In the past but most recent days I have been hearing from those I haven't connected with in a while. Let me say, in the most gushy, cliched way ever, it warms my heart to hear from y'all. I'm also happy to hear that folks still check on this here blog. I encourage all to post a tiny comment every now and then, with whatever you got, cuz I'm feeling kind of lonely in cyberworld. Think about it--it's a lot easier than composing some long, yadda-yadda email. (But don't get me wrong, I do not think long emails are boring--if you've ever received an email from me you know I love 'em.)

Things to report: at work, I read a letter, hand-written in 1987 from Salman Rushdie to the Head of the English Department, explaning why he could not make it to AUC to give a lecture. His reason was that he was completing a novel, which he hoped to finish in a year. Little did he know that such novel would also be the reason he would not be considered for future lectures at AUC (or anywhere else in Egypt for that matter).

We have been busy at the archives, collecting records from various departments around campus and doing research inside the archives to write reports on the formation and dissolution of former schools within the University. All this is kind of fun, if you are me, because the archives is the original source for this kind of information, and it is rare that you find "the smoking gun" which will explain everything to you. You have to piece it together and figure out what is going on for yourself.

Unfortunately, I did not make it on one of the charter busses headed for the Western Desert to see the eclipse. Astronomy event mucho grande of the millennium thus far passes me by! Malish (too bad), as they say in Egyptian Arabic. But I did make it to one of the Africa Cup of Nations football (soccer) games back in February. We saw Egypt v. Cote d'Ivoire while standing behind the very last row of seats. All tickets were "General Admission" and all seats were filled by the time we got there. Again, malish, such is Egypt--just make with what is due. The crowd was amazingly well-behaved, unless you were a Cote d'Ivoire supporter, and pleseantly mixed in gender. Our pearch on the concrete wall actually provided a great view of the field, and it's nothing like Giant's Stadium where if you are not on the ground level, everything on the pitch takes its miniature form. There are some good photos but I have yet to acquire the ones from my friend of us among all the flag-waving, face-painted fans. Egypt eventually won the tournament, and that night we were watching the game in the safety of my friend's home. Afterwards, the streets were filled with people hanging out of their cars, waving flags, honking horns, and, yes, spraying fire from the lit fumes of areosole cans. People were happy, and I suppose that is a good thing because the people need something to be happy about.

In other news, I've been reading one of Eric Carle's books, "Do Kangaroos Have Mothers, Too?" in Arabic. Ok, I'm not exactly reading it as much as having it read to me while I memorize and repeat it back. This is my first attempt at the Arabic alphabet, and learning the script while it is colored with the bright colors of Carle's drawings is pretty fun. I turn into a little kid who gets terribly excited about having a story read to her, but also one who is amazed with the process of learning how to read. What a nice little moment of euphoria.

Since some of you have been wondering, I thought I'd report that all street market poultry sales have stopped around here. You can still find poultry in grocery stores, but live animal sales in the city are no longer, at least in the two markets I use. However, I can still go pick out a rabbit and have it butchered and ready to take home. This I probably won't do, but at least it is an option!