Sunday, July 23, 2006

Worf of Wisdom

Men are like computers. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer, you could have gotten a better model.

Friday, July 21, 2006

The new Eve

Last couple of days whitnessed big changes. I broke up with my boyfriend and startd a job.
I'm a working single... woman (not mom yet, thank God).

The break up was due to a number of small accumulated things, that with time became a huge thing. And I'm sorry but I'm not very good at ignoring the elephant in the room.
I was sad for a couple of days, but everyone I know did their best in getting me out of the mood. I have great family and friends. Maybe I'll talk about the break up later.

But I have to talk about the job. Ok it's not a job, it's just summer training. But it's amizing. Everyone is so friendly, helpful and genuinly want to help me. The atmosphere is simply beautiful. I couldn't have been luckier.

Why does it all have to happen to ME???!!

Last week I went to a small resort on the Mediterranean sea to relax and spend some time with my best friend who is getting married and leaving for Canada in one month (sniff...).

Her family owns a chalet there and her uncle and aunt own villas in another resort near by. I thought it was going to be sun, fun and you know all that summery stuff. But it was the worst week ever.

My best friend's gramma had had a stroke earlier, so her son thought it would be nice if she changed and left Cairo for somewhere with cleaner air. But he was so wrong, she had 4 strokes in one week, one of them in the tongue. The poor lady couldn't speak or swallow. Upon seeing her, my frien's mom was devastated and cried the entire day.

The following day my friend's brother, his pregnant wife and little daughter came. First the kid got fever and then the wife started bleeding and we feared she might have a miscarriage. So with the tears of my friend's mother and father they left for Cairo, where they headed straight to the doctor. Mother and baby are doing fine, thank God.

Back to the granma. She went to the doctor who prescribed a certain medicine to prevent the formation of strokes (this is what I understood). But she suffered from it's side effects, she had seizers for about 5 hours. Seeing this, her son turned white, his daughter had some kind of rash and well everyone became nervous.

In the middle of all this, I became depressed. I have known these people for my entire life, they are my family. But I am here on vacation God damnit not an episode of ER.
I tried to be cheerful and tell my friend that it's ok, so she doesn't feel guilty of dragging me here, but all I wanted was to go home to my mummy....

Oh I forgot to mention that my boyfriend went to the hospital. He's ok now, but it was among that amazing week.
I never thought I might miss Cairo that much.

Monday, July 03, 2006

L'Italiano vero

My earliest childhood memory about football is the final in 1994 between Italy and Brazil. I was 10. Probably the only 10 year old girl who had such enthousiasm about a football match.
The secret is I wasn't enthousiastic about the match, I was VERY enthousiastic about Italy.

I lived in Italy 2 years. They were probably the best years of my childhood.
I was different, loved, cared for. I stood out and blended in. I had so many friends, I was the teacher's pet and every parent of my friends loved me.
Back there I wanted to become a singer, a dancer and an artist. All of my thoughts were transleted into cute 6 year old drawings. Later I discover I'm tone deaf and my drawing skills freezed at my 6 year old drawings.

I'm proud of every moment I spent in Rome. Sometimes I regret returning to Egypt. Moving from a mixed school where I I had no dress code, where I first kissed a boy (on the cheeck), where I met Julia Rosa and Lorenzo Marsili and Veronica my best friends, where the biggest achievent in maths classes was to successfully cut paprs without using scisors. I left all this to a Catholic school in Egypt, all girl, strict dress code, and exams, exams exams and some more exams.

I cried in 1994 when Brazil beat Italy, to this day I hate Brazil. I cried when France has beaten Italy in 1998 and again in 2000. I have grown a little since 200 and I don't cry over a football game, but I chear Italy like I'm cheering my own country. What if Egypt and Italy played? Who will you suppor? I've been asked this question alot and my answer is Italy, coz first they will surely win and second because Italy gave me in 2 years what Egypt failed in giving me my entire life.... the chance of being me, being accepted , loved and appreciated as ME.

So no matter how bad Italy plays, no matter if they win or lose. I will be there with my Tshirt and silly hat that have their flag colors supportin, cheering, crying, praying...

I have even had a bet with my boyfriend tht they will win today over Germany. The bet is 100 L.E. Yes I am that confident (please God make them win or i'll starve for the rest of the month)


Sunday, July 02, 2006

A game to remember

Since the World Cup started I usually go to a cafe near by. It's small, usually quiet, a bit expensive but with no minimum charge (an egyptian discovery where you pay for simply sitting either you order something or not) and the best thing is that I get to have my way; volume up, volume down, AC up, AC down, narration in english instead of arabic. Short, I feel like I own the place.

Sadly that was not the case today. A group of 4 girls showed up announcing that they will be a party of 16 (they were actually 18, liars). So my dreams of spending the afternoon watching the game were evaporated and replaced with patiance and self control to handle cigarettes, shrieks and loud LOUD voices.

I like to watch people, so when they settled down and the guys started showing I knew they weren't older than 18. Girls have a tendency to look older than they really are. At 18 it's a plus. The older you get the more that plus turns into a minus.

Anyway, the game was goin (England and Portugal by the way) and I was sitting alone waiting for my best friend to come. She was late but I didn't mind. The game wasn't exciting, normal....

And then I noticed it. He was looking, no not looking, staring. And when I looked, he would look the other way, chat abit with his friends, then return looking at me.

The game went on, both games actually. He looks, I look, Figo passes the ball, Beckham cuts in, he looks away, Rooney is running with the ball, he looks again, a corner is played.... I adjust my top, maybe it's a bit low cut, maybe he's just staring at my boobs (they're not that big to be stared in, but hey maybe it's his taste)... Nope, not the boobs. Maybe my skirt is hiked up. I have finally decided to wear a skirt today. It's an extinct piece of clothing to me, so maybe I just forgot how to operate it. Nope the skirt is fine.

He then looked again. And that's when I realised he was looking into my eyes. Not down my shirt or up my skirt. I have an admirer.

When my friend came, I told her and she noticed it too. And then we had this conversation:
D: "That's nice.."
Me: "No it's not. I feel like I'm being watched. I don't like this feeling. Besided he's a kid, he's 18"
D: "In 20 years you'll be happy to have an 18 year old boy look at you like this"
Me: "Actually I think it will be sooner, like in probably 10... and he's not bad looking"
D: "I don't like how he looks. I don't like his bone structure. You know how certain people's looks can make you nervous, even if the person is the sweetest, cutest human being in the world? He looks like that, at least to me."

Penelty shoot out. Some english player shoots and Ricardo, the portugese goal keeper saved it. I screamed, applauded, thinking that Ricardo is my new Hero (it's obvious that I am a Portugal fan). "It's a goal" he said, to my surprise. Without thinking I responded "No it's out, it's not a goal" racing to watch the reply to make sure I was right. With the corner of my eye I saw him grinning. He only said that so I could speak to him. Awwwww....

So contrary to what I said to D. I liked being watched today. It made me feel special, beautiful, attractive and able to turn a head or two. It also gave me something to write about.
Congrats to Portugal and thank you young man for making my day.