... And That's how I Ended Up In Jerusalem

Alejandro and I coincidentally had similar schedules that lead us both back from Petra to Amman at the same time. The next morning he was supposed to head to Israel, while I was scheduled to fly back to Cairo. I was a bit nervous about heading back to Egypt, especially since every local in Petra was warning against it. The news was still portraying a violent and chaotic image of Tahrir square. Though I'm sure it was more contained than how it appeared, I didn't want to take the risk of getting caught up in any political unrest, especially traveling by  myself. Fine. I will actually admit it. It was difficult to be a foreign woman in Cairo. I hate recognizing that my gender can, in some ways, impede my ability to travel.

So a few hours before my flight's scheduled departure I made the decision to follow Alejandro to Israel instead. I had a friend there also, who I planned on convincing to come travel Egypt with me in the next week anyway.

We set off the next morning to cross the King Houssein Bridge a.k.a. the Allenby bridge that runs near Amman into the West Bank. The word bridge in this sense is really misleading. After hours of waiting on the Jordanian side, we finally boarded a bus to cross the alleged bridge, which was actually a span of road designed to look like a bridge that could probably be walked across in less than 30 secs. If you blinked, you would  miss it.

Though 3 hours had passed since we left our hotel, we were only halfway through the border crossing process. It took 3 more hours, several more lines, and multiple interrogations before we finally made it across the border! From there we hitched a bus to Jerusalem, where we maneuvered are way through the maze like streets of the Old City to our hostel.

It may be blasphemy to say, but I was not exactly excitited about being In Jerusalem. Last year I was privileged to make a most memorable tour through the region with an amazing group of people. The trip changed my life and ultimately set me on a path that has led me to this trip now. However, it also was a reminder of how much has changed. I wasn't exactly prepared to deal with that. This might seem counter-intuitive especially since I am scheduled to attend University at Tel Aviv starting in October. It's not. The two cities, though in the same country, are worlds apart. And while I was in Jerusalem, I couldn't shake this feeling that of discontentment in that I wasn't supposed to be there....yet.

 Jerusalem is a city that seems to carry heavy emotions from anyone who has spent time there. The heaviness was almost debilitating as I walked by a police station with my friend. "That's where they beat Aziz's (a friend of ours) brother to death. With the oppressing tension that hangs in the air of the city, I spent most of my time in Jerusalem feeling like a rat in a cage.

Almost like my experience at the check point coming back from Ramallah into Jerusalem. But I'm ahead of myself. I was fortunate to get out of my cage for a day in Jerusalem and meet up with a good friend from home. Unexpectedly I was able to escape the physical confines of the city as we made are way to Ramallah in the West Bank. It was a nice experience to see Palestinian city thriving with so much life and economy. It was quite a different Palestine than is usually described. Not to mention full of amazing food!

On our way out of the West Bank, we had to disembark the bus in order to walk through the check point. Never in my life have I been made to feel like such an animal, being herded from one "stall" to the next, waiting in line, passing through gates that immediately locked behind us into other gated corridors. It was quite an interesting experience to say the least.

I honestly can't complain too much about Jeruslam though, after all, it was where the trio from Cairo was reunited. The minute Alejandro and I put our stuff down in our hostel beds, I noticed Mice - another traveler from Cairo - had his stuff on the bed across from us! It was wonderful to all meet up once again, which in traveling can often be quite a rare experience. I enjoyed Micey's company for the few days we were in Jerusalem together. We explored the various schwarma and falafel stands, ventured to find the best spot for Shisha in the old city, and always managed to find an ice cream stand whenever the craving hit...which was often in the heat of Jerusalem.

Ultimately, Jerusalem was filled with nostalgia for me, as it is for most people, but after a few days I was thankful to make plans that took me out of the city.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom

I was quite surprised to see a familiar face at the bus station as I waited to board the 6:30 a.m. bus to Petra. Alejandro, one of the guys I met in the hostel in Cairo, was also taking the same bus.  This trip has been a pleasant surprise in that I've never really had to travel alone so far.

The bus dropped us off at Petra by 10 a.m. and we headed to Saba'a hostel where we stayed the next two nights. After putting down our stuff, Alejandro and I immediately set off for the ruins. I was a bit disappointed when I found out the ticket cost 50 JOD + an additional 10 JOD for 3 days entrance. For those of you who may not know, the dollar is less than the Jordanian dinar which means that 60 JOD is equivalent to about $75. I mean I was excited to see one of the Seven NEW wonders of the world, but not excited to dish out half of my savings to do so!

But I paid and in we went. Alejandro and I were a bit unsure about Petra, and though excited to see it, worried boredom would overtake us by the third day. After all, how many rocks can you look at and still truly find them interesting.

Ultimately, my time at Petra entirely surpassed any and all expectations I had. The first day I walked in awe in a crevice between two unimaginably tall walls of rock. After walking by impressive rock after more impressive rock the treasury suddenly comes into view and it is amazing.

We spent the rest of the day slowly exploring the first half of Petra; wandering into caves, climbing up ancient staircases to find more caves, and talking to the Beduins who live there. By 5 p.m. we called it a day figuring we should at least leave something to explore for the next day.

However, the next morning I overheard the owner of the hostel talking to some other guests about a river that ran through Petra, deep enough to swim in. The idea of a body of water running through Petra seemed as foreign to me as a man living on the moon.  But I was definitely interested since Alejandro and I'd been walking and climbing out in the middle of this rock desert in 100 degree heat with no shade except for brief instances inside a cave.

So that day we set out with the intention of climbing the thousand steps to the Monestary but more importantly finding the natural swimmingn pool. The monestary was even more awe inspiring then the treasury. From there we climbed the Sacrifical Mount which had an amazing view of the Jordan mountains and even Palestine and Israel. We later came back to watch the most amazing sunset ever from this point.

After all that climbing we set off down many wrong turns to find the river. As the sun came close to setting we were starting to become discouraged until we met Sail, a Beduin boy. We sat and drank sweet tea with him and watched the stars from the top of Petra. He promised to take us to the river the next morning before we had to catch our bus.

After talking with Sail, Alejandro and I set off the steep climb down the Monestary stairs by the light of the full moon. When we finally reached the bottom we ran into Sail's brother Abdula who convinced us to go back to the Beduin Villiage so we could go to a wedding party! The Beduin wedding was fantastic. Men and women were seperated and I spent all my time laughing and joking with the young beduin girls. They cheered as fire works went off and sang songs and beat drums until the early morning. We left long before they finished promising to meet Abdula the next morning so we could all go to the spring.

By 9 a.m. the following day we were back in the Beduin villiage where we picked up chicken and vegetables for a lunch we'd eat when we got to the water. After hours of climbing and scrambling and leaving the donkeys behind because the path go too steep, we finally came to, not only a river, but a waterfall with a swimming basin! Before jumping in Abdula and Sail made the best food I've ever tasted (on par with Mensaf) over an open fire, along with tea, and arguilah.

Following lunch we had about half an hour to swim before we had to run out of Petra in less than half the time it took us to go in, in order to catch our bus back to Amman. The whole while back Abdula professes his love to me. He told me we could live in the caves as a happy couple for the rest of our lives. As much as I appreciated the offer I told him I had to refuse...I had many more months of traveling ahead and no time to spend living in the caves. Not in the near future. Perhaps one day though.

Welcome, Welcome

Jordan was everything I hoped and expected Egypt to be, but wasn't. After having such a chaotic time in Cairo, I was nervous about what Jordan would be like. I was surprised and relieved when my cab driver dropped me off in Abdun Square in Amman where I was meeting my friend.

Amman is much more developed than I expected. It was what i imagined Cairo to be from the way everyone had spoken of it. The buildings and streets had more of a European feel to it. I wasn't stared at everywhere i went. The driving was still chaotic, but no where near the insanity of Cairo. I didn't feel like I was playing "Frogger" with my life every time I attempted to cross the road.

The Souk down in the old city had a more similar feel to Cairo, with everyone staring and saying, "welcome," as if it's the only English word they've ever been taught. But even the bustle of the Old City cannot compare to the craziness I experienced in Egypt.

A lot of people I encountered found Amman to be a bit dull. Maybe compared to other Middle Eastern cities it is, but it was also very comfortable. The week I spent with my friend was so relaxing and fun! We had Kanufa at the world famous Habibeh shop in the Old City. We had lunch at a little shop called "Books @ Cafe," that is a "Bus Boys and Poets" in the making, and we spent a wonderful two days at the Dead Sea.

The most incredible experience was eating Mensaf in Karak. We went with my friend, her sister, and her co-workers to one of her co-worker's Aunt's home. While we drove from Amman and stopped to tour the ruins of a church and the Karak castle, the Aunt and the rest of the family cooked the Mensaf. It's a rice based dish with goat, served with the head and all.  There is a goat cheese dressing that is poured over the dish just before you dig in with your hands! It was amazing, and like any curteous guest, when I was offered a bit of the tongue, I ate it!

After Mensaf traditionally you serve coffee. Mostly because the meal is so heavy and you feel as though you could fall asleep standing up. The coffee was delicious and one of the family members read the grains in my cup afterward. First she asked if I had 30 JOD in my wallet. I did. Exactly! I was impressed and ready and willing to listen to anything else she had to say. She also told me I had a long life line, that I would be receiving a gift from a short person (very descriptive!), that I was nervous about something but, despite everything, it would all turn out fine in the end (my trip!), that I recently met someone who spoke with his hands and I would be surprised to meet him again (that totally happened!) and that I will have good luck, which apparently appears in the shape of a baby in the coffee grounds. Weird because I've never found babies to be good luck before!

The six days spent with my friend in and around Amman were the quickest days of my trip so far. I had so much fun and it was such a great time. We were both scheduled to go our seperate ways out of Jordan on Wednesday, but I was loving the country so much that I extended my time for an extra three days to make a practically mandatory trip to Petra. So instead, at five a.m. on Wednesday I left for the bus station.

Wake Up! Cairo

Last Sunday after 31 hours of travel including a long, hot, and unfriendly layover in Moscow, I finally landed in Cairo. Despite a day and a half of nearly no sleep, I was energized as I passed through customs and made my way to the airport exit where dozens of cab drivers attempted to be the first one to offer a ride. I proudly managed to immediately bargain down the price by 15 Egyptian Pounds, to one that I knew was a standard and fair rate. My first reaction? This is not so hard!

The trip from the airport to the hotel was like an amusement park ride. We drove in the middle of the lane next to cars so close I could touch them without even reaching , sped by broken down cars in the middle of the road, were passed  by cars with young men hanging out all four windows, and swerved around mopeds carrying husband, wife and baby. I am surprised I made it to the hotel alive!

Though terrifying the ride was also invigorating. The bright lights of the city and loud noises were exactly what I imagined. When I finally made it under the covers of the hotel bed I could hardly close my eyes, I was so happy to finally be in Cairo.

The next morning I learned the hot sun of daylight does not show Cairo in such a romantic light as night does. I spent that first night in a hotel my parents had insisted I book, worried I'd be to disoriented after traveling to make it safely and smartly to a hostel downtown. They thought it would be better to have night to recuperate before venturing off into a city I knew nearly nothing about. I am now thankful for their insistence. As I checked out I did not realize that would be last time I'd feel well rested, cool, and clean for the next week.

Cairo smells like the exhaust of an old diesel truck, and the dust makes you feel as if in each breath you're inhaling the second-hand smoke of a hundred men crammed into a tiny room.

I set off on my adventure of crossing the Nile to find my hostel and after 15 minutes I was already sweating profusely under the weight of both my bags, and pretending I didn't speak English to avoid harassment from the locals. That doesn't work by the way. When I told one man I spoke Czech he responded with, "Ahoj!" (hello in Czech). Many Egyptians have taught themselves multiple languages in order to communicate and/or make money off of foreigners.

When I finally did make it to my hostel, I was a bit disappointed. It had five star reviews on hostelworld, but had no air conditioning, and only one working fan in a dorm for 6 people. Needless to say, the nights were hot and filled with little sleep. The atmosphere was nice however, and the staff were pleasant. I also met some great people there! One who I convinced to tour Giza with me. Which was absolutely amazing despite having to chase away bothersome salesmen every three feet. The ruins of Saraca were fantastic too, once we found the Hieroglypics.

Ultimately Cairo is a city full of images of past lives and bustling with those of the present. It was not nearly as "developed" as I thought it would be. I had a love hate relationship with it. I loved it's energy; it's enthusiasm is contagious! But it took some intense mental preparaton to deal with it each day. You have to brace yourself for incessant hassling that goes beyond anything I'd seen before - men are literally touching you, picking you up, grabbing you, blocking your way, in an effort to get you to pay them something- money or attention.

It's also true what everyone tells you. Being a girl is difficult. No matter what you wear out to the market, if your egyptian or a foreigner, the men were rude. Mostly they just stare you down, but you have to be careful of the occasional touch. You certainly cannot let your guard down, because if you do they will immediately sense it and take advantage of that. That part was difficult for me. I prefer to be open and trusting, but by the end of one week in Cairo I had learned that it wasn't an option there. Particularly in the post-revolution, pre-protest climate that I found myself in the middle. As Tharir square began to buzz with anticipation of renewed protests, the lack of police presence allowed disorder to take over. While I can feel the overwhelmingly positive and vibrant energy of the city, some of the men I encountered really ruined the love I could've had for  Cairo. Offering my hostel roommates "date rape drugs" to use on me, hassling and grabbing me on the streets, and at one point having a young man put his hands to my temple pretending to shoot me, all made me anxious to leave the city. I tried so hard to like it, especially considering it was my first destination in my travels, but I was left feeling really uncomfortable. I was disappointed because Cairo clearly has great potential and is so full of life. I only hope the revolution eventually gives the women there more then what I saw. 

It's Not About the Hair...

After all that preparation and anticipation I am now sitting on the bus to New York which is the first leg of my 31 hour journey to Cairo, Egypt.

For the past five days I've been adding, and mostly taking out items to my bag and packing and unpacking and repacking it over and over again. I've been fixated on making sure my bag is perfect. It's small, 38L which is traditionally considered a pack for a few days. I'm glad I got the little one though. I knew I wanted to travel light and it forced me to really restrict what I packed to the necessities, as well as being super organized. I have little labeled bags for electronics, shower stuff, first aid, that all fit in the nooks and crannies of my pack. I packed two pairs of pants, a skirt, a handful of tops, bathing suit, a handful of underwear, 2 pairs of a shoes, and a few cosmetic odds and ends. That's basically it. I am finally quite pleased with my pack, considering it's basically my home for the next 4 months.

On top of packing and unpacking my bag I've spent the last week running around like a crazy person. I was too busy moving to even realize how emotional I was feeling about leaving behind everything and everyone that I love and is familiar to me. Until the hair incident. I made a last minute appointment to get my haircut on Wednesday because I realized I might not have the opportunity over the next few months. I am pretty unpicky about my hair and usually just give limited directions to the hair stylist and let them do their job. For the most part, they've certainly known best. The woman who cut my hair on Wednesday did not know best. After cutting about 4 inches off my hair into a style that was fit for any soccer mom in the '90s, I left the salon knowing it wasn't at all what I wanted, but not giving it much thought. I had too much on my mind anyway.

Then comes Friday. Friday morning I sat down and made all the hotel and hostel bookings I'll need in Egypt until I fly to Jordan on the 7th of July. I printed out extra copies of all my bus, flight and hotel reservations, checked again to make sure I had everything packed that I needed and then sat back for five seconds to take in the idea that I was ready. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths, and tears as I looked in the mirror and noticed my haircut was terrible!

I went downstairs crying to my mom about how bad it looked. She just stared at me in  disbelief. I have certainly had more disastrous haircuts in the past including when I traded my waist length hair for a stylish bob that, to be honest, really resembled more of a mullet.

"This is not about the hair is it?"

"God, Mom! It IS about the hair! Obvioiusly!" I told her in a teenage angsty voice I thought I'd left behind years ago (or at least should've!).

It wasn't about the hair. The hair was not even so bad, but in those few minutes I had to breathe it all just caught up with me. I was so excited about where I was going that until then I'd forgotten what I was leaving. I know it's not forever, and technology has made communicaton so much easier but I'll still miss everyone and the city too, which has been my home for the last six years. I think that's a good thing though. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, for one, but also having people to miss makes me realize what a wonderful time these past six years have actually been.

So I cried a little bit and then I got my hair re-cut even though it wasn't even about the hair. Mostly.

Go Big or Go Home!

I cannot believe that in 11 days I will be hauling my packed 38L backpack to JFK, boarding the first of many planes of this summer, and closing the chapter on my D.C. life.

But, in typical Katie fashion, I could not go out without a bang! Part of closing this chapter in my life involved finishing my first ever Triathlon! And, of course, for my first ever race, I signed up for the Olympic Distance. Go big or go home! Seems to be my motto as of late. 

The course was perfect, starting off with a refreshingly cool swim in the disease infested waters of the Potomac. I hope to not walk away from this race with a case of leptospirosis as my friend did the previous year (I only wish this bit were sarcasm).

The bike and run portion coursed through Rock Creek Parkway, Whitehurst Freeway, by the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, over the Potomac, and finally down Constitution Ave. Those are not the sights I think of when I consider actually living in D.C. In fact I don't even seen most of these sites all that frequently. And yet I couldn’t help but get nostalgic as I passed through the districts most notorious landmarks and thought about leaving them behind. 

Finally after the mile swim, 24k bike ride, 10k run, and 3:05 hours of continuous heart pumping, adrenaline producing, nausea inducing workout, I crossed the finish line with the Capitol behind me.  I still managed to take note of the irony in the imagery as I fought the sudden urge to dry heave that overtook me the minute my feet stopped moving.

After six years of nothing but the highest highs and lowest lows of my life, I am sprinting through the finish line and leaving D.C. behind. Not running away from things, but rather closing this chapter, and finishing this race; the first race of many. I hope that all my training here -school, work, relationships, friendships - has paid off and prepared me for all of the races to come. 

Let's Get it Started

So, about this blog thing....

I find it hard to imagine that anyone would truly be interested in reading anything I have to write but, at a few friends and family members requests, I have decided to keep a blog. Not because I find myself overly fascinating, or my life all that interesting, but mostly just to let those who care about me know that I’m still alive as I’ll soon be backpacking through the Middle East + Senegal, before making my way to Tel Aviv for Grad School.

I now have less than a month to tie up all loose ends in D.C. and prepare to leave my friends and family for an indefinite period of time. For the first time I feel as equally apprehensive and nervous about this as I do excited. Before I couldn’t wait for the last day of work, to pack up my little backpack and get rid of everything else, and board a plane that would take me away from the mundane, to something entirely new!

Now that my departure date is so close, it’s hitting me how many people I will miss. So many friends that I’ll leave behind, a job that I mostly complain about but has also been the center of my world for the last 2 years, my family (mommy!)  including my 91 year-old grandfather who seems perpetually confused about what I’m doing no matter how many times I try to explain it. Not because he’s senile or anything - he’s quite sharp for 91. I think mostly because it just doesn’t make sense to most logical people!

So, as of now, I’m just trying to take it one day at a time. I have to finish up the school year (I work at a d.c.p.s. elementary school), and I’ve been training for a triathlon for the last 8 months that I will hopefully complete on the 19th. Another thing I am basically shitting my pants over.

Sometimes I really question my logic. But at least I am setting goals. And hopefully with some physical training, mental preparation, and a whole lot of luck, I’ll be completing them!

2011 = out with the old and in with the..... crazy!