"I’m not sure which one I prefer, dying of boredom or getting screamed at by some taxi driver because he thinks we’ve ripped him off.
I figure it’s just a small payback for the hundreds of dollars we’ve been ripped off by his compatriots. I (and I’m sure Brandon too) hope you’re all doing well
and not bored to tears yet by our weekly renditions of
mundane life in the midst of insanity
(we have realized, not to be racist, but all brown people live miserably and can’t seem to keep up anything). If you are, have pity on us.
At least you have hot water in your kitchen."
- June 1, 2005 email from Cairo
Once upon a time, Brandon and I lived in Cairo. We married one week, and by the next were in residence in Cairo. My initial excitement was soon tempered by local conditions, and it would be best to say that it was an interesting time. Those of you who were privy to my emails may have had a more colorful rendition.
We were happy to leave when it came time to go.
Last Friday, I took the girls down to the "George B. Schultz National Foreign Affairs Training Center," also known as FSI. We crowded into a large room with
insufficient air conditioning and I did my best to keep the girls quiet and in seats. During the course of our afternoon, an ambassador (of which there were a few in attendance - around here there are always a few ambassadors hanging around) held up flags one by one and then told the crowd who would receive the flag, to the varying consternation, excitement, or resignation of various recipients.