The new place will be closer to the metro, too. But will it be this leafy green?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Moving out?
Too early to get wistful, but here are the pictures of our apartment I've been emailing to prospective lease taker-overs. We are looking for a place closer to the kids' school.
The new place will be closer to the metro, too. But will it be this leafy green?
The new place will be closer to the metro, too. But will it be this leafy green?
"Yalla!"
This is an old crayon box we got from the Yale appliance store in Boston three years ago. Henry saw it on the desk the other day and said: "Mommy, look, the letters are in English but they spell an Arabic word - it says Yalla!"
Balancing act
Every time we see one of these bread delivery guys I try to communicate my sense of amazement to Henry. But he seems to take it for granted.
Half the country could work in a circus if they needed to. Necessity, invention.
(Suggestion: look at this photo the next time someone starts to whine about the "challenges of balancing work and family.")
Half the country could work in a circus if they needed to. Necessity, invention.
(Suggestion: look at this photo the next time someone starts to whine about the "challenges of balancing work and family.")
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
More on the school issue
We figured out what the issue with the school was: Henry was in the wrong grade. Apparently according to the British system, KG2 is preschool, and the equivalent of kindergarten (where you learn to read words and short sentences, add numbers, etc.) is called Primary 1. That's where they finally told us Henry belonged, by age and certainly by ability: he has been learning to read English with amazing speed. It was all a misunderstanding: they had thought for some reason we wanted him in KG, and only told us about the primary school option when he was so bored we considered moving him to the French section, which would have meant being in the same class as his sister (who turns 2 today).
Well. We were thrilled to move him to Primary 1, but this means 1) more tuition, 2) fewer hours, 3) a "registration fee," routinely charged by schools here in a weird move to ensure that their students stick around. It's hefty: 15,000 LE ($6000) for six years of primary school. Fortunately they were kind enough to prorate it for us, since we are not going to be around for all that time. Snootier private schools, such as the British International School and the Cairo American College, had flatly refused to prorate their registration fees. I have to confess that even with the steep tuition hike (it's now 15,000 LE per term, three terms a year for parents who actually live here, though only one term for us) we still come out ahead of his day care/kindergarten back home. And here he supposedly gets a an hour or two per week each of French and Arabic. The lead teacher is British, dry-humored and strict, a total contrast to mumsy Mrs. Sheila in KG. They do worksheets, which OK is boring but Henry can now add 5 and 3 in his head. (I don't know if he could do this last week or not.)
The problem of the shorter day was solved by allowing him to stick around after school and play with his old friends in KG until I come to pick up Esti at 4. Now can we solve the problem of the commute? Because we chose (for our own social comfort) to live in Zamalek rather than the perfectly viable alternative of Dokki, we spend more than half an hour each afternoon sitting in traffic in a hot taxi. That's where we took these pictures yesterday.
Henry took this one of me.
Well. We were thrilled to move him to Primary 1, but this means 1) more tuition, 2) fewer hours, 3) a "registration fee," routinely charged by schools here in a weird move to ensure that their students stick around. It's hefty: 15,000 LE ($6000) for six years of primary school. Fortunately they were kind enough to prorate it for us, since we are not going to be around for all that time. Snootier private schools, such as the British International School and the Cairo American College, had flatly refused to prorate their registration fees. I have to confess that even with the steep tuition hike (it's now 15,000 LE per term, three terms a year for parents who actually live here, though only one term for us) we still come out ahead of his day care/kindergarten back home. And here he supposedly gets a an hour or two per week each of French and Arabic. The lead teacher is British, dry-humored and strict, a total contrast to mumsy Mrs. Sheila in KG. They do worksheets, which OK is boring but Henry can now add 5 and 3 in his head. (I don't know if he could do this last week or not.)
The problem of the shorter day was solved by allowing him to stick around after school and play with his old friends in KG until I come to pick up Esti at 4. Now can we solve the problem of the commute? Because we chose (for our own social comfort) to live in Zamalek rather than the perfectly viable alternative of Dokki, we spend more than half an hour each afternoon sitting in traffic in a hot taxi. That's where we took these pictures yesterday.
Henry took this one of me.
Friday, September 09, 2011
Azhar Park this afternoon
I went straight from the rally in Tahrir (you'll have to see my other blog for that) to a playdate with some virtual friends (it was great to meet them in person for the first time!) in Azhar Park. A lovely afternoon.
Like many other families, we brought a picnic dinner. In fact, the park regulations at the entrance actually took the trouble to prohibit "pots or pans or cooking utensils" inside the park. I thought this was overkill, till I saw people in fact checking their pots at the door!
Before our (American) friends arrived, Esti got a lot of attention on the playground. One little boy climbed off his side of the teeter-totter to walk around and sit behind her on her side.
So his dad started taking pictures!
So it goes. I'm delighted it's my kids getting the attention (especially Esti) rather than me.
Like many other families, we brought a picnic dinner. In fact, the park regulations at the entrance actually took the trouble to prohibit "pots or pans or cooking utensils" inside the park. I thought this was overkill, till I saw people in fact checking their pots at the door!
Before our (American) friends arrived, Esti got a lot of attention on the playground. One little boy climbed off his side of the teeter-totter to walk around and sit behind her on her side.
So his dad started taking pictures!
So it goes. I'm delighted it's my kids getting the attention (especially Esti) rather than me.
Nadi al-Ahly evening
We had a nice evening yesterday (Thursday is the first night of the weekend here) hanging out with my journalist friends Mohamed and Rasha at their club, Nadi al-Ahly. Their son Mahmoud is exactly Henry's age, and their daughter Alia is eight months old - she was born on Jan 25, so her "usbu3a" or one-week ceremony was pre-empted by the events of Jan 25.
Henry and Mahmoud hit it off right away.
The kids enjoyed running around the club being naughty way more than playing on the actual playground.
Esti ran faster and faster, like a wind-up toy, before she finally admitted how tired she was.
Henry and Mahmoud hit it off right away.
The kids enjoyed running around the club being naughty way more than playing on the actual playground.
Esti ran faster and faster, like a wind-up toy, before she finally admitted how tired she was.
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Home schooling?
Unwinding after a long school day and a hot ride home.
What they're actually doing is watching an "Old School" Sesame Street DVD on my computer.
Or not watching it, as the case may be.
What they're actually doing is watching an "Old School" Sesame Street DVD on my computer.
Or not watching it, as the case may be.
Irish School update
Henry, after one day of school: "These teachers are really sharp-eyed. They don't miss anything. At the Blue Group [his old preschool] if you wanted to pick your nose you could put your head under the blanket at nap time and do it. But here... they don't even HAVE nap time!"
Henry, after two days of school: "Kids aren't allowed to speak Arabic on the playground. If they catch someone speaking Arabic, they get in big trouble."
Me: "What's big trouble?"
H: "I don't know. I guess just getting yelled at a lot? I don't really know."
After three days of school and a heartrending traffic jam in a hot taxi (is this the future of our lives once public schools start up on 9/17?) on the way home.
Me: So have you been doing any kind of math, working with numbers?
H: No.
M: Have you been doing reading or writing?
H: Yeah.
M: So, like, what do you do?
H: They use these little books that are like, "B" is for the "bah" sound, that are obviously made for babies.
M (attempting tact): Hmm. Well, I guess this is a good opportunity to practice getting something out of a lesson even if it isn't that interesting for you. Because some things are hard for you, but you'll find other things really easy that might be harder for other people, so they'll be bored sometimes and you'll be bored sometimes while everyone works on what they need to work on. So could you, like, look at the little picture on the card and think about how you would spell that whole word, not just the first letter? Like, look at the "A" and think about how you would spell "apple"?
H: Is it A-P-P-L? No wait, A-P-L?
M: See, it's interesting to think about, right?
H (after a pause): When someone says he's cold, they turn the air conditioning off right away. But I think if someone said they were bored, they wouldn't stop doing the lesson, they would just say, "Well, everyone else needs to learn it."
Really? For this we are sitting in 45 minutes of traffic?
Henry, after two days of school: "Kids aren't allowed to speak Arabic on the playground. If they catch someone speaking Arabic, they get in big trouble."
Me: "What's big trouble?"
H: "I don't know. I guess just getting yelled at a lot? I don't really know."
After three days of school and a heartrending traffic jam in a hot taxi (is this the future of our lives once public schools start up on 9/17?) on the way home.
Me: So have you been doing any kind of math, working with numbers?
H: No.
M: Have you been doing reading or writing?
H: Yeah.
M: So, like, what do you do?
H: They use these little books that are like, "B" is for the "bah" sound, that are obviously made for babies.
M (attempting tact): Hmm. Well, I guess this is a good opportunity to practice getting something out of a lesson even if it isn't that interesting for you. Because some things are hard for you, but you'll find other things really easy that might be harder for other people, so they'll be bored sometimes and you'll be bored sometimes while everyone works on what they need to work on. So could you, like, look at the little picture on the card and think about how you would spell that whole word, not just the first letter? Like, look at the "A" and think about how you would spell "apple"?
H: Is it A-P-P-L? No wait, A-P-L?
M: See, it's interesting to think about, right?
H (after a pause): When someone says he's cold, they turn the air conditioning off right away. But I think if someone said they were bored, they wouldn't stop doing the lesson, they would just say, "Well, everyone else needs to learn it."
Really? For this we are sitting in 45 minutes of traffic?
Sunday, September 04, 2011
First day of school
Today the kids went for the first time to the Irish School in Dokki. They'll be attending Sunday through Thursday, 8:30 to 4 or so. Henry is in kindergarten in the English section, with (classical) Arabic classes one day a week. Esti is in the preschool in what turns out to be the French section (we waffled on this so apparently they made the decision for us). They both seem to love the place, and we are very happy (relieved!) with the clean child-friendly environment, welcoming play area, kind teachers, and organized school day. There's a general sense of order and propriety about the place, but caring rather than stuffy. Oh right, and they have curriculum!
Outside the gate in the morning:
Celebrating later: ice cream at Mandarine Koweider back in Zamalek. This was after I went out shopping to buy for Henry, as requested by the school, the following: a cup for his toothbrush and toothpaste, colored pencils, pencil box, sharpener, eraser, composition book, scissors, magic markers ("flow masters"), ruler, plastic apron for painting. A nice-sounding list!
Esti, by the way, has become Esther. Not because the nickname sounds Israeli (it basically is) but because apparently "Est" in Egyptian Arabic is a word for the rear end, so "Esti" would mean "my ass."
She is nobody's ass! Ate most of my ice cream, in fact, and some of Henry's. Her teachers said she had a great first day in the French section: napped easily, played a lot, laughed, didn't miss us. I'm not surprised. Her very nice-seeming teachers found her two stuffed monkeys to play with (a singe-maman and a petit singe), and she held one of them while she napped, so she felt right at home.
Ken and I met with our teachers today too. The person teaching literature to me and language to both of us seems great, former human rights researcher now writing a dissertation on popular Egyptian poetry, really smart young guy. I'm sure there will be some challenges ahead, but right now everything seems pretty sweet and delicious!
Outside the gate in the morning:
Celebrating later: ice cream at Mandarine Koweider back in Zamalek. This was after I went out shopping to buy for Henry, as requested by the school, the following: a cup for his toothbrush and toothpaste, colored pencils, pencil box, sharpener, eraser, composition book, scissors, magic markers ("flow masters"), ruler, plastic apron for painting. A nice-sounding list!
Esti, by the way, has become Esther. Not because the nickname sounds Israeli (it basically is) but because apparently "Est" in Egyptian Arabic is a word for the rear end, so "Esti" would mean "my ass."
She is nobody's ass! Ate most of my ice cream, in fact, and some of Henry's. Her teachers said she had a great first day in the French section: napped easily, played a lot, laughed, didn't miss us. I'm not surprised. Her very nice-seeming teachers found her two stuffed monkeys to play with (a singe-maman and a petit singe), and she held one of them while she napped, so she felt right at home.
Ken and I met with our teachers today too. The person teaching literature to me and language to both of us seems great, former human rights researcher now writing a dissertation on popular Egyptian poetry, really smart young guy. I'm sure there will be some challenges ahead, but right now everything seems pretty sweet and delicious!
Saturday, September 03, 2011
Madison, July 2011: Honey
Can't believe I forgot to blog these great photos of Henry extracting honey with Grandma Ann! What on earth have I been doing?
Scraping the honeycomb.
Turning the centrifuge.
Ann told me once about an amazing dream she had: she found herself mysteriously imprisoned in a perfectly uniform apartment block, in an apartment equipped with nothing but an oven, a bucket for picking berries, and materials for making pies. Every morning she (and the inhabitants of adjacent cells), for lack of anything better to do, went out and picked berries, then baked them into pies. Every night the room would fill with smoke, then part of the wall would slide away, and a hand would reach in to take away the pies, leaving her only a couple of slices to sustain herself!
Only a beekeeper's conscience could produce that dream.
Putting the hive panel back in place to start all over again.
Scraping the honeycomb.
Turning the centrifuge.
Ann told me once about an amazing dream she had: she found herself mysteriously imprisoned in a perfectly uniform apartment block, in an apartment equipped with nothing but an oven, a bucket for picking berries, and materials for making pies. Every morning she (and the inhabitants of adjacent cells), for lack of anything better to do, went out and picked berries, then baked them into pies. Every night the room would fill with smoke, then part of the wall would slide away, and a hand would reach in to take away the pies, leaving her only a couple of slices to sustain herself!
Only a beekeeper's conscience could produce that dream.
Putting the hive panel back in place to start all over again.
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