there is a lot of culture out there (we can see the impressive Islamic museum and the old souq from our apt) but for the moment, I think we'll ease into this place eating junk food and indulging in a little retail therapy. When in the Gulf....

A new chapter

So....to make a long story short: we've moved to Doha, Qatar. About 72 hours ago, to be precise. Our departure from Cairo was smooth and incident free. Though our shipment was hilariously moved from our apt to the moving van in and on a rickety black and white cairo taxi. Turns out Maadi doesn't allow big trucks into residential areas without a permit. Apparently our movers didn't have a permit. So they parked the moving van on the shoulder of the Ring Road and made multiple trips in a black and white cab, our belongings stuffed inside, on top and sometimes held outside with the workers' bare hands. But something worked because the shipment arrived safe and sound and ahead of us by several days. Mash'Allah.

I feel like that trip was a metaphor for all of Cairo: just barely hanging on with the tips of it's fingers but miraculously, getting it's shit done.

A special shout out and thanks to Madame Layla and her incredible crew of packers. I feel we could literally play football with all our belongings, they packed them so thoroughly and with such care. It means we have about 10 boxes more than we would if we had packed ourselves...but malesh, hopefully it means our stuff survives the journey to our new home. TBA.

I have LOVED Cairo. And was extremely happy there. I miss our flat and it's leafy view with birds chirping and my wonderful neighbours and friends who were like family to us. Cairo remains a place that holds a special and beloved place in my heart. Who knows, maybe one day in the future we'll live there again. Stranger things have been known to happen.

I will write more about our departure but I just wanted to let you know that this blog is relocating to Doha, Qatar. I think now that I will always remain a Cairomaniac, I'll just travel the world a little.

Awkward declarations of love

1. On the phone:

Me: "Okay, so we'll have our next lesson on Monday?"
Teacher: "Perfect, Habibti. See you then. "
Me: "Ma salaama"
Teacher: "Bye bye! I love you!"
Me: "Um, yeah, ok, sure. See you Monday. Bye!"

2. At local hair salon:
Hair salon owner (middle aged Egyptian man): "You like your hair?" (smile)
Me: (enthusiastically swishing my new do around) "Yes! I love it!"
He looks down and then looks back up, raising his eyebrow: "And I love YOU." (meaningful pause) "Really."
Me: "Um (nervous laugh) yes well, thank you again. Bye!"

World famous

Me, last night, in a cab, heading downtown along the Corniche:

Me: "Lau-samaht (Excuse me) could you please close the window?"
Taxi driver: "Eh?"
Me: "Min fadluck (please) can you close the window and turn on the air conditioning" (insert pantomime of me, rolling up window and pointing to the a/c button)
TD: "Eh?"
Me: "Takeef (air conditioning)"
TD: "Ahhhh -- takeef "(nodding, acknowledging that he understands what I am saying)
Me: "Moomkin, takeef ON?"
TD: "Why?"
I point to the many many many cars that surround us and plug my nose: "The air outside is not nice."
TD: "Not NICE?! (he takes his hands off the wheel and turns around to me gesturing wildly) People come from all over the world to drive here, on the banks of the Nile. (He sticks his head out the window and takes a deep breath) Ahh, nice! Nice nice air, Nile, nice."
I point to the distant banks of the river, barely visible that time of night: "Nile nice, yes. But look, hundreds of cars here. Nile far away. Cars and pollution close. See?"
He looks at me thoughtfully.
He rolls up my window and says: "Hmmm. No takeef. I don't have the electricity for takeef. I close your window. I keep mine open. But look, see? Nile, it is world famous."

And the crowd goes wild

Canada just won Olympic gold in men's hockey, defeating Team USA 3-2 in overtime. I can practically smell that unmistakable mix of hockey rink aromas: hot chocolate, ice, metal, rubber -- and now VICTORY!

I almost never miss home (sorry home) but I cannot find words to express how much I wish I was in Canada at the moment celebrating this medal.

Here are the details:
We are the champions of the world Buuuuuyah

Does Fatafeat eat babies?

I love Food TV. Be it the Food Network, BBC Lifestyle, or even the annoying Rachel Ray. If there's cooking on it, I'll watch it. I may be aging myself here but I think it all started with this low budget cooking show from my childhood called "Wok with Yan". I never have made anything he did (which can be said about most of the cooking shows I watch to this day) but the possibility was there that I could. If I followed the recipe and did what he said, I would be guaranteed success in a half hour. Mmm-mm, yummy food made with colourful ingredients under flattering studio lighting. What's not compelling about that?

As I grew up, it became obvious that I was a serious foodie and I've spent most of my disposable income on dining out and cooking ever since.

I lived in London when Conran brought dining as entertainment back into fashion and the phenomenon of Celebrity chefs gathered pace. I ate at places like Quaglinos, Meza, Cantina, and the Bluebird restaurant and then started stalking Chefs like Marco Pierre White. I wouldn't dream of spending £20 on clothes but I didn't once look at the bill when we went for dinner. It was food, afterall. It was experience and it was worth every penny.

When I moved to New York, the food madness continued. My salary had increased and so had the number of restaurants from which to choose. I became less of a name-chaser and found my own favorite spots like Raouls on Prince street, Casimir in Alphabet City and old faithful, Calle Ocho on the Upper West. I still went to all the trendy places as they cropped up but my tastes matured and I ate at spots I loved regardless of what people were saying about them.

I joined my husband here in Cairo three months after he started his job. I arrived late at night and he had already left for work when I got up. I was a little disoriented and woke up wondering what the hell I'd done, crossing the world to live in a country I knew nothing about. There was a lovely breakfast set out for me on the dining table with the remote control and a note: "The Food Channel is number 8." Sigh. It was going to be alright afterall. As long as I had Giada, Jamie Oliver and the Chairman, I could face anything.

The channel is called: Fatafeat. And it is great. All my favorites are on there: Iron Chef, Everyday Italian, The Naked Chef, Barefoot Contessa and Nigella-I'm-too-sexy-for-this-show Lawson. I've even discovered a few new favorites: Andrew who makes Philly Cheese Steaks in Arabic and Dania who doesn't really cook but travels around the world translating as others do.

The only thing that disturbs me and leaves me quite puzzled is that all the promos are shots of little babies smiling into the camera, drooling, giggling, lying alone on a blanket and being bathed. Why are they featuring babies alone? Are they preparing them for something? If any of you out there have an in with Fatafeat, please let me know. I am prepared to go to their HQ and get to the bottom of this: are you showing us babies in your promos because you want us to eat them? It is the only conclusion I can reach. What else are babies doing on a Food channel? They can't cook, so they must be part of the menu....

Happy New Year - Part 1: Kerala without a Houseboat

We just returned from a three-week trip to Southern India. We arrived in Fort Kochi, Kerala on New Year's day. We stayed in a great hotel by the ancient Chinese fishing nets, first installed on the coast by the grandson of Gengis Khan. It was hot. And it was humid. And the mosquitos were the size of small children. So, instead of cruising the backwaters on a houseboat as planned, we got into an Ambassador and travelled up the mountains to spend a few days in a guest house on the Madupatty tea estate in the Kanan Devan Hills Plantation. It was breathtaking. Rolling hills of sharp, bright green as far as the eye could see. The air was clean and crisp. The mist rolled around the mountain tops and the wild flowers that lined the roads were like vibrant firecrackers. The people were sweet and hospitable, without exception. We had Kerala breakfasts every morning (featuring all the coconut chutney I could eat. Yum!) and masala chai every afternoon.

We (ok: I) decided to go for an "authentic ayurvedic massage" - more like let me slather you in oil and ask you questions about your trip. My husband kept pointing out to me that there was nothing "authentic" about the place we were going. Notice, he pointed out, that there are no brown people on any of the adverts. There are no locals in the waiting room, just wide-eyed foriegners. It had all the hallmarks of a classic tourist trap. But I didn't care. When in Kerala, I insisted. My hair is still a little greasy and the smell of the ayurvedic "herbs" linger in my nostrils...I am sure that there is genuine ayurveda in Kerala. But where we went wasn't it...

Our trip up the mountain coincided with the morning bath of local temple elephants. We saw three: one 40-year-old female and two little 5 and 6 year olds. They were so close to us and completely tame, having lived in the temple all their lives. After watching fearless little kids approach them, I too gathered the courage to get close, touch their skin and say hello.

I've included this picture with the Uncle in the jaunty white suit and healthy moustache because he managed to get into every one of my elephant shots. That's the thing about India, if there is something interesting happening, there's little to no chance that you'll be experiencing it on your own. But then again, there is so much happening you don't mind sharing it. More to come on our trip - stay tuned.