The loudest place on earth.

Alexandria, Egypt. Holy fucking guacamole this place is loud. I mean NY on New Years to the 10th power loud. Ambulances stuck in traffic. Hundreds upon hundreds of people lining every sea wall, filling every side walk, and every street corner cafe until 8 in the morning. Beaches filled to capacity. Streets over flowing with traffic that moves at a snails pace. Music blasting out of every window, car, store front and shwarma stand. It's unreal.

And people don't sleep here. Literally. Beaches are filled from dusk until dawn and dusk again. The sidewalks are constantly full of people. The restuarants always packed. The streets always lined with cars. And they do it all without alcohol. I shit you not. I know I know impossible to believe. But it's true. Pick a time. 3pm, 5 am, 11 pm, 1 am...people be up. They're like sharks and zebras...they dont sleep.. Ever. And trying to in the middle of all of this is like trying to sleep ontop of a speaker at a Metallica concert.

It's also dirty. Really dirty. Trash and human poop in the hallway dirty. Garbage on the street. Garbage in the ocean. Garbage in the garbage. It's everywhere. So much garbage you wonder if there's enough room for the rats to live amng it.

It's not for everyone. I mean everyone outside of the 10,000,000 people that line its streets every morning, noon, and night and I realize that I won't love every place we go, but for me...this one, ranks near the bottom of places I've been. Glad I saw it, but glad I didn't have to stay for too long.

In ZAX

Hey remember when I got that tattoo on my back? The one of my fraternity symbol. Man that was cool wasn't it? Yeah. Well, turns out that it has alot cooler meaning here than it does back home. I mean forgive me my fellow Lamb chops, I know the comitment I showed by tattooing our symbol on my body forever has always been met with your upmost respect and appreciation, but here in Egypt the Cross and Crescent represents alot more than bing drinking with your buddies and date raping girls on the weekend.

In Egypt the Cross combined with the Crescent represents peace between Christians and Muslims. Pretty topical tattoo wouldn't you say? I think it's cool. Who knew when I was sitting in that tattoo chair so many years ago, that one day I'd find myself in Egypt impressing the locals with my political stand.

I'm fat.

Gone are the days of P90x workouts until I puke. Gone is my 4 pack. Gone are my bicepts (the envy of all my friends- go ahead and admit it Joe.). Gone is my endurance. Gone are my diamond cut tricepts.

In their place are flabby arms. An ever exapnding waist line. Doobs. And a sugar habit that would make Pookie from New Jack City blush.

I'm disgusting, and only getting worse. I keep telling myself I've got the rest of my life to workout. The rest of my life to eat boring, disgustingly healthy things to stay in shape. I keep telling myself these things as I scarf down my third bag of doritos for the day.

But I guess this is what happens when you become an international glutton. I'm soaking in everything. Free beer. Street food. Junk food. Doritos in 20 new exotic flavors. Meals with friends, meals with family. I just keep on eating and I've got six more months of it ahead.

So go ahead, get your shots in. Call me tubby. Call me the fat chick from Wilson Phillips. I don't care. I'm going to enjoy my trip around the world, and then come home and work my ass of until I get so strong I can open a can of corn simply by looking at it sternly. Arrrrrrggggggg.

Bada bop bop baaaaaa...I'm loving it...too much.

Egypt is awesome. I absolutely love it here, but Egypt is also like the worlds biggest food court. Seriously. There's more fast food here than you can pack into a to go bag. KFC. McDonalds. Momen. Pizza Hut. Chicken Tikka. Burger King. They're all here, and they all supply Egyptians with the sugar fueled energy they need to make it to 5 am (every single day.) It almost seems like fast food is the only thing you can eat here. The thought of it is starting to make me sick. I seriously would kill a small puppy to eat at my favorite sushi place in LA or perhaps seriously maime a small child for a CPK salad.

Now I know what Vanilla Ice felt like...being a white celebrity.

I can finally say "I'm huge in Africa." and mean it. I am. It's really weird, but I kinda feel a little like Miley Cirus with bad facial hair over here. Maybe its because I'm from America, or maybe its because I'm white. Maybe it's because I'm sporting the homless has been rock star look lately, but I've been in more than one situation on this trip where a complete stranger asks me to take a picture with them.

At first I thought they were asking me to take a picture OF them. I'd fumble with translation, miming the international sign for picture taking, and they'd motion back the same symbol, until they muttered in broken English 'no with you'.

With me? Are you serious? Clearly you must have me mistaken with Kenny Logins or someone equally as famous. But nope. They want a picture with me. Turns out most white folks over here don't have to be famous to be gawked at for hours. All you have to be is white, and in this part of the country. I guess they don't get much of us here, because no matter where we go every single eye in town is on us. Kids will sit next to us at restaurants, mouths agape as their ice cream cones melt in their hands. Men will stumble into oncoming traffic trying to sneak a peak (mostly at Sabrinas boobs), women will look in confusion dipped in disgust. And everyone wants a picture.

I must now be featured on nearly 20 international Facebook sites. I always wonder where these pictures are going to end up. What the people who took them are going to tell their friends. "yeah see this white dude. He tried to steal my box of KFC but I karate chopped him in the nose and he ran away crying." or maybe " see this dude, I stole his girlfriend". Whatever the story might be I'd love to hear them. I just hope I don't end up on some international website selling children for blood diamonds, but knowing my luck I probably will.

Where'd everybody go?

Blame it on the economy, the weather, or maybe just plain dumb luck but whatever the reason we're not seeing many other tourists in our travels...especially American ones. We think it might be because we left when everyone else was either working or in school. It's been really wierd. Beaches...practically empty. Bars. Not a soul in them. It's almost like we're getting an exclusive VIP tour of the world. I've got to say it's pretty nice. Not having to deal with crowds. Tourists. Other Americans. It's like we've got the whole world to our selves...and 50 million other folks that already live in these places.

First Impressions- Egypt

We arrived in Cairo, fresh off about one hour of sleep. After hearing horror stories about Egypt Air we were just glad we made it at all. I watched out the window as we flew over miles and miles of sand. A pyramid here, and 100,000 year old ruin there. My mind sizzling like a frying pan. "Where the hell am I?" My brain couldn't compute. "It looks a little like Vegas." "No it looks like the moon" "I'd say Burning Man" "You expect me to get off this plane?" "Wow I'm in fucking Egypt."

Wiping the sleep from our eyes we were warmly greeted by Sabrina's Egyptian family. Right away I knew this was going to be a good trip. They snapped photos as we walked into baggage claim, and welcomed us with handshakes and smiles. Off to our apartment. Yup. As our Irish friends say, were a couple of little cats, always landing on our feet. Turns out the family has several apartments throughout the city, and some of them are empty. So here we are again, in a foreign country with an apartment all to ourselves (thanks to the kindness of others).

I've been looking forward to arriving in Egypt for almost the entire length of the trip. I think it's the extreme contrast cultures (american/middle east) that's most interesting to me. I couldn't wait to see for myself what the middle east was all about. The real Middle East. The real people. The real ideas. Not just what Fox News wants us to think. I'll stop before I go into a whole diatribe about the misperceptions of American media on the Middle East and the damage it does, and just move on to the rest of the day.

We get picked up for dinner around 9 and head into a market area to grab something to eat. I instaneously overload on visual stimulation. Everything is cool. Colors. Metals. People. I want to buy everything. I want to meet everyone. I want to take pictures of every square inch of every street we walk down. The architecture is amazing. The mosques, beyond words. Lights blink everywhere. The colors of spices, scarfs, head dresses, and hooka pipes all swirl together into one making me dizzy. The smell of meat grilling makes my mouth water. I love this city.

Beyond the colors. Beyond the lights. Are the people. Already I can tell I like them. From the customs guards in the airport to the guys trying to sell me minature statues of the sphinx, everyone has a smile on their face. Everyone has the most infectious laugh. Everyone just seems cool. Sabrina's cousin, her husband and their son are our instant best friends. We laugh and chat, share a meal, a hooka pipe, some tea and a lot of questions. They are so warm. So friendly. So accomidating that we feel like locals instantly. As we walk around the market people ask us where were from. We say "the US", they say "welcome to our country". I hear people as I pass say "my brother you are a lucky man." I think to myself, they have no idea just how lucky.

I can't put into words my first 10 hours in Egypt. I felt like I was dreaming for most of it. I also can't explain the desire I have inside of me, begging to learn everything about this culutre, to see every mosque, to meet every person. I hope today was just the beginning of an amazing month in this city. I really hope.

Children of Africa...Hoyyyyyy

Our volunteering is over. We've said our goodbyes. Bought our bags of rice. Did some good things, and hopefully made a difference.

Not all of it was great, but alot of it was. I'm very glad I did it, and look forward to spreading the word about the program.

These kids are smart. They have tons of potential, they just need some help from those who can. I have faith that help will find its way to their muddied school yard.

I feel good. Helping others is alot easier than I once thought. I think all people really want, is for someone to show that they notice them and care. That's not so hard to do.

I'll miss the kids and defenitly look back fondly on my time spent there. Time I'm sure will erase any of the negative experiences I had.

Now, concious cleaned, good will done, it's time to go get drunk with our new Irish friends Dave and Hellen. Gotta love this trip!

Punching a gift horse in the mouth

Volunteering week 2

I'm starting to feel like my wallet is being fancied more than my volunteer work. It sucks. Let me just say that. We came to Kenya with hopes of giving our time and what little money we could to try and make a difference, but I'm starting to feel like the little money we have is all anyone is really concerned with. We started off by buying books and pencils for the kids, afterall how can you learn if you can't write anything down? Then we bought food, because, hey kids need to eat. Then we bought crayons cause hey kids need to eat while coloring. And then the requests started..

staff cook- "um I would be liking the perfume and lotion to make my skin soft"

head woman- "thank you for the food you bought, the kids need desks."

unnamed teacher- "would you like to pay for my sons schooling?"

unnamed teacher 2- "can you get me a computer?"

kitchen staff- " we are out of sugar. we would like that."

unnamed teacher 3- "it would be nice if we could pay our teachers."

unnamed teacher 4- " will you be coming to church sun. We can't wait to see what fabulous gifts you bring!"

I think you get the picture. What started out as warm and fuzzies has turned into a bit of naseua. I hate feeling like I'm a walking bank. I hate people feeling like the only "real good" I can do is with my wallet. I hate that this is souring my experience.

I keep telling myself it's not their fault. They need EVERYTHING. They seriously have nothing. No supplies, no food, no nothing, and the only way they get it is through others. I keep telling myself if a pair of westerners come to visit the school once a year the schools lucky. I keep telling myself that this is their chance. A chance to get what they need from the people who can give it. But it still pisses me off.

I was handed a list today of the things they need, that I am supposed to post onto Facebook. A virtual shopping list full of desk prices and teacher salaries, but I honestly don't know if I will. I'm completely torn, and it's gutting me.

I love these kids. I like the school. I don't want to put people off on the program. I think if you have money to give, this would be a good place to give it. I honestly do, and I hope the few people reading this blog might actually think about donating. But I'm going to be honest. I have to vent my frustration, in the hopes of showing up tomorrow and having a few smiles and a game of soccer wash away my cynacism.